A review by mllejoyeuxnoel
How High We Go in the Dark by Sequoia Nagamatsu

3.0

The most beautifully-written book I’ve ever loathed. Reverentially morbid, brimming with these wildly grotesque memorials that are often not a little bit pathetic, this novel posits a world where, when faced with a deadly, ubiquitous plague, humanity collectively builds a life that is all about death. I think some of these chapters were supposed to deliver little nuggets of hope, but the overall theme seemed to be that even when things are generally, objectively looking up, a bleak and fatalistic outlook for every relationship in one’s life is a rational inevitability. Not to mention the fantasy/sci-fi aspects of the book that were by far more confusing than illuminating. Some of them literally had me put down the book for a moment to ask my cats, “What the fuck is this now?” When it comes to either of those elements, it can’t all be show; the very nature of the imaginary elements of those genres demand at least a little telling. A bunch of it was connected in the final chapter, and perhaps if I reread the whole book it would come together for me in a different way, but fuck that - this thing was way too depressing in a way that didn’t even have a cathartic payoff.

It gets three stars because of its gorgeous prose. But honestly? Unless you’re trying to work through some devastating, life-altering grief (as I suspect its author was) or you’re an emo teenager whose idea of a good time is locking the door to your room and staring morosely at the ceiling while blasting Linkin Park, I don’t recommend this one.