Disclaimer: the following review deals with material that is highly technical, and some might say is lofty, or pretentious, or even cavalier. I liked it anyway.
This is the kind of book that, oddly, made me really glad for my theory background. It might be, actually, one of the only things I’ve encountered that allowed me to be really indulgent about hyperreality, on which I have a secret crush. Really, as soon as Dr. Leo Liebenstein (our hero) began referring to his wife as ‘The Simulacrum,’ I was sold.
About this simulacrum business; Jean Baudrillard (aka Jean Boring-Gard) plans it out in four steps – “(1) basic reflection of reality, (2) perversion of reality; (3) pretence of reality (where there is no model); and (4) simulacrum, which “bears no relation to any reality whatsoever.” Confusing? A little. Galchen brings this idea into the forefront of her story, however, with ease and clarity. When Dr. Liebenstein’s wife is replaced by a copy, or simulacra, both reader and protagonist must undertake a search for the real. Dr. Leo employs the help of his psychiatric patient, Harvey, who has convinced himself that he receives secret messages from the Royal Academy of Meteorology and can control the weather, to find the ‘real Rema’ and help keep his own personal storm under control. In turn, the reader’s own reality is called into question when she’s forced to consider what happens when things, and people, change.
Could have used a photoshop filter...
What I liked most about this book, besides it’s ability to shine despite a truly hideous cover, is the development of the characters, Dr. Leo in particular. Here is a man who, when describing his feelings about the simulacrum’s similarity to his ‘real’ wife, muses “I was proud of myself for having had the strength of character to leave behind such an attractive woman. I wish Rema could have witnessed that. I just would have liked her to enjoy the spectacle of how obviously and entirely and singularly I loved her.” ‘Singularly’ proved to be the operative word here, as Dr. Leo identified, loved, and obsessed over a single image of his Rema to the point that he disallowed himself the ability to accept that this image would change over time. Dr. Leo is entirely convinced that his wife has been replaced, and his conviction makes his sprial into neurosis both sad and endearing; the reader is increasingly charmed by Leo’s idiosyncrasies, but also gets front row seats to the unravelling of a marriage, a life, and ultimately, their own ideas about how it will all unfold.
There are a few places where I felt the novel was lacking:
- The language is highly technical (see disclaimer). Explaining the dopplerganger effect (don’t even ask), Dr. Leo notes “Being aware of this distortion of perception allows scientists to take advantage of the distortion itself in order to gather accurate data about the actual, and not just the percieved world” blah blah blah 5 more pages or so of this. Does it have a cute name (Doppler radar / Dopplerganger effect)? Yes. Does it add to the discussion of reality VS perception? Yes. Does it go on way too long, for too often, potentially alientating the audience by making the reading experience hell on earth? Resounding yes.
- I felt like the relationship between the ‘atmospheric disturbances’ and Leo’s own internal disturbances could have been more stongly developed. The metaphor is clear; Leo looks to meteorologic data to try to calm his own personal storm, but it doesn’t go much further than that. Better yet, it could have been left out altogether. The relationship between Leo and Rema is enough to keep the story going, and the bizarre meteorology stuff, to a harsher critic, might give the impression of trying too hard, or being just plain weird.
All around, however, this book comes highly recommended by me, and for those of you who are interested, I’ll be championing it tonight at the meeting of the KIRBC. For a book concerned mostly with distortion, reproduction, othering, and disappearances, the story that emerges here is (sometimes painfully) real.
Mad props to our newest (hopefully) regular reviewer, for giving critical theory the “keepin’ it real” treatment.
Also, didn’t hate the cover, but I think they could have done something better considering the book. That ballpoint pen treatment worked way better with “Submarine.” (Though to back you up cheese, the BPPA cover panel hated that one too).
Potentially hated it more because of the hard, no-jacket cover. Nope, nope, all-around ugly. Submarine is ugly too, whilst I’m putting it out there.