Martin Amis's Time's Arrow is truly weird. The narrator resides in a man's body, a man who keeps changing identities. We see the man in his love relationships, working as a doctor and bringing holocaust victims back to life. And—oh, yeah—the action takes place backwards, resulting in the parasite scheduled to be "unborn" shortly after the book ends.
There were moments of interest.
1) A phrase: "… his veronicas of apology …" (page 66) I never knew veronica was anything other than a name. In the phrase it's obviously a noun. So I looked it up. Three definitions, and I'm still not sure what the phrase is saying. My guess is it's an extension of the veronica meaning the appearance of Jesus's image on something—a handkerchief or, lately, a piece of toast. To be the phrase still isn't clear but that definition seems closer than the veronica definitions of a plant or a move in bullfighting. Does it make sense to anyone out there?
2) The narrator and his host arrive in New York in November where "(t)he people had grown their winter coats, and the high buildings trembled in the tight grip of their stress equations." (page 67) Cool. IMHO.
3) "Now and then, when the night sky is starless, I look up and form the hilarious suspicion that the world will soon start making sense." (page 106) Nah. Never happen. The narrator can stop worrying.
Aristotle wrote that the world of a novel (Okay. He was talking about plays, but the principle's the same.) must be logical within itself. Time's Arrow does that, but it saddens me to admit I enjoy stories set in worlds a little closer to our own—at least what I see as reality. Except Alice in Wonderland. I'm perfectly content to wander forever in that unreal-but-logical-to-itself world.
