“The Age of Humans was coming to an end" -- from "Playground"
"Men have become the tools of their tools." -- Thoreau
Here’s the challenge of writing about a book by Richard Powers: No matter how much you say, there’s always more you want to say. Always. No matter how much you write, though, you can never really capture the book.
For most of his career, Powers' books were explorations: of memory, technology, genetic engineering, music, consciousness, race. They were erudite, almost philosophical, occasionally difficult to read, but invariably thought-provoking. More recently — since “The Overstory,” certainly — exploration has ceded space to message. The novels have become more accessible and the warnings more dire. Understandably, because in recent years — with climate change, political unrest, assaults on the idea of shared reality, social media, nihilistic algorithms, artificial intelligence, etc. — the stakes have become so much bigger. “Playground” continues this trend.
The novel begins, suitably enough, with the creation of the world: how it was that Everything came to be where there was Nothing at all. This is not the "In the beginning" story most readers will be familiar with, however. There’s no Garden of Eden, no Adam and Eve, snake or forbidden tree. Instead, we read this:
Playground before the earth,
before the moon,
before the stars,
before the sun,
before the sky,
even before the sea,
there was only time and Ta’aroa.
This creation myth comes from a Pacific atoll called Makatea, a real place. It speaks of a god named Ta’aroa who first creates himself and after that, the world with its artists and fish and birds and humans and other gods, both cruel and kind. For Ta'aroa the unformed universe was a playground.
From here the novel jumps into our own age. Or more accurately, our time as it may well be in only a few decades. When Makatea was part of French Polynesia it was scoured and plundered for the phosphorous that was used in the new fertilizers that fed the world. Now, more than a century later, its few remaining residents must decide whether Makatea will open itself to the world again and become the base for a fleet of floating, self-supporting cities that are proposed responses to rising water levels.
Two of the main characters -- Todd Keane (White, wealthy) and Rafi Young (Black, poor) -- meet in a school for gifted students. Both are products of dysfunctional families. They bond over games: first chess, then Go. Over time their friendship will be stressed and ultimately dissolve. Todd will go on to become a social media titan (in the manner of Mark Zuckerberg). His greatest achievement is a sophisticated platform called “Playground” and, later, an AI entity called “Profunda” (an allusion to De Profundis, Psalm 30's "Out of the depths"?). Todd, inventor of artificial minds, has been diagnosed with Lewy body dementia. It is untreatable, fatal, affects both body and mind. Rafi's life takes a different path. He will become a poet and bibliophile. He'll fall in love with Ina, an artist who integrates waste into her art as a means of protest and warning. The two of them will marry, move to Makatea, and adopt two children. The other major character is Evelyne Beaulieu. A professional diver, author, a pioneer in her field, 90+ years old, and our eyes into a vast world that most of humanity knows nothing about.
Now this is where the urge to say more about the book becomes truly problematic because there is no way to talk about the complex interplay of themes and imagery or the emotional power certain scenes bear. "Playground" cuts back and forth through time, alighting now on the relationship between Todd and Rafi, and then across the world to events on Makatea as it decides its future, and then to Evelyne's story from her Canadian childhood, her experiences as a woman in a man's field of science, and her moments of epiphany.
Images of games and playgrounds run throughout the novel: Todd (conceived, he says, specifically so his father will have someone to play chess with “any time of day or night”) speaks of the unending “war game” that was his parents’ marriage. From one perspective, the idea of games is a familiar enough metaphor. But over time it becomes something more. Reflecting on his life, the path from gaming to coding, from pawns to people, the effect social media has had on our culture, Todd concludes, “Games now ruled humanity.” (Reading these words I couldn't help thinking about Benjamin Labatut's wonderful book, "Maniac.")
For Todd, a fascination with games will lead to increasingly sophisticated computer programming. Looking back on this part of his life, he thinks, “Neither Rafi nor I saw what was happening. No one did. That computers would take over our lives: Sure. But the way that they would turn us into different beings.” Portable encyclopedias and videoconferencing could be anticipated, but Facebook and WhatsApp and TikTok and Bitcoin and QAnon and Alexa and Google Maps and smart tracking ads based on keywords stolen from your emails and checking your likes while at a urinal and shopping while naked and insanely stupid but addictive farming games that wrecked people’s careers and all the other neural parasites that now make it impossible for me to remember what thinking and feeling and being were really like, back then? Not even close.
In opposition to technology Powers holds Nature. In particular, the ocean: vast, unknown, unknowable, the engine of life on Earth: The course of civilization is carved in ocean currents. Where sea layers mix, where rains travel or wastelands spread, where great upwellings bring deep, cold, nutrient-rich waters to the energy-bathed surface and fish go mad with fecundity, where soils turn fertile or anemic, where temperatures turn habitable or harsh, where trade routes flourish or fail: all this the global ocean engine determines. The fate of continents is written in water.*
It is here that Evelyne becomes so central to Powers' project. In her late years makes her way to Makatea, and it is through her that Powers shares spectacular scenes of the astonishing abundance of life in the ocean. “Ninety percent of the biosphere is underwater,” we read. The diversity of this arena is nothing less than miraculous: There were the two hundred eyes of a scallop. Starfish that see with the tips of their arms. Fish whose eyes are split in two so they can see both above and below the surface at once. The cock-eyed squid, which points its large eye upward toward great moving shadows and its small eye downward to the twinkling creatures of the deep. But down where the light was powerless, even the world’s largest eyes could not make out the stunning, jagged mountain ranges, vast waterfalls with a thousand times the flow of Niagara, trenches and crenellations and pits and crevasses like nothing known on land, panoramas never to be seen by any living thing.
(I have to share this one fact that really blew me away: “Lion’s mane jellyfish in the frigid waters of the North Atlantic—a four-hundred-pound glowing creature with more than a thousand tentacles, the longest one reaching half the length of a city block.” I had no idea... A 400 pound, glowing jellyfish! Fascinating to read about but terrifying to contemplate encountering.)
“Playground” is not a flawless book. Some of the material concerning Todd and Rafi is a bit cringe-inducing, cliched. As always, though, Powers’ novel is ambitious, its vision vast, demanding, and complex, and it ends with a twist I didn't see coming. What the book says about human arrogance, the Faustian bargains we make daily in our effort to control our world, is powerful and provocative. It challenges the reader to think about what the costs of technology are on our lives and the planet. Had we to do it again would we (should we) have made the same choices in how our technology developed? One passage in "Playground" -- evoking, for me, Plato's allegory of the cave -- struck me as capturing the essence of what Powers asks of us in the novel: “You’ve spent your whole existence in a windowless room, getting everything you know of the living universe through symbols and metaphors, analogies and correlations. You don’t know anything for real.”
* I'm writing this shortly after reading Elizabeth Kolbert's sobering New Yorker article "When the Arctic Melts." She discusses the dire implications of human-induced changes in ocean currents.
My thanks to WW Norton and Netgalley for providing a digital ARC in return for an honest review.