Mr. Kraus lets it rip here: A disease that fills your guts with hair, a hyperspace drive fueled by an amped-up Nazi salute, oceans made of grinding chains traversed by diamond boats, and a feral internet that induces trauma. With body horror that would put H.R. Giger off his lunch, upsetting plot twists that would short-circuit Murderbot, and a child predicament that makes Ender’s Game look like summer camp, Mr. Kraus takes startling risks in scene after scene, as though this is the last book he’ll be allowed to write. But one suspects that Mr. Kraus—one of the most versatile, imaginative and prolific writers of his generation—is just hitting his stride.