A story about an interpretation of the after-life, the opening sequence of this book describes “the crossing”: the passage of the dead from the human world to their next existence. Brockmeier conveys beautifully the fantastical element of the transition between life and death. Immediately, the reader is refreshed by Brockmeier’s originality and his light, yet intensely creative, style. Throughout the book, the vivid metaphors and language paint the landscapes, i.e. watching the evening sky “bruise over”. The Brief History is expertly crafted; the reader is able to let the narrative flow over them, confident that it is planned out to the last detail. The chapters are very well constructed, quickly focusing in on the action and finishing with a tight polish. The little clues of the story plop quietly but definitely onto the page, unravelling the mysteries steadily, but without patronizing the reader. For a book discussing the journey towards death, the entire tone of the book is one of calmness and dignity, but inevitably, poignant sadness.
The after-life, and its relation to the world of the living, is played out through the experience of a woman, Laura, stranded alone in the Antarctic whilst the rest of the world copes with a lethal pandemic. Brockmeier imagines a type of pleasant limbo (holding a suspiciously close resemblance to NYC), a kind of neo-reality in which the living dead carry out their lives until their place in the memories of the living is erased. The story is a clever construction of circular links between Laura’s internal narrative and the individual narratives of her living memories in the city of the dead. What really impresses about Brockmeier is his grasp on internal mental discourse. He has an expert grasp on the subtle fluctuations and eccentricities of the mind in isolation, endearing us to his characters through the touching conversations with their own conscience. Shaping the human consciousness using everyday symbols of urban and natural imagery, he succeeds in the difficult task of making the human mind tangible.
There is a definite sense of disillusionment in the book. The future of the living is dominated by the merciless Capitalist drive beneath the dark cloud of terrorism. The point seems to be that the only way to elevate the human consciousness above the grip of economic infrastructure is through the destruction of the civilised world. Brockmeier is clearly interested in the relationship between the human consciousness and the external reality, how they permeate each other and where the boundaries of imagination, spirituality and memory begin and end. His narrative flows uninterruptedly between the real and the unreal, death and life. There is a discussion in the book about souls and their connection with the body and this is the crux of Brockmeier’s story. I’m not sure he has a straight answer. The smatterings of irony expose how Brockmeier doesn’t take himself too seriously, but offers an innovative and picturesque idea of how the flesh and the spirit come to a resolution between life and death, or in the words of one of his characters, an “ideal balance of physical and mental locomotion.”
If you are at all whimsical, indulge in childhood memories, or are interested in the idea of an after-life, I would thoroughly recommend this book. It makes a great talking point for groups of friends or book-lovers – just be prepared for a sad ending.
