Changes

|title=The Execution Channel

|sort=Execution Channel

|buy=Yes

|borrow=Yes

|pages=416

|publisher=Orbit

|date=March 2008

|isbn=978-1841493497

}}

In a post flu pandemic Britain not so far into the future, a nuclear explosion rocks the US base at RAF Leuchars. Several thousand people die. The War on Terror is being lost, perhaps has already been lost. Russia and China are gradually reverting back to old-style Communism, Britain is a seething mass of racial tension, and a goodly proportion of Americans are subsisting in FEMA camps, refugees from global warming and debt. India leads the profitable race in designing technological consumer goods, China does the skilled manufacturing, leaving the newly-impoverished American workers the crumbs of slave-labour assembly work. Conspiracy theorists and state disinformation networks have become indistinguishable from one another and someone, somewhere has set up the Execution Channel, which shows loop after loop of the murder, execution and torture, nobody knows how.

That Mr MacLeod's a clever one. ''The Execution Channel'' crept up behind me, tapped me on the shoulder, then bit me on the bum when I looked around more times than I care to admit. Just as I was cosying in to a near-future espionage thriller, one of the characters would have a minor internal epiphany - often little to do with the action - that stopped me dead in my tracks. Or a clever little piece of backstory - this isn't quite Britain in the near future, it's Britain in an ''alternative'' near future - would be thrown in very casually and trip me up in several assumptions that had a lot more to do with ideology than plot. It's almost as though MacLeod had gone to a fancy dress party disguised as Tom Clancy but made sure to leave his fingerprints on every glass. It would have to be quite a scary fancy dress party though, because ''The Execution Channel'' frightened the bejaysus out of me.

''The Execution Channel'' was easy to read and difficult to think about. And it pressed every single one of my buttons (well, except for that half a page with the sex in it. Note to author: don't say "cock". It reminds me of the Readers Wives pages in Those Magazines all the boys bought before the good old www made all their dreams come true). I absolutely loved it. Here's hoping it gives Ken MacLeod an audience even wider than his considerable cadre of already appreciative SF fans. Stonking stuff.

My thanks to the nice people at Orbit for sending the book.

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