Once upon a time, in the Years of Pulp, science fiction was about technology: problem, crisis, hero, invention. Basic story. That began to change in the Golden Age, when, post-World War II and the horrors it unleashed, human issues began to move to the forefront. Now, technology is there, as context and foundation. And, as we have witnessed the speed and range of technological growth, its capabilities are limited only by the author's idea of the possible. Justina Robson has a very elastic idea of "possible."

Robson presents a universe of universes, pockets with their own quirks and sometimes their own natural laws, faster-than-light travel, genetic engineering, cyborgs, and even synthetic people. There is, of course, a problem -- you still need a problem to make a good story.

The story opens in Metropolis, a universe of superheroes. Metropolis has a short life, as far as the story goes, even though its end resonates far longer than its existence: it is eaten by Unity, a self-aware primordial soup, so to speak, in which self-awareness is buried in the All. The only sure survivor is Jalaeka, who is sometimes known as Eros. The bulk of the remainder of the story takes place on Sankhara, a mix of Unevolved, Genes, Forged, and Stuffies: all people, but all with different origins, most variations on traditional humans, the Stuffies created from the "Stuff" that seems to readily available and is probably a construct of Unity. (The existence of the pocket universes themselves is the result of an agreement between humanity and Unity; they are places where the two more-or-less coexist.) On Sankhara we find Francine, a runaway teenager too smart and not quite pretty enough (in her own eyes, at least); Valkyrie Skuld, a Forged person, agent of human earth; Greg, a researcher in Unity Studies; and Rita, a Stuffie and partial construct of Theodore, who is the form Unity takes when it wants to be human; Rita is sometimes taken over by Theodore; Damien, an elf native to Sankhara; and Jalaeka.

Jalaeka is a fugitive, of sorts. Whether he is a part of Unity that has broken away and gained his own awareness, a god, a demon, or some other kind of creature entirely is one of the central mysteries in a novel filled with mystery. What is plain is that Unity, in the person of Theodore, wants him destroyed, one way or another.

This is one of those stories that unfolds slowly and, like any good fiction, is about much more than a storyline or the technology that backs it. On that score, we are much more aware now than sixty or seventy years ago that technology has a downside, and, like all creations of any form of art, it is human concerns that are paramount. Robson's concern is humanity in its variety of ways to connect and disconnect. That at least makes a convenient frame on which to hang all the ideas that crowd this novel. In that, at least, science fiction hasn't changed -- it is still the literature of ideas, but the ideas have changed. Robson touches on the nature of deity, its interaction with the human psyche (Jalaeka is driven by a need to become what those around him want, but he is also able to grant them -- call it "transcendence"), the nature of reality (subject of an ongoing argument between Greg and Jalaeka) and (one might almost say "of course") the nature of love and desire and their intertwined meanings. These ideas all move toward a central axis, which is, I think, no more nor less than people in their infinite complexity, their multitude of half-known motivations, needs, wishes and wants, people who do contrary things for no apparent reason, all informed by individual histories and unknowable futures.

All this is set in a rich and captivating context that partakes of legends, fairy tales, comics, and the future. Quite a heady mix.

(A bit of partisanship here: Science fiction, and sometimes fantasy, seem uniquely suited to work with universal ideas on a scale that suits their immensity. Robson's novel is a fine example, and also points up the fluidity of genre boundaries: we have a god, an elf, a winged valkyrie, a gryphon, a creeping blackness, and normal humanity, all of whom have a rational basis, all of whom contribute a bit of mystery, and all of whom stand for something larger.)

It's a multi-faceted, almost kaleidoscopic story told by the people it portrays in a constant series of shifting viewpoints graced by prose with its own momentum and a rare kind of tensile strength. I have to admit, I put off beginning this book because of the title, which, while perfectly apt, calls to mind a sort of seriocomic modern-day romance (or bedroom farce) with an uplifting message. Nothing could be further from the truth. This is a book graced by a magnetic narrative, the examinations are dispassionate and precise, the illuminations subtle and profound, characters captivating if not always so easy to get along with, and it unfolds with a wealth of beautifully written details and digressions.

(Note to self: Add Robson to "Absolutely Must Read Everything" list.)

Justina Robson is on the Web here. Bantam Books can be found here or over this way.