Alex ShakarBesprekingen

Interesting idea, wandering narrative but I felt the characters were a little lackluster. A good story and unique in some ways though.

Set in 2006, as the 5th anniversary of 9/11 approaches, this is the story of twin brothers who had a dream of creating a on-line gaming world. Their fledgling company got undermined by government contractors who wanted to use their unique technology to train soldiers. As the book begins, one of the brothers is in a coma due to cancer. The other brother is frantically trying to hold his company and his life together. It's kind of hard to describe the plot beyond that but I really enjoyed this book.

Once again I'm suckered by numerous reviews mentioning Delillo.

(Sometime in July) I'm doing everything I can to avoid reading this book. I sort of want to know what happens with George and with the Mira experiment but not enough to keep reading. It's an odd book.

08/11/13 -- I ditched it formally added it to my discard list and carried on, but I kept thinking about it and wondering what he was going to do with it all so I picked it up again and finished it.

Mike, a reviewer I follow sum's up much of my frustration with the book when he points out that the narrative is "sometimes (maybe a few too many times) bogged down by the weight of sweeping thematic concerns which put a drag on forward motion and I'd go with "few too many times." Enough already. But, there is much that is interesting and smart and committed to make it worth the time. And there is a "dinner" scene between Fred and Holly and Vartan near the end of the book that is really quite oddly spectacular. In fact, Holly and Vartan, with the Reiki and the magic tricks, and their crappy apartment were some of the strongest writing in the novel.

If I were going to make up an odd shelf -- self, self-immolation and 9/11 -- I'd put it there with James Hynes book Next, but Luminarium is a kinder book and Fred although as self-involved as Kevin Quinn has better reasons.

I'm not quite sure where to start with this one. It's not an easy read, but not a difficult one either. I recommend picking this up when you're in a pensive place, when you need a little musing about the meaning of life, but in engrossing novel form, not thick pretentious philosopher form. In fact, that's how I would describe this book in a nutshell: profound but not pretentious. And that, my friends, is a delicate balance to strike; with the (incredible) exception of [b:The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy|11|The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (Hitchhiker's Guide, #1)|Douglas Adams|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1327656754s/11.jpg|3078186], I'm not sure I've ever seen it struck so deftly.

Let's get slightly more concrete. Fred has an identical twin brother, George, who is in a coma after a long battle with cancer. Fred, not surprisingly, is having a bit of an existential crisis. [An aside: for me, I think the "not surprisingly" is important, because as incredibly, stupidly famous as Albert Camus and his Stranger are, I never once sympathized with that narrator, and hated every second of being dragged along on his philosophical journey. Fred, on the other hand, is a sad and complex but eminently sympathetic character; throughout the whole book I wanted desperately for him to figure out his life and everything in it. In other words, I rooted for him in a way that cut through, or survived, all the spiritualist questioning.] Rather on a whim, Fred enrolls in a medical study that turns out to be based on the concept that spiritual experiences can be replicated by manipulation/stimulation of certain areas of the brain and the chemicals therein. For example, a sense of connectedness or oneness with others and with nature can be simulated by messing with the part of the brain that defines the edges of the self, the "this is me, that is not me" perception. The goal, in a sense, is to see if the benefits of spirituality (peace, comfort, a sense of purpose) can be attained without the mysticism of religion: a "faith without ignorance," as the tester puts it.

That sounds a little deep and heavy, right? Well, it is, but it's leavened by the backdrop of Frank and George's company, a sort of Second Life-type immersive reality game called Urth. The problem is, Fred sold the company to pay George's medical bills, and now their game is being remade as a virtual training arena for the "military entertainment complex" [which, as another aside, I think is a brilliant phrase, though I don't know if it's original to this book].

Here's the fun part: without any spoilers, some things start happening to Fred that seem (sortof, although it's not really possible -- is it?) like George, still in his coma, might be orchestrating. Which naturally provides a different but still understandable and fascinating path to the pondering of life and the afterlife and the power of... what? The brain? The soul? The ineffable essence of the self?

Things get a lot more ethereal in the last chapter or so; I'm not even going to lie and tell you that I'm exactly sure what the last few sentences mean or where they're supposed to leave me. But by that point I'd gotten enough out of this book that I was content to just let them be; they're words, and they have meaning, even if I don't understand it yet. Is that my very own existential enlightenment?

I picked up this book years ago based off liking the cover. It was a fanastic read and a great social commentary on consumerism and marketing.

I picked up this book years ago based off liking the cover. It was a fanastic read and a great social commentary on consumerism and marketing.

I picked up this book years ago based off liking the cover. It was a fanastic read and a great social commentary on consumerism and marketing.

Once a reader overcomes the doldrums of following a character who is deeply depressed and confused, the redemptive qualities of the read shine through and ultimately challenge us to question ourselves. Shakar manages to make a third person limited account feel both restrained and all-encompassing as he leads us through one man's attempt to understand himself, the world, and his departing twin. A book that illuminates the collective sadness and confusion of a post-9/11 New York through the grief of one lonely twin brother lends itself to many layers of enjoyable reflection.

I enjoyed the premise of this book, for sure, and related to the family dynamics. The philosophy and technology bits were a bit above my head, though. I read an uncopyedited ARC.

"In the Soviet Union advertising was every bit as prevalent as it was in America. The only difference was that the Soviets' advertising campaigns were run by the government and were called propaganda, whereas ours were called marketing and were run by private business. The purpose of propaganda was to manipulate people into believing that all was as it should be; that the citizens had everything they could want; that they lived in a great country founded upon a great ideal; that their work was important; that their lives were meaningful. In short, propaganda strove to create contentment. The purpose of American-style marketing, in contrast, was precisely the opposite. It existed to create discontent, to ensure that citizens were never happy with their lot, inciting them to crave more money, more property, newer cars, better clothing, better bodies, younger and more beautiful spouses. Thanks to marketing, American citizens were perpetually unsatisfied, goaded ever onward, ever forward, generating the American advantage, the drive that ensured progress, technological innovation, and a fully stimulated economy."

In a future reality (decades... maybe just years ahead), the perfect generation of consumers is being molded: schizophrenics. So many identities to maintain! Each with their separate wardrobe. Must sacrifice the children to the ultimate god of consumerism. Sweet, terrifying, realistic idea - execution was a bit lacking.

"What happens to her now?"
"If she's on drugs, they'll get her off. If she's not on drugs, they'll put her on."

There were some intriguing concepts in this book that dance around some very interesting philosophical issues. There are also some very revealing looks into the world of computer gamers and the people who design those games. I’m the first to admit, my lack of any interest in, or tolerance for, gaming clouds my enjoyment of this book.

No let me be clear—other than a current fascination with an online pool game (one ridiculously close to mimicking how bad I am at the actual physical game of pool)— I have only played a game or two on a computer in over fifty years. I'm an outsider looking in at something that's distasteful to him, like seeing Dick Nixon on the beach in Bermuda shorts and wingtips, with a metal detector ... well, like back when Dick was still alive ... because I imagine it would be even more distasteful with a dead Nixon. That’s it, Zombie Dick, it would be either a ghastly real life/death story, or a bad zombie porn flick.

OK, I've gotten to a Nixon moment. I'm off my subject. This was a book that didn't work for me. Enough.

An overly ambitious book that spins out of control and sputters to a finish. This book lacks focus and direction. Among the topics it includes are dreams, reality, magic, advanced video games 9 -11, Disney's town Celebration, Florida, a spirit enhancing football helmet of sorts, and on and on and on. The author trying to be cutting edge and creative but if at the end you ask yourself what have I gotten out of the book and your answer is confusion - I think its time to question why you read it. It is not that I am a dummy as I have 2 Master's Degrees but I really just scratched my head when I was done. 2 stats for readability and interesting characters.

(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com]. I am the original author of this essay, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted illegally.)

So before anything else, let me caution my fellow New Weird fans that Chicagoan Alex Shakar's Luminarium is not the trippy sci-fi novel that its cover, jacket copy and breathless Dave Eggers blurb promise it to be, and that those picking it up expecting it to be such are going to be severely disappointed, especially by the "anti-trick" ending that provides a rational explanation for all the bizarre things that happen before it. If what you're looking for, however, is an extremely clever and well-done character-heavy look at the zeitgeist of the Bush years, seen through the filter of such mid-2000s cultural detritus as virtual worlds, New Age mythology and the Disney-owned town of Celebration, Florida, then this Believer favorite is going to be right up your alley; because of all the 9/11 novels I've now read, this is arguably the best of them precisely because it takes such a sideways look at the subject, essentially sneaking up on the issue by instead concentrating on the co-founder of a Second-Life-type MMORPG that's been co-opted by Homeland Security, who rapidly unravels after starting to receive what seems like a series of otherworldly online messages from his comatose twin brother, while simultaneously participating in an academic neurological study that may or may not be slowly granting him psychic powers.

Full of all kinds of wonderfully nerdy details sure to delight any metaphysical tech-head (for one great example, the '70s Cray supercomputer that one brother gives the other as an elaborate joke gift, which is then turned into the online-startup "Prayerizer.com" that will send billions of pleas to God per day on your behalf for a nominal fee), but combined with the kind of quirky character-building details that MFAers are always on the lookout for (like the main character's habit of still performing in cheesy magic shows for children's birthday parties with his stoner hippie dad), Shakar almost magically manages to pull together these and dozens more widely scattered references into one coherent whole by the end, ultimately delivering a profound message about the schism between faith and technology in a world of 3D avatars and planes slamming into skyscrapers. Although the book definitely has its problems, which is why it isn't getting a higher score today -- I would've liked to have seen less academic stream-of-consciousness, for example, and more Chabonesque action scenes, such as the wickedly great section where our punch-drunk hero rampages through the headquarters of his startup's new corporate masters -- Luminarium is nonetheless well worth your time, but only for those prepared to enjoy it for what it is instead of being disappointed for what it's not. It comes recommended in that spirit.

Out of 10: 9.0

This book looked so promising! I was bored to tears by it, I laboured through several chapters before finally giving up.

Although billed as a retelling of Ovid's Metamorphoses, the stories are all contemporary New York characters. The whole book, and the style of the stories, is experimental. It’s an ambitious project; sometimes it works and the author achieves something wonderful, fresh, and creative. But other times, it just falls flat. When the author hits on a voice and a character, he does an incredible job with the story. In particular, “The Sky Inside,” in which two characters walk through a natural history museum and use the Planetarium projector to see the stars, was a wonderful musing on the problems of a modern city. On the other hand, “City in Love,” the title story, which was coded through a complicated cuing system, seemed overly clever an too much work for the rather uninteresting musing on modern love. Overall, I’d recommend the book, especially to those interested in experimental narrative structures.½