I'm not sure what to make of this really. I don't think it's anywhere near as "demented" or wacky as some reviewers do. The most bizarre element is that the protagonist has his face turned into that of a clown's, but other than that it's mostly just a nightmarish time-trek story. It's one long chase-mystery, and I don't think it asks you to suspend your disbelief too much until the end, where things get way too expository. Otherwise, it is, if anything, uneventful. I guess it's kind of like a sci-fi noir. The vision of the future is bleak and grimy, our protagonist tells his story in a pulp-like fashion, there's a femme-fatale, and everyone is despicable.

Vincent King has an odd style. I read him because I find him interesting, rather than because I think he's a good writer. His style is a mesh of pulpy and literary. It's frantic and free, and his dialogue makes everyone sound like gibbering idiots. A lot of his prose is enjoyable just because it's so strange, or at the very least, aesthetically appealing; but he tends to overuse ellipses and italics, which can get annoying.

I've read two of his novels prior to this: Another End, which was barmy, and barmy enough to be lovable in spite of its faults; and Light a Last Candle, which was just erratically paced and packed to the brim with ideas. Messy, but enjoyable. And then I also read his short story, Testament, which I actually thought was very good - maybe short fiction is something he's better suited to. I'm yet to read Candy Man which, unlike everything else he wrote, actually had some small success and garnered some cult appreciation. For some reason, I've left that one till last.

Time Snake and Super Clown is by far the worst thing by him I've read, and also the least interesting. King does convey a cool atmosphere for most of it, but he also does a bad job of describing things in a way that puts a good picture in the reader's mind. Everything felt vague, and I ended up just imagining everything based on the red-centric cover art. Given that, and the association with clowns and this ginger/red-haired man that constantly appears to our main character, everything was just red and orange in my imagination, and it was rather bland. The tone is quite bleak, and I guess "dark", but it mostly comes across as silly.

I'm not sure I have a clear notion of what King was getting at with the ending. I'm also not that bothered about knowing. Most of the book felt pretty weak in terms of subtext or doing anything beyond milking the protagonist's naive confusion as much as possible.

If you're interested in Vincent King, don't start with this one. If you've read everything else (there isn't much of it), this is worth a look for the sake of completion. ( )

You know how some '70s and '80s horror films are so unbelievably bad that they're an absolute joy to watch and you can't stop laughing for the tears streaming down your face? No? Then don't bother with this book--it won't appeal to your sense of humor. It certainly did mine.

There are upwards of one thousand ellipses and probably about 500 italicized mundane words. The prose itself grows progressively, agonizingly worse over the course of the novel, although the occasional line of description jumps out as competent, sometimes even well written, and most of the SF concepts could've been a lot worse.

If the title alone makes you want to give this a read, I recommend it. Like a well-fed clown, there's enough here for all of us to laugh at. ( )