21st Century Literature discussion

This thread is for discussion of the entire book, and is intended for those who have finished the book. If you haven't finished the book, read this thread at your own risk and expect spoilers.

This book is many kinds of stories at once. It's a murder mystery, sort of. It contains love stories. It includes philosophical discussion of art, and what is art.

I found the artists to be one of the more interesting aspects of the book. The traditional arts, like writing and painting, are represented, but there are also artists in less main-stream fields, such as the tunneler, Yo, and the mime, Commis. They have very distinctive personalities, and often clash with others around them. One reviewer compared them to tricksters. Are they? Any of them?

One theme that shows up repeatedly is what is real and what is not. There are repeated references to illusions, such as the magic tricks on stage that employ a large sheet of glass. There are also uses of a clear plastic as a filter to protect people. Anyone have any theories on what the writer was trying to accomplish with this theme?

So, is this thing a novel? I realize that there's a continuum here. Is a random collection of letters and numbers a novel? Almost certainly not. What about a randomly generated book of words? I wouldn't think so (but then I'm reminded of John Cage flipping coins and consulting the I Ching to compose symphonic music). So how much organization do you think is required to make something a novel? Dictionary of the Khazars by Milorad Pavić is no more novel-like than The Islanders. And The Lost Books of The Odyssey by Zachary Mason -- a mutually contradicting collection of riffs and vignettes -- is probably even less like a novel to my taste, even though it says "A Novel" on the cover.

So, why or why not do you consider this a novel? I will note that Priest does not say it is or is not.

And another question: why do all of Priest's artist characters seem to be sociopaths? The Locus review (found on the author's page here) suggests his artists are tricksters, a suggestion I am somewhat sympathetic to, as I have just finished rereading Trickster Makes This World: Mischief, Myth, and Art by Lewis Hyde, and I could see it. (Hyde explains how, despite some similarities, tricksters are not psychopaths, but he doesn't say anything about them not being sociopaths.) But in real life, artists come in all types, just like other people (maybe a bit on egotistic side). But there are none of Priest's artists I'd want to invite into my home.

Why is that? Does he believe that all art must be disruptive? I always thought that was self-aggrandizing twaddle by the more self-important artists. Yeah, some art is and should be disruptive, but I feel art is broader than that. What do you guys think?

I think much depends on how you define "novel" and how much you care about the distinction. Islanders is somewhere between a novel and a collection of short stories. I think the structure is an interesting experiment.

Here is a mind map of The Islanders:



It can be found on this website, along with other interesting observations: http://mssv.net/2012/02/06/the-many-m...

Nice find, Julia. Thanks for sharing. I really enjoyed the discussion of the book that went with the map, as well.

Thanks for the link Julia. Like Casceil, I also enjoyed the discussion of the book on the website.

I have just finished. The book strikes me as a very clever creation but not one I'd buy to grace a wall in my home. It was interesting but I'm not compelled, as I have been with other new-to-me authors, to read another book by this author.

As to Terry's nicely focused questions, I have no nicely focused answers! But, I do agree that most of the artists seemed to be egocentric and not, as Peter says, people I'd invite to my home! Are they tricksters? Yes, I think most were. But I do not think that characterizes most artists. And I have no idea the author was trying to do with the mixing of reality with illusion.

I would agree with Peter that this book certainly is not a traditional novel. But I don't think it qualifies as a book of short stories, linked or not, either. Ultimately, I was underwhelmed, although there were a few individual characters that interested me, such as the journalist, about whom I would have liked to have known more about.

I've spent some time thinking about the uses of glass in The Islanders, and I'm sure there is some deliberate theme here but I am not sure what it is. In the chapter on Goorn, we get a description of the large sheet of glass that a stage magician needs for his act. The glass is used to create an illusion. In one rehearsal, Commis interjects himself into the act. This angers the stage-hand, and leads to the situation where, when Commis follows him, he mimes a door and slams it in Commis' face.

Everything about Commis seems to play with the idea of what is real. At p. 125 of my copy, we are told that "Everything that happens in a theatre is real." What happens in the theatre is actually making illusion seem real. Commis, when he is not in costume and in character, seems to be a real jerk, and sometimes aggressive to the point of being dangerous and frightening. What kills Commis in the end is the sheet of glass (a tool of illusion) falling on him. This is at least ironic, but I'm wondering if the author intends more meaning behind it than I am perceiving. Anyone else have any ideas?

I actually love many of the elements that remain somewhat unexplained. The vortices feel thought out. I had the same feeling with them that I did with various alternate physical laws partway through 'Inverted World'. In that book he does go on to explain the mechanics explicitly, but here, even though he hasn't, I have a feeling, of almost being there, of something that has internal coherence but I'm nor quite at the right angle to peer behind the curtain. My mind was swimming with the connections [twice a day, suggesting it has to do with the planet's rotation, like midnight and midday; interferes with mapping; time seems to flow at different rates at different points in the vortex; etc.], and I was visualising it and grasping at reasonings and mechanics that were tantalisingly just beyond my reach.

Similarly, the towers, although slightly more explained, are nicely mysterious while seemingly coherent behind the scenes at a level we can't see. Time seems to warp and perhaps become non-linear inside them, which is too much for minds who have not been introduced gradually to it. Does each one contain a human, like the guy who rebuilds one in the story? I enjoy pondering these questions.

I don't think the vortices are all that thought out at all. Like I said in the other thread, once you start messing with time like that, the consequences are enormous. In fact, given the physics we know, I don't believe you can do it without also affecting gravity, and thus generating huge tides. Not to mention some things are sped up enormously, but there doesn't seem to be any corresponding slow downs to match.

Also, there's the flawed immortality that's brought up in one entry, then never mentioned again. That one is really, problematical, since it would require a really advanced biological science that the rest of the world shows no sign of -- and that sort of work is not done in isolation!

I don't mind the incompleteness, although as I noted in the Haruki Murakami thread, I am wondering if that technique isn't getting a bit overused.

I may have missed something, but there is something that struck me as inconsistent about the treatment of Chaster Kammeston. As I understand it, he is the young college student who had the summer job on Goorn as the stage assistant, although under an assumed name. He is a suspect in the murder of Commis and gets his brother to pretend he his Chaster when the police come. Then when Chaster returns, he supposidly never leaves his home island - Piqay - again, even to go with Caurer, the love of his life. But, in the chapter about the island Winho, we are told that Caster was there at the same time as that despicable Dryd Bathurst to do research on a biography of Bathurst that Chaster wrote. So if Chaster never left Piqay, why are we told he was on Winho? Most of the other discrepancies about people seemded to be cleared up for me by the end of the book, but not this one.

I'm not bothered by the fact that in reality the vortices would have affected more than time. For the most part, when reading fiction, I'm not expecting things to be neat and tidy. But, as a result, I can't think of this book as science fiction. For me, it is a bit of a fantasy and the vortices and towers are a bit of magical realism.

Linda, there are deliberate inconsistencies and conflicting stories about Kammeston. I think it goes along with the whole "what is real" theme. Terry mentioned the towers, and how "Time seems to warp and perhaps become non-linear inside them." The towers seem to emit something that affects people in some way that is scary, but the effect can be blocked by BPSG (borophosphosilicate glass). Incidentally, BPSG is a real thing, and has its wikipedia entry: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borophos...
BPSG is used in semiconductor device fabrication, and the wikipedia entry mentions that: "BPSG has been implicated in increasing a device's susceptibility to soft errors."

I need to reread the chapter about the towers, Seevl or Dead Tower, p.254. I'm sure BPSG ties into the glass theme in some way. I think it is something about whether seeing something, or perceiving something, through glass confuses what is real. But I am still pondering all of this.

Linda wrote: "Then when Chaster returns, he supposidly never leaves his home island - Piqay - again …. if Chaster never left Piqay, why are we told he was on Winho? Most of the other discrepancies about people seemded to be cleared up for me by the end of the book, but not this one.. ..."

A brief note to weigh in on this, since I'm only half-way through, but I've been jumping around a bit. In the introduction, Kammeston tells us he's never left the island. In the chapter ostensibly narrated by Wolter, we are told Kammeston has left. We are also told that Kammeston states that never leaving Piquay is part of the mythos he has invented for the island, and that him now leaving again would negate his mythos.

Elements of his mythos are mentioned, frequently in off-hand ways, in other chapters. I am finding these elements to be one of the keys to deciphering many of the mysteries of authorship and what may have really occurred in the archipelago. As I said, I'm only part way through, but I've been reading slowly and nearly obsessively, revisiting chapters and taking a lot of notes, because I am loving this book.

I don't think there are as many loose ends and as much ambiguity as people believe, rather I think that it requires a lot of effort to pry some truth out of the narrative. I also think that one reading won't do it, but I feel I'm at least on the right track. I think the 'trickster' label is spot-on, and I have some ideas about the glass as well. Hopefully people will still check in when I finally get through this as for every answer I think I've found, there are three more questions.

Whitney, I am looking forward to seeing how you put it all together in the end.

Casceil wrote: "Whitney, I am looking forward to seeing how you put it all together in the end."

Very unlikely to put it all together, but I think I may have a few arguable insights.

I look forward to reading them. I am yet to appreciate why this is a good book. Just my opinion, you understand (!)

Sophia, there is certainly plenty of room to disagree as to whether this is a good book. It's a very clever book. I can relate to Whitney's feeling that "for every answer I think I've found, there are three more questions." I feel as though the author is playing a game with us, and each reader can decide for herself whether the game is worth the candle.

Casceil wrote: "Sophia, there is certainly plenty of room to disagree as to whether this is a good book. It's a very clever book. I can relate to Whitney's feeling that "for every answer I think I've found, ther..."

Good way to put it -- clever. I appreciate that but not enough to want to read it again or to pick up another book by Priest. I am, however, very interested in hearing the conclusions (answers?) that Whitney reaches!

It has made me want to pick up a lot more Priest. He's pretty much the one and only traditionally 'genre' author that I'm enthusiastic about at the moment.

One of the things I think it does very well is construct a narrative that fits very well with the whole atmosphere that surrounds the concept of islands.

I think one of the reasons 'Lost' did so well on TV is that it tapped this same aura (although, do not talk to me about the final, wretched season). Lord of the Flies also taps into some primal feelings we have about Islands. There are others: The Tempest, The Magus, The Island of Dr Moreau, The Beach...

On a continent, contact will inevitably occur and cultures will merge. Myths and stories are easier to clear up. People find it easier to visit other places and so experience and fact displace rumour. Individuals' power is tempered by the collective will. Development is affected by the development of neighbours.

On an island, things can be adrift from the 'norm'. contact is limited, sporadic. Individuals and groups can accrue power more easily; cultures and development can follow their own path. secrets can be kept, and stories remain uninvestigated. 'Myths' may be invented or grossly exaggerated, or true, or somewhere in-between. Oddities are the norm.

I think that viewed from this angle, the book is very effective. It almost reifies this idea of islands and their inhabitants, making it [the archetype, the ideal of islands and, as the title suggests, islanders], in a sense that approaches abstract, the central character/concern of the book.

Where those from the continent intersect with the islands and islanders, the differences are apparent (this is particularly so in the towers chapter but is also apparent with the drones chapter and various accounts of outposts). The continents pursue their endless war, impacting the islands with splurges of violence or land-grabs, but the islands roll on, wending their way through a series of interconnecting histories that will never quite add up.

And this view of history itself typifies the difference. The continents doubtless, like us, have an 'accepted' version of history, a narrative that makes sense of events, draws them into a coherent whole. On the islands, there will only ever be fragments, each narrative told from its own point of view. Like the maps of the islands, the fragments fail to join at the edges in a way that leaves it impossible that all are true, but leaves those not of the islands (like us), to wonder which, if any, are.

Terry wrote: "One of the things I think it does very well is construct a narrative that fits very well with the whole atmosphere that surrounds the concept of islands."

Yes, I can agree with this. Unfortunately I was bored. Shame on me (!) I just couldn't drum up any interest, such that I could connect with the narrative. Perhaps I need to read it again when I can spend a little more time pondering... Or maybe it's a question of style. I would like to like this book. Honest.

Sophia, you don't have to like every book we read, and I can see where Islanders appeals to some people and not others. I predict you will like Provinces of Night much more.

Terry, welcome back, and thanks for the thoughtful observations. One thing that makes the Islanders different from the other "island" stories you mention is the number of islands here and the semi-regular contacts between them. But there is enough separation to create the situation where, as you say, "the fragments fail to join at the edges in a way that leaves it impossible that all are true."

Casceil wrote: "I predict you will like Provinces of Night much more"

How well you know me (!) I'm loving every minute of it.

Terry wrote: "One of the things I think it does very well is construct a narrative that fits very well with the whole atmosphere that surrounds the concept of islands.

I think one of the reasons 'Lost' did so w..."

Terry, I love what you say about the book and that you are able to indentify what draws you to it. I can see that those things are there, but they did not have the same degree of magnatism for me. But that's what makes this group fun!

Casceil wrote: "One thing that makes the Islanders different from the other "island" stories you mention is the number of islands here and the semi-regular contacts between them."

Absolutely. So it's like that, squared. Instead of one fragment, adrift from the main, you have fragments adrift from not only the main but from the other fragments as well.

The contact between them does make them more coherent than a series of unconnected islands, but each still has that air of separateness from the others, especially given the issues with navigation and with many islanders preferring to stay on their island of birth.

I felt like this book had way too much work for too little payoff. Priest is a great writer, but this obtuse mess is tied too loosely with the tiny strings of character and plot. I'd almost have forgiven that if it had a discernible conclusion.

I liked Torm's story, and the thryme mythology and the way it showed up here and there. I expected something more regarding Caurer. The same with the woman who went on the boat to investigate the forbidden area after her wounded lover told her not to.

The idea of the unreliable narrator (Kammeston) only works if the reader can deduce, at least to some degree, where the reality diverges from what they tell us. I did not think this book did a good job of that.

Someone mentioned the characters being sociopaths. I agree, which made it less intriguing instead of more. Maybe they got that way from those winds? More likely the boredom of this book's endless taxonomy.

Sandy mentioned "the woman who went on the boat to investigate the forbidden area after her wounded lover told her not to." I think this refers to the story of Meequa/Tremm at p. 156. I found that story very interesting, too, and felt like it left open many unanswered questions (like the rest of the book, only more so). I wanted to know what was going on on Tremm. Lots of drones were crashing onto the island. Possibly some of them were going into tunnels? Was this some sort of research? Lorna and Bradd go on a forbidden boat trip to Tremm to get a closer look. I never understood why Bradd decided to go. Lorna was still very curious about her lost lover, Tomak. But then Tomak shows up in her room to warn her against going. How does Tomak know that Bradd and Lorna are planning the trip? How did Tomak get so badly injured? What were they doing on Tremm? After the boat trip, when Lorna and Bradd get their damaged boat back to town, a drone flies over. It becomes a regular thing, flying over three times a day. Is it there to keep an eye on Bradd's boat? What is going on on Tremm?

Yes, that was the story. I couldn't remember her name off the top of my head. I thought Bradd had designed the boat trip so that Lorna would have to go with him, more than professional curiosity regarding Tremm. He seemed to have an obsessive/possessive relationship with her, but I may be inferring too much, since the text gave so little confirmation. I wondered the same about the rest of the questions you raised, and I thought they would be answered later on. I thought wrong.

Late to the party and still trying to put a lot of things together, and other theories proved difficult or untenable, but if I don’t post now it won’t happen. This is definitely a book that needs at least one reread.

General thoughts: As has been pointed out, the book is fraught with hints of unreliability, starting with an introduction to a book written by someone who’s own death is discussed prominently within. The heart of this book is the murder of Commis and the people and events surrounding it. The murder takes place at the theatre where “The Lord of Mystery” is performing, a man who has very different personalities depending on whether he is on or off stage. The murder weapon is the glass used by The Lord of Mystery, an instrument of illusion. As a relevant aside, Priest’s “The Prestige” also dealt with the nature of illusion as performance.

At the heart of illusion is misdirection. The obvious and invasive is what the magician wants you to see, while the truth is carefully obscured. Applied to literature, I take it to mean that things casually mentioned and seemingly forgotten, or buried in a discussion of other things, are probably key, while things that are in your face are probably misdirection. (‘Pale Fire’ used this kind of practice, for example.)

I don’t think that Kammeston was Hike, I think Hike was a patsy. Hike walking into Commis’ dressing room and finding the outfit that the obnoxious bearded man wore seems a little clumsy and obvious for someone who’s a skilled performer, and who has pulled off a seeming double identity for an extended period. To me, that’s obvious misdirection. I think Kammeston was the bearded man with the colorful clothes. The personality fits with the person that Kammeston’s (ostensible) brother wrote about. There were also other indications that Hike really was from Goorn.

I’m pretty convinced of the above. Things I’m a little more tenuous about:

Commis’ death was faked. There is a passing mention of the possibility in the Muriseay chapter. This chapter also mentions a connection between Kammeston and Commis, with both being disdainful of Muriseay’s artistic hegemony. Using the glass intended for illusion seems to imply that the truth is other than presented.

The immortality treatment seems pretty important, all things considered, yet it only gets a short mention. The philosopher who refused it, Deloinne, is from the same island as Commis. Did Commis fake his own death and get the treatment? Did Kammeston? If so, who did they become?

I think there are a lot more hints throughout the book about time frames and who was where when. Kammeston states in the introduction that “The unidentified writer or writers of these brief sketches have an agenda which is not mine, but I do not object to it.” Well, we already know he’s unreliable. I suspect that Kammeston has buried the truth in the book for those diligent enough to tease it out.

I had some other random thoughts, but this is already an overly long post, so I’ll leave it at that for now.

Bravo, Whitney! I'm not sure I agree with all of your theories, but you have certainly raised intriguing possibilities that had not occurred to me. I had not considered the possibility that Commis did not really die. I may have missed the passing mention in the Muriseay chapter, or possibly I was on detail overload at that point. The book does seem like something you would have to reread at least once to sort out the pieces. Instead I moved on to reading Cloud Atlas. The group read it a year or so ago, but I missed it, and I have seen enough comparisons of Islands and other books to Cloud Atlas that I decided to find out what I was missing. I would agree that Islanders and Cloud Atlas produce a little bit of the same atmosphere or feeling, but beyond that they are very different.

What a great post Whitney. Lots of food for thought.

Whitney wrote: "Late to the party and still trying to put a lot of things together, and other theories proved difficult or untenable, but if I don’t post now it won’t happen. This is definitely a book that needs a..."

Enjoyed your take Whitney. This is a book that, I think, demands discussion. But unless it were required reading for something, I, for one, doubt I'll be doing the re-reading it seems to require!

Linda wrote: "This is a book that, I think, demands discussion. But unless it were required reading for something, I, for one, doubt I'll be doing the re-reading it seems to require!"

Linda, I agree. I did reread parts of the book for discussion purposes, and I always found things I had missed the first time through. The book is like a very intricate puzzle. At some point, though, it felt like I had played with it enough. Like my efforts with a Rubix cube, I could get parts solved, but not the whole thing (at least, not unless I used a guidebook and mechanically followed directions). There are books I have reread multiple times and still enjoy, but the Islanders is unlikely to become one of them. Those books have characters I really like, and root for, and empathize with. The Islanders seemed to me to always maintain a distance between the reader and everything in the book. You can admire a book from a distance, but to really love a book I need to be more seriously engaged.