How High We Go in the Dark

Oof. That's what I have to say about this book. Oof. With a capital 'O' and a big groan of agony at the end. 

How High We Go in the Dark [Sequoia Nagamatsu] is about a plague, but not about Covid, being written just before. In it, a strange virus is released from the melting permafrost and attacks the world, mutating vital organs one-by-one. No one is untouched, and as the science gets better, the disease only gets stranger. 

Death is something no-one is squeamish about anymore - the whole world talks and trades in it. Where capitalism can no longer make money from entertainment and industry, it makes it from euthanasia packages and death rituals. 

This isn't really a linear story but a collection of loosely interconnected short stories over the course of a couple of thousand years. It focuses primarily on Japanese-American and Japanese viewpoints, and each story is, in it's own way, about grief. Though often bleak, each one shows humans at their best, as we bimble about in our fear and difficult circumstances, still trying to love, and be loved. 

An Antarctic researcher tries to understand his recently deceased daughter through the work she left; an entertainer at a 'euthanasia theme-park for kids' forms a devastating attachment to a mother and her dying son. An employee at a 'funerary hotel' finds himself too trapped in the fuck-up son role to be there for his dying mom. A scientist who has recently lost his child forms a bond with his sentient scientific experiment. A researcher falls for the man donating his dying body to her research and a funeral package seller falls for the woman buying his unique end-of-life services. A boy befriends a young mother struggling with her sick daughter via VR adventures. A father and son accept that they can't repair the robotic dog their dead wife/mom filled with recordings. A woman who fled her tiny community in Japan returns home for an unusual funeral. And, eventually, humanity steps so far into the stars that the book comes full circle, back to the disease that began it all... 

For me, the second story was worth the cost of the whole book. It's a near perfect short story that manages to squeeze in a huge amount of world-building and even more emotion. A young comedian takes a job as an entertainer in a euthanasia theme park, where parents can spend a final day with their kids before they are put on a roller-coaster that delights and distracts them before finally putting them to sleep. It would be so easy to go full dystopian with this concept. There are touches of it in the prison complex it's built on and the inability of the families to change their mind once arriving - but the employees are never cold, and are trying their best. There is something dignified and humane about the process, even when the main character spends his days in a mouse suit. 

Humanity's first mission to seek a new planet is also strong, with a hopeful story that could have stepped straight out of Doctor Who or Star Trek. The story of the woman returning home to Japan is more grounded, but deeply touching. This a book with hope for humanity and faith in people - but sometimes too much. There are no villains here, only misunderstood good guys, and while humanity does band together in the face of larger threats, it's hard to imagine it being as easy or as long-term as it is here. 

I wouldn't say there are any stinkers, but a couple felt same-y, or were just too out there for me. The funeral package seller falling for dying person could have easily been cut (and honestly we didn't need the manic-pixie-dream-girl in a book otherwise full of well-realised, interesting women). The talking pig one didn't fit tonally, and the emotion of the grieving father felt forced. The final story is the most controversial, with some saying it either makes or breaks the book. I didn't hate it, but I rolled my eyes once or twice, and I can see how it might cheapen it for someone. 

If I have one regret, it's that I listened to the audiobook. There are some stand-out narrators, but (as a voice agent who specialises in foreign voices) I know the challenge of getting Japanese readers. Some of the reads were pretty bad, and not necessarily the roles that would have been difficult to cast. For example, we go from the beautifully read and acted theme park story, directly into a read that's so fast that I had to slow the audiobook down and is as emotionless as a text-book. In that case it was a young-ish American reader, who I'm guessing was inexperienced. I didn't like feeling that a certain story was a chore because of the reader.

If Covid is a triggering subject, then I advise against this book. I'd also consider not reading it if you'd had a recent loss. But if you are willing to give it a go, I think it will be one of the most interesting books you'll experience this year.