The Children's Hospital by Chris Adrian

To be honest, I picked this book primarily because the day I started reading it, John asked me to pick a book. I know it's a bit hefty, and especially after having finished it, I recognize that there's a lot here to wade through. I think that the reading experience will be equal parts rewarding and frustrating. There will inevitably be times when you can't put it down, and times where you can't seem to pick it back up. That said, if you start this book, and get to a point where you care about the characters, do whatever you can to finish it. I think you'll be glad that you did.

Spoilers ahead folks, read at your own peril.

A few weeks ago I watched David Lynch's Eraserhead for the first time. I'm generally not much of a Lynch fan, and watching his first film did absolutely nothing to change my opinion. If anything I find myself even more of the opinion that he does things just to do them, and people call him a genius for it. But I digress. The one positive I can pull from the film is what he does with tone. With setting, and lighting, and dialogue (or lack thereof), and especially sound, he imposes a sheer dread throughout every last second of that movie. While any discernible message or coherence is generally lost on me, I couldn't help but be impressed with how disconcerted I felt just watching it. At any rate, that's the best way for me to articulate the way I felt reading this book. That same constant sense of dread that permeates nearly every moment. I suppose that's a given; in a story about the apocalypse you're bound to see some terrible things happen. But it's not just the dissonance that comes from being thrust into a world of the dead. Dread abounds everywhere; In the assorted grisly afflictions some of these children are struggling to live with (seriously, when you read about Harlequin Fetus, I dare you not to google it...good lord); in the characters, whether it's their own personal guilt brought to light, the way they interact with one another, the struggle to find love or intimacy or just normalcy in a situation of which they have barely any control, the lack of trust you have as a reader for nearly every character other than Jemma; and particularly, in those moments when the recording angel narrates his story, or we catch glimpses of the terrifying hero who was Calvin, and you find yourself wondering "whose side God is really on?" This is a book and a story that wash over you in a way that requires an emotional response. There are characters you hate and characters you want to love and characters that scare the shit out of you. Ishmael in particular never settled with me, and the validation I may have felt for never trusting him was overpowered pretty effectively by how terrifying he becomes. I felt betrayed by Vivian when she abandons everyone to answer the ultimate question. A question which, incidentally, remained unclear through the end of the book, perhaps intentionally. And isn't it just heartbreaking to see what becomes of Rob, him perhaps more than anyone deserving a little dignity, and having so little? Though I never cried for any of them I did dream myself into their hospital on three separate occasions, so I guess that's something.

I'll admit that while I couldn't make my way through the first 4/5's of the book fast enough, the last bit slowed me down. That last leg of the story, where the botch is tearing through the adult population, and no one seems to trust Jemma (because they've all just "gotten over" her performing nearly 700 miracles...um...what a bunch of dicks?) is frustrating and tedious. Still, once you get over that hump, and Jemma's alone in the hospital with infantile Rob and terrifying Ishmael and unrecognizable Pickie, it's clear the tedium was necessary. It's not as though the characters don't find it frustrating and tedious to watch idly as their peers all drift away into ash with no explanation, so close to some kind of ending. And Jemma's final moments on the roof, as she struggles through her final trial, then herself drifts away, are remarkable, and sad, and very, very final. As she, now herself some kind of apparition, watches the children make their way into the new world, it seems appropriate that we stay next to her. If the new world isn't for her, then it's not for us either.

I loved the mash-up of reality and surreality: the descriptions of life as an angel, or the pliability of the new hospital. In particular, Jemma's miraculous awakening to her power is one of the best extended sequences I've read in a long time. It's exhausting just to read. The slow renaissance of the Replicating Mist throughout the book is well constructed and considered, and never seems fantastical, though it inevitably is. I suppose that once you've established a world where, yes, God exists, and yes, he's flooded the world again, and yes, your hospital is your vessel to the new, perfect world, you open up a bag of tricks that is essentially bottomless.

I often wondered if this book would mean more if I had a stronger sense of biblical history. I'm sure it would, and that's a little frustrating. Still, as best as I can tell, the theology remains some what ambiguous to the end. I suppose angels are Christian, and it seems clear that it's a monotheistic system, but other than that it's not entirely clear. And it's better that way. This is a fresh start, where all the old rules or ideas or dogmas are being thrown clear of the new path. It's up to children now to figure it out, and that seems right to me. Or at least more interesting.

So yes, I thoroughly enjoyed The Children's Hospital. It's a vast story that changes directions over and over. When the end finally arrives, it defies expectations, and inexplicably meets them. Mostly, it's a book you have to feel and not consider.

THE NEXT BUK

Ok Nerds,

The next book shall be:

The Children's Hospital
by Chris Adrian.

It's a tale of the apocalypse told by an angel and focusing on God's chosen survivors. I've started it, and so far I'm thoroughly enjoying myself. Read it, or don't read it, but if you don't read it, your opinion won't mean anything.

Boom roasted,
Pertz

fortress of suckitude

so. i didn't really like this book.

well, i really liked the first half. it was kind of meandering and unfocused, but i felt it was good overall. however, the second half kind of just killed it for me. actually, i think the final 50 or so pages kind of ruined it for me.

this book is pretty unlike most of lethem's other stuff. his work tends towards the surreal, post-modern genre mashup like kabo abe or george saunders. this one felt more like a memoir he'd been working up to writing for way too long. and to me, it feels like he gets too involved with the telling of the story and loses himself in details that feel unnecessary at times.

the characters are definitely interesting, but the way the story breaks down at the end feels incomplete to me. it sort of trails off and feels unfinished, like there is something more that needs to be said. maybe i was hoping for a reunion with his mother or i wanted to see mingus and dylan reunited, but it just felt like the story sprialed out of control and kind of gets muddled in its own intentions.

i read it all, though, so i guess it wasn't so terrible, but this isn't something i'll likely revisit again in the future.

I just this minute finished Fortress of Solitude. I liked the second half of the book much better than the first.

I agree with Peter, the first part of the book does feel really familiar. It was interesting, but also awful. I really dislike the micro-examination of a person's own self. I think it's tremendously boring and usually unimportant. I'm not saying that a person isn't allowed to reflect (an unexamined life is supposedly not worth living, after all), but a novel-length meditation on stoopball, graffiti, and comic book characters isn't my idea of profound. Everybody had a childhood. Every adult has little talismans from that childhood. I really don't get the relentless need to explore that stuff. Maybe I just had a super boring childhood, but it to me it seems like on some level that kind of writing is the same thing as I Love the 80s.

But the prose itself I liked. Lethem did a really good job of putting you right inside his protagonist, I thought. You definitely feel like you know him, although the half dozen or so members of the supporting cast in this book weren't really fleshed out, and seemed like they served mostly to illuminate Dylan's personality. We got a pretty thorough back story for Barry in those liner notes, but that was about it. What was Robert like when he wasn't yoking someone? How did Arthur and his mom interact after he turned crazy? I especially would have liked to know more about Abraham, because I thought he, as the silent, looming hermit upstairs, was one of the most interesting characters in the book.

So yeah. I liked how he wrote, just not really what he wrote about. Overall though, the book was enjoyable and I would probably read another by the same author.

Fortress of Togetherness

This book was a bit of a paradox to me because I tore through it, but ended up feeling generally unimpressed for reasons I can’t really identify. One of the things I found mildly irritating was that in one form or another, I feel like the first part of this book seemed really familiar – nerdy white/Jewish reminisces about growing up in a NYC borough, gets picked on and into trouble with juvenile criminal types, but perseveres and as an adult feels an attachment to his old block and its former tenants. It at least reminded me of the book/film Sleepers, about an Irish kid growing up in Hell’s Kitchen – you throw in some superhero shenanigans and send the main character to jail with his friends, and you’ve got a very similar story. That being said, I thought Lethem developed some very interesting characters – characters that are well aware of their flaws, yet carrying on despite being fully aware of the negative consequences of their actions (for example, Abraham’s full devotion to his film, at the expense of his deteriorating family, income, and artistic prestige, and both Dylan and Mingus’s loyalty to their fuck-up friends Robert and Arthur).

This is something I’ll leave to you more insightful literary types, but on the back of the book, our friend Michael Chabon praises Lethem for creating Dylan, “a genuine literary hero”. I exaggerate for the sake of argument, but is it a bit cynical to question why we should bestow this title on a dude whose life accomplishments consist of: Cocaine dealer, college dropout, accessory to prison escape, and writer of liner notes for obscure compilation albums? Generally, his “heroic” deeds seem to be limited to helping out his friends, maintaining a relationship with Mingus, and (mostly unsuccessfully) attempts to stop relatively innocuous crimes from occurring. Or am I confusing a literary hero with an extreme alpha-male hero that shoots down helicopters and deactivates apocalyptic nuclear warheads at the last second, saving humanity? Or maybe that’s precisely a statement of this book – that Superman/save the world types really only exist in comic books, and real heroes may be really flawed, but at least have the balls to try to make a difference where no-one else gives a shit (i.e. saving homeless alcoholics and incarcerated crack-dealers)? Something to think about, anyway…

P.S. I liked Yiddish Policeman's Union - good call, Chilibone.

listen well, sweetness

so for some reason, i held off on reading this book for a long time. lately picking up a book of any substance has been intimidating to me. i think the stress of work and real life make me want to escape into the mindlessness of video games or light comedy like terry pratchett or john hodgman. however, once i started reading this book, i became pretty obsessed with it. i was sitting on park benches on the canal, reading on my lunch break. i would go to coffee shops to read it. i remembered how to just enjoy getting immersed in a great story and enjoying the mystery and living alongside the characters for a little while.

the entire book had such a strange sense of sadness to it. the feeling of existing during the reversion of the jewish land back to america was very powerful. imagine knowing that soon your entire world was going to become a mired mess of confusion and exile, but not really be able to do anything about it.

the little bits of magic and mythology sprinkled throughout the narrative really helped to draw me in as well. i love a good far-fetched fantasy story now and then, but this garcia marquez level of magical realism is pretty much the perfect amount for me. the whole idea of the messiah as a gay junkie is appealing to me, not in a mean-spirited way. i think it is appealing to humanize religion and to temper the divine against the human in a story like this. landsman was always regretting not getting to know shpilman before he died, and i think that feeling was passed on to the reader as well.

after i read this book, i picked up another chabon novel "gentlemen of the road." it's short and easy and great.

May

Hey friends,

The next book on our list shall be (drum roll please!) Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem. Sound good? Let me know if you have all read that and I'll pick something different.

Happy reading,
Caitlin