Tim Powers' Three Days to Never is a fantasy/sci-fi novel set in California in 1987, at the time of the Harmonic Convergence. It's a tale of time travel, conspiracy theories, the supernatural, and secrets--secret inventions, secret family relations, secret government and religious groups.
The novel opens with the mysterious death of Lisa Marrity on Mount Shasta. Just before her death, she calls her grandson Frank Marrity and tells him she has burned down the shed behind her house. Worried, Frank and his daughter Daphne go to check on the old woman and her home. The shed has not burned down, though it was clearly meant to, and Frank and Daphne, in their explorations of the shed, discover several artifacts of interest (Charlie Chaplin's handprints from in front of the Chinese Theater in Hollywood, letters from Albert Einstein to Lisa Marrity, and a videotape that is labelled Pee-Wee's Big Adventure but, upon viewing, is actually a lost--and very disturbing and powerful--Chaplin film). Immediately after their removal of these items, rival groups close in on the father and daughter, each group trying to retrieve these various elements and recreate a lost invention of Einstein's: a time machine. In the process, the novel includes telepathic communication, time travel, out-of-body experiences, ghosts, dybbuks, explorations of alternate histories, and, of course, car chases and shoot-outs. This is all good stuff. I mean, you can't go wrong with time travel, attempted murder, and conspiracy theories, right?
Wrong.
In general, Three Days to Never is a good book. It's entertaining and certainly has a lot to keep the reader interested. But, although the jacket copy claims that this "is an exhilarating masterwork of speculative suspense," it ultimately falls short of being a masterwork (though it is frequently exhilarating and suspenseful) because the plentiful plot devices and multitude of characters overshadow the book's true potential.
Tim Powers provides the reader with lots of characters to keep track of, all of whom have a backstory. Mostly, this is a good thing. The characters are interesting, both individually and in combination, and this creates a nicely complex tapestry of interests and motivations to help drive the plot forward. But after 300-400 pages, trying to keep track of all the characters and their backstories becomes a bit tiring. Furthermore, most characters don't develop much past their initial backstory. There are intriguing hints of what has led characters to be who they are or glimpses of even more interesting bits of their history, but there is not enough of this. Powers has had to sacrifice depth of character for breadth of coverage.
Even worse, by the end of the novel, as a result of the multiple narratives that have been introduced, Powers seems to be left with little choice but to focus on wrapping up the various plots while shortchanging the more interesting thematic elements that have been briefly raised throughout.
The book is most interesting, not in its intricate plot development or suspenseful unfolding of connections, but in its exploration of larger themes: How do we deal with regret for past actions? What are the consequences of changing the past? How will we--and the larger world--be changed? Can we really know which timeline, which choices, are best for us? More important, how much choice do any of us really have? And finally, what obligation do we have toward our family, toward the past, toward the future?
One character in the novel says to Frank, "Choices! You don't get choices, you get . . . situations that you react to--the actual cumulative you reacts, with whatever half-ass wiring you've got at the time, not some hovering "soul." You're a mercury switch--if the spring tilts you to the right degree, you complete a circuit, and if it's got metal fatigue, it tilts you less, and you don't. You don't have free will, sonny. . . . If a scientist could know every last detail of your physiology and life experiences, he could predict with absolute accuracy every "choice" you'd make in any moral quandary" (356).
At its best, when at its closest to being a masterwork, Three Days to Never is an attempt to deal with this statement and the questions it raises. More often, the novel is a thriller (a good thriller, to be sure--I don't want to undersell it), but only a thriller. It's a thriller with pretensions to greatness. It gestures toward such fascinating questions and I had high hopes that this would be a novel that manages to be both a pageturner and a head-scratcher. In the end, though, the balance skews to plot over theme and Three Days to Never becomes more thriller than thinker.