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A review by mattlombardi
Ice: 50th Anniversary Edition by Anna Kavan
adventurous
dark
mysterious
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
imagine, if you will, a world where it is snowing and also night time. “but that’s impossible,” some might say.
Anna Kavan’s Ice is an overlapping of deaths, fractals of apocalypses expanding in every direction, where an ineluctable eco-disaster catalyzed by some nuclear event promises to send mankind to its early grave. colossal walls of ice overrun seas and mountains. yet even in the face of impending extinction, our governments still insist on being the biggest threat to humanity: starving the poor, silencing dissenters, executing land grabs, instigating all-out war, threatening nuclear annihilation—it does not take much for us to imagine. “an insane impatience for death was driving mankind to a second suicide, even before the full effect of the first had been felt,” Kavan writes. this vague, sobering terror looms over the entire novel. with mere weeks, maybe days, before the entire globe is returned to an unprecedentedly inhospitable Ice Age, why even bother trying to survive at all? that is the genius of this device—the entire plot is in the futility of its characters.
we follow an unnamed male narrator pursuing an unnamed “glass girl” with silver hair (perhaps a stand-in for Kavan herself) as he hallucinates his way through coastal towns in ruin and seas of ice. their relationship is strained to say the least, and appears to be partially autobiographical if you read further into Kavan’s own history with abusive men. I personally adore her writing style; it doesn’t try to dazzle you with flowery prose but there’s something deeply moving in its dreamy understatedness. it feels balanced, real.
and now I understand why this novel has historically been very tricky to classify; equal parts dystopian/apocalyptic sci-fi, critique of totalitarianism, allegory for addiction, chase novel, and feminist exploration of trauma, it succeeds in being all of these things while keeping itself grounded in its cold literary prose, not taking itself too seriously in its execution. it struck all the right notes for me. an instant favorite, and top contender for “best final sentence” imho.
also, hey Penguin, what is up with this awful Frozen fanart on the cover? have a little respect for Ms. Kavan, please.
Anna Kavan’s Ice is an overlapping of deaths, fractals of apocalypses expanding in every direction, where an ineluctable eco-disaster catalyzed by some nuclear event promises to send mankind to its early grave. colossal walls of ice overrun seas and mountains. yet even in the face of impending extinction, our governments still insist on being the biggest threat to humanity: starving the poor, silencing dissenters, executing land grabs, instigating all-out war, threatening nuclear annihilation—it does not take much for us to imagine. “an insane impatience for death was driving mankind to a second suicide, even before the full effect of the first had been felt,” Kavan writes. this vague, sobering terror looms over the entire novel. with mere weeks, maybe days, before the entire globe is returned to an unprecedentedly inhospitable Ice Age, why even bother trying to survive at all? that is the genius of this device—the entire plot is in the futility of its characters.
we follow an unnamed male narrator pursuing an unnamed “glass girl” with silver hair (perhaps a stand-in for Kavan herself) as he hallucinates his way through coastal towns in ruin and seas of ice. their relationship is strained to say the least, and appears to be partially autobiographical if you read further into Kavan’s own history with abusive men. I personally adore her writing style; it doesn’t try to dazzle you with flowery prose but there’s something deeply moving in its dreamy understatedness. it feels balanced, real.
and now I understand why this novel has historically been very tricky to classify; equal parts dystopian/apocalyptic sci-fi, critique of totalitarianism, allegory for addiction, chase novel, and feminist exploration of trauma, it succeeds in being all of these things while keeping itself grounded in its cold literary prose, not taking itself too seriously in its execution. it struck all the right notes for me. an instant favorite, and top contender for “best final sentence” imho.
also, hey Penguin, what is up with this awful Frozen fanart on the cover? have a little respect for Ms. Kavan, please.