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A review by sarahetc
Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel
5.0
Jacket copy can so often be deceiving. The jacket copy for Station Eleven says that this is the story of Kirsten, a young woman who is a member of The Traveling Symphony-- a wandering group of musicians and players bringing drama and music to a post-pandemic world. It is that. And it is so much more.
Mandel writes the story of the pandemic, The Traveling Symphony, The Museum of Civilization, and Station Eleven in a time-shifting, decentralized narrative. Kirsten is just one character of many, most united by some form of contact with actor Arthur Leander, who dies of a heart attack the night before the pandemic begins. The story grows and blossoms and builds on itself as Mandel switches narrators and time periods. The intersections are, at first, cheerful, informative, and interesting. The longer the novel progresses, the more they become intense and galvanizing.
For a novel that is probably technically dystopian, it's never depressive nor is there any obscene apocalypse porn (for lack of a better phrase). Mandel handles the contrasts gently and in a way that is very feminine-- there's nostalgia, sometimes even aching, but there's also a very no-nonsense feeling of this is how life is that lets the reader feel like his or her guides are slightly brusque but not without sentimentality.
Station Eleven is a wonderful novel and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
Mandel writes the story of the pandemic, The Traveling Symphony, The Museum of Civilization, and Station Eleven in a time-shifting, decentralized narrative. Kirsten is just one character of many, most united by some form of contact with actor Arthur Leander, who dies of a heart attack the night before the pandemic begins. The story grows and blossoms and builds on itself as Mandel switches narrators and time periods. The intersections are, at first, cheerful, informative, and interesting. The longer the novel progresses, the more they become intense and galvanizing.
For a novel that is probably technically dystopian, it's never depressive nor is there any obscene apocalypse porn (for lack of a better phrase). Mandel handles the contrasts gently and in a way that is very feminine-- there's nostalgia, sometimes even aching, but there's also a very no-nonsense feeling of this is how life is that lets the reader feel like his or her guides are slightly brusque but not without sentimentality.
Station Eleven is a wonderful novel and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.