FICTION: In a dazzling sci-fi novel, likable characters land in strange situations, challenging their assumptions about human life and the passage of time.
"Sea of Tranquility" by Emily St. John Mandel; Alfred A. Knopf (272 pages, $25)
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Emily St. John Mandel's new novel, "Sea of Tranquility," is smart, brisk and entertaining. Let's hope it's less prophetic than her previous work.
In 2014, the Canadian author published "Station Eleven," an unsettling yet inspiring novel (recently adapted by HBO) about the survivors of a merciless pandemic. Six years after that book came out — well, you know.
Her latest, "Sea of Tranquility," is a full-on mind-blower. Inspired by real-world ills and eccentric philosophical theories, Mandel has crafted an enthralling narrative puzzle, plunging her relatable characters into a tale that spans five centuries.
It's 1912 when the story starts, and Edwin St. John St. Andrew, a young Briton with a "double-sainted name," has committed quasi-blasphemy, suggesting England shouldn't rule the world. Sent packing by his aristocratic family, Edwin comes to rest on Vancouver Island. One day, in the Canadian woods, he's enveloped in "a flash of darkness, like sudden blindness or an eclipse." He feels like he's entered a "vast interior" — a train station, maybe— and he hears a violin. It's a "supernatural" episode he'll never forget.
In the book's next section, Vincent Smith — a female character from Mandel's 2020 novel "The Glass Hotel" — is a 1990s teen when she films some nature footage. Unbeknownst to her, she's standing where Edwin had his mysterious 1912 incident. In Vincent's video of the still-wooded area, we hear anomalous "overlapping sounds" — a train station and a violin.
Subsequent chapters — each with their own uncanny occurrences — focus on a 23rd-century author commuting between her home on the moon and the heavily polluted Earth; and 25th-century siblings working for a secretive company that investigates "moments from different centuries" that seem to overlap.
Mandel alludes to global crises like climate degradation and life-consuming tech devices, but she doesn't quite offer us original ways to think about them. But she more than compensates for this shortcoming with a bracing set of story lines about virtual reality, time travel and the essence of human life itself. The strange video that links Mandel's story lines across the centuries — is it evidence of a "file corruption" in our "vast and terrible" virtual realm?
Readers who enjoy some weirdness with their literary fiction are likely to become immersed in this deceptively poignant novel. In one scene, Olive, Mandel's 23rd-century writer, packs burrs "from some mysterious plant" as she prepares to head home to the moon; they're a present for her daughter, who's never been to Earth.
Lest we think Mandel a doomsayer, consider her hopeful take on the future of publishing. In 2203, Olive is on tour to promote a novel, copies of which she autographs for eager fans. Maybe Mandel's an optimist after all.
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Kevin Canfield is a writer in New York City.
