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Der Stillstand: Roman
»Das Besondere an den besten Lethem-Romanen ist, dass sie so viel Spaß machen.« The Guardian
Seit dem Stillstand lebt Journeyman zurückgezogen mit seiner Schwester Maddy auf einem Bio-Bauernhof in Maine. Der Stillstand kam plötzlich. Autos, Waffen, Computer und Flugzeuge funktionierten nicht mehr und schon war die Gesellschaft im Eimer. Was ganz okay ist, bis Todbaum mit seinem irren Atom-Gefährt auftaucht. Hochamüsant, äußerst gegenwärtig - Lethem at his best!
Vor dem Stillstand hatte Journeyman ein gutes Leben, nun hilft er dem Metzger von East Tindwerwick in Maine und liefert die Lebensmittel aus, die seine Schwester Maddy auf ihrer Bio-Farm anbaut. Doch dann taucht sein alter Freund Todbaum wieder auf, mit einem Fahrzeug namens Blue einem atombetriebenen Tunnelbagger. Todbaum ist einer der mächtigsten Männer in Hollywood, seine Motive sind unklar, aber seine Art ist so unangenehm wie eh und je. Was auch immer Todbaume vorhat, es könnte an Journeyman liegen, ihn aufzuhalten. Der Stillstand vereint knisternde Prosa, schnellen Witz und ein großes Herz.
Seit dem Stillstand lebt Journeyman zurückgezogen mit seiner Schwester Maddy auf einem Bio-Bauernhof in Maine. Der Stillstand kam plötzlich. Autos, Waffen, Computer und Flugzeuge funktionierten nicht mehr und schon war die Gesellschaft im Eimer. Was ganz okay ist, bis Todbaum mit seinem irren Atom-Gefährt auftaucht. Hochamüsant, äußerst gegenwärtig - Lethem at his best!
Vor dem Stillstand hatte Journeyman ein gutes Leben, nun hilft er dem Metzger von East Tindwerwick in Maine und liefert die Lebensmittel aus, die seine Schwester Maddy auf ihrer Bio-Farm anbaut. Doch dann taucht sein alter Freund Todbaum wieder auf, mit einem Fahrzeug namens Blue einem atombetriebenen Tunnelbagger. Todbaum ist einer der mächtigsten Männer in Hollywood, seine Motive sind unklar, aber seine Art ist so unangenehm wie eh und je. Was auch immer Todbaume vorhat, es könnte an Journeyman liegen, ihn aufzuhalten. Der Stillstand vereint knisternde Prosa, schnellen Witz und ein großes Herz.
320 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 10, 2020
About the author
Jonathan Lethem
223 books2,520 followersJonathan Allen Lethem (born February 19, 1964) is an American novelist, essayist and short story writer.
His first novel, Gun, with Occasional Music, a genre work that mixed elements of science fiction and detective fiction, was published in 1994. It was followed by three more science fiction novels. In 1999, Lethem published Motherless Brooklyn, a National Book Critics Circle Award-winning novel that achieved mainstream success. In 2003, he published The Fortress of Solitude, which became a New York Times Best Seller.
In 2005, he received a MacArthur Fellowship
His first novel, Gun, with Occasional Music, a genre work that mixed elements of science fiction and detective fiction, was published in 1994. It was followed by three more science fiction novels. In 1999, Lethem published Motherless Brooklyn, a National Book Critics Circle Award-winning novel that achieved mainstream success. In 2003, he published The Fortress of Solitude, which became a New York Times Best Seller.
In 2005, he received a MacArthur Fellowship
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 527 reviews
September 11, 2020
We tell ourselves stories in order to live.
...
Their banter felt perfunctory and empty, dress rehearsal for a show that had closed years before.
...
He’d come wishing to hear the truth beneath the lies, or beneath the stories, the mad pastiche—a recombinant hash of truth and untruth, of exaggeration and invention and translation, of sleight of hand, of this switched for that. The lie that tells the truth.
Thanks to NetGalley and HarperCollins Publishers for sending me an ARC of The Arrest in exchange for an honest review.
I’ve only read one other book by Mr. Lethem, Motherless Brooklyn, but I quite enjoyed it. And the description of The Arrest sounded cool, so know that I went in with high hopes. But as you may have guessed, this book did not work for me.
There’s not much plot to speak of. Alexander “Sandy” Duplessis, aka The Journeyman, was visiting his sister Maddy on her organic farm in Maine when all the machines stopped working. A Hollywood screenwriter, he’s carved out a simple life for himself there, until his former boss, Peter Todbaum, shows up in a nuclear-powered supercar called The Blue Streak. Strange tension ensues.
Sometimes Literary Fiction just works. It’s brilliantly written, full of richly drawn characters, social commentary and observations. And sometimes it doesn’t work. The writing is good, but the meaning is too oblique and inaccessible, the character’s actions and motivations too hard to understand, and the story seems to go nowhere. Unfortunately, The Arrest fell into this later category for me. Why did Todbaum travel across the country to find Sandy and Maddy? What was the entire story supposed to mean? I still don’t really know. The book was readable, and amusing in places, but was ultimately unsatisfying.
October 13, 2021
This was dull. It was really, really dull. The story reads like a first draft jotted down on a napkin, only it's... Not. I should have LOVED it, as its all things I love in a book. It's odd, and I'm a sucker for anything a bit odd. It's a post-apocalyptic story, but quiet and introspective, with none of the aplomb of invasions, the terror of zombies or the imminent crises of financial or ecological collapse, although many of those are hinted at. The writing itself is disjointed, pretentious, and endlessly up its own arse - which again, I normally quite enjoy. But the story itself is bland and jerky and so flat. The premise was half-baked, the pacing was off, nothing about it was remotely compelling. I think the main problem was the central character, which fell hard into the literary white man trope of the middle aged, straight, white, male, ineffectual character as default, who can therefore be safely used to tell all these stories - only this character wasn't default, he was just utterly boring, completely flat and stripped of anything that might make him feel like a person. At the same time, the whole book was about him, so it was just page after page of detached, empty ghost, endlessly moralising despite having no morals to speak of. In the words of the book, it's "less of a serial, more a run of half-baked existentialist fugues."
Maybe that's the point of the book. Maybe it's great literature and I was just too bored to notice it, like when I was forced to read endless Thomas Hardy at school. But at least things happened in Hardy novels - I could see the point, even if I didn't love them myself. If this has a point to make, it's too vague for me; and frankly no point is worth this much boredom. 1.5 stars, mostly for what the book could have been if done well, and my destroyed hopes for it.
Maybe that's the point of the book. Maybe it's great literature and I was just too bored to notice it, like when I was forced to read endless Thomas Hardy at school. But at least things happened in Hardy novels - I could see the point, even if I didn't love them myself. If this has a point to make, it's too vague for me; and frankly no point is worth this much boredom. 1.5 stars, mostly for what the book could have been if done well, and my destroyed hopes for it.
January 17, 2022
It's hard not to read Jonathan Lethem's newest novel, The Arrest, without thinking of the fundamental parallels it has with our reality after COVID-19. The book depicts life in the small, fictional community of Tinderwick, Maine, in the aftermath of a cataclysmic event that has essentially wiped out all technology, and electricity. Phones, tablets, televisions, computers, and electric light no longer function. Cars and, confusingly, guns, have also ceased to function in this narrative.
Tinderwick, located on a peninsula, has learned to adapt to the catastrophe and has moved on. They farm the land to make food and reuse what they can from the time before the life-altering event, known colloquially to them as "The Arrest", because it arrested life as they previously knew it. You can see how this would strike many parallels to our current situation; COVID-19 was our "Arrest". Life as we knew it changed. Things you could once do, simple things like going to see your family, became impossible, even illegal. You could no longer do so many of the simple things we take for granted.
You could no longer go to the movies, or out to a restaurant, or on vacation to another country. Some people weren't even allowed to leave their homes, and were under hard lockdown. Life as we knew it, reality as we knew it, had been "arrested". Though published during the pandemic, in November 2020, I don't know when Lethem began writing this book, and so can't say whether this striking similarity represents intent or just seeming prescience on behalf of the author, but I found it very interesting, in any case.
Going back to the story itself, it mainly revolves around a small group of characters which include the main protagonist, Sandy, who is referred to by his nickname of Journeyman for the vast majority of the novel, his sister Maddy, and Sandy's Hollywood producer friend Peter Todbaum. Sandy, who does not live in Maine, turned out to be visiting his sister's organic farm in Tinderwick when the Arrest took place, and so, with planes and other means of long-range travel no longer operating, he is permanently stuck there, and becomes part of the community.
The community's perimeter is guarded by a hardcore faction known as the Cordon. They protect the community from anything that may be lurking outside in the post-apocalyptic world and wishing to get into their community to do them harm, and in exchange the community gives them food produced by their methods and farms. It's a good little arrangement, until one day a massive silver "supercar" comes barreling down the road, straight for the community. Who is behind the wheel? How does this special car still function, when all others were rendered inoperable? And what does the pilot of this strange craft want?
During the time I was reading The Arrest, its Goodreads star rating vacillated between 3.16 and 3.17 stars, finally settling on 3.17, its score at the time of this writing. That's pretty awful, so my expectations going into this book were pretty low. The book, however, surprised me, and I ended up absolutely loving it.
On the plus side, the writing is superb, and, despite the fact that this is a somewhat slower, more uneventful book, Lethem skillfully crafts a narrative that keeps you wanting to read more, and that builds brilliantly, in its final third, toward what ends up being a satisfying and mostly great ending. The book is only 307 pages, and with the amount of empty pages between some chapters, and some pages that contained only an image, I'd say this book probably wasn't more than about 260-270 pages. Yet in that abbreviated length Lethem is able to build some decent, memorable characters.
He also does a fantastic job of world-building. Tinderwick is composed of several areas and smaller towns, like Tinderwick, East Tinderwick, Granite Head, and a small island that lays between the peninsula and the Atlantic Ocean, known as Quarry Island. There's also Spodosol Ridge Farm, which is Maddy's organic farm, and the small cabin on the Lake of Tiredness. Each of these locales is wonderfully constructed by Lethem, to where I could see each of them vividly in my mind. He simply did a great job with the world-building in this story, which is especially impressive given the novel's brevity.
The book also has a wonderful antagonist, and Lethem does a good job making the mutually-dependent relationship between the citizens and the hardcore pseudo-soldiers of the Cordon a tense one, as it no doubt would be if the novel's scenario played out in the real world.
There were some things I didn't like. The explanation of what the Arrest actually was. There is only one very brief chapter (the chapters are very small in this book, only one to four pages each, which I loved) in this entire book where this is covered, and it was pretty disappointing. You would think, in a book where the Arrest is responsible for the entire reality you're immersed in, that you'd get more than one brief chapter containing the half-baked ideas of one of the characters about what the event might have been. He wonders if it was a solar flare, or one or two other things, and that's about it. From this, the reader figures out that no one in this book really knows what the Arrest actually was; no one knows what actually happened. The unfortunate thing is, this means that you, the reader, never find out either.
In a book where the Arrest wasn't the focus, but rather life after it was, I guess this makes sense. Lethem doesn't care about explaining it. That's not the point of his book. But as a reader, I found myself eager to know what it was, and I'm a little disappointed that I'll never know.
I also didn't think some parts of the Arrest that were explained made sense. Like, I get that electricity doesn't work anymore. And things with electrical components inside, like computers and televisions. And things dependent on satellites, like cell phones. Even cars; in Steven Spielberg's 2005 film War of the Worlds, all cars stopped running because the EMP (electromagnetic pulse) from the storm killed car solenoids. So maybe that's hallway plausible. Maybe something like a solar flare, or some other electrical interference, could cause those things not to work anymore.
But why did guns stop working?!
I can confidently say that no gun I've ever handled had electronic parts that would be fried by an EMP or a solar flare. There's absolutely no reason they wouldn't continue to work. So that made no sense. Really, what that was, or at least this is my theory, is that Lethem needed this reality not to have guns. He needed them not to work. Because this isn't Cormac McCarthy's The Road, where there is cannibalism and violence and constant dread and terror. Lethem's post-apocalyptic world is a friendlier, more cooperative place, where people work together and there is a strong sense of community. If guns work, presumably there'd be widespread war over resources, people would be dying left and right, and the tone and essence of this book just wouldn't make sense. So he bundled guns in with everything electronic; they just stopped working. That's fine, but it didn't make a lot of sense.
I can't recommend this book to everyone. Based on the statistics from its GR rating breakdown, you probably won't like it! Of the ratings it has to date, 64% of reviewers gave it three stars or less, and only 9% gave it the full five stars. So there were a lot of people who didn't like this book. But I'll tell you this: if you're looking for a wonderfully-written, captivating, but confusingly and simultaneously slow and uneventful post-apocalyptic tale, one that strips away the depressing and foreboding tone of The Road to offer a lighter, friendlier, far-more-enjoyable-to-read take on the genre, The Arrest is right up your alley. I really enjoyed it.
Tinderwick, located on a peninsula, has learned to adapt to the catastrophe and has moved on. They farm the land to make food and reuse what they can from the time before the life-altering event, known colloquially to them as "The Arrest", because it arrested life as they previously knew it. You can see how this would strike many parallels to our current situation; COVID-19 was our "Arrest". Life as we knew it changed. Things you could once do, simple things like going to see your family, became impossible, even illegal. You could no longer do so many of the simple things we take for granted.
You could no longer go to the movies, or out to a restaurant, or on vacation to another country. Some people weren't even allowed to leave their homes, and were under hard lockdown. Life as we knew it, reality as we knew it, had been "arrested". Though published during the pandemic, in November 2020, I don't know when Lethem began writing this book, and so can't say whether this striking similarity represents intent or just seeming prescience on behalf of the author, but I found it very interesting, in any case.
Going back to the story itself, it mainly revolves around a small group of characters which include the main protagonist, Sandy, who is referred to by his nickname of Journeyman for the vast majority of the novel, his sister Maddy, and Sandy's Hollywood producer friend Peter Todbaum. Sandy, who does not live in Maine, turned out to be visiting his sister's organic farm in Tinderwick when the Arrest took place, and so, with planes and other means of long-range travel no longer operating, he is permanently stuck there, and becomes part of the community.
The community's perimeter is guarded by a hardcore faction known as the Cordon. They protect the community from anything that may be lurking outside in the post-apocalyptic world and wishing to get into their community to do them harm, and in exchange the community gives them food produced by their methods and farms. It's a good little arrangement, until one day a massive silver "supercar" comes barreling down the road, straight for the community. Who is behind the wheel? How does this special car still function, when all others were rendered inoperable? And what does the pilot of this strange craft want?
During the time I was reading The Arrest, its Goodreads star rating vacillated between 3.16 and 3.17 stars, finally settling on 3.17, its score at the time of this writing. That's pretty awful, so my expectations going into this book were pretty low. The book, however, surprised me, and I ended up absolutely loving it.
On the plus side, the writing is superb, and, despite the fact that this is a somewhat slower, more uneventful book, Lethem skillfully crafts a narrative that keeps you wanting to read more, and that builds brilliantly, in its final third, toward what ends up being a satisfying and mostly great ending. The book is only 307 pages, and with the amount of empty pages between some chapters, and some pages that contained only an image, I'd say this book probably wasn't more than about 260-270 pages. Yet in that abbreviated length Lethem is able to build some decent, memorable characters.
He also does a fantastic job of world-building. Tinderwick is composed of several areas and smaller towns, like Tinderwick, East Tinderwick, Granite Head, and a small island that lays between the peninsula and the Atlantic Ocean, known as Quarry Island. There's also Spodosol Ridge Farm, which is Maddy's organic farm, and the small cabin on the Lake of Tiredness. Each of these locales is wonderfully constructed by Lethem, to where I could see each of them vividly in my mind. He simply did a great job with the world-building in this story, which is especially impressive given the novel's brevity.
The book also has a wonderful antagonist, and Lethem does a good job making the mutually-dependent relationship between the citizens and the hardcore pseudo-soldiers of the Cordon a tense one, as it no doubt would be if the novel's scenario played out in the real world.
There were some things I didn't like. The explanation of what the Arrest actually was. There is only one very brief chapter (the chapters are very small in this book, only one to four pages each, which I loved) in this entire book where this is covered, and it was pretty disappointing. You would think, in a book where the Arrest is responsible for the entire reality you're immersed in, that you'd get more than one brief chapter containing the half-baked ideas of one of the characters about what the event might have been. He wonders if it was a solar flare, or one or two other things, and that's about it. From this, the reader figures out that no one in this book really knows what the Arrest actually was; no one knows what actually happened. The unfortunate thing is, this means that you, the reader, never find out either.
In a book where the Arrest wasn't the focus, but rather life after it was, I guess this makes sense. Lethem doesn't care about explaining it. That's not the point of his book. But as a reader, I found myself eager to know what it was, and I'm a little disappointed that I'll never know.
I also didn't think some parts of the Arrest that were explained made sense. Like, I get that electricity doesn't work anymore. And things with electrical components inside, like computers and televisions. And things dependent on satellites, like cell phones. Even cars; in Steven Spielberg's 2005 film War of the Worlds, all cars stopped running because the EMP (electromagnetic pulse) from the storm killed car solenoids. So maybe that's hallway plausible. Maybe something like a solar flare, or some other electrical interference, could cause those things not to work anymore.
But why did guns stop working?!
I can confidently say that no gun I've ever handled had electronic parts that would be fried by an EMP or a solar flare. There's absolutely no reason they wouldn't continue to work. So that made no sense. Really, what that was, or at least this is my theory, is that Lethem needed this reality not to have guns. He needed them not to work. Because this isn't Cormac McCarthy's The Road, where there is cannibalism and violence and constant dread and terror. Lethem's post-apocalyptic world is a friendlier, more cooperative place, where people work together and there is a strong sense of community. If guns work, presumably there'd be widespread war over resources, people would be dying left and right, and the tone and essence of this book just wouldn't make sense. So he bundled guns in with everything electronic; they just stopped working. That's fine, but it didn't make a lot of sense.
I can't recommend this book to everyone. Based on the statistics from its GR rating breakdown, you probably won't like it! Of the ratings it has to date, 64% of reviewers gave it three stars or less, and only 9% gave it the full five stars. So there were a lot of people who didn't like this book. But I'll tell you this: if you're looking for a wonderfully-written, captivating, but confusingly and simultaneously slow and uneventful post-apocalyptic tale, one that strips away the depressing and foreboding tone of The Road to offer a lighter, friendlier, far-more-enjoyable-to-read take on the genre, The Arrest is right up your alley. I really enjoyed it.
July 18, 2020
After Lethem's recent novel The Feral Detective, I didn't know what to expect. This is an unconventional post-apocalyptic novel. Contrary to the blurb, I would not call it dystopian. Apart from the metafictional antics of its screenwriter main character, it comes alive with humorous anachronisms, some subtle social commentary, stock characters, witty repartee, and most of all, luscious descriptions of a monolithic "supercar" steampunk vehicle, which actually takes up most of the "screen time" of this cinematic book. Notably it has a desolate, and (for me) surprising ending.
I would call the outlook of most of the characters bleak, but Lethem imbued his parable with enough playful language to enthuse me throughout. Definitely not a complex work like his three big novels, this falls more in line with his shorter, quirkier novels - Girl in Landscape more than As She Climbed Across the Table. He seems like a multi-layered novelist, and I am curious what he has in store for us next time. His retro-futurism works better here than elsewhere, though I think I liked Gambler's Anatomy more. The quality of the narration was as unpredictable as the world building. Most of the cataclysmic event preceding the novel's events are merely hinted at, instead of explicated.
I thought the book could have gone on longer, could have turned into an interesting road novel aboard a pynchonian retro-fitted future craft, but the characters mostly sat around and philosophized. A missed opportunity, since this was the perfect set up for a truly epic novel. Why doesn't Lethem take his time, really pull out the stops and give us a work that can rival Pynchon, Philip K. Dick and other big names? Mostly, he imitates the big boys. And he does it well. Still, he has the ability and popularity to write a monolithic masterpiece - I'm still waiting, Lethem.
I would call the outlook of most of the characters bleak, but Lethem imbued his parable with enough playful language to enthuse me throughout. Definitely not a complex work like his three big novels, this falls more in line with his shorter, quirkier novels - Girl in Landscape more than As She Climbed Across the Table. He seems like a multi-layered novelist, and I am curious what he has in store for us next time. His retro-futurism works better here than elsewhere, though I think I liked Gambler's Anatomy more. The quality of the narration was as unpredictable as the world building. Most of the cataclysmic event preceding the novel's events are merely hinted at, instead of explicated.
I thought the book could have gone on longer, could have turned into an interesting road novel aboard a pynchonian retro-fitted future craft, but the characters mostly sat around and philosophized. A missed opportunity, since this was the perfect set up for a truly epic novel. Why doesn't Lethem take his time, really pull out the stops and give us a work that can rival Pynchon, Philip K. Dick and other big names? Mostly, he imitates the big boys. And he does it well. Still, he has the ability and popularity to write a monolithic masterpiece - I'm still waiting, Lethem.
May 4, 2021
I've loved quite a few books by Lethem (Gun, with Occasional Music, Motherless Brooklyn and Amnesia Moon) and have also been disappointed by him (As She Climbed Across the Table). The Arrest falls into this latter category.
I would describe the premise of this story as "a slow apocalypse." A vague, undescribed apocalypse happened, and the story is taking place in an isolated corner of the former United States. The area is mostly self-sustaining, via farming, and has very little interaction with other neighboring areas. Generally speaking, there is no electricity or other technology. They are slowly developing their own unique culture as a small community. The initiating event that shakes up this community is the arrival of a "holdover" from the old ways. A former friend and employer of the main character (Sandy) who was a big-time Producer in Hollywood. This visiting character is driving a ridiculous nuclear-powered tank...with an espresso machine. He has the equally ridiculous name Peter Todbaum. Any time you make someone's last name even a partial first name "Todd" it sounds ridiculous, especially when you repeat it over and over again. Peter Todbaum, Peter Todbaum, Peter Todbaum.
Todbaum is the epitome of wealthy toxic masculinity and nihilism. He's some sort of charismatic Trump-type without the obesity. Charismatic in the same way Hitler was; people are clearly drawn to him despite how vile he might be. But scumbags get away with a lot of sleezy behavior when they are successful. I had a "friend" once who was an extremely talented musician, but he was a terrible person. He was domineering, rude and insulting. And yet he managed to get away with it and keep his friends for the most part because when he stepped on stage, he was brilliant. Then off-stage, he was an asshole, but people (including me) put up with it. I regret it. Todbaum represents the success of excess and an excess of success. And then here he is, squished into this relatively peaceful, isolated community. Like chalk on a blackboard or barbed wire in a teddy bear. This novel is a fish-out-of-water story of a new world attempting to assimilate the dregs of an old way.
While there could potentially be something of interest in such a situation, The Arrest fails as an execution. It's a big flop.
First, I find it to be a cheap shortcut not to define the apocalypse. Just some handwaving. Oh, something bad happened and now here we are. It's not important what happened. I'm sorry but unless you are writing a fairytale-genre story, then you need to justify the worldbuilding. It makes an apocalypse (you know, the mass devastation of civilization) into a shallow plot device.
Lethem's foundational premise is further weakened through an unreliable narrator. The isolated community itself tells us very little about the rest of the world. Todbaum's introduction is the plot device to communicate "stories" from the rest of the world. But at some point, we learn that Todbaum's "stories" might be just that...stories. So not only is the apocalypse vague, when we think it's being explicated it's actually becoming more obscure.
Plenty of other things in the book are also "obscured." What happened between Todbaum and Sandy's sister. The "obscured" community that is disconnected from the rest of society. Sandy's feelings. His knowledge of any other character and what they are thinking or feeling. He's in a state of constant dullness and dumbness. While obscurity might be a worthwhile theme to explore it sure made for a boring and disatisfying book in this execution. And even that theme is contradicted by a specific, elaborate and utterly gimmicky plot device to handle Todbaum's nuke-powered vehicle and the disruption and toxicity that Todbaum injected into the community.
In the end, The Arrest was not very arresting. Boom! Take that slow apocalypse.
I would describe the premise of this story as "a slow apocalypse." A vague, undescribed apocalypse happened, and the story is taking place in an isolated corner of the former United States. The area is mostly self-sustaining, via farming, and has very little interaction with other neighboring areas. Generally speaking, there is no electricity or other technology. They are slowly developing their own unique culture as a small community. The initiating event that shakes up this community is the arrival of a "holdover" from the old ways. A former friend and employer of the main character (Sandy) who was a big-time Producer in Hollywood. This visiting character is driving a ridiculous nuclear-powered tank...with an espresso machine. He has the equally ridiculous name Peter Todbaum. Any time you make someone's last name even a partial first name "Todd" it sounds ridiculous, especially when you repeat it over and over again. Peter Todbaum, Peter Todbaum, Peter Todbaum.
Todbaum is the epitome of wealthy toxic masculinity and nihilism. He's some sort of charismatic Trump-type without the obesity. Charismatic in the same way Hitler was; people are clearly drawn to him despite how vile he might be. But scumbags get away with a lot of sleezy behavior when they are successful. I had a "friend" once who was an extremely talented musician, but he was a terrible person. He was domineering, rude and insulting. And yet he managed to get away with it and keep his friends for the most part because when he stepped on stage, he was brilliant. Then off-stage, he was an asshole, but people (including me) put up with it. I regret it. Todbaum represents the success of excess and an excess of success. And then here he is, squished into this relatively peaceful, isolated community. Like chalk on a blackboard or barbed wire in a teddy bear. This novel is a fish-out-of-water story of a new world attempting to assimilate the dregs of an old way.
While there could potentially be something of interest in such a situation, The Arrest fails as an execution. It's a big flop.
First, I find it to be a cheap shortcut not to define the apocalypse. Just some handwaving. Oh, something bad happened and now here we are. It's not important what happened. I'm sorry but unless you are writing a fairytale-genre story, then you need to justify the worldbuilding. It makes an apocalypse (you know, the mass devastation of civilization) into a shallow plot device.
Lethem's foundational premise is further weakened through an unreliable narrator. The isolated community itself tells us very little about the rest of the world. Todbaum's introduction is the plot device to communicate "stories" from the rest of the world. But at some point, we learn that Todbaum's "stories" might be just that...stories. So not only is the apocalypse vague, when we think it's being explicated it's actually becoming more obscure.
Plenty of other things in the book are also "obscured." What happened between Todbaum and Sandy's sister. The "obscured" community that is disconnected from the rest of society. Sandy's feelings. His knowledge of any other character and what they are thinking or feeling. He's in a state of constant dullness and dumbness. While obscurity might be a worthwhile theme to explore it sure made for a boring and disatisfying book in this execution. And even that theme is contradicted by a specific, elaborate and utterly gimmicky plot device to handle Todbaum's nuke-powered vehicle and the disruption and toxicity that Todbaum injected into the community.
In the end, The Arrest was not very arresting. Boom! Take that slow apocalypse.
November 10, 2020
“Some say the world will end in fire,” Robert Frost wrote, “Some say in ice.” But in this era of terrifying dystopias, Jonathan Lethem imagines a kinder, gentler apocalypse: no pandemic laying waste to humanity, no asteroid shattering the Earth, no zombies snacking on us.
In Lethem’s new novel, “The Arrest,” all technology simply grinds to a halt.
Y2K programmed us to fear that such a stoppage would spark worldwide panic. After all, when the power goes out in Don DeLillo’s new novel, “The Silence,” the guests at a Super Bowl party in Manhattan immediately go stark-raving mad.
But that catastrophe looks different in Lethem’s vision. Expecting the terror of darkness, we find instead the sepia tones of candlelight. “The Gmail, the texts and swipes and FaceTimes, the tweets and likes, these suffered colony collapse disorder,” he writes. Yes, cars and guns and elevators stop functioning, but if there’s widespread suffering and starving, it must be happening far away, and without electronic communication. . . .
To read the rest of this review, go to The Washington Post:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/entert...
In Lethem’s new novel, “The Arrest,” all technology simply grinds to a halt.
Y2K programmed us to fear that such a stoppage would spark worldwide panic. After all, when the power goes out in Don DeLillo’s new novel, “The Silence,” the guests at a Super Bowl party in Manhattan immediately go stark-raving mad.
But that catastrophe looks different in Lethem’s vision. Expecting the terror of darkness, we find instead the sepia tones of candlelight. “The Gmail, the texts and swipes and FaceTimes, the tweets and likes, these suffered colony collapse disorder,” he writes. Yes, cars and guns and elevators stop functioning, but if there’s widespread suffering and starving, it must be happening far away, and without electronic communication. . . .
To read the rest of this review, go to The Washington Post:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/entert...
February 17, 2021
Science-fiction author Brian Aldiss coined the term cosy catastrophe, as a way to describe sci-fi stories in which a world-ending event wipes out most of human life, leaving a group of nice, middle-class white people to calmly and in relative comfort rebuild some sense of normality (Aldiss was thinking of John Wyndham's work like The Day of the Triffids).
The Arrest is a cosy catastrophe. From one day to the next, all electronics and mechanical constructs have stopped working. Nobody really knows why,and there seems no way to reverse The Arrest, as it is known. To be fair, nobody in the book actually seems to want to reverse it, or even think about how it came to be, it has become the new normal.
The book takes place in a rural part of Maine, close to the ocean. Our main character, who refers to himself as the Journeyman (nobody ever calls him that), was visiting the hipster-y farm run by his sister Maddie, when The Arrest hit. A tight group of 'survivors' have banded together, and help eachother live a life of relative comfort. Their collection of farms is cordoned off by a more classically post-apocalyptic group, calling themselves The Cordon. As the farms also feed the Cordon, there's a tense sort of stand-off.
Then, out of nowhere, an old colleague of Journeyman's pre-Arrest life comes rolling into town - literally. Todman has a nuclear-powered car, that he had built before The Arrest, and he has come to bother Journeyman and his sister. Journeyman used to be a screenwriter, and he worked together with Todman.
And that's sort of the plot. Not a lot happens. It all sort of pootles along, and it's quite funny in a wry way. At it's best, it's pleasant, at it's worst just a little bit boring. Journeyman is a bit of a dork, which I quite like, but the other characters more or less stay ciphers, which is especially noticeable in Maddie, his sister.
There is an ending (believe me, that might come as a surprise when reading this book), but it feels a bit forced, and left me wondering what I just read. Which might just appeal to you.
(Kindly received a review copy from Atlantic Books through NetGalley)
The Arrest is a cosy catastrophe. From one day to the next, all electronics and mechanical constructs have stopped working. Nobody really knows why,and there seems no way to reverse The Arrest, as it is known. To be fair, nobody in the book actually seems to want to reverse it, or even think about how it came to be, it has become the new normal.
The book takes place in a rural part of Maine, close to the ocean. Our main character, who refers to himself as the Journeyman (nobody ever calls him that), was visiting the hipster-y farm run by his sister Maddie, when The Arrest hit. A tight group of 'survivors' have banded together, and help eachother live a life of relative comfort. Their collection of farms is cordoned off by a more classically post-apocalyptic group, calling themselves The Cordon. As the farms also feed the Cordon, there's a tense sort of stand-off.
Then, out of nowhere, an old colleague of Journeyman's pre-Arrest life comes rolling into town - literally. Todman has a nuclear-powered car, that he had built before The Arrest, and he has come to bother Journeyman and his sister. Journeyman used to be a screenwriter, and he worked together with Todman.
And that's sort of the plot. Not a lot happens. It all sort of pootles along, and it's quite funny in a wry way. At it's best, it's pleasant, at it's worst just a little bit boring. Journeyman is a bit of a dork, which I quite like, but the other characters more or less stay ciphers, which is especially noticeable in Maddie, his sister.
There is an ending (believe me, that might come as a surprise when reading this book), but it feels a bit forced, and left me wondering what I just read. Which might just appeal to you.
(Kindly received a review copy from Atlantic Books through NetGalley)
March 6, 2024
How did one human undesolate another? if you'd never seen it done, you wouldn't believe it possible.
This is the tale of Sandy Duplessis, aka Journeyman, former screenwriter, who survives an apocalyptic event called "the arrest". Journeyman returns to rural Maine and reunites with his sister Maddy who works at a farm.
The two live side by side in their rural and isolated world until Journeyman's frenemy, Peter Todbaum, his former writing partner and college friend returns- in an outlandish contraption what is powered by nuclear energy.
This is the story of a community living together after a natural disaster of epic proportions has happened, and how the conflict between Todbaum and Journeyman threaten to disrupt their way of life- and especially Journeyman's relationship with Maddy.
Written with a zaniness that captures desperation, slapstick and filled with both comedic and moments of melancholy, this totally captures the tone of Mr. Lethem's themes of both maddening frustration with a fraught anxiety that is always humorously captured.
This is the tale of Sandy Duplessis, aka Journeyman, former screenwriter, who survives an apocalyptic event called "the arrest". Journeyman returns to rural Maine and reunites with his sister Maddy who works at a farm.
The two live side by side in their rural and isolated world until Journeyman's frenemy, Peter Todbaum, his former writing partner and college friend returns- in an outlandish contraption what is powered by nuclear energy.
This is the story of a community living together after a natural disaster of epic proportions has happened, and how the conflict between Todbaum and Journeyman threaten to disrupt their way of life- and especially Journeyman's relationship with Maddy.
Written with a zaniness that captures desperation, slapstick and filled with both comedic and moments of melancholy, this totally captures the tone of Mr. Lethem's themes of both maddening frustration with a fraught anxiety that is always humorously captured.
June 25, 2020
"Dystopia and postapocalypse, two great tastes that taste great together."
The world as we know it ends. For no particular reason, or maybe all of them, everything just stops. In Jonathan Lethem's The Arrest, the why of it is hardly the point. The point is that our world shrinks. Way, way down, to a tiny little sliver of its former glory. Yet, still, those parts of your life you'd rather forget can follow you anywhere. Sometimes, literally. Like tracking you down in a nuclear powered, tunnel boring supercar from coast to coast.
The Arrest has the feel of a dream. A protagonist, Journeyman, AKA Sandy, AKA Alexander Duplessis, who, timid and introverted, seems perpetually one step behind, out of the loop, not quite in control of his own destiny. Journeyman has a problem in the form of his irksome, manipulative, slightly demented and megolomaniac yet charismatic frenemy, Peter Todbaum. It's a weird relationship, this. Like a shark and remora, only in reverse. Peter's presence threatens to turn his nice, sleepy post-apocalyptic paradise into a real you-know-what show.
"Wonder, wonder, such things to wonder over. How had it all come to exactly this? When would Journeyman figure it out, if not now? Here in the oasis of time at the end of the world? Yet since Todbaum’s arrival, time had perhaps restarted. Todbaum was his own ticking clock; he carried deadlines, crises. Worse than a clock. A ticking bomb."
Lethem's prose is pithy, evocative and genuine, fantastically capturing the nuances of Journeymen's fraught, unbalanced relationships with his friend and his sister. A real pleasure. Full of a foreboding sense of a less than sublime past about to catch up with the here and now, a balance and serenity about to be shattered. Waiting for true intentions to be revealed and the other shoe to drop. Will there be war? A personal reckoning? Maybe some of both.
* I received an advanced review copy of The Arrest in exchange for a fair and honest review.
The world as we know it ends. For no particular reason, or maybe all of them, everything just stops. In Jonathan Lethem's The Arrest, the why of it is hardly the point. The point is that our world shrinks. Way, way down, to a tiny little sliver of its former glory. Yet, still, those parts of your life you'd rather forget can follow you anywhere. Sometimes, literally. Like tracking you down in a nuclear powered, tunnel boring supercar from coast to coast.
The Arrest has the feel of a dream. A protagonist, Journeyman, AKA Sandy, AKA Alexander Duplessis, who, timid and introverted, seems perpetually one step behind, out of the loop, not quite in control of his own destiny. Journeyman has a problem in the form of his irksome, manipulative, slightly demented and megolomaniac yet charismatic frenemy, Peter Todbaum. It's a weird relationship, this. Like a shark and remora, only in reverse. Peter's presence threatens to turn his nice, sleepy post-apocalyptic paradise into a real you-know-what show.
"Wonder, wonder, such things to wonder over. How had it all come to exactly this? When would Journeyman figure it out, if not now? Here in the oasis of time at the end of the world? Yet since Todbaum’s arrival, time had perhaps restarted. Todbaum was his own ticking clock; he carried deadlines, crises. Worse than a clock. A ticking bomb."
Lethem's prose is pithy, evocative and genuine, fantastically capturing the nuances of Journeymen's fraught, unbalanced relationships with his friend and his sister. A real pleasure. Full of a foreboding sense of a less than sublime past about to catch up with the here and now, a balance and serenity about to be shattered. Waiting for true intentions to be revealed and the other shoe to drop. Will there be war? A personal reckoning? Maybe some of both.
* I received an advanced review copy of The Arrest in exchange for a fair and honest review.
December 12, 2020
Reading this reminded me why I don't read white males anymore. All the main characters are white males. There are some women, but they're only there to react to what they men do, they don't really have much agency, thought, etc. of their own. Oh, and there's one non-white person in the whole book. A few gay characters thrown in, maybe to make the author seem open minded? Anyway, I gave up 2/3 of the way in. I don't really care what happens to any of the characters.
January 12, 2024
Lethem’s dystopian world has a few fundamental problems that I could not overcome. It’s a world where all the machines have stopped working. They reside in a state of "arrest."
One problem is that the novel focuses on a story element that disproves Lethem’s own premise. It’s clear that machines do work in certain cases, which prompts the question: why do some machines work while others do not?
Investigating the root of that question creates a significant distraction. Apparently, gasoline is out, but human-generated methane works. Nuclear power does not work, but then again it does in one particular case. Fire is still allowed and is used to power steam engines, but their widespread use to solve bigger problems has never been contemplated. This all leads to a conclusion that the randomly working machines are matter of convenience to Lethem’s story. Without working machines, Lethem’s world would be devoid of a story.
Another problem is Lethem’s depiction of a world without (most) machines as a sort of utopia. His characters live their new green lives like happy Amish folks on a communal farm. The reality is that there are numerous people in Lethem’s isolated community who would need to survive the disfunction of basic social health services. In Lethem’s world, the trash is magically cleared, clean water is just there, and sewage disposal just happens.
As for the story, it’s not very compelling. It probably has something to do with realizing that we are all ultimately composed of the decisions we’ve made in our lives, both active and passive. Had the story been more powerful, the distraction of the story may have headed off the distractions associated with its numerous flaws. But it was not, and the flaws won.
One problem is that the novel focuses on a story element that disproves Lethem’s own premise. It’s clear that machines do work in certain cases, which prompts the question: why do some machines work while others do not?
Investigating the root of that question creates a significant distraction. Apparently, gasoline is out, but human-generated methane works. Nuclear power does not work, but then again it does in one particular case. Fire is still allowed and is used to power steam engines, but their widespread use to solve bigger problems has never been contemplated. This all leads to a conclusion that the randomly working machines are matter of convenience to Lethem’s story. Without working machines, Lethem’s world would be devoid of a story.
Another problem is Lethem’s depiction of a world without (most) machines as a sort of utopia. His characters live their new green lives like happy Amish folks on a communal farm. The reality is that there are numerous people in Lethem’s isolated community who would need to survive the disfunction of basic social health services. In Lethem’s world, the trash is magically cleared, clean water is just there, and sewage disposal just happens.
As for the story, it’s not very compelling. It probably has something to do with realizing that we are all ultimately composed of the decisions we’ve made in our lives, both active and passive. Had the story been more powerful, the distraction of the story may have headed off the distractions associated with its numerous flaws. But it was not, and the flaws won.
December 29, 2020
Thanks to Harper Collins for the ARC. I promise honest, not nice, so here goes.
If Jonathan Franzen were to write a post-apocalyptic novel, it might be something like this. Many people would consider a comparison to Jonathan Franzen a compliment. I am not one of them. If I want disaffected modern Americans with an unhealthy amount of ennui in my fantasy novels, I’ll stick to Lev Grossman. He does it much better, and I feel like I’m supposed to want to punch Quentin in the face.
This is set in present-day Maine, but in a world where technology abruptly stopped working - this would be the titular “Arrest.” No explanation is given, which I’m actually fine with - that’s what the book is about. The protagonist is Alexander Duplessis, known to most as Sandy. When the Arrest happened, he was visiting his sister on her organic farm on the coast of Maine. Given the area’s pre-Arrest propensity towards affluent crunch-granola hippies, they weathered the transition more than most. The protagonist’s sister, for example, pretty much just rolled up her sleeves and kept doing what she was doing. They have a nice little idyllic community going, truth be told; Sandy’s skills as a screenwriter aren’t really in demand, but he finds a niche as assistant butcher and general delivery man.
Things take an interesting turn when an old “friend” of the protagonist (and incidental one-night-stand of the protagonist’s sister) arrives in a nuclear powered supercar, the only piece of technology that’s working. He’s asking for the protagonist and his sister, but no one knows why, nor why he crossed the country to find them.
So now we get into the pretentious stuff, and everything that is clearly supposed to be have meaning. The protagonist refers to himself as “Journeyman,” but he’s never told anyone this nickname as far as I could tell. Among the deliveries he makes is food supplies to a local pedophile, exiled from the town proper for his crimes, who considers Journeyman his only friend and talks with him a lot about classical Japanese books. There’s a woman who moved into the library; Journeyman doesn’t know her name, but he’s got a crush on her. Journeyman, as I said, is an ex-screenwriter, who specialized in converting failing projects into soulless things that make some kind of profit. His friend is a Hollywood producer with distinct Harvey Weinstein vibes. I could go on and on and on. It’s all meant to be so deep, so symbolic, and it just left me feeling so pissed off (except for Journeyman’s friend, who left me wanting a shower, but that was clearly the author’s intention).
Throw in way too much space devoted to decrying modern life, with its Facebook likes and search engine optimization and e-books and email and digital watches and the no-good kids with their hippity-hop music and pants falling down (Franzen’s schtick, in other words) and I just felt so, so patronized.
Would not recommend, but hey, if you like Franzen and you like spec fic, maybe this’ll be for you.
If Jonathan Franzen were to write a post-apocalyptic novel, it might be something like this. Many people would consider a comparison to Jonathan Franzen a compliment. I am not one of them. If I want disaffected modern Americans with an unhealthy amount of ennui in my fantasy novels, I’ll stick to Lev Grossman. He does it much better, and I feel like I’m supposed to want to punch Quentin in the face.
This is set in present-day Maine, but in a world where technology abruptly stopped working - this would be the titular “Arrest.” No explanation is given, which I’m actually fine with - that’s what the book is about. The protagonist is Alexander Duplessis, known to most as Sandy. When the Arrest happened, he was visiting his sister on her organic farm on the coast of Maine. Given the area’s pre-Arrest propensity towards affluent crunch-granola hippies, they weathered the transition more than most. The protagonist’s sister, for example, pretty much just rolled up her sleeves and kept doing what she was doing. They have a nice little idyllic community going, truth be told; Sandy’s skills as a screenwriter aren’t really in demand, but he finds a niche as assistant butcher and general delivery man.
Things take an interesting turn when an old “friend” of the protagonist (and incidental one-night-stand of the protagonist’s sister) arrives in a nuclear powered supercar, the only piece of technology that’s working. He’s asking for the protagonist and his sister, but no one knows why, nor why he crossed the country to find them.
So now we get into the pretentious stuff, and everything that is clearly supposed to be have meaning. The protagonist refers to himself as “Journeyman,” but he’s never told anyone this nickname as far as I could tell. Among the deliveries he makes is food supplies to a local pedophile, exiled from the town proper for his crimes, who considers Journeyman his only friend and talks with him a lot about classical Japanese books. There’s a woman who moved into the library; Journeyman doesn’t know her name, but he’s got a crush on her. Journeyman, as I said, is an ex-screenwriter, who specialized in converting failing projects into soulless things that make some kind of profit. His friend is a Hollywood producer with distinct Harvey Weinstein vibes. I could go on and on and on. It’s all meant to be so deep, so symbolic, and it just left me feeling so pissed off (except for Journeyman’s friend, who left me wanting a shower, but that was clearly the author’s intention).
Throw in way too much space devoted to decrying modern life, with its Facebook likes and search engine optimization and e-books and email and digital watches and the no-good kids with their hippity-hop music and pants falling down (Franzen’s schtick, in other words) and I just felt so, so patronized.
Would not recommend, but hey, if you like Franzen and you like spec fic, maybe this’ll be for you.
October 3, 2021
Toward the end of this I was thinking of Wicker Man (the 1973 film). Mentions of ritual, the building of a mysterious tower on an island. Then, on the last page, I see this was the point. So was the sister Maddy Lord Summerisle? It does say that she's tall.
December 19, 2021
I went through an Agatha Christie phase at the age of 13, but since then haven't been a great fan of murder mysteries. While reading The Arrest, a reason why they are so popular suddenly occurred to me: the narrative has a known purpose. From the start of the book, the reader is aware that there will be a murder, it will be mysterious, and the mystery will be solved. My limited interest in murders means this purpose doesn't necessarily appeal to me, but the presence of a narrative purpose of some kind does. Halfway through The Arrest, I was asking myself, "What is the purpose of this? What is it trying to do?"
I can only speculate in answer these questions, of course. The back cover blurb begins with, 'The Arrest isn't post-apocalypse'. Upon first glance this is obviously untrue and on second glance disingenuous, as the setting is just that. A mysterious disaster has stopped technology working and industrial civilisation has collapsed. The protagonist, who is rather ironically referred to as Journeyman, lives on a bucolic commune somewhere on the American coast (Maine is not a place I can locate on a map). The stability of this community is slightly unsettled by the arrival of Journeyman's former friend/housemate/collaborator/boss Todbaum in a nuclear-powered tank. I say slightly because Todbaum, formerly a feared Hollywood producer, does nothing but recount anecdotes over hoarded coffee. Journeyman and his sister both have past history with Todbaum, which is never fully elucidated. Instead, Journeyman and Todbaum reflect and hold forth upon post-apocalyptic fiction.
It seems highly likely that Lethem's intent is to use this setting for analysis and critique of post-apocalyptic media. To my mind, though, he has nothing interesting or new to say about it. Quite possibly I think so because I've read a lot of dystopian, apocalyptic, and post-apocalyptic novels and formed my own theories about them. Lethem's characters only seem to make very obvious points, such as:
First of all, I don't think it's helpful to collapse dystopian, apocalyptic, and post-apocalyptic fiction into a single thing. Obviously there's an overlap, but in my experience there are perceptible differences between the three. Dystopias are stable worlds with exaggerated bleak elements, set up in a manner that reflects upon specific anxieties of the time they were written. They are more likely to read as fables or cautionary tales. Apocalyptic novels depict collapse and instability, generally reflecting upon human reactions to loss and extreme danger. They are more likely to read as thrillers, although they can also be cautionary (especially if written during the Cold War). Post-apocalyptic novels tend to comment both on what has been lost and what has been saved from what came before; their plots tend to include more stability than apocalyptic novels but less than dystopias. They are more likely to read as survivalist fantasies, while also including thriller and/or cautionary tale elements. There is frequently a textual or subtextual appeal to prelapsarian ideals, simplicity, living in a small homogenous group, and escape from modernity's speed and information overload. Xenophobic and racist subtext can often be discerned, while an anti-industrial and/or anti-capitalist message is even more common. A classic example is After London: or, Wild England from 1885, which depicts neo-feudal rural communities while cities are empty toxic wastelands.
It's obvious that post-apocalyptic novels deal with anxieties and fantasies of the time when they were written, perhaps more so than other types of fiction. Unlike fantasy as a genre, they depict potential futures of our own world which, crucially, involve the survival of a small number of people. Apocalyptic novels like Mary Shelley's The Last Man and Nevil Shute's truly devastating On the Beach confront the possibility of humanity's complete extinction. Post-apocalyptic novels, as the name implies, allow the reader the beguiling possibility of their own survival, without needing to worry about the millions or billions of faceless others who didn't make it. Thus they can sometimes appeal to that Western type of climate change denial: 'other people far away may suffer, but I'll be OK'. At their best, though, such novels ask important questions about who and what can persist after the structures of life collapse. As befits our dominant ideology, late 20th and 21st century post-apocalyptic fiction tends to lean heavily into self-sufficiency and individualism. Ironically, this implies denial (or fantasy of escape from) the global interconnection of neoliberal economic and political structures that Western quality of life depends upon. Lazier post-apocalyptic visions ignore how much worse life would get without basic medicine like antibiotics, for instance. Better examples do not: Mike Carey's The Book of Koli and sequels examine the medical and psychological implications of isolation in small communities very thoughtfully.
My point is that there is a great deal more going on in the post-apocalyptic subgenre than The Arrest mentions. Considering it just as a novel, the plot is best described as minimalist, there is no real tension, and the characters are not very interesting. Evoking a cosy rural commune after civilisation has collapsed does not, in itself, do anything to interrogate post-apocalyptic fiction. Journeyman and Todbaum's conversations give the sub-genre only superficial consideration. One of their discussions cites the ubiquitous Dunbar's number of 150, which I'm tired of hearing about as if it is a powerful argument against civilisation. Humans have lived in groups of more than 150 for at least 7,000 years (cf Mesopotamia: The Invention of the City) and coped somehow. I would argue that my personal Dunbar number is closer to 50. That doesn't mean I don't want to ever have contact with more than 50 people in my life, just that I can only keep up with any semblance of acquaintance with that many at a time. More extroverted people probably have a much higher tolerance. In any case, I don't think appeals to Dunbar's number tell us much about the exhausting nature of online and offline social interaction in the 21st century, nor the incredibly complex interdependencies that underpin our infrastructure, economies, culture, etc. Post-apocalyptic worlds tend to have a quietness about them, not merely due to fewer people but to much less information. Any historical fiction, novel written before the internet, or contemporary novel that ignores constant smart phone use has a similar quietness that seems quasi-fantastical in comparison to the cacophony of actual life.
In short, I find Lethem's critique, if that's what this is, simplistic and prefer post-apocalyptic novels that deploy or interrogate these tropes much more effectively. I was hoping for more and better from what could be one of the first pandemic-era post-apocalyptic novels. I think COVID-19 has definitely shown us that global disaster doesn't make life simpler, just makes it worse. I am hoping that the pandemic will therefore be fodder for more interesting and thoughtful post-apocalyptic fiction.
I can only speculate in answer these questions, of course. The back cover blurb begins with, 'The Arrest isn't post-apocalypse'. Upon first glance this is obviously untrue and on second glance disingenuous, as the setting is just that. A mysterious disaster has stopped technology working and industrial civilisation has collapsed. The protagonist, who is rather ironically referred to as Journeyman, lives on a bucolic commune somewhere on the American coast (Maine is not a place I can locate on a map). The stability of this community is slightly unsettled by the arrival of Journeyman's former friend/housemate/collaborator/boss Todbaum in a nuclear-powered tank. I say slightly because Todbaum, formerly a feared Hollywood producer, does nothing but recount anecdotes over hoarded coffee. Journeyman and his sister both have past history with Todbaum, which is never fully elucidated. Instead, Journeyman and Todbaum reflect and hold forth upon post-apocalyptic fiction.
It seems highly likely that Lethem's intent is to use this setting for analysis and critique of post-apocalyptic media. To my mind, though, he has nothing interesting or new to say about it. Quite possibly I think so because I've read a lot of dystopian, apocalyptic, and post-apocalyptic novels and formed my own theories about them. Lethem's characters only seem to make very obvious points, such as:
"What's so great about this shit?" Journeyman parroted.
"It's always better, not worse."
"What do you mean?"
"You people are supposed to, you know, write it to keep it from happening, right? Cautionary tales?" In Todbaum's mind Journeyman might be answerable for all writers, his tribe. "But they just can't help it, they like it there. They love it there."
"Where?"
"Where? The fucked-up allegorical hellscape or dire prison block for the human soul they're working through, the particulars don't matter. They want to live there, you can feel it. [...] The world's reduced and cleansed, the ambiguity scrubbed out."
"Because - it's easier?"
"Sure. Post-apocalyptic comfort food."
First of all, I don't think it's helpful to collapse dystopian, apocalyptic, and post-apocalyptic fiction into a single thing. Obviously there's an overlap, but in my experience there are perceptible differences between the three. Dystopias are stable worlds with exaggerated bleak elements, set up in a manner that reflects upon specific anxieties of the time they were written. They are more likely to read as fables or cautionary tales. Apocalyptic novels depict collapse and instability, generally reflecting upon human reactions to loss and extreme danger. They are more likely to read as thrillers, although they can also be cautionary (especially if written during the Cold War). Post-apocalyptic novels tend to comment both on what has been lost and what has been saved from what came before; their plots tend to include more stability than apocalyptic novels but less than dystopias. They are more likely to read as survivalist fantasies, while also including thriller and/or cautionary tale elements. There is frequently a textual or subtextual appeal to prelapsarian ideals, simplicity, living in a small homogenous group, and escape from modernity's speed and information overload. Xenophobic and racist subtext can often be discerned, while an anti-industrial and/or anti-capitalist message is even more common. A classic example is After London: or, Wild England from 1885, which depicts neo-feudal rural communities while cities are empty toxic wastelands.
It's obvious that post-apocalyptic novels deal with anxieties and fantasies of the time when they were written, perhaps more so than other types of fiction. Unlike fantasy as a genre, they depict potential futures of our own world which, crucially, involve the survival of a small number of people. Apocalyptic novels like Mary Shelley's The Last Man and Nevil Shute's truly devastating On the Beach confront the possibility of humanity's complete extinction. Post-apocalyptic novels, as the name implies, allow the reader the beguiling possibility of their own survival, without needing to worry about the millions or billions of faceless others who didn't make it. Thus they can sometimes appeal to that Western type of climate change denial: 'other people far away may suffer, but I'll be OK'. At their best, though, such novels ask important questions about who and what can persist after the structures of life collapse. As befits our dominant ideology, late 20th and 21st century post-apocalyptic fiction tends to lean heavily into self-sufficiency and individualism. Ironically, this implies denial (or fantasy of escape from) the global interconnection of neoliberal economic and political structures that Western quality of life depends upon. Lazier post-apocalyptic visions ignore how much worse life would get without basic medicine like antibiotics, for instance. Better examples do not: Mike Carey's The Book of Koli and sequels examine the medical and psychological implications of isolation in small communities very thoughtfully.
My point is that there is a great deal more going on in the post-apocalyptic subgenre than The Arrest mentions. Considering it just as a novel, the plot is best described as minimalist, there is no real tension, and the characters are not very interesting. Evoking a cosy rural commune after civilisation has collapsed does not, in itself, do anything to interrogate post-apocalyptic fiction. Journeyman and Todbaum's conversations give the sub-genre only superficial consideration. One of their discussions cites the ubiquitous Dunbar's number of 150, which I'm tired of hearing about as if it is a powerful argument against civilisation. Humans have lived in groups of more than 150 for at least 7,000 years (cf Mesopotamia: The Invention of the City) and coped somehow. I would argue that my personal Dunbar number is closer to 50. That doesn't mean I don't want to ever have contact with more than 50 people in my life, just that I can only keep up with any semblance of acquaintance with that many at a time. More extroverted people probably have a much higher tolerance. In any case, I don't think appeals to Dunbar's number tell us much about the exhausting nature of online and offline social interaction in the 21st century, nor the incredibly complex interdependencies that underpin our infrastructure, economies, culture, etc. Post-apocalyptic worlds tend to have a quietness about them, not merely due to fewer people but to much less information. Any historical fiction, novel written before the internet, or contemporary novel that ignores constant smart phone use has a similar quietness that seems quasi-fantastical in comparison to the cacophony of actual life.
In short, I find Lethem's critique, if that's what this is, simplistic and prefer post-apocalyptic novels that deploy or interrogate these tropes much more effectively. I was hoping for more and better from what could be one of the first pandemic-era post-apocalyptic novels. I think COVID-19 has definitely shown us that global disaster doesn't make life simpler, just makes it worse. I am hoping that the pandemic will therefore be fodder for more interesting and thoughtful post-apocalyptic fiction.
June 26, 2021
While it's not generally a great idea to compare an author's books to one another, I had high hopes having read his others. I found the story awkward, disjointed and unwieldy, the characters as well. Given the continual reference to the Arrest with little detail of its meaning, it leaves the reader guessing. I suspect it's meant to be humorous, but for me, it was anything but. Regardless, it's a Hollywood tale of friends that pontificate as they travel in a strange super car. Not much more to it.
January 17, 2021
It’s been reviewed positively elsewhere but unfortunately, for me, The Arrest didn’t hold up to the promise of its premise. It wasn’t as funny as I’d hoped, the characters were flat, and the plot was all fits and starts. It’s a post-apocalyptic pastoral-cum-steampunk fever dream which seems to end before it really begins.
My full review of The Arrest can be found on Keeping Up With The Penguins.
My full review of The Arrest can be found on Keeping Up With The Penguins.
July 2, 2020
It's the summer of 2020, I don't need to read a novel about a dystopian world with an uncertain future, I can turn on CNN, or watch a city council meeting about masks. I read this book anyway, because Jonathan Lethem's name is on it (Well, he wrote it. If you wrote his name on 50 Shades of Grey, I probably wouldn't read it.) (No offense 50 Shades fans.) and I was not disappointed.
Something happened to turn off all electrical equipment and break almost all appliances. We don't know what the event was. We just know that Sandy Duplessis used to be a script doctor, and now he's a butcher's assistant/delivery person living in his sister's commune-like town in rural Maine. We go back and forth from his current arrested circumstances to his life in Hollywood working for Peter Todbaum. Well, they started as colleagues, then Peter made it huge and Sandy just worked for him. Suddenly in the present Todbaum shows up in town with a nuclear powered impossible super car and things go... well. They go somewhere.
Lethem's writing style is always so easy to jump in and savor the words. The characters are bright and fun to investigate. He has an ability to create a full picture of a character with very few words, and that sticks with you each time the character returns. I liked the meta analysis of dystopian movie/literature where Todbaum says authors who create these worlds want to live there. And, there's something to be said for that I think Lethem did create a world people would want to live in, but he made it clear it wasn't a happy one in spite of some really dank buds - “We lost people. Every one of us lost someone we loved.”
The structure of the story itself was interesting. Jumping from after The Arrest to before filled some holes in information, while leaving plenty open to speculate. But, even of the speculation, like what happened to cause the Arrest? The book doesn't spend a lot of time caring about that. And, therefore, neither did I. Something happened. It doesn't matter what. Is what the characters seemed to think, as well as this reader.
Lethem's style, in this novel at least, made for a quick read. The chapters were short, and I was always eager to read the next one to see what happened next. I enjoyed the world and characters he created. Some of them stuck with me well after I stopped reading the book.
Thanks to Netgalley for supplying a copy of this book. It didn't affect my review.
Something happened to turn off all electrical equipment and break almost all appliances. We don't know what the event was. We just know that Sandy Duplessis used to be a script doctor, and now he's a butcher's assistant/delivery person living in his sister's commune-like town in rural Maine. We go back and forth from his current arrested circumstances to his life in Hollywood working for Peter Todbaum. Well, they started as colleagues, then Peter made it huge and Sandy just worked for him. Suddenly in the present Todbaum shows up in town with a nuclear powered impossible super car and things go... well. They go somewhere.
Lethem's writing style is always so easy to jump in and savor the words. The characters are bright and fun to investigate. He has an ability to create a full picture of a character with very few words, and that sticks with you each time the character returns. I liked the meta analysis of dystopian movie/literature where Todbaum says authors who create these worlds want to live there. And, there's something to be said for that I think Lethem did create a world people would want to live in, but he made it clear it wasn't a happy one in spite of some really dank buds - “We lost people. Every one of us lost someone we loved.”
The structure of the story itself was interesting. Jumping from after The Arrest to before filled some holes in information, while leaving plenty open to speculate. But, even of the speculation, like what happened to cause the Arrest? The book doesn't spend a lot of time caring about that. And, therefore, neither did I. Something happened. It doesn't matter what. Is what the characters seemed to think, as well as this reader.
Lethem's style, in this novel at least, made for a quick read. The chapters were short, and I was always eager to read the next one to see what happened next. I enjoyed the world and characters he created. Some of them stuck with me well after I stopped reading the book.
Thanks to Netgalley for supplying a copy of this book. It didn't affect my review.
August 11, 2020
The book description was very interesting. What would happen if our cars, airplanes computers etc. stop working. I didn't finish this book. I got lost in the language and the description. It reminded me of some of the less popular Dean Koontz books that describe every detail. I don't enjoy exposition, I want the story to move along. I give this book 1 star because I didn't finish it.
November 14, 2020
A solid, if ultimately likely unmemorable, curio from Lethem.
This one feels a lot like his early stuff, like GIRL IN LANDSCAPE early, in its brash insistence on being its own thing and damn the torpedoes. It's slight, pulling back when it maybe ought to push forward, but it shouldn't surprise anybody that Lethem isn't interested in traditional apocalypses. He's interested in stories, in inner thoughts, in a weird idea that runs til it can't any longer (not unlike the super-car...) and that's good enough.
Loved the references to THE PILLOW BOOK (I was lucky enough to talk to him about that book when he was on SMDB a few years ago) and the winking note that this book maybe takes place in the same universe as CHRONIC CITY. And I had fun with this, on a cold November morning, which is about all a body needs sometimes.
This one feels a lot like his early stuff, like GIRL IN LANDSCAPE early, in its brash insistence on being its own thing and damn the torpedoes. It's slight, pulling back when it maybe ought to push forward, but it shouldn't surprise anybody that Lethem isn't interested in traditional apocalypses. He's interested in stories, in inner thoughts, in a weird idea that runs til it can't any longer (not unlike the super-car...) and that's good enough.
Loved the references to THE PILLOW BOOK (I was lucky enough to talk to him about that book when he was on SMDB a few years ago) and the winking note that this book maybe takes place in the same universe as CHRONIC CITY. And I had fun with this, on a cold November morning, which is about all a body needs sometimes.
August 23, 2020
** I read an advance reader copy of this book that I won through a Goodreads giveaway. **
This book was really neither good nor bad. It just existed. The writing was a bit pretentious and not what I generally like. The main character had no personality or reason for existing. It was rather like reading the diary of some dull survivor of a not-so-serious apocalypse who had no difficulties and ran into very little trouble. This probably makes this a more realistic apocalypse book in many ways but it's not what I was expecting nor what I look for in a story. I'm sure it will appeal to many readers. Just wasn't my cup of tea.
This book was really neither good nor bad. It just existed. The writing was a bit pretentious and not what I generally like. The main character had no personality or reason for existing. It was rather like reading the diary of some dull survivor of a not-so-serious apocalypse who had no difficulties and ran into very little trouble. This probably makes this a more realistic apocalypse book in many ways but it's not what I was expecting nor what I look for in a story. I'm sure it will appeal to many readers. Just wasn't my cup of tea.
November 7, 2020
Strange story with characters that had unknown motivation and were hard to relate to. Action is limited. I quite possibly missed the whole point.
Thanks to HarperCollins and NetGalley for the ARC to read and review.
Thanks to HarperCollins and NetGalley for the ARC to read and review.
November 18, 2020
Dystopian novel about the world after “The Arrest” of progress. One of his recent books that I actually enjoyed quite a bit. Before this effort my feeling was that Lethem had stumbled upon a bit of a dry spell and I was doubting his ability to return to prominence.
May 12, 2021
Retro-futuristic, satiric, apocalyptic, dystopian pastoral without a meet-cute.
The Blue Streak?
My audio copy was about seven and a half hours long. A dead tree copy would have been a modest 320 pages. The book had a US 2020 copyright.
Note, I listened to this book. At the beginning of the story, I was encouraged to "download the pdf containing the Journeyman's Scrapbook", the interstitial images found in the dead tree and pixelated versions of the story. It was not to be found at the publisher's website.
Jonathan Lethem is an American novelist and non-fiction writer. He has published twelve novels and numerous short works of fiction and non-fiction. The last book I read by the author was Motherless Brooklyn .
A character-based story with a single POV. I’ll paraphrase the novel, and describe it as a: retro-futuristic, satiric, apocalyptic, dystopian pastoral without a meet-cute. The apocalypse was labeled the story’s eponymous title. The story plays out like a print version of a dystopian, graphic novel singing a nostalgic ode to our comfortable technologic present. It’s chock-full of literary and movie references which made listening to it a Where’s Waldo type treat.
I’ve always enjoyed Lethem’s sly humor. In general, I thought the story was well written. Listening to the story, allowed me to appreciate his use of alliteration and ‘turn-of-a-phrase’. Action sequences were OK. Descriptive prose was good. Dialog was excellent. Several times I laughed-out-loud. This was particularly true with the antagonist’s (Peter Todbaum) dialog, which was just ceaseless mediaphoric (see what I did there?) badinage. I liked that the author slipped in many post-apocalyptic and dystopian literary and film references into the story. Being a fan of these genres, I was gratified to find the only book mentioned, I had not read was Blood Music .
Character-wise, I thought the protagonist Alexander “Sandy” Duplessis AKA Journeyman was well wrought, although I thought his larger than life sister (Maddy) to be the real hero. Journeyman's was the single POV. The Todbaum character provided the most enjoyment. He was the embodiment of the Made of Temptation trope, driving his retro-futuristic, atomic-powered car (the Blue Streak) which was itself the embodiment of the Artifact of Doom trope. (The Blue Streak might as well have been the One Ring .) Its the only functioning example of pre-apocalypse technology. It even had a working espresso machine with a seemingly bottomless supply of coffee. Maddy was a Mary Sue, Granola Girl, who felt the Call to Agriculture ahead of The Arrest and saved all by founding the Peninsula's, rural, organic food producing farm/commune.
In general, this was an allegory on being temporally self-reliant was to become better able to care for others. The Biblically inclined might see John 15:1-8 in the story’s Peninsula commune. They were living the ‘Fruitful Life’. Journeyman the Hollywood scriptwriter with no real skillz in the new world order was a counterpoint. The Blue Streak was the Game-Breaker for the self-reliant commune with Todbaum its Final Temptation. That Todbaum was a TV/Film producer in the old world should not be lost on anyone.
Finally, the world building was a mashup of several post-apocalyptic stories. Personally, recognizing the satire the suspension of belief needed to accept The Arrest came easily. It was a peculiar apocalypse. A long time ago I read a similar story involving a slight change in a ‘universal’ constant (like, but not the speed-of-light (c)), and electricity stopped working. In Lethem's Arrest, all tech above a certain level just stopped working sending humanity back into the Dark Ages, but a lot smarter, and with a lot more useful artifacts. Letham’s world building wasn’t perfect, but was ‘good enough’.
I also enjoyed the Maine scenes throughout the story. (I happened to have lived in Portland, Maine for awhile.)
This story was terribly entertaining to me. Lethem’s peculiar perspective on the apocalypse was fun. Frankly, I’ve been avoiding Letham’s books since Motherless Brooklyn because they have not really been this much fun. I found myself purposefully ignoring the symbolism to maintain the graphic novel-level of entertainment. Read this for an arch play on post-apocalyptic fantasies with lots of genre pop culture references. Recommended.
Mentioned in this book is the story Earth Abides , long forgotten, which I heartily recommend to all interested in the post-apocalyptic genre. That book has a lot of similarities with this.
The Blue Streak?
My audio copy was about seven and a half hours long. A dead tree copy would have been a modest 320 pages. The book had a US 2020 copyright.
Note, I listened to this book. At the beginning of the story, I was encouraged to "download the pdf containing the Journeyman's Scrapbook", the interstitial images found in the dead tree and pixelated versions of the story. It was not to be found at the publisher's website.
Jonathan Lethem is an American novelist and non-fiction writer. He has published twelve novels and numerous short works of fiction and non-fiction. The last book I read by the author was Motherless Brooklyn .
A character-based story with a single POV. I’ll paraphrase the novel, and describe it as a: retro-futuristic, satiric, apocalyptic, dystopian pastoral without a meet-cute. The apocalypse was labeled the story’s eponymous title. The story plays out like a print version of a dystopian, graphic novel singing a nostalgic ode to our comfortable technologic present. It’s chock-full of literary and movie references which made listening to it a Where’s Waldo type treat.
I’ve always enjoyed Lethem’s sly humor. In general, I thought the story was well written. Listening to the story, allowed me to appreciate his use of alliteration and ‘turn-of-a-phrase’. Action sequences were OK. Descriptive prose was good. Dialog was excellent. Several times I laughed-out-loud. This was particularly true with the antagonist’s (Peter Todbaum) dialog, which was just ceaseless mediaphoric (see what I did there?) badinage. I liked that the author slipped in many post-apocalyptic and dystopian literary and film references into the story. Being a fan of these genres, I was gratified to find the only book mentioned, I had not read was Blood Music .
Character-wise, I thought the protagonist Alexander “Sandy” Duplessis AKA Journeyman was well wrought, although I thought his larger than life sister (Maddy) to be the real hero. Journeyman's was the single POV. The Todbaum character provided the most enjoyment. He was the embodiment of the Made of Temptation trope, driving his retro-futuristic, atomic-powered car (the Blue Streak) which was itself the embodiment of the Artifact of Doom trope. (The Blue Streak might as well have been the One Ring .) Its the only functioning example of pre-apocalypse technology. It even had a working espresso machine with a seemingly bottomless supply of coffee. Maddy was a Mary Sue, Granola Girl, who felt the Call to Agriculture ahead of The Arrest and saved all by founding the Peninsula's, rural, organic food producing farm/commune.
In general, this was an allegory on being temporally self-reliant was to become better able to care for others. The Biblically inclined might see John 15:1-8 in the story’s Peninsula commune. They were living the ‘Fruitful Life’. Journeyman the Hollywood scriptwriter with no real skillz in the new world order was a counterpoint. The Blue Streak was the Game-Breaker for the self-reliant commune with Todbaum its Final Temptation. That Todbaum was a TV/Film producer in the old world should not be lost on anyone.
Finally, the world building was a mashup of several post-apocalyptic stories. Personally, recognizing the satire the suspension of belief needed to accept The Arrest came easily. It was a peculiar apocalypse. A long time ago I read a similar story involving a slight change in a ‘universal’ constant (like, but not the speed-of-light (c)), and electricity stopped working. In Lethem's Arrest, all tech above a certain level just stopped working sending humanity back into the Dark Ages, but a lot smarter, and with a lot more useful artifacts. Letham’s world building wasn’t perfect, but was ‘good enough’.
I also enjoyed the Maine scenes throughout the story. (I happened to have lived in Portland, Maine for awhile.)
This story was terribly entertaining to me. Lethem’s peculiar perspective on the apocalypse was fun. Frankly, I’ve been avoiding Letham’s books since Motherless Brooklyn because they have not really been this much fun. I found myself purposefully ignoring the symbolism to maintain the graphic novel-level of entertainment. Read this for an arch play on post-apocalyptic fantasies with lots of genre pop culture references. Recommended.
Mentioned in this book is the story Earth Abides , long forgotten, which I heartily recommend to all interested in the post-apocalyptic genre. That book has a lot of similarities with this.
April 26, 2021
I shudder to call this science fiction, but I have to tag it something. I hope no one reads this as an intro to SF.
I've read three other Lethems, sorta liked two and was let down by the third. This is my last. Perhaps it's too lit'ry for me, but the many 2-star reviews suggest otherwise.
The world-building. The Arrest is apparently random (like the Lack in an earlier Lethem). Engines won't run, unless powered by feces or nuclear. Guns stopped working, but only a bit later. Basic physics seems compromised, yet Peter's supercar works fine and has an espresso machine that works, presumably on electricity. I don't recall Lethem ever mentioning that there must have been a sudden surge in business for candlemakers, and/or some long dark nights. If there were riots or shortages or political upheavals, they aren't mentioned. Everyone seems to have gone "oh yeah, huh" and just carried on. This is a lot like starting with, "the King was a vicious, unfair, murdering tyrant" at the start of a book and then never mentioning it again.
And, in the end, as far as I can tell, the supercar is a Chekhov's gun. we expect something spectacular from it (especially if we've read Cherie Priest and even Jules Verne). Perhaps it's a lit'ry metaphor for the layers of protection and power surrounding the Weinsteins of the world.
The characters. "Journeyman" should have been called "Schlimazel;" he's there so that things can happen to him. Although Lethem is careful to show us that J is at least a good screenwriter.
Peter is Harvey Weinstein and Tommy Wiseau combined. Is the reader supposed to want nothing of this novel but to have Peter receive a giant cosmic karma pie in the face?
Maddy is the classic "don't explain anything" character. Lethem's attempts to provide backstory for her are random jumps into the past - I think - and their main effect is to annoy.
I gave up on the book a bit past halfway when the plot went from slow to barely moving. A skim of reviews suggested that I was correct in concluding that nothing much happened thereafter.
I've read three other Lethems, sorta liked two and was let down by the third. This is my last. Perhaps it's too lit'ry for me, but the many 2-star reviews suggest otherwise.
The world-building. The Arrest is apparently random (like the Lack in an earlier Lethem). Engines won't run, unless powered by feces or nuclear. Guns stopped working, but only a bit later. Basic physics seems compromised, yet Peter's supercar works fine and has an espresso machine that works, presumably on electricity. I don't recall Lethem ever mentioning that there must have been a sudden surge in business for candlemakers, and/or some long dark nights. If there were riots or shortages or political upheavals, they aren't mentioned. Everyone seems to have gone "oh yeah, huh" and just carried on. This is a lot like starting with, "the King was a vicious, unfair, murdering tyrant" at the start of a book and then never mentioning it again.
And, in the end, as far as I can tell, the supercar is a Chekhov's gun. we expect something spectacular from it (especially if we've read Cherie Priest and even Jules Verne). Perhaps it's a lit'ry metaphor for the layers of protection and power surrounding the Weinsteins of the world.
The characters. "Journeyman" should have been called "Schlimazel;" he's there so that things can happen to him. Although Lethem is careful to show us that J is at least a good screenwriter.
Peter is Harvey Weinstein and Tommy Wiseau combined. Is the reader supposed to want nothing of this novel but to have Peter receive a giant cosmic karma pie in the face?
Maddy is the classic "don't explain anything" character. Lethem's attempts to provide backstory for her are random jumps into the past - I think - and their main effect is to annoy.
I gave up on the book a bit past halfway when the plot went from slow to barely moving. A skim of reviews suggested that I was correct in concluding that nothing much happened thereafter.
February 9, 2021
I’m a Lemthemite,
I resisted it long as I could. But I’ve accepted that I’m just going to read each new book he puts out. He makes it easy, they’re quick reads and enjoyable.
Has Lethem become writer of entertainment more than substance? No. But what I’d say of the last three books is that they’re literary pulp. If you accept that going in you’re going to be fine. The clauses are still incredible, it’s details are jewel-like, but these last three books ain’t going to change your like. And although catharsis is cool, I find it freeing, to enjoy an object of art for form alone.
One of the vains-of-theme in what’s considered “late Lethem” are the hippies. Leth is obsessed with them, nothing consumes his imagination more than the flower children. In Gamblers Anatomy the main character’s mother was a digger. (one of those important characters that aren’t in the book) then in Feral Detective you go live with “late Diggers” in the Bunny community. With Arrest it’s (spoiler) post-apocalyptic. Is it hippie for being so? Ish. Love aint free but I don’t cost much.
Why? Lethem is a culture cat. He writes essays about music and film, his references are high brow, mid brow, and some upper-eyelash. The end of the world is bad business for him. And yet, perhaps that’s what intrigued him, humility though disaster. It’s like the Von Kleist story about the volcano, after the devastation everyone is kind for like, an afternoon. Lethem would be his own Journeyman and his surgeons move about the world even as you and I.
I resisted it long as I could. But I’ve accepted that I’m just going to read each new book he puts out. He makes it easy, they’re quick reads and enjoyable.
Has Lethem become writer of entertainment more than substance? No. But what I’d say of the last three books is that they’re literary pulp. If you accept that going in you’re going to be fine. The clauses are still incredible, it’s details are jewel-like, but these last three books ain’t going to change your like. And although catharsis is cool, I find it freeing, to enjoy an object of art for form alone.
One of the vains-of-theme in what’s considered “late Lethem” are the hippies. Leth is obsessed with them, nothing consumes his imagination more than the flower children. In Gamblers Anatomy the main character’s mother was a digger. (one of those important characters that aren’t in the book) then in Feral Detective you go live with “late Diggers” in the Bunny community. With Arrest it’s (spoiler) post-apocalyptic. Is it hippie for being so? Ish. Love aint free but I don’t cost much.
Why? Lethem is a culture cat. He writes essays about music and film, his references are high brow, mid brow, and some upper-eyelash. The end of the world is bad business for him. And yet, perhaps that’s what intrigued him, humility though disaster. It’s like the Von Kleist story about the volcano, after the devastation everyone is kind for like, an afternoon. Lethem would be his own Journeyman and his surgeons move about the world even as you and I.
February 20, 2021
This book was both too much and not enough.
Too much: The writing is possibly the most pretentious I've encountered. It gets better (or just bearable) after the first 50 pages, but those first few chapters were a slog.
Not enough: The title of this book references something that's hinted to be an EMP-type doomsday scenario. But it's only hinted at. Supposedly we don't know any more about it because the main character doesn't know any more about it, but that strains belief as the main character was a screenwriter of science fiction movies in Hollywood before the event. He apparently never wonders about the physics of it all, but the reader does.
Perhaps the author didn't want this to be the focus of the novel, but the novel is called "The Arrest". The fact that it seems we could pick up this story and place it in a world where the Arrest didn't happen means there is a major disconnect between the intended focus of this story and its execution.
Disclaimer: I won an Advanced Reading Copy from a Goodreads Giveaway. The final edition may differ from that which I reviewed. All opinions are my own.
Too much: The writing is possibly the most pretentious I've encountered. It gets better (or just bearable) after the first 50 pages, but those first few chapters were a slog.
Not enough: The title of this book references something that's hinted to be an EMP-type doomsday scenario. But it's only hinted at. Supposedly we don't know any more about it because the main character doesn't know any more about it, but that strains belief as the main character was a screenwriter of science fiction movies in Hollywood before the event. He apparently never wonders about the physics of it all, but the reader does.
Perhaps the author didn't want this to be the focus of the novel, but the novel is called "The Arrest". The fact that it seems we could pick up this story and place it in a world where the Arrest didn't happen means there is a major disconnect between the intended focus of this story and its execution.
Disclaimer: I won an Advanced Reading Copy from a Goodreads Giveaway. The final edition may differ from that which I reviewed. All opinions are my own.
June 14, 2021
Couldn't get into the writing style, it made all events and conversations feel dull. With names like "Journeyman" and "The Lake of Tiredness", it felt like the author was trying to imbue things with more meaning than they had. The relationships between the three main characters, which seems to be the driving force of the book, never really developed much. One star for the supercar alone.
April 1, 2021
I won this book through a Goodreads giveaway and was very excited to read it. Unfortunately, it fell flat for me.
For starters, it was hard to get into. I found the beginning very boring. The author is trying to set the stage but did so in a way that, for me, made it hard to even concentrate. I would read a whole chapter and then ask, "what did I just read?" Once some actual storytelling began, it was much easier to get into. We start seeing some plot and character development and then all of a sudden, poof. Right back to boring. Then instead of continuing on with what was happening, we are further in the future and left to make our own assumptions about what happened exactly. Maybe the author will tell us later? I don't know because I couldn't finish this book. It was too boring and there wasn't enough plot or character development for me. I agree with another review that this feels like a rough draft of ideas written on a napkin for development into something later on. Like the author created all of the puzzle pieces, but never put them together. Maybe he does by the end, but I couldn't stick around to find out.
For starters, it was hard to get into. I found the beginning very boring. The author is trying to set the stage but did so in a way that, for me, made it hard to even concentrate. I would read a whole chapter and then ask, "what did I just read?" Once some actual storytelling began, it was much easier to get into. We start seeing some plot and character development and then all of a sudden, poof. Right back to boring. Then instead of continuing on with what was happening, we are further in the future and left to make our own assumptions about what happened exactly. Maybe the author will tell us later? I don't know because I couldn't finish this book. It was too boring and there wasn't enough plot or character development for me. I agree with another review that this feels like a rough draft of ideas written on a napkin for development into something later on. Like the author created all of the puzzle pieces, but never put them together. Maybe he does by the end, but I couldn't stick around to find out.
February 6, 2021
Video review
Lethem, like his bereaved farmers and shit-bikers, goes back to the basics - and to his genre origins.
The novel's fantastic but the pictures smell of author gone power-crazy. Next thing he'll be giving us colored fonts, or even, shudder, left-aligned courier.
Lethem, like his bereaved farmers and shit-bikers, goes back to the basics - and to his genre origins.
The novel's fantastic but the pictures smell of author gone power-crazy. Next thing he'll be giving us colored fonts, or even, shudder, left-aligned courier.
June 13, 2021
Not for my taste, I do not seem to enjoy reading apocalyptic books. I think I will stick to my classic literature.
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