Book Review: The Space Between Worlds by Micaiah Johnson

I seem to be on a roll this year with finding books that I absolutely adore, and The Space Between Worlds is no exception. Published in 2020, it’s the first novel by Micaiah Johnson, a writer I expect to hear more about in the near future. What impressed me about this work is just how largely ambitious it is, in that it can be viewed in a multitude of ways. On the one hand, it’s an epic novel with incredible world-building (actually worlds, but more on that in a bit) and political uprisings with far-reaching consequences. But in another sense, this is a deeply intimate novel about personal identity, relationships, and navigating structures of power as an outsider. While at its heart, The Space Between Worlds is a work about identity: where we come from, how we see ourselves, how we see others, and who we truly want to be. In just over 300 pages, The Space Between Worlds manages to accomplish all of these narratives while being an enjoyable science fiction romp.

The Space Between Worlds (2020) by Micaiah Johnson, Photo Credit: Natalie Getter

On a post-apocalyptic Earth, The Eldridge Institute and its CEO, Adam Bosch, have discovered a way to break into the multiverse. The technology, however, is limited to only the closest 400 worlds–all quite similar, just slightly different paths taken. While travelling to a world is instantaneous, it does come with a catch. People can only survive the journey if that world’s version of them has already died.

This makes someone like our protagonist Cara, who is dead on 372 of these worlds, extremely valuable. Cara is a traverser, someone employed by the Eldridge Institute to travel to the various worlds to gather information. This job is a lucky break for her, as Cara comes from Ashtown, a place of extreme violence and poverty. Now that she is such a valuable commodity, Cara lives in the neighboring Wiley City, which has the benefits of clean air, great healthcare, and good food. It’s a life Cara never thought she could have; however, she has four more years on her work visa before she can apply for citizen status. Also, Cara has a secret that could shatter her life forever if it’s discovered.

This Cara is actually not this world’s Cara: she’s from another world, one in which she is trying to escape an abusive relationship with the Emperor of her Ashtown. Taking the place of the Cara who traversed to her world by mistake, our protagonist is determined to not let anyone discover her true identity. During one journey, Cara nearly dies and stumbles into a revolution while discovering that her generous benefactor, Adam Bosch, is hiding some secrets of his own.

“They say hunting monsters will turn you into one. That isn’t what’s happening now. Sometimes to kill a dragon, you have to remember that you breath fire too. This isn’t a becoming; its a revealing. I’ve been a monster all along.”

The Space Between Worlds is a title with multiple meanings, interested in exploring those delicate boundaries, borders, and interstices in many different senses. There are the gulfs that divide communities, such as the haves of Wiley City to the have-nots of Ashtown. There is also the division between worlds, how slight changes effect the outcomes of those Earths. The title is also a reflection on personal relationships, as indicated by Cara’s connection to her handler, Dell. 

Micaiah Johnson, Photo Credit: Rory Vetack

Cara’s relationship with Dell is a complex one. Cara is attracted to Dell and has gotten to the point of having real feelings for her. However, she believes there can be no romantic relationship between them due to the gulf of class that separates them. Cara believes Dell has no interest in her whatsoever. However, Dell is one of the few people who is always there for Cara when she needs support–and in other worlds, the two have been lovers. It really is quite complicated, more so than Cara’s relationship with Nik Nik, emperor of Ashtown, whom she remembers as a man who loved her but also abused her.

The Space Between Worlds is rich in both its world-building and characters. As a work of science fiction, it is fascinating, complicated, and contains enough self-awareness to realize a complex novel can have no simple ending. However, the conclusion is a deep-rooted and satisfying one. I look forward to traversing future worlds created by Micaiah Johnson.

“It is only one world in infinite universes where this impossible happiness exists, but that is what makes it so valuable.”

Have you read this book? I’d love to know your thoughts! Let me know with a comment below.

The Brilliance of Margaret Atwood

After taking an extended break from blogging, I’m back with a double review of one of my favorite authors. I honestly believe that Margaret Atwood could write in any genre, as these two novels are so different to each other. First, we have a page-turning dystopian thriller that is not The Handmaid’s Tale. The next review is a complex narrative labyrinth that touches on multiple genres. Although as different as night and day, both of these works demonstrate the full range of Atwood’s brilliance.

Photo Credit: Natalie Getter

Oryx and Crake

Recently, I’ve realized that I have a passion for dystopian fiction. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because these stories connect so strongly to the present state of our world. Perhaps I just love the science fiction elements. Or it could be that I love going into an existential depression. Whatever the reason, I am going to applaud Atwood for creating an engrossing thriller that had me on the hook from the first page.

Oryx and Crake is the story of a man who calls himself “Snowman.” The survivor of a devastating apocalypse, he might possibly be the last pure human left. Surrounded by a bleak world filled with bizarre hybrid animals, Snowman fights for survival while also serving as a false prophet to a genetically-modified race known as the “Children of Crake.” Through flashbacks, we learn about Snowman’s life before the apocalypse when he was simply a normal man named Jimmy. As the book progresses, we learn about the events that led to the end of the human race.

Atwood throws her readers in headfirst with so many questions. The flashbacks are perfectly paced as answers come slowly rather than in a rush of exposition. The story becomes clear as Snowman reflects on his life as Jimmy when he had a genius friend named Crake and a mysterious lover named Oryx. These short trips into the past are alternated by Snowman’s life in this post-apocalyptic world where each day is a fight to survive. Some of the answers are given in a way that the reader has to work out fully what is happening. While some readers may be frustrated by this method, I loved how it was like solving a gigantic puzzle with only certain pieces.

What makes Oryx and Crake such a disturbing read is that I could easily imagine many of the book’s scientific breakthroughs as plausible. On one hand, this is a story about how the scientific community can become abusive in its power of creation. There are some truly horrific scenes in this book that made me cringe. Of course, we know that events are going to end terribly, but we continue to read because we want to see just how that happens. Atwood doesn’t hold back in her critiques of society, science, and humanity’s abuse of natural order.

Another aspect of this novel that I loved is the genius world-building of Atwood. She manages to create this world in such a subtle way through giving just a little information at a time. Although he’s difficult to like at first, I found myself sympathizing and pulling for Jimmy as I viewed this story through his eyes. As the son of scientists, Jimmy’s life is one of privilege living inside a compound that houses the scientists and their families. Outside these communities lie the “Pleblands” where the average members of society live. By having the novel told entirely through Jimmy, we only see pieces of this world which adds to its disturbing nature.

This also holds true for how the other two main characters of the novel are portrayed. While it doesn’t take long for us to see that something isn’t quite right about Crake, that image is blurred through Jimmy’s devotion to him as a friend. Oryx serves as the love interest for Jimmy, but her story is a small part of the overall book. She is the most ambiguous, and we never get a clear understanding of her as her story is narrated by her as remembered by Jimmy/Snowman. So there’s a lot of unreliable information presented on Oryx’s background. One of the themes of this story is the manipulative power of storytelling over someone, such as Oryx narrating bits of her past to Jimmy as well as how Snowman has to be deceptive in order to get the Children of Crake to accept him as a prophet.

While Oryx and Crake is the first in a trilogy, it reads well as a standalone novel. I will most likely pick up the other two novels in the series at some point, but I am definitely satisfied if my journey with Snowman ends here. The writing is strong, the characters well-crafted, and the book serves well as a cautionary tale, the way good dystopian novels should.

“He doesn’t know which is worse, a past he can’t regain or a present that will destroy him if he looks at it too clearly. Then there’s the future. Sheer vertigo.”

 

The Blind Assassin 

This novel was such a change of pace from the other one. For one thing, it’s a beast to digest. It’s so hard to summarize such a long and complex book, particularly when it’s actually three stories rolled into one. The first story is about Iris, an elderly woman who looks back on her life, including an abusive marriage to a wealthy businessman and her relationship with her sister who died as a young woman. The second is the recreation of Iris’s past. The third story is a work of noir fiction written by Iris’s sister, posthumously published about two lovers who are collaborating on a work of science fiction. Do you see what I mean about complicated? It takes a while to work through all the labyrinths of this book.

While summarizing this book was hard, I think it’s even more of a task for me to explain why I loved it. I found myself mesmerized by Atwood’s ability at telling such a complex story with relative ease. Obviously, I loved the story-within a story-within a story framework. Another strength of Atwood is at how she fosters empathy for the powerless. In this case, she recreates a world where the suppression of women is commonplace. It works perfectly with the science fiction elements of one of the other stories as this period of history truly feels like an alien world. Atwood does an amazing job of capturing the subtle ways women rebelled back in the 1930’s.

As with Oryx and Crake, Atwood gives us a narrow view of this world thanks to a protagonist who lived a life of privilege. The Chases are the wealthy family in town, and Iris and her sister are raised in isolation, as “befits their station.” When the Depression hits, the family loses everything, and the town becomes engulfed with communist agitators, including a man named Alex Thomas, whom the girls meet. Iris’s father marries her off to a business rival, Richard Griffen, in order to save the family from desolation. Both Iris’s husband and sister-in-law are emotionally abusive and controlling. There are several scenes in this book that will enrage you at how Iris and her sister are treated.

There is a major twist at the end of this book to which I’m proud to say I figured out. My favorite sections of the novel were the chapters from the fictional noir novel, which provides clues to what actually happened. I really liked the character of Iris’s sister Laura who marched to the beat of her own drummer. As with Iris, I found myself so angry by how events unfolded for her.

While The Blind Assassin is another work of sheer genius, getting through it was hard for me. It’s a much longer book than Oryx and Crake, and the pace is significantly slower. My advice for Atwood newcomers is to hold off on this one until you’ve read at least a couple of her other works first. Margaret Atwood continues to amaze, and I plan on tackling her most popular novel, The Handmaid’s Tale, very soon.

“If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next—if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions—you’d be doomed. You’d be ruined as God. You’d be a stone. You’d never eat or drink or laugh or get out of bed in the morning. You’d never love anyone, ever again. You’d never dare to.”

Have you read any of these books? I’d love to know your thoughts! Let me know with a comment below. 

 

 

Why Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” Still Matters

This month marks the anniversary of the death of Shirley Jackson, one of American literature’s most underrated authors. As a fitting tribute to her memory, I thought it would be fun to reflect on the first short story I ever read (at least the earliest I remember). Of course, I am referring to “The Lottery.” It was initially published by The New Yorker in 1948 where it was met with considerable controversy. In fact, Jackson was not prepared for the backlash from readers who viewed the story as rather horrific and depressing. Despite these outcries from the public, “The Lottery” would become one of the staples of the high school classroom while the name Shirley Jackson would be elevated to the heights of Gothic fiction writers. Although written nearly a century ago, “The Lottery” still remains a relevant piece of fiction.

Photo Credit: Natalie Getter

The story opens on a warm summer day as children of a small village run around gathering stones. The descriptions of blossoming flowers and richly green grass would not be out of place in a story by Ray Bradbury. There is a feeling of calm surrounding this scene as the townspeople slowly gather in the town square. The conversations among the villagers revolves around the daily activities. Mr. Summers, the man who facilitates the annual lottery, reminds everyone of the rules of the proceedings. The event itself was just a routine civil activity, no different than the teen dance or the Halloween festivities. Tessie Hutchinson arrives late and looking flustered, having forgotten that the lottery was taking place that day. It all feels so commonplace. Yet, Jackson manages to create a subtle chill beneath the calm. As Tessie’s husband draws the marked piece of paper and the family gathers on the stage, a sense of dread slowly fills the page. The unsuspecting reader catches this feeling without fully understanding what is happening. The story builds up to its dark conclusion, providing a classic twist ending.

While the horrors of “The Lottery” may seem tame to today’s readers, Jackson was a pioneer who developed the literary tool of dystopian foreshadowing. Series such as The Hunger Games and Divergent may not have existed without the foundation which Jackson built. The images of the children innocently gathering stones and Tessie’s anxious behavior are subtle clues that something is not quite right about this event. However, Jackson was such a maestro that she managed to deliver an ending that nobody could have predicted. Holding back the reveal until the final sentence was nothing short of brilliance on her part.

In addition to the foreshadowing, Jackson also explores the psychology of the villagers. It continues to astound me how an author manages to flesh out so many characters in just a handful of pages. Characters like Mr. Summers and Old Man Warner, who have experienced several lotteries, fight to hold on to these ancient and barbaric practices. On the opposite side of the spectrum, we have Tessie, who realizes that the lottery is wrong. The most interesting psychological facet of this story is the contrasting ideologies within Tessie’s own family; while she hates the ideas behind it, her own family find nothing wrong with it. I find this division of beliefs eerily relevant in this divided country under the Trump administration. Jackson’s views of the mob mentality fit in nicely with the political crisis that our country currently faces. Although published in 1948, it appears that we may still have some work to do in order to become accepting of progress.

“Although the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they still remembered to use stones.”

 

Have you read this short story? I’d love to know your thoughts! Let me know with a comment below. 

 

 

 

 

27. ‘A Clockwork Orange’ by Anthony Burgess

No matter how hard they try, some authors can never escape from the shadow of one of their most celebrated works. Anthony Burgess, the artist behind A Clockwork Orange, is no exception. In the introduction to my copy, he writes that “it seems likely to survive, while other works of mine that I value more bite the dust.” I refer to Burgess as the “artist” because A Clockwork Orange is truly an experience unlike any other. It is a vibrant rendering of the dark side of human nature, one that will resonate in the reader’s mind for days after finishing it. Although I only have vague memories of the Stanley Kubrick film adaptation, this book will no doubt remain with me for quite some time.

The narrator of A Clockwork Orange is Alex, a fifteen-year-old living in a near future dystopian England. Alex loves to hang out with his gang, known as “droogs”, and terrorize his neighbors at night through physical and sexual violence. One night, Alex is caught by the police and sentenced to several years in prison after a woman he terrorized dies from her abuse. After being incarcerated for two years, Alex learns of a new experimental treatment that could potentially “cure” him of his violent tendencies and allow him an early release. Alex soon learns that the “treatment” is far worse than anything he could ever imagine.

A word of warning about this book: it is incredibly violent and filled with disturbing material. There are several scenes of assault and rape. However, Burgess manages to create a layer of disconnect between these violent acts and the reader through use of the language Alex uses to narrate his story. “Nadsat” is a bizarre hybrid language of English, Russian, and slang. In fact, most readers will find the opening chapters slow going as they try to decipher the meanings of certain words. While there are resources online, I found myself getting the meaning without help after a few chapters. Here’s a small sample just to prepare you:

“There were three devotchkas sitting at the counter all together, but there were four of us malchicks and it was usually like one for all and all for one. These sharps were dressed in the heighth of fashion too, with purple and green and orange wigs on their gullivers, each one not costing less than three or four weeks of those sharps’ wages, I should reckon, and make-up to match (rainbows round the glazzies, that is an the rot painted very wide). “

I promise the language becomes easier with time and context. Another reason Burgess uses the nadsat language is so he can separate the main character from everyone else as someone different. Perhaps more disturbing than the violence itself, is the amount of joy Alex takes in committing these horrible acts. Showing absolutely no genuine remorse for his actions, he is a disturbing portrait of a character. Raised by loving parents with no history of trauma, what makes Alex so frightening is the fact that he hurts others for no apparent reason other than it seems fun. I was impressed with how prophetic A Clockwork Orange was to the present day. Alex and his “droogs” would fit in to our contemporary world quite seamlessly, as we just have to watch ten minutes of the news to see just how many violent acts are committed on a daily basis.

At the center of this work is an interesting question on morality. If a person is forced to be good, does that make them a good person? The experimental treatment that Alex undergoes is  a combination of drugs and classical conditioning called the “Ludovico technique.” While pumped with nausea and fear-inducing drugs, he is forced to watch violent and horrific films in order to create an aversion to harming others. The experiment is a success, and Alex becomes sick at even the mere thought of hurting another life. After being released from prison, the newly-reformed Alex becomes a victim himself. He also can no longer listen to the classical music he enjoys as certain pieces were played during his conditioning. While no longer the abusive monster he once was, is Alex now considered a good person? Does the absence of choice make the treatment wrong?

If you do read A Clockwork Orange, make sure to get a copy that has the final chapter included. The complete work is divided into three acts of seven sections apiece in order to equal 21 chapters. Burgess felt that the number “21” was symbolic of human maturity as the age when a person could make more responsible choices. Interestingly, the final chapter was removed for several years from the American version and never adapted into the Kubrick film. The final chapter makes a significant difference as it brings into play the major themes of the work.

While Burgess may not have suspected that A Clockwork Orange would become his most famous novel, I can understand why it holds that honor. Out of all of the works of dystopian science fiction in existence, it is the one that seems eerily the most relevant to the unfortunate acts that are committed today. It is a thought-provoking study of both human psychology and government interference. Burgess will forever remain an icon of modern literature for the long shadow A Clockwork Orange stretches over the human imagination.

“Is a man who chooses the bad perhaps in some way better than a man who has the good imposed upon him?”

I am counting A Clockwork Orange as a classic novella for the Back to the Classics Challenge. You can track my progress by clicking here.

Have you read this book? I’d love to know your thoughts! Let me know with a comment below. 

12. ‘We’ by Yevgeny Zamyatin

I remember my first experience with a work of dystopian fiction. It actually wasn’t a book but rather Terry Gilliam’s extraordinary film Brazil. If you’ve never experienced this director, I strongly urge you to check out some of his films as visually they’re quite stunning with a style unlike anything else. Brazil left a lasting impression on my young mind that led me to seek out other artists’ visions of the future. From classics such as 1984 and Fahrenheit 451 to more modern works such as The Hunger Games trilogy, it seems as though the world cannot get enough of the dystopian genre which often comes eerily close to our own possible future. Rather than revisit Orwell and the world ruled by Big Brother, I decided to check out an earlier work that had tremendous influence on this particular genre. While I wouldn’t rank We as a favorite, it was a fascinating look into a work that would serve as an inspiration on writers such as Orwell.

Following a horrific war that lasted two centuries, society has been organized into a massive city known as OneState. Ruled under a leader known as the Benefactor, citizens are given numbers rather than names with daily activities rigidly organized. The secret to happiness has been found in the discipline of mathematics so schedules are made for work, sleep, personal time, and even sex. Citizens live inside glass houses so that everyone can be seen (they can close the blinds during sex hour) while an impenetrable wall has been erected around the city in order to keep everyone safe (wonder who paid for that). Scientists are hard at work on developing a cure for the condition known as “imagination” while those that are unable to achieve happiness are mercifully put to public execution. While there is an annual election to vote for the continual rule of the Benefactor, everyone is expected to vote yes. After all, only someone deranged would vote no to happiness.

The narrator of We is D-503, a mathematician working on a rocket in order to promote the perfection of OneState to other worlds. The story is a collection of D-503’s journal entries, which he has started writing in order to put them on the rocket to share the glorious message of OneState. However, our narrator is about to come up against some quite monumental struggles after meeting a woman unlike any he has ever met. Soon, D-503 begins to question if OneState’s message of happiness is all it’s cracked up to be.

Zamyatin has created a very in-depth world, and the story behind We is almost as fascinating as the novel itself. Written in 1921, it was suppressed by the Soviet Union and had to be smuggled out of the country to be published abroad. It wasn’t until the late 80s that it was finally published in Russia. Considering the author’s views on dictatorship, this comes as no surprise. There are several great ideas in this novel, from the glass city to the ridiculous election process to the “pink tickets” one has to get if they would like to have sex with someone. Although written based on the author’s own experiences with a dictatorship, I think the novel could definitely transcend time as a frightening look at problems we are all too familiar with when it comes to government rule.

The writing style sets this book apart from other dystopian fiction I’ve read. Many passages often feel more like poetry than prose, with several events that are dreamlike to accentuate the internal struggles occurring with its narrator. The author throws you headfirst into the story, and it takes some time to understand the dynamics of this twisted world. Often, it feels more like looking at an abstract painting, a series of images rather than a collective whole. Zamyatin manages to make you feel as though you are going mad as our narrator struggles with whether to be a part of the collective or his own individual person. Mathematics play a huge role in the storytelling, as characters are often perceived by D-503 as a collection of shapes: his friend R-13 is known for his thick, spitting lips; his girlfriend O-90 as a collection of circles; and his love interest, I-330, is all straight lines and sharp edges.

Typically, I avoid spoilers in my reviews at all costs. However, my final comment on the novel does give the ending away. Please stop reading if you don’t want to be spoiled.

I find it fascinating how the genre of dystopian fiction has changed over the years. We, much like the later 1984, has a very downbeat ending. Although that spark of hope remains as rebels will continue to fight the system, I felt sad that D had to return as one of the mindless herd. I don’t think you can get away with an ending like that in today’s fiction. Perhaps I’m incorrect in that assessment, so please feel free to correct me in the comments. We is a fascinating read, especially if you like 1984 or Brave New World. It is a great example of how relevant classic science fiction can be to our modern world.

“A man is like a novel: until the very last page you don’t know how it will end. Otherwise it wouldn’t even be worth reading.”

Read as my “classic in translation” for Back to the Classics and as my novel from Russia for the European Reading Challenge.