Tomorrow and Tomorrow
Thomas Sweterlitsch
I'm a sucker for a good
apocalypse story, and when I picked up Tomorrow
and Tomorrow, knowing that that it hinged on a post-nuclear Pittsburgh , I expected that
that's what I was going to get. Instead, I ended up reading a very well
conceived blend of cyberpunk and mystery, with a bit of dystopia thrown in for
good measure. Though the novel is ultimately driven by a suitably winding plot
and effective emotional angst, its core lies in its wonderfully lifelike, fully
realized setting, where a constantly connected society accesses an invasive,
ad-laden Internet directly through brain and corresponding retinal implants.
Other aspects of this near-future society include the aforementioned bombed-out
Pittsburgh , an
overly cynical (and cynically overplayed) extrapolation of reality TV trends,
and a characteristically dystopian political structure. Yet despite the
familiarity of these near-future tropes, Thomas Sweterlitsch somehow manages to
create a meaningful society that reflects and expands upon our own while
enhancing the story at hand and allowing for natural character development. Hero
Dominic's fascination with archived images of pre-bomb Pittsburgh, available to
refugees, researchers, and curious outsiders alike, is more than an info dump
about the types of technology available in this imagined future (and, likewise,
more than a not-so-subtle statement about our own increasing use of
surveillance in purely civilian contexts); it exposes a crucial element of his
character and allows him to be sympathetic, frustrating, and all-too-familiarly
human. One cannot rightfully accuse Sweterlitsch of being a master of subtlety,
but Tomorrow and Tomorrow contains
enough nuance and fresh ideas to balance its bludgeoned stereotypes.
Even the plot carefully- and
successfully- straddles this line. It is at times unclear whether characters
(and readers alike) have plunged into a murder mystery, political conspiracy,
or techno-thriller, and some seemingly played-out tropes are happily undermined
(or at least counteracted) throughout the book. Whether this is intentional or
not is up to debate, but what remains is a novel that is enjoyable despite its
reliance on a number of well-worn ideas and twists. That said, however, the
book does fail to thoroughly engage and/or expand upon many of the ideas within.
This isn't a problem of over-saturation; though the book is packed with ideas,
they all jive, with the exception of the weird way that irrelevant brands
permeate the narrative. They only rarely provide insights that are nonetheless
immediately undermined by the relentless, pointless parade of mentions that
precede the few relevant points. Likewise, seasoned readers may shrug at yet
another book that attempts to exploit a perceived societal descent into increasingly
depraved tastes; while this kind of commentary is welcome and certainly not
wholly irrelevant, it can be difficult to accept a society that begins to rate
the "fuckability" of murder victims as soon as their mutilated bodies
are discovered (though Sweterlitsch must be commended for absolutely nailing
the word choice on that one). There are other times, however, where yet another
overripe trope leads in an unexpected direction, usually without the author
beating it to death either in its appearance or in its ultimate change in
direction.
Perhaps most disappointing is the
book's failure to provide the kind of emotional resonance than it should. This
is partially due to uneven plot pacing, where thinly masked foreshadowing and
subplots disappear long enough to distract readers but reappear too quickly to
be true surprise sleeper elements, and to too-frequent deployment of
world-building. While the world of Tomorrow
and Tomorrow is rich, it is unclear where certain plot threads are supposed
to lead; why, for example, make damaging insinuations about the government
without properly following through? While the last thing the genre needs is yet
another dystopian book pitting One Normal Guy (or, of late, One Normal,
Insecure Teenage Girl) against the Evil Government, the novel's brief, implied
appeal to Greater Stakes is, in the end, a disappointing feint dismissed out of
hand at the conclusion, which itself is too quick, relies too heavily on
implications, and still strangely drawn out. Even more egregiously, the
relationship between survivors and those they lost in the bombing- which
unquestionably forms the emotional core of the novel and allows it to resonate-
becomes almost an afterthought at the end. The effect is to transform a profound
novel about the power of loss into yet another thriller that happens to be set
in the future.
Thus, Tomorrow and Tomorrow is defined to a large extent by a number of
missed opportunities: I firmly believe that there is a truly great novel,
perhaps a classic, hiding in here somewhere, though it seems we must settle
(for now) for a satisfying book that shows the great promise of its author (who
is, it bears mentioning, a first-time novelist). It is often easier to notice
and dissect aspects of books that fail, but I feel like this does a bit of a
disservice to Sweterlitsch, who by and large manages the complexities of his
near-future quite deftly. He manages to effectively unite several genres
without adhering too strictly to the expected and without becoming bogged down
in any of them, and his characters are as compelling and complex as his
setting. There is so much inherent and unassuming promise in this book, which
comes tantalizingly close to providing meaningful, transcendent explorations of
the depths of loss, love, and forgiveness for the unforgivable, and I eagerly
anticipate the author's next foray into fiction. That said, Tomorrow and Tomorrow still falls
slightly short of the mark, providing a compelling future setting, compelling
characters, and a compelling plot, but failing to fully capitalize on the
emotional power that lies somewhere within its core.
Grade: B+
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