What starts off as some excellent, mind-bending weirdness diffuses into an uninteresting thriller.

There were too many character threads, and too many of the characters began to talk like one another as the book progressed. Not to mention Stross's linguistic tics and frequent cliches which litter the novel's second half. The book became a political thriller thinly disguised as SF.

Which is all way too bad, because the first chapters are some of the best, most original, fun, off-beat SF I have read in a very long time. The Idi Amin Dada scene is worthy of William Gibson or Bruce Sterling. The sense of mystery and anticipation and deep, twisty weirdness that Stross creates around Rachel Mansour's departure in the early chapters had me thinking I was in for an incredible book.

Perhaps Accelerando, which is a short story collection, will present Stross's writing only at the level of his finely honed opening chapters.