The second half of the book nearly redeemed this for me, but fell just a little short. I'll probably end up discussing a few spoilers, so read at your own risk.
This book was selected for a local sci-fi book club's November book. It's less sci-fi and more soft-dystopian? If that makes sense. Through little bits and pieces you get a little background about the world: climate change didn't get handled in time, shit went bad, millions of people died. Then a sort of socialist world government rose from the ashes and brought things back from the brink, though not very far.
The weather is still bad, cities are mostly destroyed, people are only allowed to have one child, strict energy and food rations. All that stuff is pretty well and good, but it's just the backdrop. The setting for two stories, each one representing one side of the same coin.
The first half is a borderline disaster, or at the very least was extremely not for me. Main character Allen "Mercy" Quincy is living a shit life; blackout drunk every night, trying to forget his past as a soldier. He's alone, a tragic figure. He writes the titular "Mercy Journals" in the hopes to exorcise his demons. He soon realizes it won't work, but keeps on writing, thus creating the very text the reader reads.
And then Allen sees Ruby. Ruby becomes the focus of "Journal One," a sort of manic pixie dream girl, Allen's shot at redemption. A mystery woman, a dancer with an appetite, and an amazing, transcendental lover.
I hated it. I hated practically every page of it. Ruby tries to live her own life on the pages. We see her dance, becoming alien to Allen. We see them fight, we see her leave, then we don't see her again. There's really no excuse for writing women like this, as bare characters, viewed through a male's eyes, with the main purpose being to redeem or fulfill or change said male.
All of that takes place in the "past" related to the "present" in which Allen is writing the journals. That "present," where Allen is suffering from PTSD and delirium tremens is perhaps the only part that kept me trudging through the cliched romance between him and Ruby. That and the little tidbits about the disaster of ignoring climate change and the world it wrought.
The second half of the book is a different beast entirely. Ruby is just a ghost in the back of Allen's mind as he moves with his brother and step-son back to a childhood vacation home, currently occupied by pregnant (and paper-thin, character-wise) Parker. The tension in this section and its lack of separation into smaller chapters makes it a sort of breathless read. A tale of survival, hope, familial struggle, and death.
It was mostly good. Main fault would be the terrible characterization of the only other female character to be talked about for more than three or four pages. Parker is essentially a non-entity. A fragile and pregnant woman for the three men to worry and fight over. The increasingly muddled first person narration of Allen keeps things interesting.
The crew is stalked by a cougar. They fight over what to do about the cougar. Allen, because of his past, is a pacifist, doesn't want to kill the cougar. Leo, Allen's brother, wants to kill the cougar. He has a gun. The stepson, Griffin, just wants what's best for Parker. There's a highly unnecessary attempted rape, to further victimize and reduce Parker.
It's hard to read the second half without casting Ruby in the role of the cougar. This is perhaps the most interesting contribution of "Journal One." Immediately upon ending with Ruby and Allen having fought, "Journal Two" opens with Allen's mauling at the claws of the cougar, first referred to just as "she." The last "she" we encountered was Ruby, so there's some interesting crossplay here.
Ultimately though, it didn't save the novel for me. The bits that were most interesting to me were thrust aside in favor of a conventional tale lacking any solid female characters. Maybe others will read Ruby differently, as her own person, separate from Allen's desires. I wasn't able to do that. And the tense back half never quite made up for lost time.