How High We Go in the Dark

I read this for the #SFFBookClub January book pick. How High We Go in the Dark is a collection of interconnected short stories dealing with death, grief, and remembrance in the face of overwhelming death and a pandemic. Despite getting very dark, I was surprised at the amount of hopefulness to be found in the face of all of this.

It was interesting to me that this collection had been started much earlier and the Arctic plague was a later detail to tie everything together. Personally, I feel really appreciative of authors exploring their own pandemic-related feelings like this; they're certainly not often comfortable feelings, but it certainly helps me personally, much more than the avoidance and blinders song and dance that feels on repeat everywhere else in my life.

It's hard for me to evaluate this book as a whole. I deeply enjoyed the structural setup, and seeing background characters narrate their own chapters added quite a bit of emotional nuance. Pig Son especially would have hit differently without the background from a few chapters earlier. Some of the stories were quite full of knives, but my one complaint is that some stories in the back half felt like retreading similar grounds of grief and remembrance; they just didn't have the same level of impact for me. Both the final chapter and the title-generating chapter were thematically strong, but didn't quite carry the same level of emotional weight or closure that I wanted. I am not sure subjectively why I felt this way, but I think this is some of the flipside of its short story nature--that there's only a consistent emotional thread running through the book rather than a character or plot arc.

I'm really glad to have read this, and feel like a lot of these stories and feelings are going to stick with me for a long while.

"How High We Go In the Dark" erzählt die Zukunft der Menschheit mit einer ganz besonderen Prämisse: Ein urzeitliches Virus taut aus dem Permafrost Sibiriens auf und zieht um die Welt - nicht so schnell wie in den letzten Jahren Corona, aber genauso gründlich und viel tödlicher. Anstatt nun aber einen wilden Technothriller zu inszenieren, entscheidet sich Autor Sequoia Nagamtasu dafür, den Umgang der Menschen mit dem allgegenwärtigen Tod und der Trauer in den Blick zu nehmen: Er zeichnet Jahrzehnte, in denen die globale Gesellschaft den Umgang mit dem Tod in den Mittelpunkt rückt. Aus Platzmangel werden neuartige Formen der Beerdigung nötig, die den Angehörigen aber - anders als z. B. Massengräber - ein angemessenes Trauern oder Abschied-Nehmen ermöglichen. Hierzu entwickeln sich neue Wirtschaftszweige und neue Technologien. Gleichzeitig bleibt immer die Hoffnung auf einen Ausweg, eine Impfung oder eine Heilung...

Das Buch ist nicht als zusammenhängende Geschichte erzählt, sondern als Sammlung verbundener Kurzgeschichten, die nach und nach weiter in der Zeit voranschreiten. So deckt es einen Zeitraum von gut einhundert Jahren ab und kann sich trotzdem die Zeit nehmen, echte Nähe zu den Figuren herzustellen. Dabei entstehen Bilder – wie das der "City of Laughter" –, die mich noch lange begleiten werden.

If I had known ahead of time what the structure and focus of this book was, I probably wouldn't have read it. That would have been my loss.

"How High We Go In the Dark" is a series of interconnected short stories set in the same world. This is not my favorite structural style: I prefer to follow a set of characters from beginning to end. Nagamatsu, though, has a rare talent for sketching out characters you can quickly attach to. I felt sorrowful every time I reached the end of a chapter and had to say goodbye.

In this way, the structure was a good fit for the world itself, and the story the author wanted to tell: one focused on death, loss, and how it transforms us. With some frequency, leaving a character at the end of their chapter meant watching them die.

This is one the most depressing novels I've ever read, but it also deeply creative, empathetic, hopeful, and beautiful. It was satisfying seeing the strands from earlier chapters weave their way through the later ones. In a lesser writer's hands, this novel would be unbearable, but in Nagamatsu's, it becomes something hard to bear, yet worth bearing.