By Sinclair Adams
Books written in the genre of science fiction and fantasy are often ignored by critics in favor of stories set “in the real world.” Well, what if I told you that one writer’s imagination can reveal just as much about reality? Let me introduce you to How High We Go in the Dark by Sequoia Nagamatsu.
How High We Go in the Dark is a mesmerizing story about the people of Earth dealing with the epicenter and aftermath of a deadly plague. Of course, I can’t talk about this book without mentioning the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, to which this book was in part a response. The plague presented in the book does not mirror COVID-19 exactly, but it does present a universal feeling of loss, grief, and even the economic consequences of a pandemic that I am sure many readers can relate to. I definitely did.
Rather than focusing on topical issues, the book skillfully invents its own disease and real-world consequences. The science behind Nagamatsu’s fictional “arctic plague” is chillingly accurate – as I type these words, ice is melting in the northern hemisphere, setting free bacteria that has been frozen for centuries. There is a possibility that a situation like Nagamatsu presents could happen, and that fact will stay with you even after you put the book down. As the plague evolves in the story, however, the science begins to fall apart. It does not clearly state how this hypothetical disease is transferred, nor how it seems to jump from infecting children to infecting the elderly. Considering that this book prioritizes humanity and character development over hard science, this is an acceptable omission of detail.
After establishing the advent of a plague, the story grows its own legs as we alternate between narrative points of view. Each chapter has a different protagonist, and each speaks with a distinct tone, such that the reader is not trapped behind one character’s perspective. We hear from scientists struggling with the burden of saving the world, minimum wage employees who grimly profit off the mass death, and galactic explorers across time and space. Despite the characters feeling very distant from each other, there are references to each other throughout the story, making the world of the book feel very lived in. When we learn about the fate of a character in another segment of the story, it rewards you with a punch straight to the heart.
The first half of the story vignettes paint an ugly picture, as they are almost all focused on death, and particularly how death becomes a part of the world economy. A story about a theme park designed to euthanize sick children might sound impossible to read, but it was just as impossible to turn away from. Because Nagamatsu’s characters feel so human, you want to be there with them as they cope with the loss of their loved ones, or cope with them still being alive and having to deal with a world that is falling apart. Just when the despair seems too much, the narrative takes an irresistible turn as it shows the world in an era of gradual recovery. Not everything is sunshine and rainbows, as the dead remain dead, but Nagamatsu lifts you up as he writes the best possible way out of the mess. At the halfway point to the story’s conclusion, I realized that this was indeed a story of hope. How High We Go in the Dark perfectly places the reader at the intersection of heartbreak and imagination.
Not every story segment is as impactful as the rest, but such is the risk of writing a book told from multiple narrators. It does not take any value away from the reading experience, because you will likely find joy in discovering “easter eggs” from one story to another. Nagamatsu leaves just enough for you to connect the story in your own mind. The biggest reward of them all is the final chapter. Without giving away too much, the end of the book is a genre-breaking, mind-melding, yet perfectly executed crescendo of all that came before it. It is an ending I did not expect, yet I cannot imagine the book without it.
Nagamatu’s writing is captivating. Nagamatsu delivers breathtaking lines that read like poetry, then grounds us back to terra firma with his characters’ warmhearted idiosyncrasies that make the story seem so human. However, the character quirks sometimes come off a bit too strong. The cultural references Nagamatsu uses feel dated, which make for a weak prediction of what human beings will sound like in the 2030s and beyond. This is forgivable, as Nagamatsu’s true strength at worldbuilding lies in seeing patterns of business now and using them to project a possible future. Hotels for the recently deceased, new ways to dispose of a corpse, using singularities to power rockets into outer space.
At the beginning of this review, I stated that science fiction and fantasy might reveal more about our reality than traditional literature can. How High We Go in the Dark uses a well-crafted vision of the future to reinvent grief and death, but still deals with the complex emotions that attend such emotions. Nagamatsu’s characters show humanity – the best and the worst of it, and its tireless tendency to still prevail. After everything we have been through these past few years, that just might be the story we need.
I highly recommend How High We Go in the Dark for fans of environmental speculative fiction like Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower, Andy Weir’s Artemis, or Max Brook’s World War Z. I also recommend it for fans of experiments in narrative voice, especially from different characters of color. All of the point-of-view protagonists are of Japanese heritage, but are still unique in their careers, their tones, and their relationships to other characters. Lastly, I recommend this to everyone who is looking for meaning and art based off of our real-world pandemic. Reading this book was like a mental exercise in grief, but in the end, you cathartically let go of your fear and trust in the love you can hold.
How High We Go in the Dark is available from Barnes & Noble, Book Cellar, Book Soup, Bosswell Book Company, Eastwind Books, Garden District Book Shop, and Strand Book Store.
Sinclair Adams is a writer interested in speculative and science fiction narratives. She earned a B.A. in English from the University of Las Vegas and is currently pursuing an M.F.A. in creative writing at Chapman University. She is an editor for Ouroboros Magazine, Chapman’s journal of science fiction, fantasy, horror, and other speculative fiction. Follow her on Instagram @sinclairwrites.