Beginning in 2030, a grieving archeologist arrives in the Arctic Circle to continue the work of his recently deceased daughter at the Batagaika crater, where researchers are studying long-buried secrets now revealed in melting permafrost, including the perfectly preserved remains of a girl who appears to have died of an ancient virus.
Once unleashed, the Arctic Plague will reshape life on earth for generations to come, quickly traversing the globe, forcing humanity to devise a myriad of moving and inventive ways to embrace possibility in the face of tragedy. In a theme park designed for terminally ill children, a cynical employee falls in love with a mother desperate to hold on to her infected son. A heartbroken scientist searching for a cure finds a second chance at fatherhood when one of his test subjects—a pig—develops the capacity for human speech. A widowed painter and her teenaged granddaughter embark on a …
Beginning in 2030, a grieving archeologist arrives in the Arctic Circle to continue the work of his recently deceased daughter at the Batagaika crater, where researchers are studying long-buried secrets now revealed in melting permafrost, including the perfectly preserved remains of a girl who appears to have died of an ancient virus.
Once unleashed, the Arctic Plague will reshape life on earth for generations to come, quickly traversing the globe, forcing humanity to devise a myriad of moving and inventive ways to embrace possibility in the face of tragedy. In a theme park designed for terminally ill children, a cynical employee falls in love with a mother desperate to hold on to her infected son. A heartbroken scientist searching for a cure finds a second chance at fatherhood when one of his test subjects—a pig—develops the capacity for human speech. A widowed painter and her teenaged granddaughter embark on a cosmic quest to locate a new home planet.
From funerary skyscrapers to hotels for the dead to interstellar starships, Sequoia Nagamatsu takes readers on a wildly original and compassionate journey, spanning continents, centuries, and even celestial bodies to tell a story about the resiliency of the human spirit, our infinite capacity to dream, and the connective threads that tie us all together in the universe.
(audiobook) this collection of connected short stories feels very clearly influenced by life in early covid times. there is so much death, and the particular darkness of watching our children die. the acerbic critique of technocapitalism in the explosion of the funerary industry. of course some of the stories felt less compelling than others, but one or two let me holding my belly stopping whatever i was doing to feel the saline roll down my face.
I found the first pages of this book were very affecting, but eventually the charm and impact was driven out by cute middle class literary fiction tropes.
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 …
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.
A series of bleak, gritty glimpses of what's in store for us over the next few decades.
The tone is lightened a bit here and there with injections of optimism, but I think it works against itself a little when the optimism feels unwarranted.
The way that the characters from the different stories are linked reminds me a bit of Cloud Atlas (although I only saw the movie (sorry)).
Review of 'How High We Go in the Dark' on 'Goodreads'
4 stars
Is it a novel? Is it a short story collection? Does it matter?
It’s a book about a pandemic, and grief, and love. It’s really hard to read in places because the author is unflinching and makes you look, too. But the things people do for love in this…
I don’t know what what to say. It’s morbid and tender and harsh, and there’s a lot of death in it.
Review of 'How High We Go in the Dark' on 'Goodreads'
3 stars
Are we ready yet for a pandemic thriller? Will we ever be?
This is a book of connected short stories taking place before, during, and after a terrible pandemic causing LOTS of casualties. As if this wasn't traumatizing enough, the victims are mostly children. More trauma? Why yes, in this book, people handle death, grief, and funerals very differently from what we are used to. Traumatizingly so.
While the stories themselves are intriguing, I did have trouble finding out what was going on, and how everything is connected. That can be ok - but here I felt somewhat disoriented. What bothered me more was the outright neglectful way that premises were brought up briefly, never to be mentioned again. Lots of loose threads left me wanting more - with disappointment rather than excitement.
This books is worth a closer look if you like reading about loss and grief (did I …
Are we ready yet for a pandemic thriller? Will we ever be?
This is a book of connected short stories taking place before, during, and after a terrible pandemic causing LOTS of casualties. As if this wasn't traumatizing enough, the victims are mostly children. More trauma? Why yes, in this book, people handle death, grief, and funerals very differently from what we are used to. Traumatizingly so.
While the stories themselves are intriguing, I did have trouble finding out what was going on, and how everything is connected. That can be ok - but here I felt somewhat disoriented. What bothered me more was the outright neglectful way that premises were brought up briefly, never to be mentioned again. Lots of loose threads left me wanting more - with disappointment rather than excitement.
This books is worth a closer look if you like reading about loss and grief (did I mention the trauma?). If you're looking for a tight-knit narrative where everything comes together nicely, you better keep looking.
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 …
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.
Review of 'How High We Go in the Dark' on 'Goodreads'
4 stars
Not what I thought it was going to be. An early chapter was so heartbreaking that I thought I would have to abandon the book; it brought up feelings of loss I hadn’t felt since my mother died. I still don’t know if I appreciate the catharsis, but that’s what this book is: the author conjures how deeply we feel in the face of the worst horrors.
Review of 'How High We Go in the Dark' on 'Storygraph'
No rating
A virus is unleashed during research on the thawing arctic tundra. A set of interlinked stories follow a cast of characters across the centuries as the world struggles to come to terms with the impact of the virus.
Each story is a gem, with characters dealing in different ways with grief and their own mortality. While there are often questionable decisions made by the characters, they all remain deeply human, and Nagamatsu’s telling of their tales is empathetic and caring.
While the stories were enough on their own to keep me reading, the intricate connections between them were a joy to uncover. References beyond the book were scattered around. At one point I found myself thinking that one story felt a lot like Miri Yū‘s Tokyo Ueno Station, only to have Ueno station mentioned a few paragraphs later.
It’s a book I’d love to read again to see what I …
A virus is unleashed during research on the thawing arctic tundra. A set of interlinked stories follow a cast of characters across the centuries as the world struggles to come to terms with the impact of the virus.
Each story is a gem, with characters dealing in different ways with grief and their own mortality. While there are often questionable decisions made by the characters, they all remain deeply human, and Nagamatsu’s telling of their tales is empathetic and caring.
While the stories were enough on their own to keep me reading, the intricate connections between them were a joy to uncover. References beyond the book were scattered around. At one point I found myself thinking that one story felt a lot like Miri Yū‘s Tokyo Ueno Station, only to have Ueno station mentioned a few paragraphs later.
It’s a book I’d love to read again to see what I discover on a second reading.
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 …
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.
I didn't expect this pandemic/space travel novel to be so much about children who are disappointing their parents.
This felt more like an interconnected collection of short stories in the same world than a novel. In that sense, it was similar to Rion Amilcar Scott's The World Doesn't Require you.
While I did enjoy this quite a bit, the heaviness of it all got to me a touch. If you're not ready to start to process the last ~3 years of a seemingly endless global pandemic, maybe wait a minute on this one.
