Infinite Ground

by Martin MacInnes

A luminous debut novel of modern alienation, of the sinister beauty of the human body and of the enduring splendour of the natural world.

During a sweltering South American summer, a family convenes for dinner at a restaurant. Midway through the meal, Carlos disappears. An experienced, semi-retired inspector takes the case, but what should be a routine investigation becomes something strange, intangible, even sinister. The corporation for which Carlos worked seems to serve no purpose; the staff talk of their missing colleague's alarming, shifting physical symptoms; a forensic scientist uncovers evidence of curious abnormalities in the thriving ecosystem of cells and bacteria that made up Carlos's body. As the inspector relives and retraces the missing man's footsteps, the trail leads him deep into the country's rainforest interior, where he encounters both horror and wonder.

Genres: Fiction, Mystery, Science Fiction, Horror, Fantasy, Literary Fiction, Novels

261 pages, Hardcover

First published August 4, 2016

About the author

Martin MacInnes has been published in 13 languages and is the winner of a Manchester Fiction Prize, a Scottish Book Trust New Writers Award and a Somerset Maugham Award. His third novel, In Ascension (2023), was longlisted for the Booker Prize, shortlisted for the Kitschies award, and won the Arthur C. Clarke award, Blackwell's Book of the Year, and the Saltire Prize for Fiction. In Ascension is a Times bestseller and has been optioned for film.

Reviews

[Jeffrey Keeten · Rating 3 out of 5]

”Whenever he opened a book, now, he couldn’t help shivering at the fabric, the feel of the pressed paper and glued spine, the fluttering concertina of the open pages held upside down. He had an impulse to eat it. He felt the shivering irritation of chalk on gums, a cold, squealing unease across his shoulders and at the back of his neck. He heard the creak of the spine, felt the bend of the heft carried by his fingers, and knew it was impossible for him to enjoy it any more, holding a book like that and simply reading. Instead he was fixated on the idea of consuming the book, putting its dry paper inside his mouth and eventually forcing the thing down, his gums lined with reams, his teeth stained with ink.”

I’ve consumed books my whole life, but I’ve never felt like eating one. I’ve squeezed the honeyed nectar of wisdom from books and pooled it in my mind. I’ve inhaled the sweet scent of a book a hundred and fifty years old and thought the aroma was as compelling as that of a freshly baked loaf of bread. I’ve smelled the death of books, the reek of mold and must and mildew. I’ve seen books with broken backs, helpless, pages fluttering away. Those books are on the verge of being eaten, pulped, turned into something less significant.

If I feast on a book, will the words melt on my tongue and travel through my bloodstream, leaving ink trails along the walls of my heart? Will those words whisper thoughts in the swirls of my ears that will make my body tingle with new possibilities? Would I be able to understand Milton or Shakespeare as if I’d written those words myself?

Insanity has so many possibilities.

Carlos is having dinner with his family in a restaurant. During the course of the meal, he excuses himself and disappears. The Inspector called in to search for him is nearing retirement and knows this is probably one of his last cases. His wife has recently passed, and the spectral presence of herself is still inhabiting his apartment in the things she left behind and the thoughts he still has that he wishes to share with her.

Carlos had been changing for a while. His personality has altered. His outer appearance had morphed into something different as if his DNA had reconfigured him into something new. The forensic team finds trace elements of microorganisms in his office. Did something he was working on for the corporation infect him? His spoor is found everywhere he has been recently. ”Significant floral and faunal interaction was established. He remained present in nearby traces of his hair and skin found in nineteen birds’ nests of various sizes. Faeces from newborn birds implied his digestive ecosystem. He was partly consumed in the course of his walks, and there was evidence of his de-fleshing in the grasses.”

There was a wildflower blooming in the middle of his desk.

As the Inspector follows the trail, a trail of disintegration, he is led deep into the forest. He is lost in a geographical sense, but we also start to believe that the Inspector is plucking the wrong threads in his own mind. He has real anxiety that he has been infected, as well. His scientific mind is struggling to overcome his superstitious fears. ”He pressed his hands to the top of his head. Unbroken. He wiped sweat away. He had imagined a blade put against him, planing down his head, shavings like sawdust around him on his shoulders. Pulped tissue and nerve. The smell of his own brain. Scent and sense, matter and memory.”

The inspector goes in search of Carlos, but in the course of this quest, he loses himself. "Carlos isn’t here. Carlos isn’t gone. This isn’t everything. This is a brief light."

There are heavy metaphysical elements to this novel. It reminded me a bit of the Southern Reach trilogy by Jeff Vandermeer. For others, it reminded them of some of the great mystical South American writers like Julio Cortazar, Jorge Luis Borges, Adolfo Bioy Casares, and Roberto Bolaño. Martin MacInnes is Scottish, and when I was browsing Waterstone’s in Oban, Scotland, they had a stack of his books, priced affordably as more publishers need to do to promote a new author. Given the premise and the blurb from Jeff Vandermeer, I knew this would be a good fit for me.

The first third of the book, I was absolutely in love with the plot and the premise. I loved the gradual disappearance of reality. The middle part bogged down into possible solutions that would have been more interesting if they had been integrated rather than just listed off. MacInnes took me to this place, immersed me so that I was dripping with bacillus and buzzing with speculations... and then he yanks me out. I experienced vertigo and a queasiness that left me shivering with the shock of being back in real life. He took me back for the last third of the novel, but something had changed in me when he brought me back as if I’d inhaled a mood altering microorganism in the middle of the book.

This is about madness chasing madness in the heart of darkness.

If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
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[Doug · Rating 3 out of 5]

Update: 9/23: So as if it weren't obvs., the impetus for rereading Macinnes's first novel was because I really, REALLY liked his latest book, the Booker-nominated In Ascension - which scored first in my rankings of the entire longlist and which I voraciously devoured in 2 days.

In contrast, this read took me a sluggish 4, even though it's less than half the length - an indication that all was NOT well. I have to puzzle over the fact I originally thought the last half was faster paced, as I found just the opposite to be true on the reread - so much so, that I downgraded my initial rating from a 4 to a 3. I haven't read Macinnes' 2nd book, and I intended to get to it next - but may take a break and read something else in between... :-(

Original review, 12/16: The book jacket name checks Nabokov, Cortazar and Angela Carter, but this reminded me more of Tom McCarthy, with a smidge of Conrad also. After a sluggish start, the book reads very quickly, and just when you think you have it pegged, it veers off in a different direction. Not one of my favorite books of the year, but novel enough to warrant 4 stars. PS ..not that it has anything to do with the story itself, but this is one of the most beautifully designed and bound books I've seen recently - the cover pic on here doesn't do it justice!

[Glenn Russell]

Martin MacInnes on his debut novel, Infinite Ground, set in South American, first in a city and then expanding out to the rainforest: "The book tries to dissolve the idea that humans are discrete things—shapes entirely made of this "human" quality, entirely ourselves, with a solid skin border separating us from everything else, bound as a species with a clear origin point, sufficiently removed from all other life. Safe, secure, permanent. That kind of human has never existed."

I'm thrilled to have come across Martin MacInnes in my exploration of contemporary novels written by young authors.

Keeping in mind the author's observation that humans are not separate entities; rather, we are intimately intertwined and interconnected to the world around us, here's a batch of direct quotes taken from the first chapters along with my accompanying comments -

“He had joined his workplace – a financial institution in the process of a large and complex merger, leaving it for the moment without a name – six years ago, straight from college. He was devoted to his job, known to forego holidays....His work demands were said to have increased three-fold, but remained nothing out of the ordinary. Reception records showed he was arriving earlier and leaving later every day.”

At the heart of Infinite Ground: a detective, herein called Inspector, searches for Carlos who excused himself from a family dinner held at a restaurant on order to go to the bathroom. But then, the unexpected: Carlos mysteriously disappears. A touch of irony: prior to his physical disappearance at the restaurant, like thousands of corporate types working in an office, Carlos has been subsumed (a kind of disappearance) by his job.

“As if it were not enough that the man had disappeared just like that, from the middle of the restaurant, without any warning whatsoever, and further that the mother, in relating the incident, had gone on for some time about what even he would consider insignificant details, it turned out, now, that this woman was not who she claimed to be.”

The shocker: ten pages into the novel, the inspector discovers he's surrounded by actors: the woman who said she's Carlos's mother is an actress and many people working for Carlos' employer, the Corporation, are actors playing the part of conscientious office workers. For as one administrative assistant relates “when the corporation was entertaining prospective clients, engaged in a series of meetings and wishing to give the best possible impression, it needed office workers displaying an appearance of optimal efficiency and hard work.” My overarching observation: this is an urban world of artificiality overly concerned with making a good appearance, so much so, it borders on the sinister.

“She was not in favour of investigating the occult, that was a dangerous path, she said, a tricky slope, but there was something dark and strange at work here, and often now, even in broadest daylight or while going about her shopping in the supermarket, say, she would watch her step, mindful of the every-present possibility of gong under, of falling, vanishing into a darkness.”

Eerie, eerie. Carlos' disappearance prompts speculation into how safe, how solid is our human identity and human presence in the world. There's even talk of an anticipated astronomical event that will shatter human life as we know it.

“He (the Inspector) was amazed and impressed by the colossal corporate arrogance, the stunning lack of imagination. The idea that all places – a forest, a desert, conceivably even seas – were really urban spaces in the preliminary stage.”

How much has really changed since the first Europeans landed in North America and South America? This strikes one as the supreme corporate mentality in our current world: every inch of everything on land and sea and in the air is but raw material, fodder, a tool to maximize corporate profit. With this mindset, what chance does a plant or rock or mere flesh and blood animal (humans included) stand when in conflict with such a brutal moneymaking buzzsaw?

Perhaps an approach to an answer to the above question will be forthcoming in the second half of Infinite Ground, when the novel flies to the interior and then enters the forest. Martin Machinnes has written a quizzical, thought-provoking work that's stunningly unique, one that's worth any reader's time. As Jeff VanderMeer observed, "I doubt you've read anything like it."


Scottish author Martin MacInnes, born 1983

[Blair · Rating 4 out of 5]

Infinite Ground starts as a mystery. A young man named Carlos disappears from a family gathering at a restaurant; he goes to the bathroom and simply doesn't come back. An inspector is brought in to review the case. But traces of the absurd soon creep in. First, the inspector discovers that Maria, the woman he has been assuming is Carlos's mother, is not his mother but an actress employed to portray her. The real Maria, the explanation goes, is too distraught to be seen in public. Later, it transpires that 'the corporation' which employed Carlos (it doesn't have an official name) does a similar thing, hiring actors to beef up its workforce for motivational and surveillance purposes. The inspector takes these developments in his stride: a clear indication of what type of story Infinite Ground is.

The inspector himself remains nameless, and the same applies to many other people and things in the book. Even the setting is simply 'an unnamed South American country'. Part of Infinite Ground's appeal is its slipperiness; the disadvantage of this is that, particularly in the early stages of the novel, it's quite difficult to get any sort of grip on the story. Even though I found it engrossing, would even describe it as unique in many ways, I kept realising I'd read whole chapters and, immediately afterwards, could barely remember what had happened. Perhaps that's also because it's formally conservative even as the content becomes more and more bizarre; the most meta it gets is a chapter listing all the things that 'may or may not' have happened to Carlos, including the suggestion that the whole thing is the inspector's own invention.

Whatever the truth, the inspector's imagination is what shapes this story. He first imagines Carlos eaten away by parasites, then creates a scenario in which Carlos has decided to reject human society and simply walked into the rainforest to live like a wild animal. In turn, he follows this path himself and seems to become Carlos. Images of insects and vegetation recur constantly – the word 'verdure' is virtually a motif. The overall effect is a vision of man consumed by nature, reverting to a primal state. Nature in this book is an unstoppable and insidious force, effecting rapid disintegration everywhere – Carlos's undefinable illness (if this indeed exists), the reclamation of Santa Lucía.

There is an oddly effective balance between three elements of the story: its mundane surrealism (strongest in part 1, 'Corporation', which might easily slot into the dystopian workplace trend); the portrayal of nature as an all-powerful force (unsurprisingly at its height in part 3, 'Forest'); and the inspector's investigation, which – despite outlandish methods – he never stops taking seriously, providing a pragmatic grounding for all the strangeness. But in the end, the whole resists interpretation and is near-impossible to categorise.

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[Mike · Rating 1 out of 5]

I read this through to the end - seemed that an award-winning first novel deserved that. I kept hoping it would redeem itself, but it only got more ridiculous as I read further. This book is an extended writing exercise from a Creative Writing class. Plot is irrelevant, style is what matters. Ok for a short story, but a full-length novel, arrrggghhhhh!

It is supposed to be a mystery. A young man disappears from a family dinner, and a veteran detective goes off on a search for him. But the plot disintegrates in a miasma of unreal events. It so reminded me of many Spanish novels in which time gets distorted, the dead intermix with the living, and nothing travels from A to B, instead from A to C to D to J to X, never getting to B. Nor is anything ever explained.

I hate to admit I even read this, but I've done this review with the hope that some others, checking the reviews before starting/buying the book, will skip 'Infinite Ground', and be saved the anguish I feel having read it.

[Renee Godding · Rating 2 out of 5]

2/5 stars upon reread

This is one of the weirdest book I have ever read... Just not in the way I wanted it to be…
If I had a nickel for every time someone said to me "you have never read anything like this", and after reading I would conclude that I had most definitely read many things like it, I would be a rich woman. Not this time; I ACTUALLY think I have never read anything like this before.

Infinite Ground starts off as a seemingly regular detective novel, with the mysterious disappearance of man, and a retired detective being called in to investigate. However, from this point on the plot (and, from how I interpreted the book, the main character) dive off into a state somewhere between existential philosophy and complete obsessive madness. As Carlos’ disappearance keeps defying “logical” explanation, our protagonists theories move into the realm of reality-defying. A list of his theories (actually included in the novel somewhere) include the likes of
1. the man that disappears wasn’t Carlos, but an imposter who simply looked identical to him.
2. He was infected by a microbe that didn’t just affect his body, but his mind and psyche.
3. He somehow was absorbed into the jungle; his atoms becoming part of nature again.
And many more such gems…
Our unnamed detective's search takes him through the streets of an unnamed South-American city and into the depths of the jungles beyond. As he explores these theories of how a man might simply dissolve into the world around him, his sense of identity, reality and self, begin to dissolve alongside it.

As fascinating and cool I think that concept is, the book runs into quite some problems in its execution. Writing about a character's decent into madness is probably one of the hardest things to do in fiction, as you have to (somehow!) keep the reader on board in spite of what you're throwing at them. MacInnes manages to do so until about the halfway point. His ideas are incredibly interesting and up until this point, the whacky and reality-questioning theories of our protagonists felt like a smart set-up for something greater. The problem is that that "something greater" never comes; there's no pay-off and the story fizzles out into nothing near the end.

This was however, the book that originally got me interested in MacInnes as an author, as the early signs of his literary talent are very clearly on display. I love the way he crafts sentences and metaphors, and enjoy how the flow of his writing matched the content of the story. If you're looking for evidence of his talents: look no further than In Ascension, where he's clearly honed in even more to his craft.
In its best moments, this book reminded me of Jeff Vandermeer’s Area X: The Southern Reach Trilogy with its metaphysical themes of dissolving of the self into nature. Unfortunately, that parallel only hammers home that this is by far the weaker version of that story.

Having read this book once in 2018, I didn’t quite know how I felt about it. Having reread it in 2025, I can say that I liked this as an exercise of ideas and an introduction to a very talented author. As a novel by itself though, I can’t quite recommend it.

[Jim · Rating 5 out of 5]

plenty of people will hate this book and for good reason... it's a psychological, intellectual, and sensual battle for your attention... i loved it... the ideas and concepts brought forth in this book are spectacular and mindnumbing and scary and bizarre... Carlos disappeared, or did he? the chapter listing what may have happened to Carlos, or if in fact there is a Carlos, is worth the price of admission for this book all by itself... stunning... the "biology" created by the author is similarly amazing and unbelievably detailed... one begins to wonder if The Inspector and Carlos aren't actually the same person... or not real, either of them... this book really messes with your perceptions and conceptions and ideas about reality, truth, sensation, human essence, and time... the sections about The Forest are crazyfun and it's just hard to grasp how the author brought so much originality and fabulousness into one book... again, i am sure many people will scoff at this book for the same reasons i adored it, and that is OK... but just start reading it and find out for yourself if you can put it down and stop thinking about the world created in between the pages... highest recommendation...

[Rae · Rating 2 out of 5]

PopSugar Reading Challenge 2023: A book by a first-time author

First, I'd like to say that I'm not averse to hypnotic, surreal narratives that go nowhere if they sufficiently suck me in. Kafka's The Castle, for example. Unfortunately, this one didn't work for me and the last 30 pages seemed interminable, (as the title suggests).

It could be that this experimental, meandering novel went over my head. It certainly made my brain hurt and its possible that I missed some key overriding theme that would have brought it together harmoniously.

Nominally, this is an investigation into the disappearance of Carlos, a young man that we are not encouraged to care about, by a semi-retired Inspector who, likewise, we are given little reason to back.

Stuff happens. Like a pile of twigs appearing on the morning after he disappeared. There is some excitement over some unusual bacteria found in Carlos' office. A wild deductive leap lands our Inspector in the rainforest, where he gets diarrhoea more than once. None of it seems to connect satisfactorily with the whole and I found myself more irritated than perplexed by the end.

I'm being facetiously reductive in my wrap-up. At times, this book did get me thinking. The scene where our Inspector finds a village abandoned was atmospheric and eerie. The idea of contingency offices and actors replicating actual work / family was creepy and original. I just wish it had led somewhere. Even if it hadn't led anywhere, an injection of personality may have made it feel less like a waste of time.

Maybe there was an existential essay about authenticity underlying all this office and jungle exploration, but if there was it was overly subtle.

I really wanted to like this novel because it was weird and flowing and different and well written, but it tried too hard to be clever and didn't have enough meat in the end.

Even though this book didn't work for me, I may be tempted into reading further works by the author. He has an interesting voice, even if there wasn't a sufficient story or philosophy here and if he can create this veritable onion of intrigue, perhaps one day he will make something that (to me) feels more complete.

[Anna · Rating 5 out of 5]

Here is a book that I judged by its cover and was rewarded for doing so with an excellent read. Dear publishers, you can reliably attract my attention with a green cover (my favourite colour) that includes an image reminding me of the film Annihilation. Upon reading the blurb I learned that the main character is a police inspector, but it sounded strange enough not to be a crime procedural so I borrowed it from the library. Indeed, ‘Infinite Ground’ is absolutely not a crime procedural. It is an account of searching for a missing person and finding the uncanny in offices, homes, people, and rainforest. I read the majority of ‘Infinite Ground’ after nine hours sleep and vivid dreams; its dreamlike atmosphere of malleable reality definitely prolonged the pleasant feeling of long sleep. I’m deeply impressed that this is a first novel, as I think it stands up with Auster’s The New York Trilogy and Ishiguro’s The Unconsoled in its evocation of the uncanny and unsettling. I loved it.

Horror fiction is not generally to my taste, vampires aside, but I really enjoy novels about spatially specific incursions of the uncanny into ordinary life. Such books only work if create a convincingly dreamlike odd atmosphere. They generally involve a search for a lost person or object, which sprawls into a search for any meaning or grounding in reality. The characters can be drawn in broad strokes, however the settings must be detailed and evoked with rich texture. ‘Infinite Ground’ does just this for an unnamed South American country, first in a city then the jungle.

The search for Carlos, a seemingly normal office worker, proceeds at a measured pace. The inspector encounters actors playing office workers and disturbingly specific forensics, then tries to precisely replicate the missing man’s work and to speak with a serial killer he put in jail years before. As the search continues, the inspector himself becomes more and more lost. Small yet disturbing incidents and strange urges suggest a general unravelling. This is gradually and elegantly done, with the deceptively naturalistic atmosphere of a dream. Capturing such an ambiguous and abstract feeling on a page is very difficult. MacInnes plays some little games with words, particularly ‘corporation’: both a business and a living body. Duplication and imitation are recurring themes:

The possibilities afforded by the use of the performers were impressive. There was nothing, for instance - except money - stopping him from hiring a full cast who could then perform a successful resolution to Carlos’ disappearance. It would be something very special indeed to be privy to the scene where Carlos walked back in. They’d all benefit from it. That kind of positive mental reinforcement was said to be tremendously advantageous.

He barely had time to consider one possibility when another burst in. Imagine a full reconstruction of the evening in question at La Cueva - they could script all of it, based on thorough interrogations of the extended family, the staff, the other diners, leaving only to chance the moment when Carlos left the bathroom. Perhaps the actor, living for that night exactly as Carlos had, would begin automatically reconstructing his actions, intuiting them, that is, without being told. Watching him closely enough, for once - and wishing, too late, that they had done so on the night in question - they would at last find out what had happened.
[...]
He could direct the cast in reverse, beginning from the moment they first realised Carlos hadn’t come back. It would be therapeutic. If done well enough a sufficient number of times it could even establish itself as a viable alternative to history.

The inspector’s third person narration is periodically interspersed with other, wilder theories about what might be going on, sometimes echoing or prefiguring the wider plot. The incursion of decay and rot is another motif, one that all the best uncanny fiction plays with, including Annihilation. (I’ve actually experienced fungi growing out of my bathroom floorboards and that was definitely unsettling on a fundamental level. As well as symptomatic of negligent rental agents.) The rainforest in this novel is mysterious and visceral in the manner I’d hoped The Vorrh would be but was not:

Metal washed out in rain and drifted through the trees and wildflowers. He saw copper tints in new giant ferns, each frond exceeding the height of his body.

He entered what had been the café and stepped through the rotten wooden floor as if into a river. The floor was webbed in larva, worms, and purple-black beetles. He dragged his feet forward without raising them and found he dug long, brief lines through the water-wood. The smell was incredible. He would have said he was in the body of something that was changing state. The lifted roofs were vast and uncertain, stretching out to the trees and the canopy.

I don’t think quotes really convey the atmosphere of novel as a whole, so you will have to take my word for it. Finally, I was delighted to discover an acknowledgement thanking Edinburgh libraries, where I found the book in the first place. I’m delighted that my favourite haunts fostered such an absorbingly weird novel. I’ll keep my eyes open for more fiction by MacInnes.

[George K. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Πριν κάτι μήνες έμαθα ότι θα κυκλοφορούσε αυτό το μυθιστόρημα από τις εκδόσεις Κριτική και μη γνωρίζοντας περί τίνος πρόκειται, το έψαξα για να μάθω: Αυτά που διάβασα μου κίνησαν άμεσα το ενδιαφέρον και δίχως δεύτερη σκέψη έβαλα το βιβλίο στη λίστα με τις νέες κυκλοφορίες που θα τιμούσα οπωσδήποτε. Λοιπόν, πρόκειται για ένα από τα πιο περίεργα και ιδιαίτερα μυθιστορήματα που είχα την τύχη να διαβάσω τον τελευταίο καιρό (δηλαδή τα τελευταία χρόνια), ένα μυθιστόρημα που μου δημιούργησε μια πολύ παράξενη αίσθηση -κάπως απροσδιόριστη για να μπορώ να σας τη μεταφέρω με σαφήνεια- και που μου χάρισε κάποιες ώρες αναγνωστικής απόλαυσης, αν και σαν βιβλίο είναι σχετικά απαιτητικό και δεν είναι σίγουρο ότι θα βγάλεις ένα συγκεκριμένο και απτό νόημα όταν το τελειώσεις.

Ειλικρινά, δεν μπορώ να πω ότι έπιασα τα πάντα από την πλοκή ή ότι κατάλαβα στον απόλυτο βαθμό για το τι ήθελε να πει ακριβώς ο ποιητής, όμως αυτό δεν με απέτρεψε από το να απολαύσω τη γραφή και την όλη τρέλα της αναζήτησης του πρωταγωνιστή για τον Κάρλος, όποιος και αν είναι αυτός. Η ιστορία αρχίζει σχετικά φυσιολογικά, σαν μια ενδιαφέρουσα ιστορία μυστηρίου, αλλά μετά το πράγμα εξελίσσεται σε κάτι διαφορετικό, σε κάτι σουρεαλιστικό, παρανοϊκό και ίσως μεταφυσικό, χωρίς να είσαι σίγουρος για το τι είναι αλήθεια και τι ψέμα, τι πραγματικό και τι φανταστικό. Γενικά ο συγγραφέας παίζει με το μυαλό του πρωταγωνιστή του, αλλά και με το μυαλό των αναγνωστών του, αλλά τουλάχιστον προσφέρει απλόχερα ωραίες περιγραφές, αλληγορικά στοιχεία, καθώς επίσης και μπόλικη τροφή για σκέψη. Και η ατμόσφαιρα είναι πραγματικά υποβλητική.

Μπορώ να κατανοήσω αυτούς που δεν τους άρεσε το βιβλίο, που τους κούρασε ή τους μπέρδεψε, και τελικά είτε το παράτησαν είτε το τελείωσαν εξουθενωμένοι, όπως επίσης μπορώ να κατανοήσω αυτούς που το λάτρεψαν για τη διαφορετικότητά του, για το βάθος σε ιδέες και νοήματα, για την καταπληκτική γραφή του. Εγώ, ευτυχώς, ανήκω στη δεύτερη ομάδα αναγνωστών, αν και υποθέτω ότι θα υπάρχει και μέση κατάσταση (αρκετοί έχουν βάλει τρία αστεράκια). Ουσιαστικά για λεπτομέρειες δεν τσιμπάει το πέμπτο αστεράκι από μένα, αν και σε μια πιθανή δεύτερη ανάγνωση στο μέλλον μπορεί να το τσιμπήσει τελικά...

[Helen McClory · Rating 5 out of 5]

The novel equivalent, in parts, of the Werner Herzog speech about nature in the forest. This book is an experience to read, a seething fever dream told sometimes with clinical detachment and at other times a hazy, experimental edge. My favourite part of all being the 'what happened to Carlos' chapter, for its formal inventiveness & crisp vibrant plurality. An experience to read. A book to recover from like an illness, but very good.

[Ignacio Peña · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love this book. This is a stunning piece of fiction, on so many levels. I don't quite know where to begin.

Firstly, I would outright declassify this as "crime fiction" (I recall seeing it shelved as Scottish Crime fiction at the Book Festival? I could be mistaken). The Inspector (our unnamed protagonist) is called to solve a missing person's case, but the details surrounding the case enter into the realm of the surreal from the very first interview, when the missing victim's mother gives her account; the detail of the interview itself opens the world of the novel into strange new territory. Almost immediately, a fictional meta-narrative occurs, bringing questions of legitimacy to the case itself. I won't get into any specific story details here, because I think this is a novel that must be experienced, but I was impressed to see such confidence displayed throughout the writing. In many ways, the case itself allows us to experience a tale of paranoia, what it means to live in a world where fiction must be constantly and instantly built to focus a lens onto truth; but what is that truth if not our own awareness of the immediate? Does everything else not precisely experienced become a fabrication?

The character of The Inspector becomes a testing ground to explore the boundaries of what is reality and what is not. Through the Inspector's role, constantly needing to build fictional scenarios to find the truth, the lens turns on the reader, on the human individual, and forces them to examine the smallest of actions in their own society. So often as I was reading I felt incalculably excited about what I had just read, at MacInnes' ability to tell a story about the actions of being human; to tell a story about The Inspector, and a story about ourselves. It's been a while since I've wanted to immediately go back to the first page of a book and read again. I can't recommend this enough.

[Zozetta · Rating 4 out of 5]

Εάν νομίζει κάποιος/κάποια πως αυτό είναι crime fiction θα απογοητευτεί. Μπορεί να ξεκινά έτσι αλλά εξελίσσεται σε κάτι διαφορετικό που ακόμα και τώρα που το έχω τελειώσει, δεν είμαι σε θέση να το ορίσω. Πιθανολογώ πως το πλησιέστερο θα ήταν μια "μελέτη" στο τι είναι πραγματικότητα και τι όχι.Δύσκολο βιβλίο, απαιτεί την αμέριστη προσοχή αλλά και εμπλοκή του αναγνώστη. Πολύς σουρεαλισμός ή και μαγικός ρεαλισμός με γερές δόσεις Κάφκα. Τέσσερα αστεράκια για την ευφυή και καλά μελετημένη γραφή και την πρωτοτυπία του.
Νομίζω πως κάποια στιγμή, αφού έχω πάρει κάποια απόσταση, θα το ξαναδιαβάσω μήπως και ξεκαθαρίσω τις σκέψεις μου.

[Kappa · Rating 1 out of 5]

A jungle of good ideas, rambling thoughts from a possibly mad narrators, and not much actual plot to speak of. The good ideas capture the imagination for their sheer surreal quality before squelching it with pages of intricate prose but ultimately plodding and substanceless internal rambling from the investigator. Is it weird? Oh yes. Does it build the mystery and hold clues to both the answer (if there is one) and the state of the investigator? Probably. Is it an absolute drag to read? Without a doubt.

If you’re expecting all this investigating, surreal theories, and actually engaging interview snippets (which are sadly underused) is all building up to something, you would be wrong. Different theories are rattled off (which I appreciate in concept but was by that point bored to read) before the outcome you probably guessed since the inspector first began mirroring Carlos’ actions finally happens and... not much else.

I picked this one up on a whim at the library so maybe I’m just not the audience. I like weird fiction and have a high tolerance for long and drawn out narratives but this one fell flat on its face for me.

[Nick Garbutt · Rating 3 out of 5]

I read Martin MacInnes’s Ascension earlier this year and thought it was brilliant so I was keen to catch up on some of his earlier work.
I enjoyed Infinite Ground, His first novel, it was suitably weird and very, very unsettling: the plot hingeing on an investigator’s search for a man who went for a meal with his family, stood up to go to the toilet, and disappeared.
MacInnes is at his best when dazzling readers with his knowledge of the workings of the human body and of microbiology, some of which is invented.
If you are looking for disturbing and inventive dystopian science fiction which is well written MacInnes is your man.
I take issue with those who say it is “wholly original” however. Those critics have obviously never read JG Ballard who was clearly an influence.

[Zuky the BookBum]

DNF at 59%.

I was so ready to love this book for all it's weirdness. I saw so many reviews that stated this was a book you've never read anything like before, and probably never will again and that excited me, but, I've just lost interest.

I've tried to push myself hard with this one because I've been so intrigued for so long but I'm losing me head with it. It's so unique and weird that it just becomes confusing - or maybe I'm just simple - but I can't get on with a book that mixes up my head. Especially since I'm aiming for 90 books this year! I can't waste my time on books that aren't grabbing me and are going to take me forever to finish.

Thank you to Netgalley and Atlantic Books for giving me the opportunity to read this in exchange for an honest review.

[Andy Weston · Rating 2 out of 5]

Very disappointed with this after selecting it from a couple of blogs and some inaccurately written synopses. The start is quite compelling, the disappearance of Carlos in a sweltering hot Brazilian city. From then on it takes most of the book until the setting changes to the jungle. By this time the author is using a few different techniques of writing which don't work for me, for example, a chapter called '20 Possible Ways In Which Carlos Could Have Disappeared'.
Certainly not for me, and I am surprised at myself for having finished it.

[Zhiling · Rating 3 out of 5]

I am as lost as those guys in Santa Lucia.

[n · Rating 5 out of 5]

novel, panic attack, fever dream all in one

[Meteorite_cufflink · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5

Great introduction to this author. The writing is precise, yet manages to be slightly out of focus in parts, slowly introducing doubt, fear and dissociation in the story... And in me as a reader. Reference points: that Jeff van der Meer trilogy, The invention of morel and the movies of Alex van Warmerdam. Very curious to check out his other two novels after reading this debut!

[Lee · Rating 3 out of 5]

So then, surrealist meta-fiction, we meet again. MacInnes’ award winning 2016 debut novel splits into two parts, somewhat different on the surface, but consistent in essence. Part one takes place in the corporate and sociological, part two in an ecological fever dream.

Looking for an ostensibly missing man, an unnamed inspector in an unnamed South American urban center (seems like Brazil) learns about the corporation at which he worked, where actors are hired to impersonate workers to inspire the real workers to work harder. Which doesn’t have a name, having undergone so many mergers and divisions with fake employees and real employees and fake offices and real offices that who can say what, in essence, it actually is anymore.

If his workplace’s reality is uncertain, well, he may have had an even bigger problem. A microbiologist working with the inspector claims, on the basis of organic matter left on the man’s keyboard, from which can be deduced bacterial colonization and resultant effects on his psychology, that the man himself became uncertain of his own reality before he disappeared:

Two disappearances: internal and social. He stopped believing he was real and then nobody could see him. Inspector, I have another appointment. I really should go. But you will keep me updated on the investigation? I would like to find out where he’s gone.

Yes, where has that which is the most real about us gone to? We know very well it’s not kept on our surface. We’re not going to find it at our workplace, hah! Other people don’t see it. Perhaps we don’t know where it is ourselves. Maybe we’re never going to find it doing what we’re doing. Out on a walk, the inspector sees a large crowd gathered around something they’re all pushing to see. He tries to fight his way to the middle to find out what’s going on:

He had to stop now, because - and he knew this was impossible, but it appeared to be true - he had passed over on to the other side, gone, that is, past the centre, which he hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t seen a thing, and now he was actually moving against people that were facing him, coming, as he was now, somehow out from the centre…

He walked away and took a taxi. Before entering he looked back and nothing appeared to have changed, the same excited jostling and commotion was ongoing, and he was none the wiser. What’s going on over there? The driver asked him. Oh that, he said. That’s nothing, nothing important really, and he gave the driver his address.

The inspector decides the missing man may have disappeared into the massive tropical forest region, and this brings us to part two. He first joins up with a tour group operating out of a remote outpost connected to the corporation. The tour promises to bring Western tourists into “first contact” with an indigenous tribe… which turns out to be local actors. More play on “reality” and disappearance going on here.

Later, he wakes one day to find everyone else at the outpost has, what else, seemingly disappeared. Coffee cups still warm. The forest quickly grows over the outpost in the following days, and the inspector begins a trek through the forest in which he loses his sense of self and at one point seems to undergo something of the course of human evolution. But who has actually disappeared: everyone else, or the inspector?

[Stephen · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this in preparation of reading Martin MacInnes' new novel, In Ascension .

Although at times I wasn't sure what I was reading overall it was a compelling reading experience. What starts of as the investigation of a missing person covers themes of loss, existential angst, and the relationship between multinational corporations and the natural environment.

All of this is in well crafted prose and rich language.

3.5 stars rounded up to 4

[Andrew · Rating 4 out of 5]

Often, readers will describe their preference in books as being interested in plot-driven vs. character-driven narratives. But what really drew me to the New Weird genre is the introduction of the atmosphere-driven stylistic choice.

Infinite Ground is a fever dream of a story, loosely focusing on an inspector's investigation into the disappearance of a 29 year old man named Carlos. The beginning of the book did well in keeping up the narrative of the investigation while peppering in hazy, dreamlike (and often horrific) encounters and experiences of the unnamed protagonist. The surreal aspects get dialed up as you progress further into the book, making you feel like you're lost in a dense forest of prose, hunting for the plot. This complemented the actual story perfectly, and really enhanced my reading experience.

This (just barely) revitalized my faith in the New Weird genre. After a string of misses from VanderMeer, I'd started to question if I actually enjoyed New Weird, or if I just enjoyed science fiction that had a New Weird edge to it. Infinite Ground was a breath of fresh air, and a reminder that this can be done very well. A typical review of mine might focus on character development, structure, and dialogue, but this kind of book can't really be analyzed in that way. I hate to say it's only vibes, but I really do have to holistically focus on how this book made me feel. And I just liked it.

[Neil · Rating 3 out of 5]

It starts as a crime thriller when a man disappears from a restaurant. But it doesn't stay that simple for long. At times it reminded me of McCarthy's Remainder. At times it reminded me of Conrad's Heart of Darkness. The writing often felt like Denis Johnson. None of those are bad things! It's an interesting book to read because it skates off in different directions every time you think you have it worked out. There's a passage in the middle where the protagonist walks through a crowd towards something only to realise suddenly the something is now behind him. The book feels a bit like that because you think you are heading towards something and suddenly you realise you are somewhere else entirely different.

[Mark Brown · Rating 4 out of 5]

This didn't disappoint, as I enjoyed his "In Ascension" , but this - his debut novel - I can only describe as enjoyably/puzzlingly/unsettlingly weird.

I like it that it's not a straightforward detective book, or indeed a straightforward "anything - book" , it rips up comforting conventions of genre, with plenty of WtF moments. Genuine creepy moments that don't have any explanation, but do stay with you, even as you lose all sense of the plot.

It's influenced by J G Ballard amongst others, and the Brazilian novelist Clarice Lispector (whose work looks intriguing), and whose Kafkaesque quote from "The Passion According to G.H." acts as an epigraph to "Infinite Ground".

There is an interview with Martin Macinnes here :

https://bombmagazine.org/articles/mci...

[Eoin Murray · Rating 2 out of 5]

Adored In Ascension, so it brings me no joy to admit that I really just found this to be a whole lot of hard work with very little pay-off. (For me, at least). Loved the premise, and some of the more kafkaesque/surreal/metaphysical sections were fun but overall it just left me cold and dissatisfied. Maybe I didn't let myself sink into it enough? Maybe I've missed the point? Maybe I've just become too much of a "plot guy". ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[Dan Coxon · Rating 5 out of 5]

An incredible debut. Elements of J.G. Ballard, Angela Carter, Jeff VanderMeer, magical realism... but something else entirely. Weird, unsettling, and constantly surprising. Brilliant. MacInnes is clearly a writer to watch.

[Billie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not a review, just a reaction.

What the fuck did I just read? Seriously, I think I really liked it, but it was fucking weird and I'm not sure if I understood it. But, if you like the weird and the surreal and books that challenge your perception of reality, you should pick it up.

[Runalong · Rating 1 out of 5]

Awful - neither good crime or SF and influences clearly written on sleeves. Also written by someone who doesn't think a detective would be used to offices....

Worst of the year so far

[Jonathan Pool · Rating 3 out of 5]

I look forward to asking Martin MacInnes about (some of) his influences.
“ Systematisation of confusion and thus to help discredit completely the world of reality..”
“ what we have christened reality is an even greater illusion than the world of dreams.”

And, Ants? Symbolising decadence, destruction and the ephemeral?

The quotations here describe (as accurately as it is possible in a literal way) the substance of Infinite Ground. The thing is, the descriptions are not taken from MacInnes himself, but are direct quotes by Salvador Dali. Dali’s painting The Dream gives visual form to the disturbing world of dreams. Ants cluster over the face of the central figure.
Dali was the first set of images that came to me (reminders of schooldays and Dali posters on the wall).

The second evocation from this challenging work of literature is the appearance of Indonesian bacteria:
“did you know green algae have eyespots and can move towards light” (110)

The reason I read this debut novel was following my immersion in the 2023 Booker long listed MacInnes novel In Ascension . Inter alia that is a book in which the algae take a very active role, and seemingly it’s a subject that has captured MacInnes for several years!!!

It’s always satisfying to work the word “phantasmagorical” into a review. This story is phantasmagorical. Its “kafkaesque” in the disorientation of the reader.
In my work I get the chance to visit a variety of plush central London offices, and in section One of Infinite Ground, “Corporation”, office workers are not necessarily as they seem. A “Performance Agency” substitutes actors in place of payrolled employees. There are a variety of reasons for this, not least to provide a morale boost by the actions and words of those actors(around the photocopier/water cooler) interacting with ‘real’ employees.

I have my suspicions about a number of the offices I visit. Who/What is real? No wonder the weekend sports results/football scores are so intensively discussed.

The book was enjoyable enough. I can’t think of any casual, occasional, reader who wouldn’t throw it across the room. Better filmed than written?

It’s a book I am glad to have read, and I am glad to have finished it.