An enigmatic leading man in a twisted mystery that may need to be read twice—a good thing.
Is Marvin Waterstone a time traveler, a killer, just plain crazy or some combination of all three? This intriguing mystery lays out evidence for solving the conundrum, as the erudite Waterstone regales an unusually receptive psychiatrist with his adventures.
Stevens, in his debut, employs an onomatopoeic writing technique, subtly changing styles to suit the various tales as they move from biblical times to the present. The book opens with Waterstone, wisecracking like a film noir detective as he explains the ins and outs of “chronojumping”: The method involves taking over a host—aka a wipchip (“Weak and isolated psyche of a chronologically indigenous person”)—in what is known as icing (i.e., “Insertion of chronojumper”). Along the way, the author suggests Waterstone is telling the truth; his analytical tales contain excruciatingly minute details. But Stevens also peppers his narrative with doubts, such as Waterstone forgetting his own story, contradicting himself and obviously hiding something. Whatever the case, jump after jump, Waterstone’s actions bring about a bad end for the wipchip: One is cast into slavery, another is left suicidal, another fired and yet another executed. Like Waterstone, this book is several things: mystery, sci-fi, psychological drama, puzzle. As readers move through history and approach the true motives of patient and psychiatrist, Waterstone’s tone and Stevens’ style evolve from glib to sardonic to introspective to downright philosophical. At the same time, as more facts and motives are revealed, it becomes less and less certain what is actually going on. Even what should be a definitive ending is ambiguous; the fact that Stevens pulls it off with such flair is a testament to his writing skills.
An enigmatic leading man in a twisted mystery that may need to be read twice—a good thing.Pub Date: Nov. 21, 2012
ISBN: 978-1480269897
Page Count: 204
Publisher: CreateSpace
Review Posted Online: Oct. 22, 2013
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
A pleasingly dystopian exercise in building a world without social media—and without social graces, for that matter.
The past isn’t even past—but the one postmodern fictionalist Levin imagines is stranger than most.
Levin turns in a big, futuristic shaggy dog tale, except that the dog isn’t so shaggy. In fact, it’s a rather tidy, lovable little critter called a Curio, or “cure,” a sort of emotional support animal that lends itself to all kinds of bad treatment. In Levin’s future—or past, that is, since most of the action ranges between the early 1980s and the early 2010s—the technological advances we’ve become used to are absent: There are no iPhones, no internet, no Facebook. You’d think that such lacunae would make people feel happy, but instead strange forms of life have been concocted, with inanimate objects capable of feeling and voicing discontent and pain as well as acquiring some of the traits the humans around them possess. Levin’s hero in this overlong but amusing story is an alienated memoirist with the science-fictional name of Belt Magnet. But then, everyone in this story has an unusual moniker: Lotta Hogg, Jonboat Pellmore-Jason, Blackie Buxman, and so forth. His cure has the name Blank, “short for Kablankey, the name I’d given it, at my mother’s suggestion, for the sound of its sneeze.” By the end of the story, even though Blank is a mass-produced laboratory thing, the reader will care for him/it just as much as Belt does—and will certainly be shocked by the horrible things some of the characters do to the inanimate and lab-born things among them. Says a guy named Triple-J, brightly, “Let’s use those Band-Aids to Band-Aid a cure to the slide at the playground, throw some rocks at it from a distance, and see if something revolutionary develops—some new kind of Curio interaction that doesn’t end in overload, and that we never would have expected to enjoy.” If Levin’s point is that humans are rotten no matter what tools you put in their hands, he proves it again and again.
A pleasingly dystopian exercise in building a world without social media—and without social graces, for that matter.Pub Date: April 14, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-385-54496-2
Page Count: 784
Publisher: Doubleday
Review Posted Online: Jan. 12, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
Here's the novel that, out of 2500 submissions, won the ecological-minded Turner Tomorrow Award—and caused a mutiny among the judges when it was awarded the $500,000 first prize. Is it that good—or bad? No, but it's certainly unusual, even eccentric, enough to place Quinn (the paperback Dreamer, 1988) on the cult literary map. What's most unusual is that this novel scarcely is one: beneath a thin narrative glaze, it's really a series of Socratic dialogues between man and ape, with the ape as Socrates. The nameless man, who narrates, answers a newspaper ad (``TEACHER seeks pupil...'') that takes him to a shabby office tenanted by a giant gorilla; lo! the ape begins to talk to him telepathically (Quinn's failure to explain this ability is typical of his approach: idea supersedes story). Over several days, the ape, Ishmael, as gruff as his Greek model, drags the man into a new understanding of humanity's place in the world. In a nutshell, Ishmael argues that humanity has evolved two ways of living: There are the ``Leavers,'' or hunter-gatherers (e.g., Bushmen), who live in harmony with the rest of life; and there are the ``Takers'' (our civilization), who arose with the agricultural revolution, aim to conquer the rest of life, and are destroying it in the process. Takers, Ishmael says, have woven a ``story'' to rationalize their conquest; central to this story is the idea that humanity is flawed—e.g., as told in the Bible. But not so, Ishmael proclaims; only the Taker way is flawed: Leavers offer a method for living well in the world. After Ishmael dies of pneumonia, his newly converted pupil can only ponder the ape's parting message: ``WITH GORILLA GONE, WILL THERE BE HOPE FOR MAN?'' A washout as a story, with zero emotional punch; but of substantial intellectual appeal as the extensive Q&A passages (despite their wild generalities and smug self-assurance) invariably challenge and provoke: both Socrates and King Kong might be pleased.
Pub Date: Jan. 15, 1992
ISBN: 0-553-07875-5
Page Count: 272
Publisher: Bantam
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 15, 1991
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