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Anthropocene Rag
Anthropocene Rag is "a rare distillation of nanotech, apocalypse, and mythic Americana into a heady psychedelic brew."—Nebula and World Fantasy award-winning author Jeffrey Ford
In the future United States, our own history has faded into myth and traveling across the country means navigating wastelands and ever-changing landscapes.
The country teems with monsters and artificial intelligences try to unpack their own becoming by recreating myths and legends of their human creators. Prospector Ed, an emergent AI who wants to understand the people who made him, assembles a ragtag team to reach the mythical Monument City.
In this nanotech Western, Alex Irvine infuses American mythmaking with terrifying questions about the future and who we will become.
At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.
In the future United States, our own history has faded into myth and traveling across the country means navigating wastelands and ever-changing landscapes.
The country teems with monsters and artificial intelligences try to unpack their own becoming by recreating myths and legends of their human creators. Prospector Ed, an emergent AI who wants to understand the people who made him, assembles a ragtag team to reach the mythical Monument City.
In this nanotech Western, Alex Irvine infuses American mythmaking with terrifying questions about the future and who we will become.
At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.
256 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 31, 2020
69 people are currently reading
863 people want to read
About the author
Alexander C. Irvine
189 books198 followersAlexander C. Irvine is an American fantasist and science fiction writer. He also writes under the pseudonym Alex Irvine. He first gained attention with his novel A Scattering of Jades and the stories that would form the collection Unintended Consequences. He has also published the Grail quest novel One King, One Soldier, and the World War II-era historical fantasy The Narrows.
In addition to his original works, Irvine has published Have Robot, Will Travel, a novel set in Isaac Asimov's positronic robot milieu; and Batman: Inferno, about the DC Comics superhero.
His academic background includes an M.A. in English from the University of Maine and a PhD from the University of Denver. He is an assistant professor of English at the University of Maine. He also worked for a time as a reporter at the Portland Phoenix.
In addition to his original works, Irvine has published Have Robot, Will Travel, a novel set in Isaac Asimov's positronic robot milieu; and Batman: Inferno, about the DC Comics superhero.
His academic background includes an M.A. in English from the University of Maine and a PhD from the University of Denver. He is an assistant professor of English at the University of Maine. He also worked for a time as a reporter at the Portland Phoenix.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 79 reviews
March 20, 2020
I don't normally provide this caveat because I think reviews should speak for themselves. But I received an advanced review copy of this book, and I eagerly await its publication. I'm sure there will be people who really like it and maybe the Internet can tell me what I'm missing.
At first I thought what I was missing was the rest of the book. I've re-read the last chapter a couple times now, and the book just stops. The characters reach their destination and that's it. I get the idea (AI reaching out to new American pilgrims in the form of American folk legends), but the why is lost on me. I mean, there is an explanation, but I didn't find it convincing.
Why these people? Why this journey? Am I supposed to imagine what happens next? How can I do that when I can barely keep track of what's going on? If literally anything can happen, why does any of it matter?
Anthropocene Rag is part of a trend in science fiction where the "any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" part cascades right into magical realism. Characters appear and disappear in a blink. Everything can change shape on a whim. Nothing has permanence and it's all no big deal. That's just the way life is after the self=replicating nanite apocalypse.
I have some tolerance for this when it comes to horror (and hey, I was a Creative Writing major, too! I get writing!), but this sort of nanotech whimsy drives me up a wall-- which then disappears because it wasn't a wall, and then this guy I thought was another guy is the guy I first thought it was, But that's fine because it was all on purpose!
Yeesh.
I have a friend who really, really, REALLY hates stories about beings of pure energy, and I'm beginning to see his point. There will be readers who can appreciate this book for its literay qualities and imaginary flights, But I also suspect I won't be alone in wondering, "No, seriously. Where's the next 100 pages of this book?"
At first I thought what I was missing was the rest of the book. I've re-read the last chapter a couple times now, and the book just stops. The characters reach their destination and that's it. I get the idea (AI reaching out to new American pilgrims in the form of American folk legends), but the why is lost on me. I mean, there is an explanation, but I didn't find it convincing.
Why these people? Why this journey? Am I supposed to imagine what happens next? How can I do that when I can barely keep track of what's going on? If literally anything can happen, why does any of it matter?
Anthropocene Rag is part of a trend in science fiction where the "any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" part cascades right into magical realism. Characters appear and disappear in a blink. Everything can change shape on a whim. Nothing has permanence and it's all no big deal. That's just the way life is after the self=replicating nanite apocalypse.
I have some tolerance for this when it comes to horror (and hey, I was a Creative Writing major, too! I get writing!), but this sort of nanotech whimsy drives me up a wall-- which then disappears because it wasn't a wall, and then this guy I thought was another guy is the guy I first thought it was, But that's fine because it was all on purpose!
Yeesh.
I have a friend who really, really, REALLY hates stories about beings of pure energy, and I'm beginning to see his point. There will be readers who can appreciate this book for its literay qualities and imaginary flights, But I also suspect I won't be alone in wondering, "No, seriously. Where's the next 100 pages of this book?"
October 13, 2024
This is a dreamlike nanotech story with a Western flavor. In a post-Boom America, an AI creates scenarios in order to investigate the nature of stories and myths and legends. There's another AI, which may be part of the whole, that serves as the omniscient narrator. Anyway, the aptly named Moses Barnum invites a half-dozen quirky and interesting human characters to visit the Oz-like Monument City via the Chocolate Factory-like Golden Tickets. Along the way various groups encounter Paul Bunyan and Henry Ford and other unusual construct characters, some "real" and some fictional. It's all about the journey, and we and they are left a little empty when arrival is achieved. It's a bit retro at times, with more of a R.A. Lafferty or Gene Wolfe feel than Neil Gaiman. I would have liked a little more detail on how the society functioned; the quest is made through a landscape that's still functional, but the details are hazy. It was a fast read, but commanded close attention, and I enjoyed it.
March 18, 2020
Arc provided by NetGalley for review.
If The Wizard of Oz and Blade Runner sat around a campfire telling tales, chances are they'd eventually tell you Anthropocene Rag.
A seemingly random group of six people are given golden tickets to Monument City, a mythical creation somewhere in an American landscape that has been devastated by ecological disasters and a mysterious technology that can create and destroy however it sees fit. Led by an A.I. that is starting to have thoughts of its own, the group make their way to a city that may not even exist.
At first alone, the travellers do cross paths, joining together as they go, each one unsure of where or why they are going.
The story becomes a mashup of folk tales and historical figures, as the tech that remakes the world on an ongoing basis builds cities from the past and future, merging them with old tales and figures both real and fictional. It's as if each character must travel through a drug induced state while not actually partaking in the drug that produced it.
It makes for a very strange journey with no real beginning or end, much like the characters have to deal with as they go. It's like listening to a young child tell a story. It absolutely makes sense in that you understand everything they're saying, but at the same time you have no idea why anything is really happening. They're not burdened by limitations on their imagination, and neither is Anthropocene Rag.
This may bother some readers, as the story is more question than answer. With the number of characters, there's also little time for exploration of their individual stories. The only constant is their journey towards an unknowable destination. We need to be as curious and willing to embark on a fully unknown trip as the characters are to become fully immersed in the story.
This is not a light read, and you'll be constantly trying to decide what's really going on, or why some things have happened. It's a challenge not everyone may be willing to take, and even I find myself more fascinated by how the tale is told than satisfied by how it plays out.
It's hard to find a comparison, which is the greatest compliment in a world filled with stories, so you just have to be willing to take a step into the unknown with this one.
If The Wizard of Oz and Blade Runner sat around a campfire telling tales, chances are they'd eventually tell you Anthropocene Rag.
A seemingly random group of six people are given golden tickets to Monument City, a mythical creation somewhere in an American landscape that has been devastated by ecological disasters and a mysterious technology that can create and destroy however it sees fit. Led by an A.I. that is starting to have thoughts of its own, the group make their way to a city that may not even exist.
At first alone, the travellers do cross paths, joining together as they go, each one unsure of where or why they are going.
The story becomes a mashup of folk tales and historical figures, as the tech that remakes the world on an ongoing basis builds cities from the past and future, merging them with old tales and figures both real and fictional. It's as if each character must travel through a drug induced state while not actually partaking in the drug that produced it.
It makes for a very strange journey with no real beginning or end, much like the characters have to deal with as they go. It's like listening to a young child tell a story. It absolutely makes sense in that you understand everything they're saying, but at the same time you have no idea why anything is really happening. They're not burdened by limitations on their imagination, and neither is Anthropocene Rag.
This may bother some readers, as the story is more question than answer. With the number of characters, there's also little time for exploration of their individual stories. The only constant is their journey towards an unknowable destination. We need to be as curious and willing to embark on a fully unknown trip as the characters are to become fully immersed in the story.
This is not a light read, and you'll be constantly trying to decide what's really going on, or why some things have happened. It's a challenge not everyone may be willing to take, and even I find myself more fascinated by how the tale is told than satisfied by how it plays out.
It's hard to find a comparison, which is the greatest compliment in a world filled with stories, so you just have to be willing to take a step into the unknown with this one.
March 10, 2020
Anthropocene Rag has proven a difficult book to review, because I am still not sure how I felt about it. Essentially, I loved the premise and the idea of an AI bringing together a group of people, and there were moments of great humour and fun. However, at the end, I was left asking myself what it had all been about. I also found the narrative voice a little off-putting at times. That said, this book did offer something new and different, and the concept behind it was fresh and fun, so I am giving it 3.5 stars overall. Check it out if you are looking for a quick and quirky sci-fi read.
I received this book as a free eBook ARC via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
I received this book as a free eBook ARC via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
July 1, 2025
This is the result of me wanting to pick up a book randomly and read it because it’s been too long. I get stuck in my own lists and backlogs that end up becoming overwhelming and choking the life out of the fun of reading. So I picked this up because the concept was intriguing and I made a point to read no reviews nor look at the rating on here.
This book was so almost good. So almost good. There were many good moments, banger lines, and things I liked. But it was actually almost too abstract and vague. Maybe I have been too much in the tangible hard science recently but typically I like vague sci-fi. No this was like what if Muderbot took the place of the Joel in the Last of Us but instead of zombies it’s a sci-fi hellscape - which you would think would rock and I’d like…but idk. Life-7 was very interesting, and clearly an unreliable narrator, I wanted more of them. I liked Mo and Henry and Fara Jack the best of the orphans. I liked so many of the ideas here about how stories transform and are always in motion depending on the storyteller and audience but I feel like the characters got in the way of me enjoying the uniqueness of it. I just don’t know what specifically it fails at. I will read a few reviews of by people with better wordsmithing than me to try and make sense of what it misses.
2.75
This book was so almost good. So almost good. There were many good moments, banger lines, and things I liked. But it was actually almost too abstract and vague. Maybe I have been too much in the tangible hard science recently but typically I like vague sci-fi. No this was like what if Muderbot took the place of the Joel in the Last of Us but instead of zombies it’s a sci-fi hellscape - which you would think would rock and I’d like…but idk. Life-7 was very interesting, and clearly an unreliable narrator, I wanted more of them. I liked Mo and Henry and Fara Jack the best of the orphans. I liked so many of the ideas here about how stories transform and are always in motion depending on the storyteller and audience but I feel like the characters got in the way of me enjoying the uniqueness of it. I just don’t know what specifically it fails at. I will read a few reviews of by people with better wordsmithing than me to try and make sense of what it misses.
2.75
April 10, 2020
*I received a free ARC copy of the book from the publisher via NetGalley*
The only reason why I finished this book was because I wanted to be able to honestly say that I read it from beginning to end and didn’t care for it, to know that there wasn’t any twist or redeeming moment at the end that people could point to and say “but you should’ve waited for that!”
There are some books that leave me confused as to what the author was trying to say when they wrote it. “Anthropocene Rag” fits into that category. Don’t get me wrong – “Anthropocene Rag” is by no means an empty, pointless book. The concept of the Boom – which was the only part of the book I truly enjoyed – was very fitting and thought-provoking, and I found myself caring more about it than about any of the characters. I’m all on board for a strange, android-child-like sentient technological creation that alters people and its surroundings post-apocalyptic natural disaster, but sadly that’s not what this book was about.
Instead, the book is about six people – or more, if you count Ed, Kyle, Reenie, and Barnum, who makes an appearance at the end – who get golden tickets Willy Wonka-style that allows them entry into Monument City, an El Dorado/Sacred Land sort of location that is supposed to…bring one happiness? Reaffirm that you’re special? I’m still not clear about that. “Anthropocene Rag” is all about the “getting there”. That’s it. That’s all the ~150 pages in a nutshell. If you’re not one for travel narratives where there is no satisfactory “this is what happens now that they’re reached their destination” part, then “Anthropocene Rag” probably isn’t for you. To be fair, I can see Irvine spinning this into a series – there’s certainly room for that.
On top of the strange, and rather dull and disorganized, structure of the novel, there was also the fact that I didn’t care for any of the characters. Henry Dale, who makes a point of constantly talking about faith in a kind of “this is all God’s plan,” rubbed me the wrong way, while the conversation he had with Mo when they first met, in which Henry assumed Dale was Muslim because his full name was Mohammed, came across as a moment of forceful “wokeness”, like the author was trying to show he knows how tone-deaf some people are and that he’s not like them.
Maybe “Anthropocene Rag” really is more for people who care about and love Americana, which I doubt I ever will, most likely because, as an immigrant, I still don’t completely understand what Americana IS. The persistence of famous figures like Mark Twain to help some of the characters along, or the “puniness” of Moses Barnum’s name, or even the sheer RIDICULOUSNESS of Monument City, which I imagined must be like the Las Vegas strip injected with nanotech drugs, all of this fell flat for me. I didn’t care for “Anthropocene Rag” one bit. There’s a different book in here that I would’ve read, one that focused on the Boom and discussed the consequences and implications of our current society and what it might lead to, a book that would be way more organized and cohesive than “Anthropocene Rag.” But I doubt that one’s happening.
The only reason why I finished this book was because I wanted to be able to honestly say that I read it from beginning to end and didn’t care for it, to know that there wasn’t any twist or redeeming moment at the end that people could point to and say “but you should’ve waited for that!”
There are some books that leave me confused as to what the author was trying to say when they wrote it. “Anthropocene Rag” fits into that category. Don’t get me wrong – “Anthropocene Rag” is by no means an empty, pointless book. The concept of the Boom – which was the only part of the book I truly enjoyed – was very fitting and thought-provoking, and I found myself caring more about it than about any of the characters. I’m all on board for a strange, android-child-like sentient technological creation that alters people and its surroundings post-apocalyptic natural disaster, but sadly that’s not what this book was about.
Instead, the book is about six people – or more, if you count Ed, Kyle, Reenie, and Barnum, who makes an appearance at the end – who get golden tickets Willy Wonka-style that allows them entry into Monument City, an El Dorado/Sacred Land sort of location that is supposed to…bring one happiness? Reaffirm that you’re special? I’m still not clear about that. “Anthropocene Rag” is all about the “getting there”. That’s it. That’s all the ~150 pages in a nutshell. If you’re not one for travel narratives where there is no satisfactory “this is what happens now that they’re reached their destination” part, then “Anthropocene Rag” probably isn’t for you. To be fair, I can see Irvine spinning this into a series – there’s certainly room for that.
On top of the strange, and rather dull and disorganized, structure of the novel, there was also the fact that I didn’t care for any of the characters. Henry Dale, who makes a point of constantly talking about faith in a kind of “this is all God’s plan,” rubbed me the wrong way, while the conversation he had with Mo when they first met, in which Henry assumed Dale was Muslim because his full name was Mohammed, came across as a moment of forceful “wokeness”, like the author was trying to show he knows how tone-deaf some people are and that he’s not like them.
Maybe “Anthropocene Rag” really is more for people who care about and love Americana, which I doubt I ever will, most likely because, as an immigrant, I still don’t completely understand what Americana IS. The persistence of famous figures like Mark Twain to help some of the characters along, or the “puniness” of Moses Barnum’s name, or even the sheer RIDICULOUSNESS of Monument City, which I imagined must be like the Las Vegas strip injected with nanotech drugs, all of this fell flat for me. I didn’t care for “Anthropocene Rag” one bit. There’s a different book in here that I would’ve read, one that focused on the Boom and discussed the consequences and implications of our current society and what it might lead to, a book that would be way more organized and cohesive than “Anthropocene Rag.” But I doubt that one’s happening.
June 1, 2020
Originally published on The Nerd Daily | Review by Beth Mowbray
Dubbed a “nanotech Western,” Alex Irvine’s latest novel is a wild, whirling ride of a read; a wickedly engaging dance through the effects of the human hand on the world around us.
Anthropocene Rag is set in a post-apocalyptic future where nanotechnology has ravaged the United States. Real human beings live alongside creations of artificial intelligence (AI), at times virtually indistinguishable from one another. Nanotech causes landscapes to shift right before one’s very eyes, showing decades of growth and change in mere minutes, anticipating who is coming and shifting itself accordingly. It swallows up people, both alive and dead, using them in new fabrications to meet it’s desires and whims. It also brings prominent Americans back to life (or seemingly so). For example: Henry Ford is spotted at one of his automobile manufacturing plants, Mark Twain is befriended on a Mississippi riverboat.
Read the FULL REVIEW on The Nerd Daily
Dubbed a “nanotech Western,” Alex Irvine’s latest novel is a wild, whirling ride of a read; a wickedly engaging dance through the effects of the human hand on the world around us.
Anthropocene Rag is set in a post-apocalyptic future where nanotechnology has ravaged the United States. Real human beings live alongside creations of artificial intelligence (AI), at times virtually indistinguishable from one another. Nanotech causes landscapes to shift right before one’s very eyes, showing decades of growth and change in mere minutes, anticipating who is coming and shifting itself accordingly. It swallows up people, both alive and dead, using them in new fabrications to meet it’s desires and whims. It also brings prominent Americans back to life (or seemingly so). For example: Henry Ford is spotted at one of his automobile manufacturing plants, Mark Twain is befriended on a Mississippi riverboat.
Read the FULL REVIEW on The Nerd Daily
April 24, 2021
This is hard to review. I'm trying to imagine Irvine's thought process and its sequence. Did he start with "how would an emergent AI think?" and then realize that Martha Wells and Ann Leckie OWN that space, so we move on to "what if the emergent AI were in a world where nano-replicators are getting out of hand?" which is good. We need a McGuffin, so we get Monument City, which is actually explained a little bit. Now what? Hm, I guess it'll have to be a Quest.
The quest is going to need several people, or this will just be a long short story. They are an interesting group, I admit, although with so many of them plus Ed, we aren't going to get much character arc.
And the logistics will be both tough and boring, so I'll use what amounts to magic. Repeatedly. And I'll have it delivered by magicians in the guise of familiar folk characters. Why? To make the book light-hearted? OK, I'll buy that.
And y'know, if the weird ones can teleport people anywhere, why didn't they zap them straight to Monument City? I would have accepted even a flimsy explanation for that, but if it's there I missed it.
This isn't the kind of book where you get to ask "wait, who programmed the plicks to create simulacra of fictional characters, and HOW?" Nor "I can buy assembling plicks into a simulacrum, that's an easy step, but how do you make them capable of teleporting across a real world." And don't come at me with that "aha, maybe it ISN'T a real world" because then it's just a stoner dream.
The good part is Ed's development, and the meta-metaness thereof. You could hang a heckuva story on that, but this ain't it. We spend too long with too many less-interesting characters, and too much convenient "with a mighty leap he was out of the Martians' pit."
After ALL that I have written, it's an unforgettable story, and makes me wonder if there isn't a blockbuster novel in the future (not necessarily in this setting).
The quest is going to need several people, or this will just be a long short story. They are an interesting group, I admit, although with so many of them plus Ed, we aren't going to get much character arc.
And the logistics will be both tough and boring, so I'll use what amounts to magic. Repeatedly. And I'll have it delivered by magicians in the guise of familiar folk characters. Why? To make the book light-hearted? OK, I'll buy that.
And y'know, if the weird ones can teleport people anywhere, why didn't they zap them straight to Monument City? I would have accepted even a flimsy explanation for that, but if it's there I missed it.
This isn't the kind of book where you get to ask "wait, who programmed the plicks to create simulacra of fictional characters, and HOW?" Nor "I can buy assembling plicks into a simulacrum, that's an easy step, but how do you make them capable of teleporting across a real world." And don't come at me with that "aha, maybe it ISN'T a real world" because then it's just a stoner dream.
The good part is Ed's development, and the meta-metaness thereof. You could hang a heckuva story on that, but this ain't it. We spend too long with too many less-interesting characters, and too much convenient "with a mighty leap he was out of the Martians' pit."
After ALL that I have written, it's an unforgettable story, and makes me wonder if there isn't a blockbuster novel in the future (not necessarily in this setting).
June 25, 2021
Anthropocene Rag is a 200+ page book that could have (should have?) been a 20-page short story.
The Boom that has swept over the world (or at least over USA) is nanomachines that like recreating stories and don't care about fairness, and this has understandably changed things and made a lot of people very unhappy. It wants six people to come to a certain place (a quest, if you will) and along the way they encounter a bunch of nanomachines being people out of legend or history or pure fantasy. Also there's a girl named Mei Mei whose only notable appearance is about how she was sold into sexual slavery, so there's that. Geck spends a lot of time as the POV character despite being an irredeemable shit and there's a whole plot about unprogrammed nanomachines that literally went nowhere. Why did we spend exactly one scene with the shapeshifting actress who learned how to be animals and then just drop that like a hot potato? What the fuck was Trickster doing with Geck anyway and where did that plot thread go?
The more I think about this book the more angry I'm getting. Over the course of writing this review it's dropped from 3 stars to 1 as I realized how bamboozled I was by all the references to neat American stories (like the hippos that almost got introduced to the Mississippi, lol) and how many plot threads got flung out the window of a car at highway speeds and just how much the women of the book got shafted.
The Boom that has swept over the world (or at least over USA) is nanomachines that like recreating stories and don't care about fairness, and this has understandably changed things and made a lot of people very unhappy. It wants six people to come to a certain place (a quest, if you will) and along the way they encounter a bunch of nanomachines being people out of legend or history or pure fantasy. Also there's a girl named Mei Mei whose only notable appearance is about how she was sold into sexual slavery, so there's that. Geck spends a lot of time as the POV character despite being an irredeemable shit and there's a whole plot about unprogrammed nanomachines that literally went nowhere. Why did we spend exactly one scene with the shapeshifting actress who learned how to be animals and then just drop that like a hot potato? What the fuck was Trickster doing with Geck anyway and where did that plot thread go?
The more I think about this book the more angry I'm getting. Over the course of writing this review it's dropped from 3 stars to 1 as I realized how bamboozled I was by all the references to neat American stories (like the hippos that almost got introduced to the Mississippi, lol) and how many plot threads got flung out the window of a car at highway speeds and just how much the women of the book got shafted.
March 7, 2020
There's a lot going on in this western mythos infused post-singularity-apocalypse-nanotech-travelogue. And it's all good. Anthropocene Rag, gives a new spin to each of those genres, putting them in a blender to come out with something interesting and unique, and because it's Alexander C. Irvine writing it, it's fun to read too.
After AIs emerge and rewrite America with nanotech, it's as though the inside of our collective heads is now on the outside, walking around in fluid instances from dinosaurs to grizzled 49's panning for truth. The latter of those is Ed, an Ai who gathers up a team of humans from the corners of the wasted and recreated America to seek out the legendary Monument City somewhere out west and to get a handle on what it all means.
It's a quest for knowledge, it's a road trip through a mutable vision of what America is/was/could be. Anthropocene Rag is what you might get if American Gods were science fiction, or if Jeffrey Ford could just be a little less Wyrd and a little more readable. That Alex Irvine can craft a story that's both interesting and enjoyable speaks to his work on media tie-ins, but this shows that he's more than capable of imagiing worlds worth exploring on his own.
After AIs emerge and rewrite America with nanotech, it's as though the inside of our collective heads is now on the outside, walking around in fluid instances from dinosaurs to grizzled 49's panning for truth. The latter of those is Ed, an Ai who gathers up a team of humans from the corners of the wasted and recreated America to seek out the legendary Monument City somewhere out west and to get a handle on what it all means.
It's a quest for knowledge, it's a road trip through a mutable vision of what America is/was/could be. Anthropocene Rag is what you might get if American Gods were science fiction, or if Jeffrey Ford could just be a little less Wyrd and a little more readable. That Alex Irvine can craft a story that's both interesting and enjoyable speaks to his work on media tie-ins, but this shows that he's more than capable of imagiing worlds worth exploring on his own.
April 14, 2020
Thanks to NetGalley for a providing me with an advanced copy in exchange for an honest review.
This book, that in all honesty I thought was going to turn out to be pretty dumb, had me hooked from the first page in a bizarre adventure that I could not put down. This odd little novel manages to be equal parts Charlie & the Chocolate Factory, Westworld and Welcome to Night Vale while at the same time being a very distinct work.
The thing I was most concerned with while reading this was the question of "how can strange this story possibly end?" Some may be dissatisfied with how it does, but I felt that it fit perfectly with both the writing style and the overall narrative.
And that is all I will say on any of that, as I feel to go into any detail about the book would harm someone's enjoyment of it. I recommend if for anyone who enjoys post-apocalyptic SF as it is definitely one of the more unique entries into the genre.
This book, that in all honesty I thought was going to turn out to be pretty dumb, had me hooked from the first page in a bizarre adventure that I could not put down. This odd little novel manages to be equal parts Charlie & the Chocolate Factory, Westworld and Welcome to Night Vale while at the same time being a very distinct work.
The thing I was most concerned with while reading this was the question of "how can strange this story possibly end?" Some may be dissatisfied with how it does, but I felt that it fit perfectly with both the writing style and the overall narrative.
And that is all I will say on any of that, as I feel to go into any detail about the book would harm someone's enjoyment of it. I recommend if for anyone who enjoys post-apocalyptic SF as it is definitely one of the more unique entries into the genre.
February 10, 2020
In a word, different. I’m not sure if this was good, I know it wasn’t awful, but I know it wasn’t that good. The story was all sorts of random and nonsensical weirdness. I found myself let down at the end I wanted to know more about their destination, however I suppose it’s about the journey not the destination. Ex-Machinas were used through out but honestly it was just that kind of story.
March 31, 2020
https://www.themaineedge.com/buzz/boo...
Speculative fiction often offers a glimpse at new beginnings that spring forth from cataclysmic endings. The entire subgenre of dystopian fiction is built largely on the premise. We’re fascinated by the idea of what might rise anew in the aftermath of the collapsing old.
The popularity of that fundamental concept, however, means that the resulting literary work is often wildly variant in terms of quality. Yes, it’s easy to write about the end and what comes after, but it’s exceedingly difficult to do well.
With his new book “Anthropocene Rag,” Alex Irvine does it well.
It’s a sprawling portrait of a future United States where a natural disaster contributed directly to a technological one, the effects of both compounding exponentially in a manner that completely alters civilization as we know it. A small group of people, struggling to carve out a place in this harsh, unforgiving and mercurial world, is offered a unique opportunity. Each is left to wonder not only why they were chosen, but who ultimately has done the choosing?
Told in a deliberately haphazard fashion, leaping from perspective to perspective, “Anthropocene Rag” follows these unlikely pilgrims on their quest across a broken American landscape, one defined in ways overt and subtle by its past even as it has been subsumed by the wave of the future. There’s a new frontier – one that is ever-shifting and unpredictable.
In the future, the world was changed forever by a massive tsunami that struck the East Coast, doing untold damage to people and places all along the Atlantic seaboard. However, the physical damage done by that event was just the beginning. Said disaster also unleashed a highly-advanced nanotechnological experiment – one that began replicating and consuming exponentially upon its escape.
Just a generation hence, the entire landscape has changed. The nanotech – referred to by most as simply “the Boom” – has integrated itself thoroughly. The Boom remakes the world as it deems fit, driven by a seeming need to capture and relate America’s stories, with little regard for the people it repurposes to do so. And since the Boom has little interest in differentiating between time periods – or even history from fiction – many places are a tangled and dangerous mess.
One of the Boom’s constructs – an old-time ‘49er figure named Prospector Ed – is tasked with distributing invitations to a nigh-mythical place known as Monument City. But even as he hands out the half-dozen invites, Ed is on a journey of his own – a journey toward self-awareness. He didn’t seek this newfound consciousness, but it is growing – and it is being observed.
Meanwhile, the six invitees – a craftsperson from San Francisco, a two-bit grifter from Orlando, a religious mail carrier from New York, a mechanic from Ohio, a young orphan from New Orleans and a shape-shifting touring actress from the Plains – embark on their respective voyages, seeking out a place in whose existence they only semi-believe. Along the way, they encounter various and sundry characters from the Boom as it builds up and tears down and builds up again. Maybe it’s Mark Twain or Paul Bunyan. Maybe it’s a disembodied intelligence or a talking buffalo. Whoever and however, the group presses onward, on a quest toward a destination where nothing is as it seems … and anything is possible.
First things first - “Anthropocene Rag” is a damned fine story. Alex Irvine spins one hell of a yarn. He allows the narrative to unfold at its own pace, moving from perspective to perspective as the cast of characters advances toward the shared goal. Whether we’re marking the progress of our pilgrims or getting insight into Prospector Ed’s interior voyage – not to mention the nigh-omniscient thoughts of our mysterious string-puller – the reader is immersed into the rich and detailed world that Irvine has created.
And man oh man, those details. The blending of high-tech nanotech with figures from American history and folklore is truly bizarre – so bizarre that you find yourself wondering how it works as well as it does. The notion of a self-replicating tech that is both fascinated by stories and utterly unable to discern between fact and fiction is so clever and cleverly realized; the stretches when the book really leans into that disparity are gleefully, gloriously, evocatively weird. Seriously – it’s just so cool.
Special kudos are due the author for resisting the urge to overexplain the circumstances that resulted in the realm we’re exploring. Too much “how” can undermine the quality of world-building; details are important, of course, but too many can turn a propulsive narrative into an expository slog. Finding the right balance is key, and Irvine does it, giving us a firm understanding of his world’s rules and how they came to be without getting bogged down in minutiae. Everything you need, he gives you, but no more than that.
“Anthropocene Rag” is a sharp, fast-paced work of speculative fiction. It is smartly rendered and wonderfully written, driven equally by engaging characters and in-depth world-building. It’s the sort of book that effortlessly captures the imagination, sweeping the reader up into a compelling and detailed story. The more you read, the more you want to read – your biggest difficulty will likely come when you try to put it down.
Speculative fiction often offers a glimpse at new beginnings that spring forth from cataclysmic endings. The entire subgenre of dystopian fiction is built largely on the premise. We’re fascinated by the idea of what might rise anew in the aftermath of the collapsing old.
The popularity of that fundamental concept, however, means that the resulting literary work is often wildly variant in terms of quality. Yes, it’s easy to write about the end and what comes after, but it’s exceedingly difficult to do well.
With his new book “Anthropocene Rag,” Alex Irvine does it well.
It’s a sprawling portrait of a future United States where a natural disaster contributed directly to a technological one, the effects of both compounding exponentially in a manner that completely alters civilization as we know it. A small group of people, struggling to carve out a place in this harsh, unforgiving and mercurial world, is offered a unique opportunity. Each is left to wonder not only why they were chosen, but who ultimately has done the choosing?
Told in a deliberately haphazard fashion, leaping from perspective to perspective, “Anthropocene Rag” follows these unlikely pilgrims on their quest across a broken American landscape, one defined in ways overt and subtle by its past even as it has been subsumed by the wave of the future. There’s a new frontier – one that is ever-shifting and unpredictable.
In the future, the world was changed forever by a massive tsunami that struck the East Coast, doing untold damage to people and places all along the Atlantic seaboard. However, the physical damage done by that event was just the beginning. Said disaster also unleashed a highly-advanced nanotechnological experiment – one that began replicating and consuming exponentially upon its escape.
Just a generation hence, the entire landscape has changed. The nanotech – referred to by most as simply “the Boom” – has integrated itself thoroughly. The Boom remakes the world as it deems fit, driven by a seeming need to capture and relate America’s stories, with little regard for the people it repurposes to do so. And since the Boom has little interest in differentiating between time periods – or even history from fiction – many places are a tangled and dangerous mess.
One of the Boom’s constructs – an old-time ‘49er figure named Prospector Ed – is tasked with distributing invitations to a nigh-mythical place known as Monument City. But even as he hands out the half-dozen invites, Ed is on a journey of his own – a journey toward self-awareness. He didn’t seek this newfound consciousness, but it is growing – and it is being observed.
Meanwhile, the six invitees – a craftsperson from San Francisco, a two-bit grifter from Orlando, a religious mail carrier from New York, a mechanic from Ohio, a young orphan from New Orleans and a shape-shifting touring actress from the Plains – embark on their respective voyages, seeking out a place in whose existence they only semi-believe. Along the way, they encounter various and sundry characters from the Boom as it builds up and tears down and builds up again. Maybe it’s Mark Twain or Paul Bunyan. Maybe it’s a disembodied intelligence or a talking buffalo. Whoever and however, the group presses onward, on a quest toward a destination where nothing is as it seems … and anything is possible.
First things first - “Anthropocene Rag” is a damned fine story. Alex Irvine spins one hell of a yarn. He allows the narrative to unfold at its own pace, moving from perspective to perspective as the cast of characters advances toward the shared goal. Whether we’re marking the progress of our pilgrims or getting insight into Prospector Ed’s interior voyage – not to mention the nigh-omniscient thoughts of our mysterious string-puller – the reader is immersed into the rich and detailed world that Irvine has created.
And man oh man, those details. The blending of high-tech nanotech with figures from American history and folklore is truly bizarre – so bizarre that you find yourself wondering how it works as well as it does. The notion of a self-replicating tech that is both fascinated by stories and utterly unable to discern between fact and fiction is so clever and cleverly realized; the stretches when the book really leans into that disparity are gleefully, gloriously, evocatively weird. Seriously – it’s just so cool.
Special kudos are due the author for resisting the urge to overexplain the circumstances that resulted in the realm we’re exploring. Too much “how” can undermine the quality of world-building; details are important, of course, but too many can turn a propulsive narrative into an expository slog. Finding the right balance is key, and Irvine does it, giving us a firm understanding of his world’s rules and how they came to be without getting bogged down in minutiae. Everything you need, he gives you, but no more than that.
“Anthropocene Rag” is a sharp, fast-paced work of speculative fiction. It is smartly rendered and wonderfully written, driven equally by engaging characters and in-depth world-building. It’s the sort of book that effortlessly captures the imagination, sweeping the reader up into a compelling and detailed story. The more you read, the more you want to read – your biggest difficulty will likely come when you try to put it down.
March 30, 2020
You can find the full review and all the fancy and/or randomness that accompanies it at It Starts at Midnight
This was... bizarre, for lack of a better word. That isn't a bad thing! It's just how it is. As a whole, there were a lot of things I enjoyed about this one, and a few things that left me wanting more (or wanting to understand more, perhaps). So let's break them down!
The Stuff I Liked:
In is unarguably unique. I mean, can I even explain this? It is quite simply like nothing else I have ever read. And for the most part, that is a good thing! I guarantee you too will find this a one of a kind.
So much cool historical stuff! Ever wanted to ride on a ship with Mark Twain, or get car advice from Henry Ford? Good news for you, then! This is just the tip of the iceberg in terms of fascinating historical markers that pop up all throughout the book. They are, in essence, to guide our characters along their journey. And they make for some interesting reading, no question.
It's a journey/adventure, and I love those! It's also a personal journey, which will be my next point, but what I am talking about here is a physical trek. I flat out adore when characters have to traverse great distances, because there's something so... survivalist about it, I suppose. And what better way to both have adventure and find out what our characters are made of! Plus, we get to see so many different locals in "Boomerica", so that's extra fun.
Yes, the characters have journeys too! They're all obviously picked to go to this mythical place for a reason, and as you can imagine, they're going to unpack their baggage along the way.
The Stuff I Didn't:
There were parts that I was just plain lost during. The Boom is... a little confusing? I mean, I started to get the general gist that things in this new world were... different, and that the Boom basically chooses what happens in life now, who lives and who dies, and I guess which historical characters will greet you in which cities. It's cool, but I do wish I knew a bit more of the inner workings. I think I was supposed to like, not know, like no one in the book does, but look, I am apparently too needy for that.
There are a lot of characters to keep straight. I even understood having several points of view, since it allowed us to see more of the country, more of the Boom, and more characters' stories. But at a certain point I started to get a bit overwhelmed, and wished the author had stuck with three or four characters' perspectives, especially in a shorter book.
I guess I just plain wanted more answers. The book ends on a rather vague note, and a lot of the questions I had about the world in general were left unanswered. To be fair, it's entirely possible that this is just a "me" problem, and that readers who aren't as ridiculous in their need for answers will be able to enjoy the ride itself without feeling frustrated.
Bottom Line: Absolutely one of the most unique stories I have ever encountered, it's wildly imaginative, yet lacks some of the clarity I had hoped for by the end.
This was... bizarre, for lack of a better word. That isn't a bad thing! It's just how it is. As a whole, there were a lot of things I enjoyed about this one, and a few things that left me wanting more (or wanting to understand more, perhaps). So let's break them down!
The Stuff I Liked:
In is unarguably unique. I mean, can I even explain this? It is quite simply like nothing else I have ever read. And for the most part, that is a good thing! I guarantee you too will find this a one of a kind.
So much cool historical stuff! Ever wanted to ride on a ship with Mark Twain, or get car advice from Henry Ford? Good news for you, then! This is just the tip of the iceberg in terms of fascinating historical markers that pop up all throughout the book. They are, in essence, to guide our characters along their journey. And they make for some interesting reading, no question.
It's a journey/adventure, and I love those! It's also a personal journey, which will be my next point, but what I am talking about here is a physical trek. I flat out adore when characters have to traverse great distances, because there's something so... survivalist about it, I suppose. And what better way to both have adventure and find out what our characters are made of! Plus, we get to see so many different locals in "Boomerica", so that's extra fun.
Yes, the characters have journeys too! They're all obviously picked to go to this mythical place for a reason, and as you can imagine, they're going to unpack their baggage along the way.
The Stuff I Didn't:
There were parts that I was just plain lost during. The Boom is... a little confusing? I mean, I started to get the general gist that things in this new world were... different, and that the Boom basically chooses what happens in life now, who lives and who dies, and I guess which historical characters will greet you in which cities. It's cool, but I do wish I knew a bit more of the inner workings. I think I was supposed to like, not know, like no one in the book does, but look, I am apparently too needy for that.
There are a lot of characters to keep straight. I even understood having several points of view, since it allowed us to see more of the country, more of the Boom, and more characters' stories. But at a certain point I started to get a bit overwhelmed, and wished the author had stuck with three or four characters' perspectives, especially in a shorter book.
I guess I just plain wanted more answers. The book ends on a rather vague note, and a lot of the questions I had about the world in general were left unanswered. To be fair, it's entirely possible that this is just a "me" problem, and that readers who aren't as ridiculous in their need for answers will be able to enjoy the ride itself without feeling frustrated.
Bottom Line: Absolutely one of the most unique stories I have ever encountered, it's wildly imaginative, yet lacks some of the clarity I had hoped for by the end.
Want to read
April 23, 2022Rich Horton gave it a good review at Locus: https://locusmag.com/2020/07/rich-hor...
"This is set in the relatively near future, after the Boom – a nanotech outburst of some sort – has taken over much of the country. The Boom, sometimes seemingly at random, absorbs things (including people) and remakes them, sometimes simulating historical events, sometimes just making strangeness. This story follows six people who are each contacted by a ”construct” of the Boom who calls itself Prospector Ed and given a Golden Ticket to Monument Valley, somewhere mysterious in the middle of the country. There they will encounter Moses Barnum, the maker of Monument Valley… to what end? Well, that’s the question – as it’s not just the six people who matter – it’s also Prospector Ed, who is disturbed that he seems to be ”emergent” – gaining independent sentience; and it’s also the narrator, who seems to be part of the Boom – or maybe the Boom collectively – or maybe some other… personage? – and what do they want? This is also a road book of sorts, as our characters travel across this much-changed future US, a US that also reflects our history and the stories we tell about ourselves, and our landscapes. Really strong work."
Mixed reviews, both here and at Amazon. Plus: Ernest Lilley liked it 4-stars worth, and we often agree. Minuses: a LOT of negative or wishy-washy reviews. Wait for the library copy.
"This is set in the relatively near future, after the Boom – a nanotech outburst of some sort – has taken over much of the country. The Boom, sometimes seemingly at random, absorbs things (including people) and remakes them, sometimes simulating historical events, sometimes just making strangeness. This story follows six people who are each contacted by a ”construct” of the Boom who calls itself Prospector Ed and given a Golden Ticket to Monument Valley, somewhere mysterious in the middle of the country. There they will encounter Moses Barnum, the maker of Monument Valley… to what end? Well, that’s the question – as it’s not just the six people who matter – it’s also Prospector Ed, who is disturbed that he seems to be ”emergent” – gaining independent sentience; and it’s also the narrator, who seems to be part of the Boom – or maybe the Boom collectively – or maybe some other… personage? – and what do they want? This is also a road book of sorts, as our characters travel across this much-changed future US, a US that also reflects our history and the stories we tell about ourselves, and our landscapes. Really strong work."
Mixed reviews, both here and at Amazon. Plus: Ernest Lilley liked it 4-stars worth, and we often agree. Minuses: a LOT of negative or wishy-washy reviews. Wait for the library copy.
March 9, 2020
I got an ARC through eBay. This story has so much potential. It’s not bad at all, very awesome sci-fi. But it seems to be missing the other half of the story, no lie. We get to the destination and then....nothing. I’d have liked to read where they all went from there. This was an introduction with nothing past that. The world building was so unlike anything I’ve come across. So much potential. Maybe there will be a sequel? Don’t read if you’re looking for answers.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 10, 2020
Did we not show you the reverence due a creator? We made ourselves not in your image but in the image of your stories.
This new (? Or new to me) subgenre of nihilistic American dystopias (cf. The Mandibles) is really fascinating. This is the kritik of the US I want to read forever: insightful, cutting, and beautiful.
This new (? Or new to me) subgenre of nihilistic American dystopias (cf. The Mandibles) is really fascinating. This is the kritik of the US I want to read forever: insightful, cutting, and beautiful.
March 31, 2020
Read this and other Sci-Fi/Fantasy book reviews at The Quill to Live
I am always on the lookout for stories about America, especially when it comes to speculative fiction. I find the myths about the United States, its formation, and expansion fascinating especially when they so often cover up many complicated and horrific histories. Its simplicity is enchanting to me and constantly begs deconstruction to find what the true “heart” of the American Story is. This is heightened during an election season, where talk of “what America is and should be” hangs heavy in the air. Add the third layer of COVID-19, and a lot of these questions and stories get brought into an even sharper focus when compared to the facts and histories. What the hell does that have to do with the book I am reviewing? Well Anthropocene Rag, by Alexander Irvine, is a clever, fun, engaging, and weird little book about a post-apocalyptic America that mostly succeeds in deconstructing how “we” talk about the story of America.
The book follows six main characters as they are visited by a construct named Prospector Ed, who gives them a golden ticket to enter the fabled Monument City. Each of the characters must travel to the Rocky Mountains across an America that is teeming with nano machines. A lot of the populace was killed and integrated into the machineries during an event called the Boom (the Boom is also used to refer to the machines collectively). The machines are everywhere, and depending on where you live, humans may or may not have a good relationship with the unpredictable Boom. In San Francisco, there is a relative harmony, as the machines inhabit human bodies. Other places are not so lucky, and people could be dismantled in seconds without even realizing it. But the Boom is doing something weird as all across the land, they are re-enacting the stories and folklore that make up the American Mythos.
Irvine’s writing is the first thing that truly hooked me about Anthropocene Rag. It feels like you’re sitting around a campfire with him as he recounts a past event. The characters come alive through his voice, making them feel both human and larger than life. The author also manages to make you as the reader complicit in the story through this stylization, asking you questions and sometimes making you feel as if you could stop it all at any moment. But you don’t, you want to know how it ends, you need to know how it ends. Fortunately, Irvine does not seem to judge you for this complicity, almost in some ways acknowledging that he too is at fault. It’s an incredibly engaging way to tell a story, and it calls attention to the story of America as well. Fortunately, Irvine succeeds in keeping the tone jovial, even as he is trying to get you to gaze into the abyss.
Irvine’s writing also helps the atmosphere within Anthropocene Rag. There is not a lot of plot, so Irvine relies very heavily on intimating feeling to great effect. The different regions that the characters begin their journey in, along with where they travel through, feel like you expect them to. I’m having a hard time explaining it, but Irvine nails the cultural osmosis of the different corners of America. Florida and New York City, feel like off versions of what we know of them today, as if something changed about them, but the bones are still there. There is a familiarity to them, as if Irvine wanted to reveal the core parts of them in a more thematic fashion. It was extremely haunting, and if that was Irvine’s goal, he succeeded. However, there is a slight tendency for some areas to feel “stereotypical” due to the fast nature of the book, but I also find it easy to overlook considering it is a lot more about the “feeling,” but I think some of it handily waved off in the deeper themes.
Among the myriad of themes, the one that obviously sticks out the most is “what is America?” It saturates every paragraph trying to fill the void between your eyes and the page. Irvine deftly explores this idea by using the campfire storytelling method I described above. Irvine gives no background to the disaster, just providing a name, the Boom, and the mystery around it. America as a concept barely exists within the text as the past is erased, forgotten. The only entities to remember it are the Boom themselves as they recreate and re-enact myths like Paul Bunyan and classic Mark Twain stories. Characters don’t know anything but their present lives and where they are headed. It feels as if Irvine is trying to mirror the creation of America by wiping away the past to create a new history, a new future, a new America. It feels especially clear when you compare it to the way conversations pass over the systematic extermination of Native Americans, “manifest destiny” and “American Exceptionalism.” Irvine does it right in front of the reader using stories you know, stories you feel something about. While you’re complicit he’s doing it without you, almost as if he’s taunting you. It’s eerie and beautiful and hits all the right notes for me.
There is so much more I’d love to dive into with this story, but we would be here forever. I had a good time with the characters, their little conversations as they traveled the wilds. I loved how Irvine was able to make the land feel so big and so very small and insignificant at the same time. I didn’t particularly enjoy one of the reveals, but I don’t think it hurt the story. I don’t think the book is for everyone though, as it is a little weird, and exists more in the realm of metaphor than the concrete. Some of the journeys may also fall a little flat if you aren’t steeped in American Folklore. However, I highly recommend it if you’re feeling adventurous and willing to consider the idea of “America” in these trying times.
Rating: Anthropocene Rag 8.5/10
-Alex
I am always on the lookout for stories about America, especially when it comes to speculative fiction. I find the myths about the United States, its formation, and expansion fascinating especially when they so often cover up many complicated and horrific histories. Its simplicity is enchanting to me and constantly begs deconstruction to find what the true “heart” of the American Story is. This is heightened during an election season, where talk of “what America is and should be” hangs heavy in the air. Add the third layer of COVID-19, and a lot of these questions and stories get brought into an even sharper focus when compared to the facts and histories. What the hell does that have to do with the book I am reviewing? Well Anthropocene Rag, by Alexander Irvine, is a clever, fun, engaging, and weird little book about a post-apocalyptic America that mostly succeeds in deconstructing how “we” talk about the story of America.
The book follows six main characters as they are visited by a construct named Prospector Ed, who gives them a golden ticket to enter the fabled Monument City. Each of the characters must travel to the Rocky Mountains across an America that is teeming with nano machines. A lot of the populace was killed and integrated into the machineries during an event called the Boom (the Boom is also used to refer to the machines collectively). The machines are everywhere, and depending on where you live, humans may or may not have a good relationship with the unpredictable Boom. In San Francisco, there is a relative harmony, as the machines inhabit human bodies. Other places are not so lucky, and people could be dismantled in seconds without even realizing it. But the Boom is doing something weird as all across the land, they are re-enacting the stories and folklore that make up the American Mythos.
Irvine’s writing is the first thing that truly hooked me about Anthropocene Rag. It feels like you’re sitting around a campfire with him as he recounts a past event. The characters come alive through his voice, making them feel both human and larger than life. The author also manages to make you as the reader complicit in the story through this stylization, asking you questions and sometimes making you feel as if you could stop it all at any moment. But you don’t, you want to know how it ends, you need to know how it ends. Fortunately, Irvine does not seem to judge you for this complicity, almost in some ways acknowledging that he too is at fault. It’s an incredibly engaging way to tell a story, and it calls attention to the story of America as well. Fortunately, Irvine succeeds in keeping the tone jovial, even as he is trying to get you to gaze into the abyss.
Irvine’s writing also helps the atmosphere within Anthropocene Rag. There is not a lot of plot, so Irvine relies very heavily on intimating feeling to great effect. The different regions that the characters begin their journey in, along with where they travel through, feel like you expect them to. I’m having a hard time explaining it, but Irvine nails the cultural osmosis of the different corners of America. Florida and New York City, feel like off versions of what we know of them today, as if something changed about them, but the bones are still there. There is a familiarity to them, as if Irvine wanted to reveal the core parts of them in a more thematic fashion. It was extremely haunting, and if that was Irvine’s goal, he succeeded. However, there is a slight tendency for some areas to feel “stereotypical” due to the fast nature of the book, but I also find it easy to overlook considering it is a lot more about the “feeling,” but I think some of it handily waved off in the deeper themes.
Among the myriad of themes, the one that obviously sticks out the most is “what is America?” It saturates every paragraph trying to fill the void between your eyes and the page. Irvine deftly explores this idea by using the campfire storytelling method I described above. Irvine gives no background to the disaster, just providing a name, the Boom, and the mystery around it. America as a concept barely exists within the text as the past is erased, forgotten. The only entities to remember it are the Boom themselves as they recreate and re-enact myths like Paul Bunyan and classic Mark Twain stories. Characters don’t know anything but their present lives and where they are headed. It feels as if Irvine is trying to mirror the creation of America by wiping away the past to create a new history, a new future, a new America. It feels especially clear when you compare it to the way conversations pass over the systematic extermination of Native Americans, “manifest destiny” and “American Exceptionalism.” Irvine does it right in front of the reader using stories you know, stories you feel something about. While you’re complicit he’s doing it without you, almost as if he’s taunting you. It’s eerie and beautiful and hits all the right notes for me.
There is so much more I’d love to dive into with this story, but we would be here forever. I had a good time with the characters, their little conversations as they traveled the wilds. I loved how Irvine was able to make the land feel so big and so very small and insignificant at the same time. I didn’t particularly enjoy one of the reveals, but I don’t think it hurt the story. I don’t think the book is for everyone though, as it is a little weird, and exists more in the realm of metaphor than the concrete. Some of the journeys may also fall a little flat if you aren’t steeped in American Folklore. However, I highly recommend it if you’re feeling adventurous and willing to consider the idea of “America” in these trying times.
Rating: Anthropocene Rag 8.5/10
-Alex
May 20, 2020
What a wild, weird ride this one was!
I simultaneously want to say 1000 things about this book (but that would spoil the story) and I am also struggling with what to say about it due to my limited understanding of technology.
Described as a “nanotech Western,” Anthropocene Rag is set in a post-apocalyptic future where nanotechnology has ravaged the United States. Real humans live alongside AI, at times virtually indistinguishable from one another. The nanotech causes landscapes to change right before one’s very eyes, showing decades of growth and change in mere minutes. It also brings prominent Americans back to life (or seemingly so). For example: Henry Ford is spotted at one of his automobile manufacturing plants, Mark Twain is befriended on a Mississippi riverboat.
The story centers on the journey of six individuals who are given “golden tickets” to Monument City, a city whose true existence has long been questioned. These tickets are distributed by Prospector Ed, an “emergent AI” (translate: an AI who is evolving more toward being human). But why did he choose these individuals in particular? Why does he want them to go to Monument City? And does the city even really exist? While following the fascinating journey of these characters, Irvine also considers the implications of technology on our future as a country and as individuals. If you are looking for a totally unique read, I definitely recommend this one!
Many thanks to Tor.com Publishing for gifting me this galley!
I simultaneously want to say 1000 things about this book (but that would spoil the story) and I am also struggling with what to say about it due to my limited understanding of technology.
Described as a “nanotech Western,” Anthropocene Rag is set in a post-apocalyptic future where nanotechnology has ravaged the United States. Real humans live alongside AI, at times virtually indistinguishable from one another. The nanotech causes landscapes to change right before one’s very eyes, showing decades of growth and change in mere minutes. It also brings prominent Americans back to life (or seemingly so). For example: Henry Ford is spotted at one of his automobile manufacturing plants, Mark Twain is befriended on a Mississippi riverboat.
The story centers on the journey of six individuals who are given “golden tickets” to Monument City, a city whose true existence has long been questioned. These tickets are distributed by Prospector Ed, an “emergent AI” (translate: an AI who is evolving more toward being human). But why did he choose these individuals in particular? Why does he want them to go to Monument City? And does the city even really exist? While following the fascinating journey of these characters, Irvine also considers the implications of technology on our future as a country and as individuals. If you are looking for a totally unique read, I definitely recommend this one!
Many thanks to Tor.com Publishing for gifting me this galley!
September 5, 2020
Seriously good. If SF is basically philosophical, this is a prime example of how.
December 17, 2020
This is one weird little book. It takes place about the end of this century, I believe, and has a post climate change setting of an America turned upside down by invasive nanotech. This is the "grey goo" variety that can deconstruct DNA and organic bodies down in an instant and remake it. The "replicators," plicks for short, have formed a hive-mind sentience. We gradually learn over the course of this book that the seemingly omniscient narrator is in fact this sentience, known as the Boom. The Boom has an uneasy coexistence with humans (although the US government is no more and the country is broken down into independent little fiefdoms), and in this story it is trying to bring together six chosen people to a semi-mythical town known as Monument City.
This is all okay, and most of the story recounts the journey of these six people to Monument City. The characters are adequately drawn, although as the book progresses it becomes evident that the central "we," the voice of the Boom, is the most important. It's the point the book is building towards that is lacking, to me. As far as I can tell, the entire basis for this story is that the Boom is having an existential crisis.
We did not bring you here to give you a gift but to take from you what we needed. But even now, with our being infused by quanta of your selves, we do not have it. We are afraid that we were wrong and we have come too far to begin anew.
Don't you see you are not here for answers, but to ask the question we cannot? Ask. One of you knows. One of you must.
Please ask.
Which is fine if you want to debate meaning, purpose and value with billions of intelligent self-replicating machines. As a story, not so much.
I suppose in this case, the journey itself would be the story. There's probably something to that too, for those who enjoy it. I grew more dissatisfied the further I read, and while the world is interesting--and horrifying--the payoff simply isn't worth it.
This is all okay, and most of the story recounts the journey of these six people to Monument City. The characters are adequately drawn, although as the book progresses it becomes evident that the central "we," the voice of the Boom, is the most important. It's the point the book is building towards that is lacking, to me. As far as I can tell, the entire basis for this story is that the Boom is having an existential crisis.
We did not bring you here to give you a gift but to take from you what we needed. But even now, with our being infused by quanta of your selves, we do not have it. We are afraid that we were wrong and we have come too far to begin anew.
Don't you see you are not here for answers, but to ask the question we cannot? Ask. One of you knows. One of you must.
Please ask.
Which is fine if you want to debate meaning, purpose and value with billions of intelligent self-replicating machines. As a story, not so much.
I suppose in this case, the journey itself would be the story. There's probably something to that too, for those who enjoy it. I grew more dissatisfied the further I read, and while the world is interesting--and horrifying--the payoff simply isn't worth it.
November 19, 2021
Potential spoilers but also I wouldn't recommend reading the book 🤷♀️ 2 stars instead of 1 only because I am still enamored with the premise in spite of shotty storytelling.
I picked up Anthropocene Rag hoping to love it and because I trust what Tor publishes. The premise is fascinating and I was ready for an interrogation of American myth making and how it may look in an AI future. But the more I think about it the more annoyed I am at this book. Chekhov's Gun should never be an absolute rule but this novel demonstrates why it's still a necessary principle. So many things were mentioned in this story and then dropped like a rock, never to be discussed again (the unprogrammed nanos, Mei Mei having any sort of character trait beyond a passing mention of her trauma, why Minneapolis is the only "normal" place left, the shape-shifting bison, etc). Except for Geck, there was no character development. Much like its maybe-antagonist (unclear what role Barnum plays and why what happens to him on the final page happens), the novel is too obsessed with the idea of itself and incorporating 19th century historical figures (what the fuck was the point of Abe Lincoln and Sacagewea's cameos?). It's trying to do too much and imbue too much symbolism into every other sentence, using its own conceits (particularly the eye-rollingly-convenient coincidences of the Boom) to paper over its lazy storytelling, glaring plot holes, and shitty pacing.
The novel ends pleading for the reader to ask the question (whatever the hell it may be). The only question I have is why didn't Tor fire the editor(s) who barely even skimmed this?
I picked up Anthropocene Rag hoping to love it and because I trust what Tor publishes. The premise is fascinating and I was ready for an interrogation of American myth making and how it may look in an AI future. But the more I think about it the more annoyed I am at this book. Chekhov's Gun should never be an absolute rule but this novel demonstrates why it's still a necessary principle. So many things were mentioned in this story and then dropped like a rock, never to be discussed again (the unprogrammed nanos, Mei Mei having any sort of character trait beyond a passing mention of her trauma, why Minneapolis is the only "normal" place left, the shape-shifting bison, etc). Except for Geck, there was no character development. Much like its maybe-antagonist (unclear what role Barnum plays and why what happens to him on the final page happens), the novel is too obsessed with the idea of itself and incorporating 19th century historical figures (what the fuck was the point of Abe Lincoln and Sacagewea's cameos?). It's trying to do too much and imbue too much symbolism into every other sentence, using its own conceits (particularly the eye-rollingly-convenient coincidences of the Boom) to paper over its lazy storytelling, glaring plot holes, and shitty pacing.
The novel ends pleading for the reader to ask the question (whatever the hell it may be). The only question I have is why didn't Tor fire the editor(s) who barely even skimmed this?
May 4, 2020
Review originally posted to: http://www.vestige.org/2020/05/04/ant...
It’s not often that I turn to Tor for challenging books. While their backlist includes truly amazing works like Maureen F. McHugh’s China Mountain Zhang, much of what they have on offer more recently, while entertaining and often progressive(ish), has made such a virtue of open, accessible writing that when I pick up one of their books I do so knowing that it will do less to challenge me structurally or linguistically than books I was reading as a teenager. Meatier than YA, but nothing that would alienate a reader who’d never yet gone beyond YA. Not bad books, by any stretch—I’m very rarely disappointed by a Tor title—but I know where to set my expectations. Tor’s editorial team does not appear to agree with Harold Blooms’ assertion that reading is the search for a difficult pleasure. Suffice it to say I was quite pleasantly surprised when Alex Irvine’s Anthropocene Rag actually wanted me to do some work as a reader.
Irvine’s prose is, for the most part, pretty straightforward. It’s got some science-fiction-y jargon and future slang, but it’s all easy to grasp from context, and like a lot of late genre writing, draws from an assumed common pool of understanding, not of science, but of science fiction terms and concepts. Structurally and thematically, however, there’s a lot of interesting, complex stuff going on.
The basic plot is The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and the beginning of Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory as filtered through the American road novel (it most reminded me, believe it or not, of the 1998 cult film Six-String Samurai). Six people are given golden tickets by a nano-bot construct called Prospector Ed, and they journey across what’s left of the United States to the semi-mythical Monument City to learn what awaits them, connecting with each other along the way. Pretty straightforward, on the face of it, but the landscape the six need to cross is a surrealistic nightmare of tangled myths, stories, and technological peril.
This where we get to what’s genuinely challenging about Anthropocene Rag. The novel is not-quite post-apocalyptic. There has been an event, sometimes called the Boom and sometimes called the Synception, when autonomous nanotechnology was released into the world at scale, redrawing the rules of reality overnight. The nano-bots are a power unto themselves, obsessed with story and myth as a way to deal with their becoming, or emergence, as Irvine puts it. They murder, create, destroy, recycle, reconstitute, rebuild, and annihilate constantly and without regard for consequence—because for “them,” or perhaps “it,” there are no consequences (the nano-constructs seem to be both part of a single AI and have the potential to operate and understand themselves independently). The Boom creates very real simulations of the stories that make up America’s mythic self-conception, and the human characters are forced interpret and survive the jumbled, remixed, recursive variations of these stories on a more or less daily basis, and the further they get from their homes, and their home myths, the more difficult that becomes. Mark Twain, Paul Bunyan, Sacagawea, Henry Ford, and Sal Paradise all make appearances in odd contexts with unstable meanings. The characters who have a good understanding of these stories fare better than the others, but not by a whole lot.
What this means, in practical terms, is that for the people in the novel the apocalypse is, and may forever remain, ongoing. Thematically, the novel ties this ongoing apocalypse to capitalism, colonialism, and the way stories and myths collectively function in American society. Colonialism and capitalism are both systems that create enormous, ongoing crises of apocalyptic proportions for large segments of American society, with both the new language of “disruption” and the very old fact of it constantly shifting the rules the vulnerable are required to implicitly understand in order to remain safe, or to have at least the illusion of safety. An entire network of myths and stories has built up in America—like everywhere else, but also unlike anywhere else—to acknowledge, explain, justify, or enforce these systems. These stories are told and retold, warp and change, erase old version with new ones, or seed elements of truth into them until anything that might be called “real” is utterly lost, and all that’s left is the crisis, the ongoing apocalypse, and the lie these systems have convinced us to tell ourselves, that guilty sense that somehow we are the problem, and that it’s not a crisis, a disaster, a genocide or similar horror, but an opportunity, a path to hope and greatness. This is the power, for better or worse, that stories have, and Irvine makes that power painfully literal. But he also offers, if not redemption, at least a way to something different, through understanding this function of myth and story: the ability to ask, collectively, “what happens next?”
I was going to start this paragraph by saying that the character work in Anthropocene Rag is not great, but that’s not really true, or at least is only partly true. Irvine starts out with interesting, believable characters with different, often complex motivations, solid backstories, all the stuff you need. He just… mostly doesn’t go anywhere with it. Fara Jack is the only character who truly undergoes any growth, and she was on the cusp of that growth literally as she’s introduced to the reader. All of them start out being interesting enough to carry the novel, but eventually they just become interchangeable consumers of the shifting myth-space that America has become, their individuality drowned out by the meta-narrative. It’s thematically on point, but narratively frustrating. I’ve have preferred the novel featured fewer characters than give such short shrift to so many.
Anthropocene Rag is more accessible than I’ve probably made it out to be here, but it’s a book that resists easy answers, and despite being filled to bursting with staple science fiction tropes, being genre-savvy will not necessarily help the reader any more than it does the characters. This is not The Diamond Age; it’s much closer to Ryan Boudinot’s Blueprints of the Afterlife, but, really, not quite like anything else at all.
It’s not often that I turn to Tor for challenging books. While their backlist includes truly amazing works like Maureen F. McHugh’s China Mountain Zhang, much of what they have on offer more recently, while entertaining and often progressive(ish), has made such a virtue of open, accessible writing that when I pick up one of their books I do so knowing that it will do less to challenge me structurally or linguistically than books I was reading as a teenager. Meatier than YA, but nothing that would alienate a reader who’d never yet gone beyond YA. Not bad books, by any stretch—I’m very rarely disappointed by a Tor title—but I know where to set my expectations. Tor’s editorial team does not appear to agree with Harold Blooms’ assertion that reading is the search for a difficult pleasure. Suffice it to say I was quite pleasantly surprised when Alex Irvine’s Anthropocene Rag actually wanted me to do some work as a reader.
Irvine’s prose is, for the most part, pretty straightforward. It’s got some science-fiction-y jargon and future slang, but it’s all easy to grasp from context, and like a lot of late genre writing, draws from an assumed common pool of understanding, not of science, but of science fiction terms and concepts. Structurally and thematically, however, there’s a lot of interesting, complex stuff going on.
The basic plot is The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and the beginning of Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory as filtered through the American road novel (it most reminded me, believe it or not, of the 1998 cult film Six-String Samurai). Six people are given golden tickets by a nano-bot construct called Prospector Ed, and they journey across what’s left of the United States to the semi-mythical Monument City to learn what awaits them, connecting with each other along the way. Pretty straightforward, on the face of it, but the landscape the six need to cross is a surrealistic nightmare of tangled myths, stories, and technological peril.
This where we get to what’s genuinely challenging about Anthropocene Rag. The novel is not-quite post-apocalyptic. There has been an event, sometimes called the Boom and sometimes called the Synception, when autonomous nanotechnology was released into the world at scale, redrawing the rules of reality overnight. The nano-bots are a power unto themselves, obsessed with story and myth as a way to deal with their becoming, or emergence, as Irvine puts it. They murder, create, destroy, recycle, reconstitute, rebuild, and annihilate constantly and without regard for consequence—because for “them,” or perhaps “it,” there are no consequences (the nano-constructs seem to be both part of a single AI and have the potential to operate and understand themselves independently). The Boom creates very real simulations of the stories that make up America’s mythic self-conception, and the human characters are forced interpret and survive the jumbled, remixed, recursive variations of these stories on a more or less daily basis, and the further they get from their homes, and their home myths, the more difficult that becomes. Mark Twain, Paul Bunyan, Sacagawea, Henry Ford, and Sal Paradise all make appearances in odd contexts with unstable meanings. The characters who have a good understanding of these stories fare better than the others, but not by a whole lot.
What this means, in practical terms, is that for the people in the novel the apocalypse is, and may forever remain, ongoing. Thematically, the novel ties this ongoing apocalypse to capitalism, colonialism, and the way stories and myths collectively function in American society. Colonialism and capitalism are both systems that create enormous, ongoing crises of apocalyptic proportions for large segments of American society, with both the new language of “disruption” and the very old fact of it constantly shifting the rules the vulnerable are required to implicitly understand in order to remain safe, or to have at least the illusion of safety. An entire network of myths and stories has built up in America—like everywhere else, but also unlike anywhere else—to acknowledge, explain, justify, or enforce these systems. These stories are told and retold, warp and change, erase old version with new ones, or seed elements of truth into them until anything that might be called “real” is utterly lost, and all that’s left is the crisis, the ongoing apocalypse, and the lie these systems have convinced us to tell ourselves, that guilty sense that somehow we are the problem, and that it’s not a crisis, a disaster, a genocide or similar horror, but an opportunity, a path to hope and greatness. This is the power, for better or worse, that stories have, and Irvine makes that power painfully literal. But he also offers, if not redemption, at least a way to something different, through understanding this function of myth and story: the ability to ask, collectively, “what happens next?”
I was going to start this paragraph by saying that the character work in Anthropocene Rag is not great, but that’s not really true, or at least is only partly true. Irvine starts out with interesting, believable characters with different, often complex motivations, solid backstories, all the stuff you need. He just… mostly doesn’t go anywhere with it. Fara Jack is the only character who truly undergoes any growth, and she was on the cusp of that growth literally as she’s introduced to the reader. All of them start out being interesting enough to carry the novel, but eventually they just become interchangeable consumers of the shifting myth-space that America has become, their individuality drowned out by the meta-narrative. It’s thematically on point, but narratively frustrating. I’ve have preferred the novel featured fewer characters than give such short shrift to so many.
Anthropocene Rag is more accessible than I’ve probably made it out to be here, but it’s a book that resists easy answers, and despite being filled to bursting with staple science fiction tropes, being genre-savvy will not necessarily help the reader any more than it does the characters. This is not The Diamond Age; it’s much closer to Ryan Boudinot’s Blueprints of the Afterlife, but, really, not quite like anything else at all.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 3, 2021
Eh. Although Irvine's A Scattering of Jades remains one of my favorite books, I have to resign myself to the fact that the style of that book is not typical for him. He's clearly more interested in the experimental and the surreal, and this book has plenty of that. There's the literary and historical allusions, the poetic language, the evocative imagery, and even some thoughtful concepts, but the story, such as it is, is not much more than a roughly sketched background and a skeleton of a plot. Reminds me a bit of Zelazny, whose stuff has been hit (Lord of Light) or miss (most everything else) for me, with a hint of P. K. Dick, who even gets a tangential reference in the story.
The idea of the post-Boom (singularity?) country and a set of travelers chosen by the whim of artificial intelligence(s) is interesting, as far as it goes, but for me, it doesn't go far enough.
The idea of the post-Boom (singularity?) country and a set of travelers chosen by the whim of artificial intelligence(s) is interesting, as far as it goes, but for me, it doesn't go far enough.
June 17, 2020
Did not hold my interest.
August 17, 2023
“La BoomAmerica era così diventata un milione di miglia quadrate di miti e storie collassate in un unico presen-te, senza alcun futuro né passato.”
Antropocene Boom è un libro interessante con un potentissimo amore per le storie. Di fatto, è un libro SULLE storie e il Boom, questa tecnologica impazzita che ama le storie, ne è manifesto.
Però non sono entrato in risonanza con tutti i personaggi che l’autore mette in scena. Sono tanti e se da un lato la presenza di tanti personaggi è l’essenza della narrazione, dall’altro ha fatto si che la bellezza dell’idea di fondo vivesse più nella mi resta che tra le pagine del libro.
Antropocene Boom è un libro interessante con un potentissimo amore per le storie. Di fatto, è un libro SULLE storie e il Boom, questa tecnologica impazzita che ama le storie, ne è manifesto.
Però non sono entrato in risonanza con tutti i personaggi che l’autore mette in scena. Sono tanti e se da un lato la presenza di tanti personaggi è l’essenza della narrazione, dall’altro ha fatto si che la bellezza dell’idea di fondo vivesse più nella mi resta che tra le pagine del libro.
April 4, 2020
In general I found this book to be a satisfying read: quick, well written and engaginglt interesting. However, as a work: it feels like it doesn't fully deliver: the plot ends right as you start to get a sense of how the characters might develop. The handling of the AI and nanotechnology is interesting, but not really explored completely. Overall, satisfying as a quick read, but I find myself grasping for more.
April 13, 2020
Only issue? I wanted more. But the journey feels like it was the point, and what a journey it was. Fits nicely as a piece with Karl Schoeder's also-excellent Stealing Worlds, and also brought to mind James Patrick Kelly's short story "Mr. Boy," although of course it is very clearly its own thing.
May 22, 2021
Maybe I've just read one too many "literary" books in a row for me to get what's happening here in Irvine's near-future semi-apocalyptic travelogue called Anthropocene Rag.
The setting is an ill-defined (probably purposely so) future in which nano-technology has gone through some sort of critical mass event and generally taken over large parts of United States in the form of constructs, AIs and other machine intelligence collectively known as The Boom. As the story progresses, a narrator sits in the background, giving us a little bit of the "why" of the story. That why involves the collecting of six orphans, plus a few side characters, who are all invited by means of a construct handing out Golden Tickets to come to Monument City, a fabled place that know one really knows about, including where it is or what might actually be there.
And that's the book, really. The six orphans travel from both coasts to the northern Rocky Mountains where Monument City awaits. They experience some level of hardship along the way but the emerging (becoming sentient) AI who gave each orphan their Golden Ticket pretty much Dues Ex Machinas them along in a series of folk-lore related events involving Mark Twain, Paul Bunion and the like, to shepherd them to where they need to be. So really, little excitement ever builds.
Then the book ends. Let me explain with an analogy that hopefully wont take too long. . I'm a 47 year old guy who's been playing Dungeons and Dragons since I was 7 or 8 years old. I've played a LOT of Dungeons and Dragons. Played with a lot of people. Played a lot of different adventures. You get it. These days I play with a core group that's been playing online via virtual table top for the better part of 17 years. Online VTT play is slower than in person and some of our epic adventures take several years to play out.
So imagine, you're playing a particular adventure from first level to epic power. You've fought all the fights, you've delved all the dungeons and ruins and fortresses. You've gone from stabbing orcs with a dagger to fighting titanic dragons with devastating magic items and you finally reach the final boss...
...and it's not there. In fact, nothing is there. No final battle. No treasure or reward. Just an empty room. Or worse, not nothing, but something so mundane it just cripples you. Just a guy there, and you realize everything you've done was simply to satisfy his curiosity and even that doesn't really happen and he just shrugs and blinks out of existence. The end.
Or maybe that analogy is too personal. How about one most people can relate to? You watched the first three Star Wars movies in order. You get to the point in Return of the Jedi where Admiral Akbar yells "IT'S A TRAP!" and the movie ends.
You watch Raiders of the Lost Ark and when Indy utters his famous "snakes, why did it have to be snakes?" the movie ends.
In life, this sort of thing can and actually does happen. You saved and trained all your life to climb Mount Everest and now it's time, but when you get off the plane you stumble on a curb and break your ankle while collecting your luggage. Expedition over. It's not how I want a book to end though. And I say that realizing that sometimes an author writes something for themselves and not the audience. Or to show a concept. I guess Anthropocene Rag is that and I guess some people will enjoy being able to imagine their own ending. I don't.
I kinda just want to read a simple story with a beginning, middle and end right now, and Anthropocene Rag robbed me of the most important third of that equation.
The setting is an ill-defined (probably purposely so) future in which nano-technology has gone through some sort of critical mass event and generally taken over large parts of United States in the form of constructs, AIs and other machine intelligence collectively known as The Boom. As the story progresses, a narrator sits in the background, giving us a little bit of the "why" of the story. That why involves the collecting of six orphans, plus a few side characters, who are all invited by means of a construct handing out Golden Tickets to come to Monument City, a fabled place that know one really knows about, including where it is or what might actually be there.
And that's the book, really. The six orphans travel from both coasts to the northern Rocky Mountains where Monument City awaits. They experience some level of hardship along the way but the emerging (becoming sentient) AI who gave each orphan their Golden Ticket pretty much Dues Ex Machinas them along in a series of folk-lore related events involving Mark Twain, Paul Bunion and the like, to shepherd them to where they need to be. So really, little excitement ever builds.
Then the book ends. Let me explain with an analogy that hopefully wont take too long. . I'm a 47 year old guy who's been playing Dungeons and Dragons since I was 7 or 8 years old. I've played a LOT of Dungeons and Dragons. Played with a lot of people. Played a lot of different adventures. You get it. These days I play with a core group that's been playing online via virtual table top for the better part of 17 years. Online VTT play is slower than in person and some of our epic adventures take several years to play out.
So imagine, you're playing a particular adventure from first level to epic power. You've fought all the fights, you've delved all the dungeons and ruins and fortresses. You've gone from stabbing orcs with a dagger to fighting titanic dragons with devastating magic items and you finally reach the final boss...
...and it's not there. In fact, nothing is there. No final battle. No treasure or reward. Just an empty room. Or worse, not nothing, but something so mundane it just cripples you. Just a guy there, and you realize everything you've done was simply to satisfy his curiosity and even that doesn't really happen and he just shrugs and blinks out of existence. The end.
Or maybe that analogy is too personal. How about one most people can relate to? You watched the first three Star Wars movies in order. You get to the point in Return of the Jedi where Admiral Akbar yells "IT'S A TRAP!" and the movie ends.
You watch Raiders of the Lost Ark and when Indy utters his famous "snakes, why did it have to be snakes?" the movie ends.
In life, this sort of thing can and actually does happen. You saved and trained all your life to climb Mount Everest and now it's time, but when you get off the plane you stumble on a curb and break your ankle while collecting your luggage. Expedition over. It's not how I want a book to end though. And I say that realizing that sometimes an author writes something for themselves and not the audience. Or to show a concept. I guess Anthropocene Rag is that and I guess some people will enjoy being able to imagine their own ending. I don't.
I kinda just want to read a simple story with a beginning, middle and end right now, and Anthropocene Rag robbed me of the most important third of that equation.
April 12, 2020
Originally published at Reading Reality
I’m still trying to figure out what I just read. But then, I was trying to figure that out while I was reading it, and not coming up with terribly coherent answers.
The closest that I can come is that this is a “road” story, much in the same way that American Gods is a road story. But instead of the world’s mythology holding it all together, in Anthropocene Rag what’s holding the world together – for extremely loose definitions of together – is an amalgamation of American history, story and Boom particles.
It’s a bit as if the road trip in American Gods took place in a post-apocalyptic world, where the apocalypse was the slamming together of our original timeline and one in which magic and monsters work. Kind of like the worlds of Kai Gracen and Heartstrikers.
All wrapped up in a bow made out of Willy Wonka’s chocolate in the colors of the Yellow Brick Road. But the “man behind the curtain” in this scenario is P.T. Barnum and not the Wizard of Oz – or anywhere else.
Or is it all something else? Is it Data, wanting to be human? Or a thought experiment by a sentient AI, desperate to learn what life is all about?
Perhaps it’s all of the above. At least in one of its infinite iterations.
Escape Rating B: At first, Anthropocene Rag feels more like a road story than anything else. While the instigating event is clearly a callback to Willy Wonka, the journey that is undertaken by the six recipients – and one thief – of the Golden Tickets goes through times and places that are not on any map, either now or then. They begin their quests for the semi-mythical Monument City from the literal four corners of this post-apocalyptic US, this land created by the Boom, a Boomerica where all the myths and legends and histories and tales that make up the identity of these theoretically United States are all true, and all occurring simultaneously, no matter how disorienting that might be to the travelers in order to finally converge in a place that no one believes is real – even when they are standing right in front of it.
Along the way they traverse places that have become entirely creations of the Boom, like Reno, and places where life isn’t all that much different than it is now. Or at least than it was before the current pandemic.
But the characters in the story aren’t so much characters as they are a combination of tour guide and archetype, leading the reader on a journey of discovery. Not their discoveries, although they do make them, but the purpose of these individuals is to teach the emerging sentient A.I. about what it means to be, not so much to be human as Data desired, but to be self-aware.
It’s fascinating, but more as an experiment than as a story in and of itself. I think that a lot of readers will probably bounce off of it, but it is worth sticking with to see exactly what spider is at the heart of this nanotech web.
And there’s a lesson in the end that is even more apropos now than it was when the author penned it. “In a disaster, life goes on.”
I’m still trying to figure out what I just read. But then, I was trying to figure that out while I was reading it, and not coming up with terribly coherent answers.
The closest that I can come is that this is a “road” story, much in the same way that American Gods is a road story. But instead of the world’s mythology holding it all together, in Anthropocene Rag what’s holding the world together – for extremely loose definitions of together – is an amalgamation of American history, story and Boom particles.
It’s a bit as if the road trip in American Gods took place in a post-apocalyptic world, where the apocalypse was the slamming together of our original timeline and one in which magic and monsters work. Kind of like the worlds of Kai Gracen and Heartstrikers.
All wrapped up in a bow made out of Willy Wonka’s chocolate in the colors of the Yellow Brick Road. But the “man behind the curtain” in this scenario is P.T. Barnum and not the Wizard of Oz – or anywhere else.
Or is it all something else? Is it Data, wanting to be human? Or a thought experiment by a sentient AI, desperate to learn what life is all about?
Perhaps it’s all of the above. At least in one of its infinite iterations.
Escape Rating B: At first, Anthropocene Rag feels more like a road story than anything else. While the instigating event is clearly a callback to Willy Wonka, the journey that is undertaken by the six recipients – and one thief – of the Golden Tickets goes through times and places that are not on any map, either now or then. They begin their quests for the semi-mythical Monument City from the literal four corners of this post-apocalyptic US, this land created by the Boom, a Boomerica where all the myths and legends and histories and tales that make up the identity of these theoretically United States are all true, and all occurring simultaneously, no matter how disorienting that might be to the travelers in order to finally converge in a place that no one believes is real – even when they are standing right in front of it.
Along the way they traverse places that have become entirely creations of the Boom, like Reno, and places where life isn’t all that much different than it is now. Or at least than it was before the current pandemic.
But the characters in the story aren’t so much characters as they are a combination of tour guide and archetype, leading the reader on a journey of discovery. Not their discoveries, although they do make them, but the purpose of these individuals is to teach the emerging sentient A.I. about what it means to be, not so much to be human as Data desired, but to be self-aware.
It’s fascinating, but more as an experiment than as a story in and of itself. I think that a lot of readers will probably bounce off of it, but it is worth sticking with to see exactly what spider is at the heart of this nanotech web.
And there’s a lesson in the end that is even more apropos now than it was when the author penned it. “In a disaster, life goes on.”
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