I didn't like it. Then I liked it. Then I didn't like it.

That pretty much sums up my reaction to Fathom. Look, I know that "start with a bang" is something that's drummed into the head of every genre writer. But there also needs to be some context and some level-setting, and that doesn't happen for about 100 pages. And that's a long time to be confused.

But then the threads started to weave together, and I thought I had found a treasure that only a patient reader would uncover. And things went along really well until around page 300. And that's when what I call "The Lost Effect" came into play. The story just careened like an out-of-control car with no brakes driven by a drunk driver on an icy road. And there wasn't even a big, fiery explosion at the end to make the ride worthwhile - the story just plowed into a big pile of lint and came to rest within a cloud of dust. Yawn.

Cherie Priest is an incredible stylist, but it's hard to stay healthy on an "all sizzle and no steak" diet.