The Way She Smiles, the Things She Says by Greg Egan

 

Companion.

I  am a big fan of Greg Egan. The guy’s basically a one-man sci-fi think tank. His short fiction usually blows my mind in the best way: intricate ideas, sharp prose, and the kind of brainy what-if scenarios that make you question the fabric of reality. I’ve sung his praises plenty of times on this blog. He’s the rare author who makes science fiction feel fresh again. I like to think of him as the Australian Ted Chiang, just with a little more math and physics thrown in for good measure.

So imagine my disappointment when I read The Way She Smiles, the Things She Says. To put it gently, this one’s a real stinker. It's awful with no redeeming qualities. I still can't believe this is the same author than penned such fantastic stories like "The Infinite Assassin" or "Learning to Be Me." It feels like an imposter. 

Taken from his Artifacts short-story collection, the razor thin-premise revolves around a sexually depraved father who’s jealous of his son’s relationship with a sexbot. The whole thing reads like a late-night fever dream of bad ideas stitched together with the faintest trace of Egan’s usual precision.

What really sinks it is the hollowness underneath. It flirts with big themes such as toxic masculinity, AI companionship and fractured family dynamics, but never commits to saying anything meaningful about them. The rampant vulgarity and misogyny also serve no purpose, only adding to the cringe-factor. Egan’s best stories hum with ideas and emotional resonance; this one just hums with half-baked ideas and bad writing. If you ever wondered what Greg Egan’s version of a trainwreck looks like, well, here it is.