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A review by withanhauser
Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel
5.0
I’m not sure there’s anything unique about the plot of “Station Eleven,” but Mandel writes with such deftness and directness, that the book is difficult not to enjoy. She moves seamlessly from a disastrous LA-dinner party, to a solitary death on a nighttime Malaysian beach (watching blinking cargo ships, appreciating having escaped the insignificance of a hotel room), to days spent watching the snow fall and reflecting on the end in a Northern Michigan airport. Her characters are likable and feel real. It’s an ultimately optimistic look at life after the end, and it’s entertaining throughout.
I imagine apocalyptic fiction generally treads one of two paths. It either uses the end of the world as a means to consider and expose the baseness of humankind—to show how tough times return us to our natural, hurtful state. Or, through contrasting life pre- and post-apocalypse, it emphasizes the wondrousness of our current age. Emily St. John Mandel’s “Station Eleven” takes the latter of these paths. It’s easy to forget, but most Americans live in a wondrous time. Medicine and technology have made life safe, easy, and interesting. We don’t have to consider and evaluate the best things of civilization and art—it’s all there for us to consume and enjoy. The idea that “survival is not enough” is a given; and, the characters in Mandel’s world, even after the apocalypse, appreciate that too.
The beginning of “Station Eleven” is great. In its opening page (what an opening page!), celebrity Arthur Leander, playing the role of King Lear in a Toronto performance of that play, stumbles through his opening line, reaches for a wooden pillar, and collapses of a heart attack. Before the public (and the reader) can absorb his death, a highly lethal flu pandemic spreads, killing 99% of the world’s population within weeks (the chapter ends without mentioning the spreading illness, only stating, “Of all of them at the bar that night, the bartender was the one who survived the longest. He died three weeks later on the road out of the city.”). The rest of the book alternates between describing different characters’ lives pre- and post-apocalypse, using Arthur—and his death—as the connecting link.
I really liked “Station Eleven.” It’s story arc is somewhat predictable, but nonetheless enjoyable (I disagree with Janet Maslin’s critique: http://www.nytimes.com/2014/10/31/books/emily-st-john-mandels-station-eleven-a-flu-apocalypse.html; I’m not sure what Nunez wants out of the book (he writes, “Hunger, thirst and exhaustion are alluded to, but there is no penetrating sense of the day-to-day struggle of vulnerable human beings lacking the basic amenities of life. Also, although we are presented with a significant villain in the figure of the prophet, readers may wonder why few bad guys appear to have made it to Year 20.”): http://www.nytimes.com/2014/09/14/books/review/station-eleven-by-emily-st-john-mandel.html?_r=0). It doesn't have the social commentary that many post-apocalyptic novels have; but, I think its better without it.
I imagine apocalyptic fiction generally treads one of two paths. It either uses the end of the world as a means to consider and expose the baseness of humankind—to show how tough times return us to our natural, hurtful state. Or, through contrasting life pre- and post-apocalypse, it emphasizes the wondrousness of our current age. Emily St. John Mandel’s “Station Eleven” takes the latter of these paths. It’s easy to forget, but most Americans live in a wondrous time. Medicine and technology have made life safe, easy, and interesting. We don’t have to consider and evaluate the best things of civilization and art—it’s all there for us to consume and enjoy. The idea that “survival is not enough” is a given; and, the characters in Mandel’s world, even after the apocalypse, appreciate that too.
The beginning of “Station Eleven” is great. In its opening page (what an opening page!), celebrity Arthur Leander, playing the role of King Lear in a Toronto performance of that play, stumbles through his opening line, reaches for a wooden pillar, and collapses of a heart attack. Before the public (and the reader) can absorb his death, a highly lethal flu pandemic spreads, killing 99% of the world’s population within weeks (the chapter ends without mentioning the spreading illness, only stating, “Of all of them at the bar that night, the bartender was the one who survived the longest. He died three weeks later on the road out of the city.”). The rest of the book alternates between describing different characters’ lives pre- and post-apocalypse, using Arthur—and his death—as the connecting link.
I really liked “Station Eleven.” It’s story arc is somewhat predictable, but nonetheless enjoyable (I disagree with Janet Maslin’s critique: http://www.nytimes.com/2014/10/31/books/emily-st-john-mandels-station-eleven-a-flu-apocalypse.html; I’m not sure what Nunez wants out of the book (he writes, “Hunger, thirst and exhaustion are alluded to, but there is no penetrating sense of the day-to-day struggle of vulnerable human beings lacking the basic amenities of life. Also, although we are presented with a significant villain in the figure of the prophet, readers may wonder why few bad guys appear to have made it to Year 20.”): http://www.nytimes.com/2014/09/14/books/review/station-eleven-by-emily-st-john-mandel.html?_r=0). It doesn't have the social commentary that many post-apocalyptic novels have; but, I think its better without it.