There can hardly be a schoolboy in England who does not worry about the nature of consciousness, the apparent flow of time, and the continuity of personal identity.
Greg Egan has written a science-fiction novel about these things, and a very good novel it is too! Although it does gets a bit silly towards the end, the first nine tenths are well worth reading and should help even the most meat-headed young person to stare bleakly at his bedroom ceiling in the small hours of the morning endlessly saying 'No really, what the fuck is going on?' to himself, over and over again.
No comments:
Post a Comment