Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

Book club book #7

This is not what you normally get from a post-apocalyptic book. With less focus on the panic which would naturally occur if a flu epidemic killed off almost all of humanity, Station Eleven is about survival and hope. Zeroing in on one string of interconnected people and the need for art to remain in the world, when almost all else is lost, this book follows a travelling caravan 20 years later. Their purpose is to bring symphonic masterpieces and Shakespearean plays to the remaining clusters of civilization along the northern US/Canada border.

Everyday comforts are gone. People no longer live in traditional homes, they group together in fast-food restaurants, gas stations, airports. Some have chosen to forget the past, let what they've lost go, while others consider it a time to honor and remember.

A loose connection between main characters is established through the life of Arthur Leander, a Hollywood actor. The unique experiences of these connected characters before, during, and after the apocalypse form an interesting narrative of the many directions life can go upon surviving this worse-case scenario. Sadly, Arthur dies the night the flu begins its horrible spread, so we only get to know him through flashbacks. He leaves behind Clark, his best friend, a few ex-wives, a son, Jeevan, the man who tries to save him, and Kirsten, a little girl sharing the stage with Arthur in a production of King Lear. Arthur dies in front of her, on stage, during the show. Each character is touched in some way by Arthur as well as the two copies of two issues of the comic series, Station Eleven, created by his first wife. None of these survivors live out the same life, but they end up intersecting within the story, though not always knowing they're connected.

Using the past to show the reader why these characters belong in the same story, along with the remnants of an old life they continue to hold onto, the story illustrates how one person's life can impact a series of choices made by others, driving their futures. It's a story that rewards the hopeful. People that don't give up and don't try to manipulate the system, but rather live in it to the best of their ability. It rewards kindness and true community -- survival in a way that supports others and invites moments of joy into a vastly altered life. It doesn't deny the existence of hardship, but refuses to allow humanity to get bogged down in the bad.

What survives after the world as we know it ends? What's going to make it above all else? Hope. We can all hope, through this story, that it's hope.

The Globe: The Science of Discworld II by Terry Pratchett

Thinking this book was going to further expand on our planet's evolutionary history -- from the title -- I dived into the second volume in this comical/scientific series. 

That's totally not what it's about.

On the fun, fictional side of things, the Discworld wizards have come to Earth to prevent an invasion of elves from essentially taking over the minds of humanity as we develop as a species. We're talking centuries ago, at the birth of man's ability to think creatively. 

Scientifically and historically, this book studies humanity's dependence on narrative thought. Our innate desire to tell stories, to fixate on the stories of others, and how our ability to depict characters and events through stories has impacted our connection to the unknown.

The "globe" referenced in the title is in dedication to someone who Pratchett very clearly values as the pinnacle of creative thought...William Shakespeare. Transferring the unseen into real characters is deftly done in A Midsummer Night's Dream as fairies are given names and personalities. This tactic, the book speculates, demystifies the mystical to a point that they're no longer revered or feared; they no longer have the same power. It becomes the greatest weapon the magicians have against the elves. Their "real" power is essentially dumbed down to a flitting fairy of no consequence through Shakespeare's play, turning them into an ineffective foe regardless of what abilities they actually possess.

This fictional clash in creativity aside, the real concepts discussed in this book are fascinating. Are we really the Great Ape we've named ourselves or just the ones who've mastered storytelling? What impact on belief does putting a face to a name really have when talking about mystical, spiritual, or magical beings? How does humanity's obsession with stories alter our reality? Do we really seek truth or just the next piece of gossip?

I feel like I could talk about the topics in this book forever. They fully peak my interest as a creator of content and as a lover of stories. I would almost suggest skipping volume one, this book is that interesting, but then you'd miss the whole comical setup of Discworld's connection to ours. In true Pratchett style, it's pretty funny. 

This second volume continues to recommend the series as a perfect companion set for all aficionados of the Discworld universe. Happy reading! 

Read this first:
The Science of Discworld (Volume 1)

Hag-Seed by Margaret Atwood

I will admit right off that I've never read The Tempest. This reinterpretation of the play though appealed to me because of my love for Margaret Atwood, as well as my belief that she'd do something fascinating to read having Shakespeare as her source material. 

I was right.

Shakespeare commonly employs the idea of a play within a play in his stories. He does it in Hamlet with the players reenacting Hamlet's dad's death, and he does it again in The Tempest as Prospero pulls the strings of the narrative on a small island to control the stranded characters. It really is an interesting tactic to be the playwright, writing a character who acts much like a play director with the impressive power of controlling reality. It's this central method of driving the action through control that Atwood takes hold of in Hag-Seed.

The biggest difference between Hag-Seed and it's source material is nobody is plotting to kill anyone in Atwood's version. Instead, the story starts with an assassination of a career. There's also no magic in the retelling, which factors pretty strongly in Shakespeare's play. Atwood replaces the magic with human intelligence and technology/special effects. The play within a play concept is all over the place as you spend most of the book with characters getting ready to put on The Tempest only to end up watching them perform a separate show for a special audience while the original play airs to the public on video. Sound a little confusing? Well, it's Shakespeare after all, so you're right where you should be.

Set inside a state prison, the players are all inmates participating in a theater program being offered as a kind of creative outreach. The main character, Felix, is a "ruined" theater director hiding out as the teacher while he bides his time for revenge on those who destroyed his career. The play within the play enables Felix to exact his revenge, and it's a doozy. 

So, the plot is Shakespeare, but the story is all Atwood. She infuses the story with a reality that Shakespeare lacks. Where he uses magic and dumb luck to drive his narrative, Atwood has her cast of characters work to set everything into place. I also feel as if there is more good in Atwood's version than in the original. Along the way of plotting his revenge, Felix ends up being quite a good person. He teaches for multiple years at the prison, always Shakespeare, inspiring inmates to think creatively, interpret literature, and brave the stage. He forces them to work together and try things outside of their comfort zones. He puts light and purpose into an otherwise dark place. Yes, Felix ultimately uses his players to exact his revenge, but he never forces it, these people are loyal because of what Felix has already taught them.

I really love the angle Atwood took to The Tempest in Hag-Seed, how she modernized the story, making a set of varied and imperfect characters come together to do a little good while having a little fun at others' expense. Atwood is such a creative writer and gives so much attention to flushing out all her characters. This is a great read and a fun way to bring a little Shakespeare into your book bag.

The Weird Sisters by Eleanor Brown

This book was simply a great read. The tone, characters, and story played perfectly with each other.

With a hefty nod to Shakespeare's collected works, The Weird Sisters, introduces us to Rose, Bean, and Cordy, three sisters having crossed over into adulthood with issues. One can't convince herself it's okay to leave the sleepy, little college town they all grew up in as daughters of a professor. One is forced to return home against her will as a consequence of living it up too much. The last sister, more of a wandering soul, isn't sure if she's home for good or just passing through. They're reunited to help their parents cope with their mom's cancer treatment.

By no means is this a perfect family. The author makes no pretense of that, yet the endearing imperfections of each character, interlaced with Shakespearean quotes and a unique narrative touch (the sisters narrate collectively as 'we') propel you along though a story of personal growth and life-defining choices, ending with the three sisters finding their place and their happiness.

I'm hesitant to call this a beach read or chic lit when trying to put this into a genre even though the focus is on female characters. The edges of this story are softer than that, lacking the sarcasm and exaggerated criticism you can typically find within these popular book categories. This story feels honest and simple in an engaging and pleasant way. You're going on a journey of personal discovery with each sister as they just get over it -- the 'it' being different for each sister.

Riding alongside the story of these sisters is Shakespeare. He's an interesting passenger, bringing originality to the, "my family is so weird," statement we've all uttered at some point. The girls are named for Shakespeare heroines, they've memorized just about all of his plays, and they constantly fill conversational voids with direct quotes. Their father is most guilty of this, as the professor whose passion has brought these girls up reading the Bard rather than watching TV. 

I feel like this is a book to be passed on to other readers, that it will leave you feeling content with the time you spent getting to know all the characters in the small town of Barnwell. It's not a page-turner, but a complete story about interesting people. I feel as if you don't see books like this as often anymore, with a more subtle gimmick to differentiate itself. It's a standout read for me and one I highly recommend.