Thursday, February 18, 2016

Because Survival Is Insufficient

   Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel was *almost* enough to soften my dislike for post-apocalyptic dystopian narratives.  Almost.  And that "almost" is no negative reflection on Station Eleven, but rather speaks to my intense dislike of dystopian stories and settings.  This, though - this book was a brilliant, shining diamond in a world full of gray, bleak, and dusty rocks. 
   
   Now, here's what's different about Station Eleven, what sets it apart from all those other survivalist, the world is burning narratives: the world hasn't been destroyed  by zombies.  The apocalypse wasn't caused by nuclear fallout.  Aliens didn't take over the planet.  It was something completely believable - a flu virus - one that originated in Russia, spread like wildfire, and within a month killed 99.9% of earth's population.  Additionally, people aren't continually struggling to survive.  People are alive, and aside from the stray marauder and a delusional religious Prophet, things are fairly calm.  In that way, I would call this a quiet dystopia.  This book isn't about the survival of humanity, it's about the survival of arts and culture.  The characters are actors and musicians and artists, and they continue to keep their craft alive, even when some question its appropriateness.  And it forces readers to think about the question: if I had the responsibility of preserving human history for those who have no idea what life was like before, what would I save?  
  
   The book is set in multiple times, oscillating between the time before and twenty-five years after the collapse of civilization, with a few touch points  in between.  It's not difficult to follow the non-linear arrangement, though.  Mandel has no intentions of losing her readers.  Rather, she weaves together the stories of a few prominent characters, revealing information only when needed, and only in perfect amounts, allowing readers to become invested in the continuation of the story.  At the center of the narrative is a graphic novel, a two-book series created by one of the characters, and whose story line and themes mirror those of the novel, providing a living example of how art imitates life.  Or, in this case, vise-versa.  

  Technically speaking, the narrative is beautifully written.  It is spare, contains nothing extra or gratuitous, and every word seeks to advance the narrative.  There are no ambiguous statements, no mysterious ellipses - Mandel means what she says, and says what she means.  And as she pulls the threads of the narrative together, as the reader starts to become aware of the connections between the characters, each word becomes increasingly important.  And what I particularly loved about this book is it doesn't end in the bleak, hopeless way a lot of dystopian books end; Station Eleven ends resolved, and on a concrete note of hope. 

   Rarely when I close a book do I feel like I need to sit and contemplate what I've just read.  When I finished Station Eleven I said aloud, and to myself, "Wow, that was a really fantastic book."  And it is.  A really. Fantastic. Book.  I would recommend it to anyone who is interested in reading about the preservation of culture, those who like survival stories (though, as I said, this is survival of a different type), and those who like books with strong female characters (this book has plenty).  For read-alikes, Stephen King's The Stand also has an ensemble cast of flu survivors, though it is more graphic and action-packed for those of you who like a little faster pace.  Another choice would be The Gracekeepers by Kirsty Logan, which is a post-apocalyptic narrative told from multiple perspectives, and also features a traveling band of entertainers.  Finally, The Dog Stars by Peter Heller is another excellent choice, as it also chronicles a decimated population following a flu outbreak, and features ordinary people surviving in a bleak world. 

  In the wake of reading something futuristic, I feel a pull to look to the past for my next selection, so I will be reading a historical fiction title next.  Years ago I picked up People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks in an airport bookstore, and by the time I'd reached my destination I was so engrossed in the story I wished my flight was another three hours.  (I know, I know, who does that?)  I loved Brook's writing style, her attention to detail, and her ability to make me care about characters who lived hundreds - even thousands - of years ago.  I hope to have a similar experience with her newest novel, The Secret Chord.  I'll let you know how it goes. 

Friday, February 5, 2016

One Less Non-Fiction Title...

  One down, four to go.  Non-fiction titles, that is.  Per my Reading Resolution for 2016, I promised to read five non-fiction titles.  Well, I've just finished Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell, and that was (I guess) a non-fiction book.

  I like Malcolm Gladwell.  He's smart and interesting, a good speaker who has good ideas.  But in this case, I felt like that's just what they were - ideas.

  Here is the premise of Outliers, taken from Goodreads:
In this stunning new book, Malcolm Gladwell takes us on an intellectual journey through the world of "outliers"--the best and the brightest, the most famous and the most successful. He asks the question: what makes high-achievers different?

His answer is that we pay too much attention to what successful people are like, and too little attention to where they are from: that is, their culture, their family, their generation, and the idiosyncratic experiences of their upbringing. Along the way he explains the secrets of software billionaires, what it takes to be a great soccer player, why Asians are good at math, and what made the Beatles the greatest rock band.


  OK.  Sounds good, right?  I thought so, too.  And I went into this book with a completely open mind.  I enjoyed the book.  Gladwell has a casual writing style that's very conversational and easy to understand.  He's funny; he's charming.  And his wit and charm *almost* obscure the fact that his science is junk.  That's right, I said junk.  His "reasons" for success change by the page, and his examples seem to be cherry-picked for their ability to support his idea of the moment.  Many ideas are presented as fact, when there is another side to be considered he completely ignores.  His connections between some ideas are tenuous, at best, and his conclusions weren't quite enough to convince me.  Gladwell eschews the idea of "natural talent" for what he calls the "10,000 Hour Rule" in which he claims that hard work will always overcome natural talent - if natural talent even exists.  Hmmm.  He discusses how those who have societal, familial, and monetary advantages will *almost* always succeed over those who don't, and derides the idea of the "self-made" man. 

  I'd give the book a solid 3/5 because I really like the writing style, and I think the premise is provocative and interesting, if too narrowly explored.  All said, still a fascinating look at what kinds of thing influence success, whether we think about them or not.

  And... on to the next.  

  I am about ten chapters into Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel.  This is a step outside of the box for me - it's a post-apocalyptic novel.  Normally, I'm not down with PA stuff - it's just not my cup of tea.  But this book is set in the Great Lakes region and centers on a troupe of actors and musicians as they navigate the landscape and try to retain some sense of culture in the world.  

  So far I'm very much enjoying the book - the author has a beautiful writing style that's somewhat musical, somewhat poetic, somewhat storyteller, and I love it.  Stay tuned for the follow-up review.