It happens to all of us: every reader—and by extension, every reviewer—will, at some point, find themselves completely gobsmacked by a book, wanting to press it into the hands of anyone who will listen. Oddly, though, they find themselves utterly unable to articulate why the book is so great. Sometimes, even a bare description of the book is vexing. Such is the case with Dead Astronauts, the new novel by Florida writer Jeff VanderMeer ... It’s a relentlessly experimental novel, shifting viewpoints and styles, skipping through time frames and across cosmic distances, changing formats; it even includes version numbers in the margins ... Despite this complex approach, however, it is utterly accessible: one need only surrender to VanderMeer, to trust in the work. And if you do give yourself over—which I would strongly urge you to do—you will find the novel is less a puzzle than it is a profoundly moving exploration of connection, isolation, sacrifice and the relationship of man with nature (though the novel would suggest that there is no such division). Ultimately, Dead Astronauts is sui generis, a book you simply must read. If you were here, I would press it into your hands and not let you put it down.

VanderMeer, whose imaginative novels are fed by his fecund home state of Florida, wants us to inhabit the minds of his ravenous bird and the massive fish held in a tank. It’s actually not that far off from the world we know — and perhaps that’s the point. Who hasn’t wondered what it’s like to be a bird swooping from the sky? These monsters become less monstrous when we live inside their (often hungry, often angry) heads ... When writers are working in a series, there is a risk that its world will close in on itself. This world began with Borne, the story of a woman living in a broken-down apartment building in the City who finds a cuttlefish-slash-houseplant with the awareness of a little boy. With Dead Astronauts, VanderMeer has expanded to a multiverse with a poisoned past, engineered monsters and a possibly redeemable future, all from something that was merely decoration. There’s no limit to where it might go next.

... [a] darkly transcendent novel filled with phantasmagoric visions, body horror and tortured beings traversing a blasted desert hellscape. Think The Last Judgment, but with more animals ... pointedly inhabits these strange, nonhuman consciousnesses ... Amid all its grimness, the novel finds some small redemption in the power of love. But VanderMeer’s brilliant formal tricks make love feel abstract and unconvincing by the end, a flimsy human ideal ... It’s precisely that ferocity that makes Dead Astronauts so terrifying and so compelling.

A genuinely innovative artwork requires time to fulfil its effect. Jeff VanderMeer’s Dead Astronauts is one such work – bewildering, perplexing, original – and I would recommend that readers allow it the concentration it demands ... typographical games...characterise these latter sections – paler and heavier typeface, isolated strips of text on an otherwise black page, figures in the margins reminiscent of biblical verse-numbering, only counting backwards ... How far readers will tolerate such self-conscious gamesmanship will come down to individual taste. For this reader at least, this kind of formal innovation is pure catnip, an indication that as a mode of literary expression the novel is still vigorous, still developing and still important. Far from being pointless or posturing, such devices serve as a reminder that the novel is not simply a narrative, it is also text, and that language can have an agenda apart from story ... Dead Astronauts transmits its core concerns around environmental breakdown through the splintering of narrative into its component parts ... There is a temptation to skip over such passages, yet in their obsessive reiterations they begin gradually to take on the quality of music, a whispered continuo that is both creepy and beguiling, conveying their message with a subtextual intensity that would be difficult to achieve through more conventional means ...it has become clear there is no subject more important to [VanderMeer] than the degrading and disastrous effect of human activity on fragile ecosystems. Employing stylistic and linguistic devices that reach beyond narrative, the author deliberately deconstructs the very concept of familiarity and forces us up against his subject matter in a way that demands we not only engage with it, but recognise its vast importance to our lives and futures.

While Dead Astronauts is a companion novel to Borne—returning to the three titular dead astronauts at the city crossroads—it functions as a standalone text. There are calls to narrative moments in the other book, and images certainly, but it’s entirely possible to read as a cohesive work all on its own ... It feels almost lazy, at this stage of the game, to toss out the word ‘hallucinatory’ for a Jeff VanderMeer novel—and yet it’s often the right word, particularly for sections of Dead Astronauts ... not what I would call a simple read. It’s quite purposefully challenging ... It twists the mouth, a little, but it also feels good; it feels unexpected yet expected ... overall the function of the novel isn’t traditionally structural. What it is, is affective. There’s a reason half of the book relies on poetic structure rather than narrative, and that’s emotion and animality ... While Dead Astronauts is extreme, occasionally becoming a nightmare that crosses the limits of imagination and hallucination, it’s also deeply rooted in the now.

The varied points of view and stylistic shifts of the narrative allow the reader to experience reality through the eyes of different characters, human and otherwise, and the struggle of different forms of life trying to survive unites the vignettes that form the bulk of the novel. Highly recommended for those interested in sf invested in ecological concerns and speculative fiction that plays with narrative form.

VanderMeer is unparalleled in his ability to bring to our ears the songs of such strange worlds, from the animals that inhabit them to the soil itself ... At its best, Dead Astronauts is an avant-garde and gorgeously textured story that demands to be proselytized ... VanderMeer’s unique characters and perspectives are a huge part of his draw, and in Dead Astronauts he asserts his place at the top of the food chain. While other attempts have been made in ecological fiction to give voices to more non-human roles, no one does it better than VanderMeer ... one of the most innovative novels I’ve read all year, playing with form, layout, and type ... VanderMeer plays with words and repetition in a way few other prose stylists dare attempt. The novel is sort of a plea to slow down and notice what you might regularly gloss over. It forces this sort of care on the part of the reader. The overall effect is delightful ... Because VanderMeer is such a good writer, it’s fun to watch him play. Not every section worked for me, but like the 'digressive' sections of Moby-Dick, they all contribute to the ambiance of the work. Yet there are some halting moments. While not a direct sequel to either Borne or The Strange Bird, Dead Astronauts relies heavily on the concert between these works, and even as a reader of the preceding work, I found myself forgetting relevant information until I referred back to the earlier pieces. I’m sure a reader unfamiliar with either of the previous stories will see the brilliance showcased here, but it’s through the harmony of these works that the full resonance is revealed ... I found myself nearly moved to tears by more than one section of the novel ... beautiful.

Jeff VanderMeer’s new novel, Dead Astronauts, has the feeling of a mosaic. Up close, you can marvel at the deft selection of each element, each word and sentence, and appreciate how it interacts with its immediate neighbors. From much further back, taking in the book as a whole, scenes and themes snap together ... Beautiful, certainly. Sensical, certainly not ... Fans of Vandermeer will notice bits of his older work echoing through ... Dead Astronauts is impressionist, stream of consciousness, jazz ... The story, such as it is, is elusive, given to tangent, to mad jumps in time and universe and perspective, each new bit of plot unfolding as if its predecessor were only half-remembered and poorly understood ... Not that that is a criticism, per se. Half-remembered and poorly understood is how VanderMeer’s characters live their lives.

The conceit can be trying. Several chapters consist of sentence clusters repeated over and over again ... Certainly, some readers may miss the (relatively) straight-forward weirdness of Borne. But the vivid and, at times, genuinely moving Dead Astronautsranks as a successful experiment — definitely more successful than much of the deranged biological tinkering it depicts.

... moves in shutterclicks, shifting points of view and moments in time. The experience of reading it is a compulsively absorbing confusion. Straightforward answers are not forthcoming. The reader assembles what remains of the history of Vandermeer's world by gestalt, layering snatches of imagery one on top of another. Yet the book is profoundly emotional. Each character voice is compelling, brutal, rooted in emotional experience. Dead Astronauts is capable of making a reader grieve a kaleidoscope — or a sentient moss.

Offering only partial understanding and knowledge for readers, VanderMeer’s work engages in a form of critical negativity that perhaps reflects the increasing estrangement of humanity from the ability to comprehend and act (effectively, collectively) in response to the global devastation of colonialism, late capitalism, and the effects climate change ... stylistically unique and more challenging than any of [VanderMeer's] previous work ... sections of the novel are beautiful even when they are chilling; multiplying perspectives on similar events build a complexly layered narrative.

...formal experimentation abounds: changing fonts, irregular paragraphing and a whole chapter that repeats one phrase for four pages. The upshot can be confusing. VanderMeer can be prone to overwriting – and overexplaining – too ... The natural and spiritual world cohabits and clashes with the scientifically crafted and synthetic one, but they can often seem indistinguishable. Underpinning it all is an attempt to return our focus to the precarious wonder of the natural world, as we become aware of our mistreatment of it and the resultant catastrophic direction it is taking ... This is neither a utopia nor a dystopia but an imaginative extension of catastrophes we know. VanderMeer presents us with a bizarre world, and it is the reader’s process of discovery to find the familiar within it. The result is impressive, but also baggy and uneven. The ideas often work harder than their delivery in the writing, while the Mobius Strip plot and formal experimentation will frustrate as many readers as they will enthral.

... what happens when pulp alters the DNA of a novel about big ideas grown in the petri dish of science fiction ... multilayered and complex ... VanderMeer’s voice shines here more than in any of his previous books ... [Vandermeer's] prose flows while shifting from strange to poetic, from feverish to devastating. Similarly, the intertwined narratives in the novel refuse to be pinned down. Instead, they clash together and then pull apart, constantly moving in multiple directions at once. The result is a novel that is a challenge, an environmental warning and a smart exploration of the limits of weird fiction ... ties into VanderMeer’s previous novel, Borne, but works as a stand-alone because of its depth and complexity. The numerous stories and characters can make it sound like a confusing, disjointed read, but there are elements that make it feel unified ... what makes Dead Astronauts special are the hidden gems readers discover throughout the novel ... a wildly imaginative and entertaining read. Dead Astronauts is a weird creature inhabiting the moss growing in the space between pulp and philosophy, and it has a message of survival that demands attention.

2.5 out of 4 stars ... Unlike Borne, which largely adhered to more common notions of storytelling, Astronauts exists in a state that is often beyond language. That might not seem to make a lot of logical sense when you consider that this is a novel we’re talking about, but in fact, as the book goes along, the lack of structural integrity begins to make more sense, not less ... If we spent the majority of the book with the astronauts as they plumbed this failed world, the novel might be more easily engaged with, but instead VanderMeer slides around ... we get VanderMeer’s beautiful and striking examination of this life, across all the multitudes ... It’s hard to know what entirely to make of Dead Astronauts. As an existential pursuit into the notion of time and space, it’s surely mind-bending and VanderMeer never ceases to amaze with his ability to create a world of our own that reeks of our mistakes. And yet, too, it’s hard not to yearn for more narrative coherence.

Layered and complex ... Uncertainty persistently dogs these characters, but it also looms over the reader in a novel that tells a complex story using complicated, stylized writing ... VanderMeer’s style here, marked by an archaic syntax and clipped sentences, is cumbersome for a reader trying to gain a foothold in this strange, new world ... Though lush with sensory details, the odd cadence brings to mind a speaker in a royal court, reading from a scroll of dry parchment ... While the ornamental style complements elements of lore peppered throughout the novel, such as the archetypal beings of the trickster fox and the lone traveler, it hampers narrative momentum. That could be forgiven if the world of Dead Astronauts were less convoluted, but we are, after all, hopscotching between multiple realities, timelines and character perspectives ... This notion of hedging expectations is an apt, if sobering, takeaway from this trying parable of climate change.

Jeff VanderMeer’s neon, epic tesseract of a novel is exactly what his fans could expect of the next installment in his canon --- which is to say, something brave and consciously wild, and wholly, defiantly unexpected ... VanderMeer reestablishes himself as 'the weird Thoreau' here, weaving a labyrinthine mesmer out of apocalypse, purpose, translation, sublimation and hope ... Because there is hope here, too. It always feels essential to VanderMeer’s writing, as behemoth as it is. There is play in the work of his words, in his entropic tesseract of gory-glory, be calm-becalmed, the cataclysm/catechism of the duck (yes, the duck). His deconstructive modes, his repetition and reignition, are rendered with his practiced mastery. Even as they sprawl across the mutating wilderness of his story, they are rooted in intimacy, in the interplay of his characters and their relationship to themselves and the earth. There’s an affection, a tenderness, even within the scream of a wormhole, even when nothing remains and everything does (and both are equally terrifying) ... VanderMeer interrogates the well-trod dichotomy between creator and creation, but he makes it fresh and strange. He explores the viscera of humanity’s relationship with the environment, and it’s wild and wonderful even as it’s devastating ... may not attract every reader. There are uncomfortable truths here, and challenging means of exploring them. Yet so much of VanderMeer’s appeal thrives within his unapologetic, fractal prose. For those who seek brilliant, strange, intricate science fiction, there will be much joy and vindication to be found within this kaleidoscope of a novel.

VanderMeer has built a career on narratives that explore the limits of fiction, both in terms of language and form. His latest novel, Dead Astronauts, set in the same Universe as Borne , takes that sense of invention and playfulness to the extreme, giving us a modern and post-modern tour-de-force unlike any main­stream science fiction novel written over the last two decades ... The prose is rhapsodic and intense, including an extraordinary elegy – that reminded me, sans the eroticism, of Molly Bloom’s soliloquy in Ulysses ... Those expecting a novel with a similar feel and structure to Borne and The Strange Bird may initially find Dead Astronauts confound­ing. If they persevere – and I highly recommend they do – they will become immersed in a world that has the bones of those previous books but is so much more. Dead Astronauts is a story of hatred and revenge, of redemption and love, of environmental disaster and rebirth. It is unabash­edly experimental, threaded with a lyricism and poetry – especially when it comes to describing the natural world – that is achingly beautiful, and, most pleasing of all is a work of fiction that harks back to the New Wave, igniting a beacon for other genre writers to follow.

... a story whose timeline folds in upon itself like an origami centipede ... VanderMeer’s most formally experimental novel, and his most challenging. But it also echoes his constant themes, offering us a vision of a future in which disregard for environmental degradation has the direst of consequences — at least for the species that caused it.

Much of the action in VanderMeer’s story is circumstantial, but it provides useful backstory to his previous books Borne and The Strange Bird, delivering, for example, the origin story of the blue fox and emphasizing the madness of a humankind that destroys the natural world only to replace it with things very like what has been destroyed ... VanderMeer is a master of literary science fiction, and this may be his best book yet.

...overstuffed ... It’s certainly among VanderMeer’s most experimental work, but the novel never coalesces; the characters and concepts are too loosely sketched and the prose is both grandiose and oddly humorless ... This diffuse novel reads like unused notes from Borne and feels incomplete.