The Brief History of the Dead
From Kevin Brockmeier, one of this generation's most inventive young writers, comes a striking new novel about death, life, and the mysterious place in between.
The City is inhabited by those who have departed Earth but are still remembered by the living. They will reside in this afterlife until they are completely forgotten. But the City is shrinking, and the residents clearing out. Some of the holdouts, like Luka Sims, who produces the City’s only newspaper, are wondering what exactly is going on. Others, like Coleman Kinzler, believe it is the beginning of the end. Meanwhile, Laura Byrd is trapped in an Antarctic research station, her supplies are running low, her radio finds only static, and the power is failing. With little choice, Laura sets out across the ice to look for help, but time is running out. Kevin Brockmeier alternates these two storylines to create a lyrical and haunting story about love, loss and the power of memory.
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Community Reviews
Rating this book was very difficult. Brockmeier gets points for being original. On the other hand, the story doesn't really have any point, or any solid ending. Frankly, the last chapter doesn't even fit in with how the city would have ended and doesn't make much sense. (Maybe I'll read more reviews and someone else, maybe an English major, will address that.) As a story, I'd give it two stars, but for writing beautiful passages, I'd give it five stars. I rarely write in books, unless they teaching books, but I find that I'd wish that I'd read this with a pencil or highlighter. There are passages I want to remember forever. So, I'm giving it 4 stars. Not the best, but I'm unquestionably glad I read it. Maybe I'll go back through with that highlighter.
I just finished A Brief History of the Dead by Kevin Brockmeier, my 12th book of the year (for you just joining in, my goal is to read 60 books this year).
This book was fantastic in a horribly morbid and mind twisting way. There wasn't a real ending to it, per se, you just know what is going to happen.
The premise is that there are 3 stages you go through: Life on earth, the living-dead, and the dead. Life on earth is self-explanatory. If you are the living-dead, you've passed away but as long as there is someone alive who knew you and remembers you, you are still "alive". When the last person who knew and remembered you passes away, you are fully dead.
This book deals with the living and the living-dead. It never crosses into the dead. A virus wipes out the world and the city of the living-dead dwindles because there's no one left on earth who remembers them. The few people left are being sustained by one woman who is dying. What happens if that woman dies? We don't know. But by reading the book, you can guess.
How many people do you meet in your life? How many people do you remember? Think about it. You know your family, your friends, your friends family. College roommates, old lovers, your postman, the bank teller, people who work at the grocery store, the girl who sniffed you at Panera, the bitter librarian at the Pendleton library, girl scouts, coworkers, coworkers significant others, the friendly old man who greets you at wal-mart, high school enemies, current enemies, clients, the well dressed man standing behind you at Starbucks, the little kid in his pjs at Starbucks....how many people could you keep alive by memory alone? It's unreal. And is it true? Is it possible? The living-dead lived in the city like it was their second life. Nothing had changed except they had died. They worked, played, fell in love, and were as happy or sad as their natural disposition let them be (how's that for frightening? If you're a bitter person now, you always will be - who would *want* to remember you?).
This was a book I marked up while I read. I really don't do that often.
"Insofar as love generates hope, perhaps, the second part said. But love doesn't always generate hope. Anyone who has ever experienced love knows that you can have too much love or too little. You can have love that parches, love that defeats. You can have love measured out in the wrong proportions. It's like your sunlight and water - the wrong kind of love is just as likely to stifle hope as it is to nourish it."
"At some point, when you were fourteen or fifteen, before you reached adulthood or knew who you were, you had to determine whether you were going to be the sort of person who held tight to every single thing that passed through your life, no matter how insignificant it was, or the sort of person who set it all adrift." (I'm the sort who holds on tight)
"Not forever, but long enough"
"It had been one of her chief preoccupations during the last few years of her life: the notion that there is not enough time left for her to really get to know anyone. Most people would say it's ridiculous. She understood that. She was only in her mid-thirties, after all. But whenever she would come into contact with someone new, someone whose stories she didn't already know by heart, sooner or later that person would start talking about days gone by, and she would get that sad, sickening feeling that too much had already happened to him and it was far too late for her to ever catch up. How could she ever hope to know someone whose entire life up to the present was already a memory? For that matter, how could anyone hope to know her?"
Maybe it's a good thing I like hearing other peoples stories. Maybe I'll be able to keep a number of people in the living-dead That is, if I don't die first
Read this book.
Next up: I have 2 Laurell Hamilton books to read (Thanks for the tip, Laura!!)
This book was fantastic in a horribly morbid and mind twisting way. There wasn't a real ending to it, per se, you just know what is going to happen.
The premise is that there are 3 stages you go through: Life on earth, the living-dead, and the dead. Life on earth is self-explanatory. If you are the living-dead, you've passed away but as long as there is someone alive who knew you and remembers you, you are still "alive". When the last person who knew and remembered you passes away, you are fully dead.
This book deals with the living and the living-dead. It never crosses into the dead. A virus wipes out the world and the city of the living-dead dwindles because there's no one left on earth who remembers them. The few people left are being sustained by one woman who is dying. What happens if that woman dies? We don't know. But by reading the book, you can guess.
How many people do you meet in your life? How many people do you remember? Think about it. You know your family, your friends, your friends family. College roommates, old lovers, your postman, the bank teller, people who work at the grocery store, the girl who sniffed you at Panera, the bitter librarian at the Pendleton library, girl scouts, coworkers, coworkers significant others, the friendly old man who greets you at wal-mart, high school enemies, current enemies, clients, the well dressed man standing behind you at Starbucks, the little kid in his pjs at Starbucks....how many people could you keep alive by memory alone? It's unreal. And is it true? Is it possible? The living-dead lived in the city like it was their second life. Nothing had changed except they had died. They worked, played, fell in love, and were as happy or sad as their natural disposition let them be (how's that for frightening? If you're a bitter person now, you always will be - who would *want* to remember you?).
This was a book I marked up while I read. I really don't do that often.
"Insofar as love generates hope, perhaps, the second part said. But love doesn't always generate hope. Anyone who has ever experienced love knows that you can have too much love or too little. You can have love that parches, love that defeats. You can have love measured out in the wrong proportions. It's like your sunlight and water - the wrong kind of love is just as likely to stifle hope as it is to nourish it."
"At some point, when you were fourteen or fifteen, before you reached adulthood or knew who you were, you had to determine whether you were going to be the sort of person who held tight to every single thing that passed through your life, no matter how insignificant it was, or the sort of person who set it all adrift." (I'm the sort who holds on tight)
"Not forever, but long enough"
"It had been one of her chief preoccupations during the last few years of her life: the notion that there is not enough time left for her to really get to know anyone. Most people would say it's ridiculous. She understood that. She was only in her mid-thirties, after all. But whenever she would come into contact with someone new, someone whose stories she didn't already know by heart, sooner or later that person would start talking about days gone by, and she would get that sad, sickening feeling that too much had already happened to him and it was far too late for her to ever catch up. How could she ever hope to know someone whose entire life up to the present was already a memory? For that matter, how could anyone hope to know her?"
Maybe it's a good thing I like hearing other peoples stories. Maybe I'll be able to keep a number of people in the living-dead That is, if I don't die first
Read this book.
Next up: I have 2 Laurell Hamilton books to read (Thanks for the tip, Laura!!)
In a philosophy in which the city of the dead is made up of only those for whom someone is alive to remember, what happens when there's only person left alive? An intriguing story with multiple perspectives, this book explores the idea of how many people one person comes in contact with over a lifetime. There would have been five stars for this book if the ending had been less drawn-out.
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