All three caravans of the Traveling Symphony are labeled as such, THE TRAVELING SYMPHONY lettered in white on both sides, but the lead caravan carries an additional line of text: “Because survival is insufficient.”
Station Eleven, Emily St. John Mandel, 2014
This novel is perfect. I won’t say that about books too often on this blog [hopefully, at least, because otherwise what’s the point?] but I will confidently say it about Station Eleven. This book has only been out for six years and it has already risen through the ranks to join my all-time reread favorites.
As news of the COVID-19 pandemic started growing to a fevered pitch, and especially once the Shelter in Place order came down for my city, I knew exactly which book I needed to read. Not wanted. Needed.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t drop everything and read it just then, because I had lots of books waiting in line to read for my job and for grad school homework. So there the novel remained, staring at me from the bookshelf, like a hug waiting to happen. When I finally sat down on my couch to begin reading about Arthur Leander’s fateful performance of King Lear, it felt like taking a deep breath for the first time in a while. Nothing about the real world pandemic had actually changed, but reading this book made me feel that, somehow, everything was at least a little bit okay.
the story
Aging Hollywood star Arthur Leander collapses onstage from a heart attack while performing the title role of King Lear at a Toronto theater. No one in the theater knows it yet, but that same night a deadly virus called the Georgian Flu is sweeping across North America (and the globe) and overwhelming the healthcare infrastructure in every country. Within weeks, much of the world’s population will be wiped out.
[FROM HERE THERE BE SPOILERS. YE HAVE BEEN WARNED.]
The rest of the novel jumps back and forth through time, following multiple characters whose lives intersect with Arthur’s. Many of these characters survive the virus and the collapse of civilization as we know it: Kirsten, a child actress from the production of King Lear; Jeevan, the paramedic-in-training who jumps on stage, trying to save Arthur’s life; Clark, his best friend; Elizabeth, his second wife, and her son, Tyler. Others aren’t so lucky — most notably Miranda, Arthur’s first wife and the artist behind the Station Eleven comics that give the novel its name. We jump decades before the collapse of civilization, tracing Arthur’s life and the creation of those Station Eleven comics, and twenty years after, when small settlements have begun to pop up across the landscape. Kirsten now spends her life as part of The Traveling Symphony, a troupe that spends year after year on the road cycling between settlements, performing both classical music and Shakespeare plays. Clark has begun a Museum of Human Civilization in the airport where he’s made his new home. Jeevan is a doctor in the Southern U.S. — or what passes for a doctor in the new world. And Kyle has become something more sinister. (I won’t say what. I don’t want to spoil everything for you.) Many of these characters will meet again by the novel’s end, after a story tracing the enduring impact of art on human life throughout the decades.
The babble
So why did I feel such an insistent need to read this novel when it became clear that COVID-19 wasn’t just another overblown news story? If you know me well, then the initial answer is pretty obvious. Not only am I an actress and a musician, but I’m also a Shakespearean actress and scholar, so the idea of The Travelling Symphony speaks to my soul. If I ever beat the statistical odds and find myself still alive in a post-apocalyptic world, you can bet I’ll try to be like Kirsten, travelling from town to town and speaking some Titania lines in return for food and shelter.
But there are plenty of other reasons to love this novel. Let me count the ways:
- Mandel doesn’t spend time on the immediate aftermath of civilization’s collapse. I’ve read a few reviews that complained about this choice, but I think it’s a feature rather than a bug. I sell YA novels and I also like to read them, and we as a culture also like dystopian movies, so I’ve read and seen so many modern visions of dystopia that I’ve lost count. They all start to feel the same after a while: the surviving humans are nearly always varying degrees of violent and shitty according to age-appropriateness and intended audience, with the exception of Our Intrepid Hero/ine(s). That isn’t the story that Mandel wants to tell here. While various characters mention in passing the violence and survivalism that plagued the first decade or so following the Collapse, Mandel holds the same Star Trek-inspired motto as the Symphony: survival is insufficient. After we lose ourselves temporarily in the fight to survive, what can make us feel human again? Mandel’s answer: the arts. Poetry. Music. Comic Books. Even magazines and photographs. Our collected stories, and the memories of a lost world.
- The character development. Oh, the character development. I love each of these characters so deeply, flaws and all. Mandel makes sure that you get to take your time with these people. While there are a few action-packed sequences in the book, this is mostly a character study (much like life, as it turns out).
- How fully fleshed out the newly settled world feels–without the mechanics taking over the story. Repurposed buildings, like Clark’s airport, or the Walmart on the edge of town (because aren’t Walmarts always on the edge of town?) where the Prophet and his crew set up shop. The caravan wagons made from the truck beds of old pickups which, of course, no longer run. I love me some Mad Max movies, but these caravans sound like a much more plausible post-apocalyptic use of pickup trucks.
- The depiction of Kirsten’s trauma processing. The fact that she can’t remember her parents’ faces, or much of the first few years following the Collapse, is desperately sad but it also rings true.
- Luli. Let’s not forget Luli. My next pet will be named Luli, regardless of animal type.
And that’s just to name a few. I could go on and on about this book…and I have, to those unfortunate enough to show even the slightest interest. (They soon regret this decision, and begin backing away slowly in response to my emphatic hand gestures and belligerent excitement.) If I have one tiny complaint, it’s that Jeevan’s “after” story — his life following the collapse — feels a little underdeveloped compared to our other survivors. We do, however, get to spend the most time with him during the Collapse itself, so I guess it evens out.
And who am I kidding? I have no complaints. I love this book so much. I think you will, too. It’s the perfect novel to read while social distancing.
rating
**** out of 4
Random babble
- Like I said, we don’t dwell on the violence of the collapse, but I love the detailed glimpses Mandel drops for us, such as the knife tattoo system.
- Has anyone else read this since Shelter in Place orders came out? Damn, that Jeevan grocery shopping scene in the beginning hits close to home like never before, huh?
- I’ve read this book four times now, and I’m still fascinated by the places where Mandel chooses to switch in and out of present vs. past tense.
- Miranda’s death is so, so beautifully written. Makes me cry every time.
- GEEK ALERT: Last time I was in grad school, some folks in my program were researching the perceived “cultural value” of Shakespeare: the history of his enduring legacy as a literary and theatre icon. I’m fascinated by the moment when Kirsten reflects on her fellow Symphony member who pushed the troupe to perform more contemporary work, only to find that audiences only ever requested Shakespeare. It’s an interesting point to ponder from the perspective of cultural value and the imperialist history that goes with any notion of cultural value (especially right at this moment. Ahem.) For my money, I suspect that the fictional audience wants to hear Shakespeare not because they want “high culture” — though that probably factors in unconsciously — but because Shakespeare’s plays are an auditory experience. His plays make a perfect pairing with music, because poetry is music written with words. And yes, yours truly does love a book that tells her that the things she values could potentially still have value on the other side of civilization’s end.
Thank you for coming to my TED Talk on how much I love Emily St. John Mandel. Believe it or not, this was only Part 1 of 2. Tomorrow I’ll be back with her brand new novel, The Glass Hotel!
Bookshelves & Babble 