"Anthropocene Rag" by Alex Irvine is a brilliantly imaginative journey through a post-apocalyptic America reshaped by nanotechnology. Irvine's world-building is vivid and surreal, blending folklore with futuristic elements to create a landscape both familiar and alien. The novel's ensemble cast, each with their unique quests and quirks, adds depth and charm to the narrative. Irvine's prose is sharp and evocative, capturing the beauty and chaos of this transformed world. The story is a compelling exploration of humanity's resilience and adaptability in the face of radical change, making "Anthropocene Rag" a must-read for fans of speculative fiction.

Take one really strange after-a-disaster America dealing with climate change sea level rise, and self replicating life forms. Add in a replicant becoming self-aware traveling the country giving out tickets to select "winners" of a trip to Monument City. Then follow along the Six as they travel and interact with the changing world before the final confrontation. An interesting wander through a very bizarre America that provide a good read along the way.

this was a dnf for me, sadly. I started it so many times but it felt really confusing. The concept was amazing but the plot felt too chaotic. Couldn't get into it.

Amazing.
It's a post-apocalyptic, post-singularity Wizard of Oz.
I want to know more about this world so badly.

I find most books about journeys to be drawn out and tedious but I had the opposite problem with this book. I felt like I had barely met the characters before they were at their destination. It’s not bad it just feels more like a short story than a novel. It needs to be fleshed out more and the way it ended felt like a setup for a sequel.

In Anthropocene Rag, we are introduced to a post apocalyptic world where there’s artificial intelligence, wastelands and, most importantly, myths. Monument City is one of those myths and, when our characters receive tickets for the city, most doubt its existence. But their current lives are not that great so, why not try it?

I was really excited to read this one, the sinopsis seemed interesting and the cover was gorgeous. However, the contents of the book weren’t as exciting. It starts off with one set of characters, and then it introduces another, and another, and another… With so much new information being thrown at me, I got numb to the story. I wanted to know more, of course, but about the characters that I already knew, not these new ones that kept popping up out of nowhere. The book felt like it had low attention span, always jumping from one storyline to another after a few pages. I thought about giving up many times but, because I dropped a book halfway through recently (The Light Years, if you are not aware), I decided that I would push through and finish the thing. I skimmed a few pages but, eventually, I got there. Did it change my opinion? Absolutely not.

If you still want to read it and think it is the right book for you, go ahead. It wasn’t for me.

Thanks to NetGalley for a providing me with an advanced copy in exchange for an honest review.

This book, that in all honesty I thought was going to turn out to be pretty dumb, had me hooked from the first page in a bizarre adventure that I could not put down. This odd little novel manages to be equal parts <I>Charlie & the Chocolate Factory</i>, <I>Westworld</i> and <i>Welcome to Night Vale</i> while at the same time being a very distinct work.

The thing I was most concerned with while reading this was the question of "how can strange this story possibly end?" Some may be dissatisfied with how it does, but I felt that it fit perfectly with both the writing style and the overall narrative.

And that is all I will say on any of that, as I feel to go into any detail about the book would harm someone's enjoyment of it. I recommend if for anyone who enjoys post-apocalyptic SF as it is definitely one of the more unique entries into the genre.

I’m still trying to figure out what I just read. But then, I was trying to figure that out while I was reading it, and not coming up with terribly coherent answers.

The closest that I can come is that this is a “road” story, much in the same way that American Gods is a road story. But instead of the world’s mythology holding it all together, in Anthropocene Rag what’s holding the world together – for extremely loose definitions of together – is an amalgamation of American history, story and Boom particles.

It’s a bit as if the road trip in American Gods took place in a post-apocalyptic world, where the apocalypse was the slamming together of our original timeline and one in which magic and monsters work. Kind of like the worlds of Kai Gracen and Heartstrikers.

All wrapped up in a bow made out of Willy Wonka’s chocolate in the colors of the Yellow Brick Road. But the “man behind the curtain” in this scenario is P.T. Barnum and not the Wizard of Oz – or anywhere else.

Or is it all something else? Is it Data, wanting to be human? Or a thought experiment by a sentient AI, desperate to learn what life is all about?

Perhaps it’s all of the above. At least in one of its infinite iterations.

Escape Rating B: At first, Anthropocene Rag feels more like a road story than anything else. While the instigating event is clearly a callback to Willy Wonka, the journey that is undertaken by the six recipients – and one thief – of the Golden Tickets goes through times and places that are not on any map, either now or then. They begin their quests for the semi-mythical Monument City from the literal four corners of this post-apocalyptic US, this land created by the Boom, a Boomerica where all the myths and legends and histories and tales that make up the identity of these theoretically United States are all true, and all occurring simultaneously, no matter how disorienting that might be to the travelers in order to finally converge in a place that no one believes is real – even when they are standing right in front of it.

Along the way they traverse places that have become entirely creations of the Boom, like Reno, and places where life isn’t all that much different than it is now. Or at least than it was before the current pandemic.

But the characters in the story aren’t so much characters as they are a combination of tour guide and archetype, leading the reader on a journey of discovery. Not their discoveries, although they do make them, but the purpose of these individuals is to teach the emerging sentient A.I. about what it means to be, not so much to be human as Data desired, but to be self-aware.

It’s fascinating, but more as an experiment than as a story in and of itself. I think that a lot of readers will probably bounce off of it, but it is worth sticking with to see exactly what spider is at the heart of this nanotech web.

And there’s a lesson in the end that is even more apropos now than it was when the author penned it. “In a disaster, life goes on.”

The only reason why I finished this book was because I wanted to be able to honestly say that I read it from beginning to end and didn’t care for it, to know that there wasn’t any twist or redeeming moment at the end that people could point to and say “but you should’ve waited for that!”

There are some books that leave me confused as to what the author was trying to say when they wrote it. “Anthropocene Rag” fits into that category. Don’t get me wrong – “Anthropocene Rag” is by no means an empty, pointless book. The concept of the Boom – which was the only part of the book I truly enjoyed – was very fitting and thought-provoking, and I found myself caring more about it than about any of the characters. I’m all on board for a strange, android-child-like sentient technological creation that alters people and its surroundings post-apocalyptic natural disaster, but sadly that’s not what this book was about.

Instead, the book is about six people – or more, if you count Ed, Kyle, Reenie, and Barnum, who makes an appearance at the end – who get golden tickets Willy Wonka-style that allows them entry into Monument City, an El Dorado/Sacred Land sort of location that is supposed to…bring one happiness? Reaffirm that you’re special? I’m still not clear about that. “Anthropocene Rag” is all about the “getting there”. That’s it. That’s all the ~150 pages in a nutshell. If you’re not one for travel narratives where there is no satisfactory “this is what happens now that they’re reached their destination” part, then “Anthropocene Rag” probably isn’t for you. To be fair, I can see Irvine spinning this into a series – there’s certainly room for that.

On top of the strange, and rather dull and disorganized, structure of the novel, there was also the fact that I didn’t care for any of the characters. Henry Dale, who makes a point of constantly talking about faith in a kind of “this is all God’s plan,” rubbed me the wrong way, while the conversation he had with Mo when they first met, in which Henry assumed Dale was Muslim because his full name was Mohammed, came across as a moment of forceful “wokeness”, like the author was trying to show he knows how tone-deaf some people are and that he’s not like them.

Maybe “Anthropocene Rag” really is more for people who care about and love Americana, which I doubt I ever will, most likely because, as an immigrant, I still don’t completely understand what Americana IS. The persistence of famous figures like Mark Twain to help some of the characters along, or the “puniness” of Moses Barnum’s name, or even the sheer RIDICULOUSNESS of Monument City, which I imagined must be like the Las Vegas strip injected with nanotech drugs, all of this fell flat for me. I didn’t care for “Anthropocene Rag” one bit. There’s a different book in here that I would’ve read, one that focused on the Boom and discussed the consequences and implications of our current society and what it might lead to, a book that would be way more organized and cohesive than “Anthropocene Rag.” But I doubt that one’s happening.

Speculative fiction often offers a glimpse at new beginnings that spring forth from cataclysmic endings. The entire subgenre of dystopian fiction is built largely on the premise. We’re fascinated by the idea of what might rise anew in the aftermath of the collapsing old.

The popularity of that fundamental concept, however, means that the resulting literary work is often wildly variant in terms of quality. Yes, it’s easy to write about the end and what comes after, but it’s exceedingly difficult to do well.

With his new book “Anthropocene Rag,” Alex Irvine does it well.

It’s a sprawling portrait of a future United States where a natural disaster contributed directly to a technological one, the effects of both compounding exponentially in a manner that completely alters civilization as we know it. A small group of people, struggling to carve out a place in this harsh, unforgiving and mercurial world, is offered a unique opportunity. Each is left to wonder not only why they were chosen, but who ultimately has done the choosing?

Told in a deliberately haphazard fashion, leaping from perspective to perspective, “Anthropocene Rag” follows these unlikely pilgrims on their quest across a broken American landscape, one defined in ways overt and subtle by its past even as it has been subsumed by the wave of the future. There’s a new frontier – one that is ever-shifting and unpredictable.

In the future, the world was changed forever by a massive tsunami that struck the East Coast, doing untold damage to people and places all along the Atlantic seaboard. However, the physical damage done by that event was just the beginning. Said disaster also unleashed a highly-advanced nanotechnological experiment – one that began replicating and consuming exponentially upon its escape.

Just a generation hence, the entire landscape has changed. The nanotech – referred to by most as simply “the Boom” – has integrated itself thoroughly. The Boom remakes the world as it deems fit, driven by a seeming need to capture and relate America’s stories, with little regard for the people it repurposes to do so. And since the Boom has little interest in differentiating between time periods – or even history from fiction – many places are a tangled and dangerous mess.

One of the Boom’s constructs – an old-time ‘49er figure named Prospector Ed – is tasked with distributing invitations to a nigh-mythical place known as Monument City. But even as he hands out the half-dozen invites, Ed is on a journey of his own – a journey toward self-awareness. He didn’t seek this newfound consciousness, but it is growing – and it is being observed.

Meanwhile, the six invitees – a craftsperson from San Francisco, a two-bit grifter from Orlando, a religious mail carrier from New York, a mechanic from Ohio, a young orphan from New Orleans and a shape-shifting touring actress from the Plains – embark on their respective voyages, seeking out a place in whose existence they only semi-believe. Along the way, they encounter various and sundry characters from the Boom as it builds up and tears down and builds up again. Maybe it’s Mark Twain or Paul Bunyan. Maybe it’s a disembodied intelligence or a talking buffalo. Whoever and however, the group presses onward, on a quest toward a destination where nothing is as it seems … and anything is possible.

First things first - “Anthropocene Rag” is a damned fine story. Alex Irvine spins one hell of a yarn. He allows the narrative to unfold at its own pace, moving from perspective to perspective as the cast of characters advances toward the shared goal. Whether we’re marking the progress of our pilgrims or getting insight into Prospector Ed’s interior voyage – not to mention the nigh-omniscient thoughts of our mysterious string-puller – the reader is immersed into the rich and detailed world that Irvine has created.

And man oh man, those details. The blending of high-tech nanotech with figures from American history and folklore is truly bizarre – so bizarre that you find yourself wondering how it works as well as it does. The notion of a self-replicating tech that is both fascinated by stories and utterly unable to discern between fact and fiction is so clever and cleverly realized; the stretches when the book really leans into that disparity are gleefully, gloriously, evocatively weird. Seriously – it’s just so cool.

Special kudos are due the author for resisting the urge to overexplain the circumstances that resulted in the realm we’re exploring. Too much “how” can undermine the quality of world-building; details are important, of course, but too many can turn a propulsive narrative into an expository slog. Finding the right balance is key, and Irvine does it, giving us a firm understanding of his world’s rules and how they came to be without getting bogged down in minutiae. Everything you need, he gives you, but no more than that.

“Anthropocene Rag” is a sharp, fast-paced work of speculative fiction. It is smartly rendered and wonderfully written, driven equally by engaging characters and in-depth world-building. It’s the sort of book that effortlessly captures the imagination, sweeping the reader up into a compelling and detailed story. The more you read, the more you want to read – your biggest difficulty will likely come when you try to put it down.

I am always on the lookout for stories about America, especially when it comes to speculative fiction. I find the myths about the United States, its formation, and expansion fascinating especially when they so often cover up many complicated and horrific histories. Its simplicity is enchanting to me and constantly begs deconstruction to find what the true “heart” of the American Story is. This is heightened during an election season, where talk of “what America is and should be” hangs heavy in the air. Add the third layer of COVID-19, and a lot of these questions and stories get brought into an even sharper focus when compared to the facts and histories. What the hell does that have to do with the book I am reviewing? Well Anthropocene Rag, by Alexander Irvine, is a clever, fun, engaging, and weird little book about a post-apocalyptic America that mostly succeeds in deconstructing how “we” talk about the story of America.

The book follows six main characters as they are visited by a construct named Prospector Ed, who gives them a golden ticket to enter the fabled Monument City. Each of the characters must travel to the Rocky Mountains across an America that is teeming with nano machines. A lot of the populace was killed and integrated into the machineries during an event called the Boom (the Boom is also used to refer to the machines collectively). The machines are everywhere, and depending on where you live, humans may or may not have a good relationship with the unpredictable Boom. In San Francisco, there is a relative harmony, as the machines inhabit human bodies. Other places are not so lucky, and people could be dismantled in seconds without even realizing it. But the Boom is doing something weird as all across the land, they are re-enacting the stories and folklore that make up the American Mythos.

Irvine’s writing is the first thing that truly hooked me about Anthropocene Rag. It feels like you’re sitting around a campfire with him as he recounts a past event. The characters come alive through his voice, making them feel both human and larger than life. The author also manages to make you as the reader complicit in the story through this stylization, asking you questions and sometimes making you feel as if you could stop it all at any moment. But you don’t, you want to know how it ends, you need to know how it ends. Fortunately, Irvine does not seem to judge you for this complicity, almost in some ways acknowledging that he too is at fault. It’s an incredibly engaging way to tell a story, and it calls attention to the story of America as well. Fortunately, Irvine succeeds in keeping the tone jovial, even as he is trying to get you to gaze into the abyss.

Irvine’s writing also helps the atmosphere within Anthropocene Rag. There is not a lot of plot, so Irvine relies very heavily on intimating feeling to great effect. The different regions that the characters begin their journey in, along with where they travel through, feel like you expect them to. I’m having a hard time explaining it, but Irvine nails the cultural osmosis of the different corners of America. Florida and New York City, feel like off versions of what we know of them today, as if something changed about them, but the bones are still there. There is a familiarity to them, as if Irvine wanted to reveal the core parts of them in a more thematic fashion. It was extremely haunting, and if that was Irvine’s goal, he succeeded. However, there is a slight tendency for some areas to feel “stereotypical” due to the fast nature of the book, but I also find it easy to overlook considering it is a lot more about the “feeling,” but I think some of it handily waved off in the deeper themes.

Among the myriad of themes, the one that obviously sticks out the most is “what is America?” It saturates every paragraph trying to fill the void between your eyes and the page. Irvine deftly explores this idea by using the campfire storytelling method I described above. Irvine gives no background to the disaster, just providing a name, the Boom, and the mystery around it. America as a concept barely exists within the text as the past is erased, forgotten. The only entities to remember it are the Boom themselves as they recreate and re-enact myths like Paul Bunyan and classic Mark Twain stories. Characters don’t know anything but their present lives and where they are headed. It feels as if Irvine is trying to mirror the creation of America by wiping away the past to create a new history, a new future, a new America. It feels especially clear when you compare it to the way conversations pass over the systematic extermination of Native Americans, “manifest destiny” and “American Exceptionalism.” Irvine does it right in front of the reader using stories you know, stories you feel something about. While you’re complicit he’s doing it without you, almost as if he’s taunting you. It’s eerie and beautiful and hits all the right notes for me.

There is so much more I’d love to dive into with this story, but we would be here forever. I had a good time with the characters, their little conversations as they traveled the wilds. I loved how Irvine was able to make the land feel so big and so very small and insignificant at the same time. I didn’t particularly enjoy one of the reveals, but I don’t think it hurt the story. I don’t think the book is for everyone though, as it is a little weird, and exists more in the realm of metaphor than the concrete. Some of the journeys may also fall a little flat if you aren’t steeped in American Folklore. However, I highly recommend it if you’re feeling adventurous and willing to consider the idea of “America” in these trying times.

Rating: Anthropocene Rag 8.5/10
-Alex

This was... bizarre, for lack of a better word. That isn't a bad thing! It's just how it is. As a whole, there were a lot of things I enjoyed about this one, and a few things that left me wanting more (or wanting to understand more, perhaps). So let's break them down!

The Stuff I Liked:

In is unarguably unique. I mean, can I even explain this? It is quite simply like nothing else I have ever read. And for the most part, that is a good thing! I guarantee you too will find this a one of a kind.

So much cool historical stuff! Ever wanted to ride on a ship with Mark Twain, or get car advice from Henry Ford? Good news for you, then! This is just the tip of the iceberg in terms of fascinating historical markers that pop up all throughout the book. They are, in essence, to guide our characters along their journey. And they make for some interesting reading, no question.

It's a journey/adventure, and I love those! It's also a personal journey, which will be my next point, but what I am talking about here is a physical trek. I flat out adore when characters have to traverse great distances, because there's something so... survivalist about it, I suppose. And what better way to both have adventure and find out what our characters are made of! Plus, we get to see so many different locals in "Boomerica", so that's extra fun.

Yes, the characters have journeys too! They're all obviously picked to go to this mythical place for a reason, and as you can imagine, they're going to unpack their baggage along the way.

The Stuff I Didn't:

There were parts that I was just plain lost during. The Boom is... a little confusing? I mean, I started to get the general gist that things in this new world were... different, and that the Boom basically chooses what happens in life now, who lives and who dies, and I guess which historical characters will greet you in which cities. It's cool, but I do wish I knew a bit more of the inner workings. I think I was supposed to like, not know, like no one in the book does, but look, I am apparently too needy for that.

There are a lot of characters to keep straight. I even understood having several points of view, since it allowed us to see more of the country, more of the Boom, and more characters' stories. But at a certain point I started to get a bit overwhelmed, and wished the author had stuck with three or four characters' perspectives, especially in a shorter book.

I guess I just plain wanted more answers. The book ends on a rather vague note, and a lot of the questions I had about the world in general were left unanswered. To be fair, it's entirely possible that this is just a "me" problem, and that readers who aren't as ridiculous in their need for answers will be able to enjoy the ride itself without feeling frustrated.

Bottom Line: Absolutely one of the most unique stories I have ever encountered, it's wildly imaginative, yet lacks some of the clarity I had hoped for by the end.

I don't normally provide this caveat because I think reviews should speak for themselves. But I received an advanced review copy of this book, and I eagerly await its publication. I'm sure there will be people who really like it and maybe the Internet can tell me what I'm missing.

At first I thought what I was missing was the rest of the book. I've re-read the last chapter a couple times now, and the book just stops. The characters reach their destination and that's it. I get the idea (AI reaching out to new American pilgrims in the form of American folk legends), but the why is lost on me. I mean, there is an explanation, but I didn't find it convincing.

Why these people? Why this journey? Am I supposed to imagine what happens next? How can I do that when I can barely keep track of what's going on? If literally anything can happen, why does any of it matter?

Anthropocene Rag is part of a trend in science fiction where the "any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" part cascades right into magical realism. Characters appear and disappear in a blink. Everything can change shape on a whim. Nothing has permanence and it's all no big deal. That's just the way life is after the self=replicating nanite apocalypse.

I have some tolerance for this when it comes to horror (and hey, I was a Creative Writing major, too! I get writing!), but this sort of nanotech whimsy drives me up a wall-- which then disappears because it wasn't a wall, and then this guy I thought was another guy is the guy I first thought it was, But that's fine because it was all on purpose!

Yeesh.

I have a friend who really, really, REALLY hates stories about beings of pure energy, and I'm beginning to see his point. There will be readers who can appreciate this book for its literay qualities and imaginary flights, But I also suspect I won't be alone in wondering, "No, seriously. Where's the next 100 pages of this book?"

When I read the synopsis for Anthropocene Rag, months ago, I was so excited to get my hands on this book. Dystopian setting, roaming monsters, sentient AI, religious themes-- these are things I love most in speculative fiction!

To say that I'm beyond bummed that this book didn't work for me is an understatement. There were so many characters following so many storylines and so many different narrative voices throughout the book. Ultimately, I think the sheer number of characters and storylines overwhelmed the plot.

I will say, the novella reminded me of the western vibe of Sarah Gailey's novellas- both River of Teeth and Upright Women Wanted. But where I loved Gailey's work (both 5 huge stars) I was not as much a fan here. I do think it's a novella worth a shot if you are really into strange dystopian worlds, quasi-western vibes, and artsy Sci Fi projects. Sadly, this just wasn't the book for me.

This is a book where I wasn’t really sure what to think of it. It was interesting, thought-provoking, well-written, and had oodles of voice. But there was something that just didn’t quite work about it. It’s definitely the kind of book where I would expect to be going: “It was weird as fuck, but you gotta read it!” and just, that didn’t happen, unfortunately.

Most importantly for me, I had trouble connecting with the characters, they didn’t quite feel real to me. I think this book raises a lot of interesting questions but doesn’t necessarily seem to do it in the purposeful way that would be required for it to be really poignant.

What did work for me was the chaotic and unpredictable nature of the worldbuilding. It painted a familiar, but distorted and sometimes jarring picture, and I thought it was particularly well done. I also really enjoyed Prospector Ed and the narrator, both aspects of this book that I think worked really well.

Overall, I think I would recommend this book to anyone who likes kind of weird science fiction!

(please note this review will go live on my blog on March 17, 2020)

I’m of mixed feelings on Anthropocene Rag, by Alexander C, Irvine. On the one hand, the writing is often quite strong, and the novel has a creative, imaginative flair to it in many moments. On the other hand, its episodic nature didn’t fully work for me, and I can’t say the novel fully met its rich potential. Still, its strengths outweigh its weaknesses, and there’s often a true pleasure in reading it.

The story is set in a post “Boom” America, the Boom being when AI ran free and randomly (to human eyes at least) transforms things and people, “revising” the known world and creating beings called “constructs” that can’t always be distinguished from humans. Various parts of the country are varied in their degree of change and danger, with San Francisco one of the better “boomscapes” thanks to having electricity and food. Even there though, things like this still happen regularly:

A week later a team of Boom constructs wearing New York Yankees uniforms appeared in the Giants’ old ballpark and haunted it for the better part of the year . . . Then a few months later the Boom remade the ballpark into a greenhouse — in the middle of a game, with maybe three thousand people in the stands.

For reasons that eventually become clear, an AI uses a construct named Prospector Ed to distribute six Golden Tickets allowing the entry into the semi-legendary Monument City, a place that “was supposed to be the new Eden, Shangri-La, where the Boom and humanity had found a perfect equilibrium." We follow Prospector Ed, who is slowly becoming self-aware, as he delivers the tickets one by one and then follow the lucky invitees as they head toward their goal, sometimes solo sometimes in small groups.

If Golden Tickets that promise an entry into a magical legendary place sounds familiar, leaving you thinking of Willie Wonka and his fantabulous chocolate factory, well, Irvine gives you some time to pat yourself on the back for how clever you are until just coming out and making the connection for you later in the book. And like Dahl’s group of lucky kids, these recipients are a mixed bag, coming from different cities, different backgrounds, different traumas, and journeying with different agendas/goals as well. One, for instance, is highly religious, while another stole his twin brother’s ticket and took off, leaving his brother and ex-girlfriend to follow if they can. Another is a shape-shifter working in a theater company managed by a talking buffalo (yes, a talking buffalo).

There’s a like to lot here, beginning with Irvine’s description of the Boom’s effects, which run a gamut of lovely, moving, surreal, whimsical, and terrifying. Such as the talking playground, where, “The hippo rocking back and forth on its springs shouted in Chinese at the turtle and the horse . . The horse never answered, and the turtle spoke only Spanish.” That’s the “whimsical.” In the “terrifying” category is this: “After [the school] collapsed, the Boom brought the dead children out . . . Their eyes rolled and focused, then twitched in different directions . . . The Boom tried to remake the children, but most of them died again. Then when the Boom tried to reanimate them, their organic parts rotted away and the Boom had to replace them.

I’m also a sucker for the plural narrator, which can be tricky POV to employ but which Irvine handles deftly here, though I don’t want to say too much about that as it’s a nice slow unveiling of who that plural narration is and what their purpose may be. I will say they offer up some of the most lyrical, most thoughtful, and most moving lines, and I’d recommend the book probably based just on their narration. Finally, I also liked the focus on “becoming,” on personal growth, whether it came via the human characters or an AI like Prospector Ed.

On the downside, the episodic structure of the novel, where we follow one or a few characters for a while then switch over to the next character (s) meant, over the course of a relatively short novel, that we don’t spend a lot of time with any individual character and so there’s not much connection to any of them. The events themselves also feel more than a little random. Granted, I think that’s part of both the point and the charm, but it’s a fine line to walk, and I can’t honestly say Irvine stays on the right side of it throughout. The introduction of a Mark Twain construct, for instance, felt like it could have been mined for some serious humor and poignancy but never really evoked either. The ending also fell more flat than I had hoped for based on what had come before.

Even with the flaws, though, I thoroughly enjoyed nearly all of Anthropocene Rag, and if it didn’t quite fulfill its potential, it still provides more than enough pleasure in its individual moments, themes, and style to recommend.

If The Wizard of Oz and Blade Runner sat around a campfire telling tales, chances are they'd eventually tell you Anthropocene Rag.

A seemingly random group of six people are given golden tickets to Monument City, a mythical creation somewhere in an American landscape that has been devastated by ecological disasters and a mysterious technology that can create and destroy however it sees fit. Led by an A.I. that is starting to have thoughts of its own, the group make their way to a city that may not even exist.

At first alone, the travellers do cross paths, joining together as they go, each one unsure of where or why they are going.

The story becomes a mashup of folk tales and historical figures, as the tech that remakes the world on an ongoing basis builds cities from the past and future, merging them with old tales and figures both real and fictional. It's as if each character must travel through a drug induced state while not actually partaking in the drug that produced it.

It makes for a very strange journey with no real beginning or end, much like the characters have to deal with as they go. It's like listening to a young child tell a story. It absolutely makes sense in that you understand everything they're saying, but at the same time you have no idea why anything is really happening. They're not burdened by limitations on their imagination, and neither is Anthropocene Rag.

This may bother some readers, as the story is more question than answer. With the number of characters, there's also little time for exploration of their individual stories. The only constant is their journey towards an unknowable destination. We need to be as curious and willing to embark on a fully unknown trip as the characters are to become fully immersed in the story.

This is not a light read, and you'll be constantly trying to decide what's really going on, or why some things have happened. It's a challenge not everyone may be willing to take, and even I find myself more fascinated by how the tale is told than satisfied by how it plays out.

It's hard to find a comparison, which is the greatest compliment in a world filled with stories, so you just have to be willing to take a step into the unknown with this one.

Did we not show you the reverence due a creator? We made ourselves not in your image but in the image of your stories.

This new (? Or new to me) subgenre of nihilistic American dystopias (cf. The Mandibles) is really fascinating. This is the kritik of the US I want to read forever: insightful, cutting, and beautiful.

Anthropocene Rag has proven a difficult book to review, because I am still not sure how I felt about it. Essentially, I loved the premise and the idea of an AI bringing together a group of people, and there were moments of great humour and fun. However, at the end, I was left asking myself what it had all been about. I also found the narrative voice a little off-putting at times. That said, this book did offer something new and different, and the concept behind it was fresh and fun, so I am giving it 3.5 stars overall. Check it out if you are looking for a quick and quirky sci-fi read.

(This review will go live on my blog at the link below on 10 March 2020.)