There’s a line in Gabrielle Zevin’s brilliant novel Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, a multilayered love story about game designers, that shows remarkable understanding of video games and what they do for us. “What, after all, is a video game’s subtextual preoccupation if not the erasure of mortality?”
It’s a connection that Zevin draws several times in her fabulous book, the contrast between the endlessly replayable, replaceable lives of video games and our own real, distressingly fragile mortal lives.
