The World of Zoran Zivkovic, Part 3: Compartments

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As I have noted elsewhere, and more than once, with the possible exception of action movies, there's not much that's duller than the sort of surrealistic or weird or fantastic fiction that is nothing more than a series of odd images and ideas, each more jarring and hallucinatory than the last. There's nothing wrong with the jarring and hallucinatory, and a lot that's right with it, but if all we have in the end is the sad spectacle of a writer in competition with him- or herself to keep upping the ante of the odd, the end is not exhilaration, but exhaustion.

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