Noon, February 17, 1996. A momentous day for one Frank Mihalik - and for mankind - for Mihalik is about to become the world's first time traveler. Looking every inch the explorer, he takes off for a trip to the 1939 New York World's Fair, and The Nick of Time takes off on an absurd, hilarious, and thoughtful journey through time and space.
Mihalik's chronological odyssey is to be a simple one: a quick day trip to the past and back again. Unfortunately, the time-travel process still has a few kinks in the system, and just how Mihalik will get back becomes anybody's guess. He finds himself stuck at the World's Fair; reliving the same day over and over again. Just as he is about to lose hope, his girlfriend Cheryl arrives to lend support and encouragement. With a little boost from the past, however, the pair are soon on their way again, hurtling through time at a breathless pace, down an endless path filled with lively, intriguing - and often dangerous - encounters: riding with the Three Musketeers, serving in a war between the Queen of the Past and the King of the Future, even visiting a futuristic Land of Oz ("If we come to a yellow brick road... I'm going to give up"). It's going to take more than clicking their heels together three times to return Cheryl and Mihalik to their proper time and place, but the adventures and mysteries they uncover along the way turn their trip (and ours) into a memorably fun-filled journey.
The Nick of Time is a unique blend of wit, philosophical speculation, and cosmic slapstick. With this novel - and its forthcoming sequel, The Bird of Time - George Alec Effinger has created an instant classic. And in Frank Mihalik, science fiction fans are introduced to one of the most engaging, endearing, prototypical heroes in the genre.
The Nick of Time and it's sequel The Bird of Time are slapstick novels in which Effinger tried to throw in every trope and gimmick and consequence that were known in the science fiction stories of the field from the original Wells through Gerrold's The Man Who Folded Himself. We see competitive bureaus in conflict, tourism and research, and potential paradox upon paradox, all mixed in a zany and humorous manner. Some of the obscure pop-culture references don't work too well because you have to look them up in order to get the context, and when he tries to get serious and philosophical the contrast is too jarring, but after all is said and done they're fun diversions. Effinger was always both clever and witty, and these are both slickly written stories.
This book has not aged well, but the biggest problem with it is that none of the characters are compelling.
The book is all about multiverses and odd time loops, paradoxes, and the like. Toward the end, Effinger throws out some scientific-looking diagrams and mathematic equations. By that point, I had so lost interest that I didn’t explore them in any detail.
To add to the above, I found the continual references to 1930’s pop culture to be extremely annoying. I recall that this was a big thing in the 1980’s to some degree (e.g., Farmer’s Riverboat series), but in 2019, it’s just annoying.
This is the worst novel I’ve read in years. Really quite bad. Uninteresting characters, complicated, hard-to-follow plot line, desperate attempts at wit and humor that fall flatter than the thinnest ice sheet — upon which the author skated around, pirouetting like a fool.
Only the opening sequence, set in 1939 New York, at the World’s Fair, is compelling. Indeed, parts of it — or the whole of it, I’m not going to check — were featured in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction back in the 1980s. I loved it. I kept the title of this novel in my head for more than 30 years. And what a disappointment. An utter failure.
Towards the end of the book the author introduces his best literary creation, the nuhp — an alien race — but to no good effect. Read the story “The Aliens Who Knew, I Mean, Everything,” which featured the nuhp invasion of Earth to grand comic effect. Now that was hilarious.
The author is justly renowned for his dark, cyberpunk Audran Chronicles books, titled from Bob Dylan lines. But this book is terrible.