How High We Go in the Dark

I read this for the #SFFBookClub January book pick. How High We Go in the Dark is a collection of interconnected short stories dealing with death, grief, and remembrance in the face of overwhelming death and a pandemic. Despite getting very dark, I was surprised at the amount of hopefulness to be found in the face of all of this.

It was interesting to me that this collection had been started much earlier and the Arctic plague was a later detail to tie everything together. Personally, I feel really appreciative of authors exploring their own pandemic-related feelings like this; they're certainly not often comfortable feelings, but it certainly helps me personally, much more than the avoidance and blinders song and dance that feels on repeat everywhere else in my life.

It's hard for me to evaluate this book as a whole. I deeply enjoyed the structural setup, and seeing background characters narrate their own chapters added quite a bit of emotional nuance. Pig Son especially would have hit differently without the background from a few chapters earlier. Some of the stories were quite full of knives, but my one complaint is that some stories in the back half felt like retreading similar grounds of grief and remembrance; they just didn't have the same level of impact for me. Both the final chapter and the title-generating chapter were thematically strong, but didn't quite carry the same level of emotional weight or closure that I wanted. I am not sure subjectively why I felt this way, but I think this is some of the flipside of its short story nature--that there's only a consistent emotional thread running through the book rather than a character or plot arc.

I'm really glad to have read this, and feel like a lot of these stories and feelings are going to stick with me for a long while.

How High We Go In the Dark by Sequoia Nagamatsu. It will make you weep; it will give you hope and destroy you at the same time. 5 stars.

I meant to read at least ten other books before this one, but when I sat down to check out the first few pages, I just kept reading straight through to the end. The world building style reminded me of David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas in that it brought seemingly unrelated stories together woven through with finely connected threads. Each segment has an expertly introduced setting and characters of its own, and the writer brings us into harmony with them all, as well as with the work as a whole.

The ending may not appeal to everyone, and did not quite fully appeal to me, but it works in the context of the book, and I enjoyed the skill with which Nagamatsu delivered it despite being a little alienated by the direction it went.

This book is worth every minute.

If I had known ahead of time what the structure and focus of this book was, I probably wouldn't have read it. That would have been my loss.

"How High We Go In the Dark" is a series of interconnected short stories set in the same world. This is not my favorite structural style: I prefer to follow a set of characters from beginning to end. Nagamatsu, though, has a rare talent for sketching out characters you can quickly attach to. I felt sorrowful every time I reached the end of a chapter and had to say goodbye.

In this way, the structure was a good fit for the world itself, and the story the author wanted to tell: one focused on death, loss, and how it transforms us. With some frequency, leaving a character at the end of their chapter meant watching them die.

This is one the most depressing novels I've ever read, but it also deeply creative, empathetic, hopeful, and beautiful. It was satisfying seeing the strands from earlier chapters weave their way through the later ones. In a lesser writer's hands, this novel would be unbearable, but in Nagamatsu's, it becomes something hard to bear, yet worth bearing.

...he'd rather the dog die with that part of his wife still inside than lose her entirely.

I went into How High We Go in the Dark with zero knowledge. I was reviewing the Goodreads Choice Awards and cherry picked on books that had a strong vote and a week later I'm diving into the unknown with Sequoia Nagamatsu.

It's strange how the discovery of an ancient girl in Siberia and viruses we've never encountered before can both redefine what we know about being human and at the same time threaten our humanity.

There has always been a niche for Post Apocalyptic but the recent pandemic may lead to a sub genre of Pandemic Prose. Stories that use the recent pandemic as a starting point should come with a trigger warning because the story can hit a little too close to home.

The first half of the book didn't feel like escapism and was more reliving the last three years of how society coped. As a whole humanity didn't handle this pandemic in a heroic manner and society feels more fractured than it did before.

Society had a shift from a "we" to "me" mentality. Concern for your neighbours and doing the right thing because it's the right thing became a divisive topic. Nagamatsu opened up a very fresh wound and poured salt on it because the characters in his story went through something far worse and humanity is better off because of it.

They walk and walk. No one stops. It's like we're all still infected. We choose to be blind to each other's suffering. It might make things easier to bear, but our hearts are cold.

Does humanity need a larger kick in the pants before we can be proactive and work together for the betterment of society? Or is humanity in Nagamatsu's story only possible of helping each other because of the eye rolling deus ex machina in the alien world builder in the end?

And since I'm here, that final chapter was unnecessary. Nagamatsu's story was so sprawling and expansive that no ending would suffice but having alien involvement undermines it all. Even if the interstellar ship ended up doing some time dilation and returning to Earth only to be the cause of the initial virus causing an infinite loop would have been still laughable but almost an easier concept to accept.

Humanities greatest accomplishments are credited to the guidance of an alien world builder. The more I think about the ending the more disappointing it becomes.

Moving back to what I liked about the book...

I enjoy stories that feature an anthology of characters and How High took that a step further and allowed multiple characters from different times to share their story and offer a perspective on how they were suffering and managing.

This anthology of characters resulted in some chapters being more engaging than others. Eventually some chapter characters would cross over or be referenced later and it was enjoyable to have that thread carry onward, although some characters that appear were so lightly referenced initially I wasn't sure who was being referenced or if it was someone of concern.

The two standout chapters for me were City of Laughter and Songs of Your Decay. There was something so beautiful and sad about these stories and the impression they left on me. Looking at the chapter list I was surprised how early in the book these appeared.

As the book went on I found the chapters to be less emotionally charged and deviated further from what made the beginning so raw and impactful.

Even though I had never subscribed to the traditional idea that all objects contain a spirit, I couldn't deny that a part of the women we lost remained somewhere inside Hollywood.

How High We Go in the Dark is an ambitious story. It highlights the worst humanity can go through and the triumphs that can occur out of darkness. The story is also a little bit of a mess and it's almost too broad in the scope. If the story focused on one or two ideas (the funeral service ruling the world, what a concept!) or limiting the story to a smaller timeframe may have resulted in a more cohesive story.

This is 3.5 rounded up, mainly because I think I was a distracted reader so I missed a lot of the connections between characters, and I would've appreciated the book more if I had paid better attention. At the end, I wished I had a character map that listed all the characters and what their relationships were with each other, because each chapter linked a new character/perspective to someone who had already been introduced – which is usually a method I enjoy a lot.

Even with a good number of the connections going over my head (see what I did there?) I enjoyed the concept behind the book, the different perspectives/lenses through which it was approached, and the world-building involved. I'd read more by this author, and I might even go back and re-read this so I CAN enjoy the connections.

It won't be for everyone though: requires an interest in sci-fi, a willingness to indulge future worlds and a talking pig, and some rather dark imagery related to death.

Brief 2/23/23 update: I just re-read this with a group of friends and loved it just as much the second time as I did the first. It's such a powerful read, and remains one of my favorite books ever (at this point).

Original review: How did I go from being so "wtf is this book" when I started to "holy cow this is one of my 2022 favorites" when I finished? I'm not too sure myself, but there's very few books that can make me feel like crying and make me want to immediately re-read when I'm finished. A book that can do that makes my favorites list automatically.

Going into it, you should know that this is a series of short stories that tell the tale of a plague that was unleashed on the world from Siberia. Rising temperatures and melting permafrost reveal a cave and a dead girl, and it is from this dead girl that the plague originates. Each story advances the plague timeline a bit more, and it's interesting to see how humanity changes in the beginning, middle, end, and post-plague parts of the story. Each chapter is only loosely associated with what came before; aside from the obvious presence of the plague, there's also some character/role/event overlap there to find if you look for it.

Like in most short story books, the chapters can be kind of a mixed bag. I thought the first chapter was far and away the weakest one, but it helps set the stage for what comes after. The second, seventh, ninth, and eleventh stories were all standouts for me, but most of the rest did end up having at least some lasting impression that made me think a bit when I was done. The ending chapter (chapter fourteen for anyone keeping track) especially really turned everything on its head and made me want to re-read the whole book again.

This is an incredibly sad, bleak book, and very heavy topics are discussed. There's hope and happiness of course, but it's first and foremost a plague book so, y'know, manage your expectations. I loved the entire experience.

Review from second attempt in Feb 2023: I read the whole thing this time! I still agree with what I said last year. It is disjointed. There are some ideas that are brought up but then never returned to in a satisfying way. It’s too bad really. I can imagine a version of this book that could have been amazing! If i read the chapters as excerpts from several different novels that just happen to have similar elements, I would be interested in reading those potential novels. But this just doesn’t feel like a fully realized idea, despite having some interesting things to say about our attitude towards death, especially as the end of the world seems to draw closer. I might recommend it, but only tentatively and with a lot of warnings.


Original review from Feb 2022: I should have liked this book. The blurb sounds exactly like the sort of thing I would like. But I kept picking it up and only getting a few pages along before getting bored. I flipped ahead to the plague parts of the book and had the same experience. I kind of wanted to know what happened but not enough to go back and read. It might make a good movie or tv show but as a book, the writing just isn’t interesting enough, and the structure seems too disjointed for my particular preferences. I may try to come back to it but it’s just not working for me right now.