The Publisher Says: Raffi works in an observational cosmology lab, searching for dark matter and trying to hide how little they understand their own research. Every chance they get, they escape to see Britt, a queer sculptor who fascinates them for reasons they also don’t—or won’t—understand. As Raffi’s carefully constructed life begins to collapse, they become increasingly fixated on the multiverse and the idea that somewhere, there might be a universe where they mean as much to Britt as she does to them…and just like that, Raffi and Britt are thirteen years old, best friends and maybe something more.

In Universes is a mind-bending tour across parallel worlds, each an answer to the question of what life would be like if events had played out just a little differently. The universes grow increasingly strange: women fracture into hordes of animals, alien-infested bears prowl apocalyptic landscapes. But across them all, Raffi—alongside their sometimes-friends, sometimes-lovers Britt, Kay, and Graham—reaches for a life that feels authentically their own.

Blending realism with science fiction, In Universes explores the thirst for genius, the fluidity of gender and identity, and the pull of the past against the desire to lead a meaningful life. Part Ted Chiang, part Carmen Maria Machado, part , In Universes insists on the transgressive power of hope even in the darkest of times.

I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA NETGALLEY. THANK YOU.

My Review: A blast of a read, in all the usual meanings of that word: Loud, trumpet-like; maximally fun; shattering and sudden; destructive.

Emotionally shattering because there is a great deal of grief and grieving inherent in exploration of self in relation to others, among other reasons. Raffi is protean, contains multitudes, and will not be nailed down to one meager choice when the entire multiverse is spread before them. A more adventurous take, then, on the idea of Everything Everywhere All At Once as it includes greater intentionality. Destruction, demolition blasts are very much here; Raffi, in some universes, rivals Kali as a destroyer of worlds, for self as well as, particularly, for others. There is no relationship in this story that is not utterly destroyed. They just don't get destroyed at the same time, by the same person, method, or for the same reasons. As you read along, wondering where the HELL Emet is taking you, you'll be suddenly shattered by the complete inversion of your expectations multiple times.

The fun of this read, and it is indeed fun to read, is the take-no-prisoners verve with which the story's told. Leave your pearls at home when you embark on this trip. Like Henry Miller, Emet North has no time for, interest in, or fear of you pearl-clutching linear, polite, unadventurous souls. Getting down into the baseness, the base, the bases of reality is the project and that simply cannot be done with clean white cotton gloves turning the pages.

I will say that, as a resolutely gay male, I was somewhat battered by the sheer preponderance of vaginas. I still read it; look at those four stars. That's a loud statement of my level of investment. A boon to me, in this overwhelmed-by-labia state, came from the fact that this is not a Beckett or Joyce-flavored excursion into vaggieland. Back to the Henry Miller comparison: The point of view doesn't really change, just the angle of the sightline...no one's holding your head in place like Joyce or Beckett both of whom want you all the way down until you have no air and start to gag on the overload. Miller's eternally shuffling around, foul fair foul fair all the same sight but never still long enough to be sure exactly what sight that is; this is closest to Emet North's method of shaking the kaleidoscope to fracture the multiverse as well.

What you should know is, this read doesn't want you to love it, like a shirley temple. This read wants you to live in it, to get into its unmarked white delivery van, to be fully present as you're shaken (and stirred) before being poured out in a thin stream of pungent, colorless, powerfully mixed sophistication. If that sounds unappealing, horseman, pass by. If you're in the mood to be renewed or renovated after some pleasant undemaning reads, this story will give you more than you expected.

This raving ramble accompanies four, not five, stars because the entire edifice is built on a largely ignored foundation of cosmology. I think, if one's calling something science fiction, and making the protagonist a cosmologist, that should figure in the story fairly prominently. I think my pleasure in the read also took a hit because there was often so little of a narrative strand to follow...this makes the setting down of the book very, very easy, and can make the picking up of it less so.

I recommend it to those weary of predictable plods. I recommend it to QUILTBAG readers. I do, above all, recommend it. ( )