What do you do with your conscience, with your life, in this world where “predatory capitalism has never been more invisible, more inevitable-seeming”? That dilemma tears at Ira, the narrator of this haunting novel. Ira is a Socialist, grad student, intellectual, atheist. And yet, through Mcilvain’s alchemy, Ira becomes a modern Everyman. I felt each step of his journey; his confusion, helplessness, even his earnestness. Far from being a decisive character, Ira, like many of us, is lost.
Ira meets Sam, an MFA poet looking for a more radical form of expression. This will lead him to underground Socialists calling themselves The Group, including Alex, his charismatic and no-nonsense ex-girlfriend. At the same time, Ira will meet and fall in love with the opposite: Jen, a beautiful pianist who wants a very different life. The stage is set. As an Enron-like company makes headlines for bankrupting millions of lives, and The Group plans to take some form of extreme action, and Ira gets engaged to Jen who may be the love of his life, we feel the tension build: we are on a collision course. By the end of this novel, none of the characters will be the same.
Yes somehow, through it all — the deceptions, the wreckage, the deaths — Mcilvain never loses sight of Eli’s humanity. The tender moments in this novel are some of the most touching of all. I think, in part, the secret is in the writing. The prose is beautiful, filled with quick poetic imagery, and Mcilvain does something unique with it: he re-describes the physical world over and over through Ira’s “doomy imagination.” The cities, the houses, the rooms, the weather, and especially the faces. Eli sees Sam and Alex and Jen different each time, noting something new or familiar, which in turn reveals something new or familiar within himself. This is Eli grasping at the world, trying to find the truth underneath the appearances, and for me it made for an evocative read. I felt like I was seeing (and re-seeing) the world through Eli’s eyes. Do yourself a favor: read this one slowly, think as you go, sink in.
Radicals is a disturbing, timely novel. Like Ira, I feel torn between the comforts of a conventional life and the injustice that seems necessary to support it; between ideals and reality. And like Ira, I don’t know what to do about it anymore. I’ve protested. I’ve donated. Such actions exerted pressure on the power structures in the past. But now? As Ira observes, “Marches and protests were the release valves a militarized state let the people pull.” So what do you do? Do you keep grinding away? Do you take more extreme action? Radials is a heartfelt, intelligent, and honest exploration of a question that may be impossible to answer.