A Dying Titan by Mike Connor - REVIEW
Jack Landon, a thirteen-year-old Goth with a knack for getting into trouble, is sarcastic, stubborn, vulnerable, and instantly sympathetic – the kind of protagonist you root for even when he makes questionable decisions. His life is turned upside down when he finds himself pursued by a mysterious man, stunned by a robot, and whisked into a completely unfamiliar reality. Here he meets Dorothy, a so-called Guardian Angel who is equal parts wise, chaotic, and hilarious. She offers Jack biscuits, sweets, and tambourines as if these are the essentials for surviving both adolescence and interdimensional crises. From there, the story takes off in wild directions: time distortions, missing parents, eccentric adults pressed into service as surrogate family, and a robot called Redbeam who is as grumpy as he is brilliant.
That’s as much of the synopsis as I’ll share, because A Dying Titan is a book best discovered fresh. It is filled with the sort of surprises that keep you turning the pages – not simply to see what happens next, but to revel in the inventiveness of how Mike Connor reveals his world.
What I will say is that this is a novel that balances humour, adventure, and genuine pathos. Beneath the absurdities, there’s a beating heart: a story about identity, belonging, and what it means to grow up under extraordinary pressures.
The book is adventurous in every sense of the word – not just in plot, but in style. Connor’s writing stands out through his sheer imaginative range. He pulls threads from science fiction, fantasy, and classic adventure tales, weaving them together into something original and delightfully unpredictable. One chapter might be grounded in Jack’s teenage anxieties about fitting in at school, while the next spins off into metaphysical realms or confrontations with creatures that bend the rules of time and space. Yet Connor never loses control of his narrative; each shift feels purposeful, like part of a larger tapestry.
Humour is another standout. Many novels attempt comic relief, but with Connor it’s an integral part of the tone of the whole story. Redbeam, the pompous robot, is a comic gem – his pedantic insistence on his superiority provides endless laughs, yet he also develops into a character you grudgingly admire. Dorothy, with her odd blend of angelic mission and very human quirks, is equally compelling. Even the darker or more serious moments are punctuated by wit, which makes the story’s heavier themes more digestible without diminishing their impact.
Connor excels at creating characters who feel vividly distinct. Jack’s voice is especially sharp; his teenage goth persona isn’t a gimmick but a lens through which he processes a bewildering reality. His mix of bravado and insecurity, of black eyeliner and raw fear, makes him relatable to anyone who’s ever felt out of place. The supporting characters – Max, Sally, Akshay, and others – are sketched with quirks that make them memorable. Even minor characters seem to have a life beyond the page, which gives the book a layered richness.
Structurally, A Dying Titan is ambitious. The story sprawls across timelines and realities, but Connor anchors the complexity with recurring motifs: family, loyalty, courage, and the blurry lines between truth and lies. Dorothy’s “white lies” to protect Jack, Redbeam’s protests against his unwanted duties, Jack’s desperate need for his parents – all of these threads speak to a central concern with survival, both physical and emotional. The novel asks: how do you build a family when the one you had has been torn away? How do you grow into yourself when even the rules of time cannot be trusted?
For a book that covers so much ground – interdimensional rifts, political conspiracies, titanic battles, and small domestic dramas – it moves briskly. Each chapter ends with enough of a question or hook to carry you forward, and the variety keeps the momentum alive. You never feel bogged down, even in the denser science-fiction passages. This accessibility is a gift: the novel can be read by younger audiences drawn to adventure, yet it contains enough sophistication for adult readers who enjoy layered world-building.
Characters to me felt as real as life brings them: Jack isn’t a perfect hero – he sulks, he lashes out, he collapses into what Dorothy diagnoses as “extensional crises.” Dorothy herself is manipulative at times, driven by a complicated mix of duty and love. Redbeam is arrogant and occasionally infuriating. Yet these flaws are what make the characters resonate. They remind us that heroism isn’t about being flawless; it’s about persistence, about choosing to care even when it’s messy or painful.
There is a certain old-fashioned quality to Connor’s storytelling – not in language, which is contemporary and lively, but in spirit. A Dying Titan reminded me of the kind of sweeping, episodic adventures I loved as a teenager, where each chapter promised a new challenge or revelation. At the same time, the book is modern in its themes: questions of identity, family dysfunction, and even hints of social critique run beneath the surface. It’s this blend of classic adventure and contemporary concerns that makes the novel feel fresh.
What makes Connor especially admirable as an author is his willingness to take risks. He doesn’t shy away from absurd humour, from convoluted paradoxes, from mixing genres in unexpected ways. He writes with a kind of fearless energy – you get the sense he enjoyed creating this world, and that joy is infectious. Reading A Dying Titan feels less like following a strict formula and more like being invited into an imaginative playground where anything might happen.
Of course, with such ambition comes complexity. Some readers may find the leaps between comedy, fantasy, and science fiction dizzying at first. But for me, that unpredictability was part of the charm. Connor isn’t interested in giving you a safe, predictable story. He is giving you a ride – one that jolts, surprises, and ultimately satisfies.
By the time I closed the book, I had travelled far – through time, across dimensions, and into the hearts of characters who lingered with me long after. Jack, Dorothy, Redbeam, and the others felt like companions I’d grown to know, with all their flaws and charms. And that, I think, is the mark of a successful story: it doesn’t just entertain you while you’re reading; it stays with you, whispering questions and images even after the final page.
Mike Connor has given us a tale that is as imaginative as it is heartfelt. A Dying Titan is more than an adventure story – it’s a celebration of creativity, of resilience, and of the messy, hilarious, painful, and profound experience of being human.
If you’re looking for a book that combines humour with high stakes, robots with angels, teenage angst with cosmic battles – and if you want to be surprised at every turn – then A Dying Titan deserves a place on your reading list.
