Aphasia by Mauro Javier Cárdenas

Published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux on November 3, 2020

Aphasia consists of a handful of sentences. The sentences roam and meander for pages before marching to a halt. To his credit, Mauro Javier Cárdenas breaks up the sentences with commas and dashes and parentheticals so that, with a bit of concentration, it’s possible to follow them to the end. Aphasia isn’t Ulysses. Still, the style makes Aphasia a challenge to read. Readers who admire “page turners” with short sentences and five paragraph chapters — techniques that create the illusion of a fast-moving plot by giving the reader little content to test their attention spans — might detest Aphasia.

Antonio is a reader. Antonio's narrative makes reference to various works of literature, often drawing parallels to his own life. Antonio has two daughters and an ex-wife. He works as a database analyst for an insurance company. He thinks of himself as playing at that job while he writes a novel. For twelve years, Antonio has spent his free time working on a novel that is set in Bogotá. To that end he interviews and records his mother, Leonora, both to get information about family history and to find a voice in which to tell the story.

Much of Aphasia consists of transcribed or recalled conversations and Antonio’s editorial asides. In addition to conversations with Leonora, we read about Antonio’s conversations with his ex-wife Ida (who tells Antonio stories about her Czech parents) and his sister Estela. Antonio learns from them that his father sexually abused his sister and a stepdaughter, but Estela insists that their mother sexually abused Antonio. Since Estela suffers from a serious mental illness, it is difficult to separate her delusions from reality, although the illness appears to have developed later in her life, after she finished college. Leonora, however, believes that her husband abused Estela because she has heard stories about incestuous behavior within his family. Where the truth lies is something of a mystery to Antonio and the reader.

In any event, Antonio feels pained about his role in having his sister institutionalized. Later, after her release, Estela faces criminal charges for an incident with a knife and fears deportation — yet another source of anxiety for Antonio. He also has reservations about his dating site hookups, particularly when his neighbors lodge noise complaints that anger his ex-wife.

To what do these long sentences add up? By the end, Aphasia reads as a domestic drama told from Antonio’s ambivalent point of view. The novel’s title refers to (in Antonio’s words) “inability to comprehend and form language because of a dysfunction in specific brain regions” but Antonio tells us that it is also a metaphor for excessive paralysis, an apt description of Antonio’s life. The one lesson that Antonio internalizes from the people he’s talked to is that no matter how you live your life, it slips away. You need to figure out what you want to do and do it before it’s lights out. It’s always good to be reminded of that, although it’s a fairly common theme.

I’m not sure why Cárdenas’ settled on this writing style — run-on sentences that go on for pages. I assume he was trying to make a point but I struggled to grasp it. Life is challenging and so is my writing?

Is Aphasia worth the challenge? Some aspects of the novel, including recollections of life in Columbia and Czechia, are interesting, as is Estela’s paranoia about her family and Barack Obama. But Antonio isn’t very interesting. I’m not usually thrilled with novels by writers who write about being writers, while Antonio’s observations about more substantial literary figures add little to the story. The novel peters out without resolving any of the storylines in Antonio’s present and it’s never clear that he learned the full story of his parents’ past. In the end, this novel of Antonio’s ambivalence left me ambivalent.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS

The Golden Cage by Camilla Läckberg

Published in Sweden in 2019; published in translation by Knopf on July 7, 2020

The Golden Cage might be characterized as a female empowerment thriller. The protagonist, Faye, had an abusive father, although he generally saved his physical abuse for Faye’s mother. Faye went on to forego a college education so that she could stay home and raise children after using her business acumen to help her husband grow rich. When he betrays her by having endless affairs before dumping her in favor of a younger woman and leaving her penniless, she vows to get revenge. She believes that “no act of vengeance could be too brutal” for a husband who cheated her out the life she feels she deserved. She also vows to empower other women to seek vengeance again the evil men who betray them.

The reality is that women betray men in growing numbers — although probably not as often as men betray women — and that women are becoming more willing to admit their infidelity, perhaps because it empowers them to do so. While it is easy to be sympathetic with anyone who has been betrayed, Camilla Läckberg’s caricature of Faye’s husband as an evil man and his wife as a victim who is justified in seeking revenge is hard to take seriously. It was, after all, Faye’s choice to end her career. It was Faye’s choice to stay with Jack long after his narcissistic nature became apparent. It was Faye’s choice to help Jack with his business, even as Jack took credit for her efforts. It was her choice to say yes when Jack asked her to get a boob job. Faye has little insight into the role she played in her own destruction.

Even so, I might have been sympathetic to Faye if she hadn’t become obsessed with revenge. When Faye involves her innocent daughter in a scheme to get even with her ex-husband, I lost what little sympathy I could muster for her cause. I don’t know if Faye is meant to be a role model, an example of how strong women can prevail, but she isn’t someone I would want a child to emulate. Flashbacks to Faye’s childhood only enhance the reader’s perception that Faye has a long pattern of being driven by revenge and self-pity.

The plot requires the reader to believe too many impossible things at once. Having been rendered penniless, Faye starts a dog walking service and leverages her capital to create, almost overnight, an incredibly successful cosmetics company. Who knew that financial success can be achieved so easily? She enlists the support of powerful women in her company by branding it as a crusade against men, then uses her financial might to take down Jack’s company. To do that, she needs to seduce Jack again — multiple times — all the while comparing Jack in excessive detail to the new stud lover who made her realize that Jack is incapable of satisfying a woman. Are we supposed to think that this somehow makes Faye any better than Jack?

A shallow plot, a cringe-inducing protagonist, and lurid prose make The Golden Cage a chore to read. Jack is a stereotype of an abusive misogynist male. Faye is a stereotype of a vengeful woman. Blurbs compare The Golden Cage to Gone Girl, but Gone Girl has insightful, nuanced things to say about the way men and women relate to each other. The ultimate point of Gone Girl is that revenge is a dish best left unserved. While the Golden Cage reads like an attempt to rip off the premise of Gone Girl, it is an unimaginative revenge fantasy that fails to explore the moral implications of the protagonist’s immoral actions. The twist ending attempts to double down on Gone Girl but it is too derivative to be effective. I really don’t understand why this book was a success in any language.

NOT RECOMMENDED

Marauder by Clive Cussler and Boyd Morrison

Published by G.P. Putnam's Sons on November 10, 2020

Clive Cussler was a prolific and popular writer when he was alive. He died earlier this year. Judging by the ongoing production of the Robert Ludlum and Robert Parker factories, death doesn’t stand in the way of churning out new books. Marauder is co-authored by Boyd Morrison. The degree to which Cussler contributed to the book is unclear. Since most (maybe all but the first) of Cussler’s “Oregon Files” novels were co-authored (several with Morrison), it probably doesn’t matter.

Marauder is the name of a trimaran that bad guys have equipped with a plasma weapon. It battles Captain Juan Cabrillo and the crew of the newly refurbished Oregon who have abundant weapons of their own. Shootouts ensue.

Marauder doesn’t even attempt a plausible plot. It isn’t the kind of novel that really needs one, although thrillers tend to be better when they fall within the realm of realism. This is basically a novelized action movie. Since the thrills come from the action, giving much thought to why the thrills are happening is perhaps an unwelcome distraction. And yes, the story is entirely predictable. Well, we wouldn’t want the bad guys to win, would we?

The premise involves the Chinese, the current boogeymen for people who need to believe in boogymen. Angus Polk, a senior analyst in the Australian Department of Defence, is married to April Jin, an intelligence officer in the Australian navy. They both served time for selling military secrets to a Chinese company owned by Lu Yang. Although Yang recently died, he spread some money around and got his two spies an early release from prison. Now he wants to leave his vast fortune to Polk and Jin on the condition that they carry out his final plan.

Yang has whipped up a new weapon, a gas that paralyzes people. If an antidote is not administered within one week, the paralysis becomes permanent. Yang’s plan is to paralyze everyone in Sydney and sell the antidote to rich people. More nefarious, however, is the notion that Australia will be flooded with Chinese caretakers for all the people who don’t get an antidote. This influx of Chinese will somehow give the Chinese a hidden army in Australia. Unless, of course, Australia opts to import caretakers from the Philippines or other Asian countries that have a long history of training caretakers. Details, details.

As the bad guys move forward, a bunch of people — including one of Juan’s team — become paralyzed, giving Juan and crew a mere week to find the antidote. Naturally, the antidote is made from a nut that only grows in a couple of remote places, so our heroes need to traipse around groves of nut trees (where more shootouts ensue) before engaging in last-minute heroics as the confront Polk and Jin.

The plot is full of holes. The dialog is wooden. Characterization is an afterthought. But there’s plenty of action and some of it is exciting. Fans of action novels could do worse. Fans of good books could do better.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS

The Saints of Salvation by Peter F. Hamilton

Published by Del Rey on November 17, 2020

The Saints of Salvation is like Avengers Endgame without the superheroes and with a lot more science. A large group of heroes, mostly but not entirely human, fight to save humanity from evil. In the process, lots of things explode, a good bit of humanity seems to be wiped out, and time goes a bit wonky.

When I read the first novel in the Salvation sequence and noted that the story would unfold over thousands of years, I expected that the heroes in the first novel would be dead long before the story ended. And I thought that would be unfortunate, as I felt a greater attachment to those characters than to the characters who carry the story in the future. When the key near future characters turned up again in the second novel, I was happy. Here they are again in The Saints of Salvation. They are, in fact, the saints to which the title refers. Humanity appreciates the inspiration they provided in the dark past. Now it’s the far future and, thanks to the miracle of science fiction, they aren’t done fighting. In that fight, they are joined by varied characters old and new, including a bunch of humans (more or less) who were seeded by a far-future character in an effort to kickstart the final battle.

The fight is against the Olyx, an alien race of religious extremists who are on a mission from the God at the End of Time. The first novel tells us that the Olyx captured billions of humans but that some humans who escaped, as well as generations of their descendants, dedicated themselves to fighting back. The second novel sets up that fight while recounting, in vivid detail, the human struggle to delay the inevitable destruction of the Earth. The last novel recounts the last days of that near future struggle on Earth and follows various humans at various points in future history as they carry out a plan to locate and destroy the Olyx home world.

But is this the last novel? The story arc is certainly complete, but questions remain about the mysterious God at the End of Time who, at some point in the future, apparently commanded the Olyx to gather all the civilizations of the universe, bundle up their brains and other essential organs in cocoons, and bring them to the god for some unrevealed but presumably divine purpose. The novel suggests that those questions might be answered in a later book. Perhaps that’s why the books are marketed as the Salvation Sequence rather than the Salvation trilogy.

The Saints of Salvation is long book, but the word count is necessary to tell a story that spans tens of thousands of years and encompasses a multitude of smaller, character-centered stories. It combines creative warfare with touching moments of sacrifice. It follows core characters who evolve without losing the kernel of goodness that makes them heroic. It pits good against evil and love against hate in an epic tale that never loses sight of its purpose. The story is alternately thrilling and chilling, sweet and sad. In its plausible construction of a high-tech future, the novel offers a rich display of imagination. It never fails to fascinate.

I could (and did) say the same about the first two books. Everything about the Salvation sequence, from strong characterization and complex storytelling to dazzling suggestions about the future to which science might take us, is impressive. Fans of space opera will heartily enjoy all three books in the sequence.

RECOMMENDED

The Space Between Worlds by Micaiah Johnson

Published by Del Rey on August 4, 2020

The Space Between Worlds is rooted in the familiar multiverse theory. The story imagines the ability to move between a limited number of Earths that are similar to our own. The protagonist is tasked with making those journeys. She brings energy and interest to the book's initial chapters. Unfortunately, the story becomes less interesting as it progresses. Some aspects of the novel appear to have been crafted to please soap opera or romance fans.

A woman named Cara lives in Ashville, where underprivileged people of color cope with polluted air and malnutrition. Cara scores a gig as a traverser in Wiley City, where the rich people live. There is little subtlety in the juxtaposition of Wiley City and Ashville, two cities separated by a wall. Ashville residents cannot enter Wiley City without a pass. That wealthy people live well and poor people live poorly is a universal, but we see too little of how the difference developed on Earth Zero, where the neighboring cities are located.

Cara’s job entails traveling to one of 380 parallel Earths that humans from Earth Zero can enter. These are Earths that are sufficiently similar to Earth Zero that they “resonate," whatever that means.

Traversing isn’t a job that many people can perform. Only people who have no counterpart on the world they are entering — only people whose counterpart died on that world — can enter. If your counterpart is alive, you will be rejected with extreme prejudice. Why? Well, that isn’t clear, although Cara feels there’s some sort of spirit being called Nyame who lives between the worlds and makes, or at least enforces, the rules. Readers of a superstitious mindset might appreciate Cara’s communion with Nyame. Had more flesh been given to the concept, I might have appreciated it, as well.

Cara’s value is that she has managed to die on 372 of the parallel Earths but not on Earth Zero. Not yet, anyway, no thanks to Nik Nik, who is the Emperor of Ashville on Earth Zero and most other Earths. On some of those, Cara is Nik Nik’s “favorite girl.” Nik Nik and his father before him have generally been the sort of authoritarian rulers who trade protection for tribute.

Adam Bosch, who invented the traversing technology, lives in Wiley City. He uses that technology to acquire minerals and stock tips and other valuable information from the parallel Earths, some of which exist in the future. Adam is evil in a greedy, hubristic way that makes him easy to dislike — particularly when it becomes clear just how twisted and murderous he is — but like the Earth Zero Nik Nik, Adam is little more than a stereotype. Adam is the Wiley City version of Nik Nik, more a capitalist king than an emperor, but the two men have a connection that is meant to be important to the plot. To the extent that The Space Between Worlds is a soap opera, huge revelations that are turn out to be relatively meaningless are part of the formula. A more interesting revelation, although one that comes early in the plot, is that the death-prone Cara isn’t who we think she is.

The story follows Cara as she visits a few different Earths, encounters different versions of Nik Nik and Bosch, and even encounters herself, which isn’t supposed to be possible. She has moderately interesting adventures and occasionally ponders how people might develop in different ways under different circumstances. That’s an interesting concept that should be enough to carry the story, but key parts of the plot go nowhere. Cara experiences emotional woe because she loves Dell on pretty much every world but doesn’t think that Dell could feel the same about poor trash from Asheville. Cara gets along with Nik Nik on world 175 but hates him everywhere else. All of which left me wondering if the story would ever go anywhere. It really doesn’t. At least, it doesn’t go far enough to justify the set up.

I appreciate the fluidity of Micaiah Johnson’s prose and the thought she put into the concept of traversing. I appreciated the characterization that went into Cara, although other characters are one dimensional. I would have appreciated the plot if the story had realized its potential. Where the story could have explored themes of nature and nurture, it instead becomes a muddle as Cara visits a handful of alternate Earths, all the while fretting about whether Dell will ever love her as much as she loves Dell. The story loses energy and fizzles out entirely by the last chapter. I was disappointed that The Space Between Worlds didn’t live up to the hype that has surrounded it, but I did enjoy significant parts of the story.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS