4.5 Stars IndieReader Approved
Two teen boys infatuated with science fiction fall in love with each other at a summer camp in Pennsylvania in the 1950s. Hollywood superstar cowboy John Wayne kidnaps a Black infant he discovers in a dumpster. The daughter of a rightwing talkshow host is suddenly, woefully unwed and pregnant. And a young American man finds the woman of his dreams in a near-future Tokyo that's floating on balloons above the rising seas...
In these four stories and another, Americans from varying backgrounds and in different time periods all find themselves at the mercy of their need for love. But despite the paradisiacal promise of American liberty, each one of them finds that everything has a price...
4.5 Stars IndieReader Approved
Two teen boys infatuated with science fiction fall in love with each other at a summer camp in Pennsylvania in the 1950s. Hollywood superstar cowboy John Wayne kidnaps a Black infant he discovers in a dumpster. The daughter of a rightwing talkshow host is suddenly, woefully unwed and pregnant. And a young American man finds the woman of his dreams in a near-future Tokyo that's floating on balloons above the rising seas...
In these four stories and another, Americans from varying backgrounds and in different time periods all find themselves at the mercy of their need for love. But despite the paradisiacal promise of American liberty, each one of them finds that everything has a price...
It was his Aunt Jessica’s idea — she didn’t want him in her hair all summer long like last year. So, she told him, he was going to camp for two months.
“Camp?” Alex asked. “Like … in a forest?” He wasn’t sure if he had ever been in a forest.
“With a lake!” she replied. “You’ll love it!”
He was not convinced. “Can I take my books with me?” He was an avid reader and had recently become obsessed with science fiction.
“You may take some along with you,” Aunt Jessica said. “But mostly you’ll be frolicking in the wilderness with the other boys.”
The idea filled him with trepidation. All he had ever known was Pittsburgh, and he certainly had no experience with forests or frolicking.
It was 1957, and Alex was thirteen. He lived with his Aunt Jessica and Uncle James, who were his only guardians. His mom had not lived long enough for him to get to know or even remember her, and he never knew his father either — “That damn scoundrel,” as Uncle James referred to him. As far as all were concerned, Uncle James and Aunt Jessica were his parents.
Aunt Jessica was a cook in a restaurant down the street. Uncle James worked down by the river in a steel mill, mostly cleaning out the blast furnace — sometimes he would come home covered head to toe in orange dust. They weren’t rich, but they weren’t poor.
As the days between the end of school and the beginning of camp dwindled, Alex cataloged in his head all the things he would miss — Aunt Jessica’s cooking, mostly. But he wouldn’t miss any friends because he didn’t really have any friends. Not even his cousins — Uncle James’ brother’s kids — liked him very much. He knew he was weird; no one had to tell him that. But Aunt Jessica and Uncle James didn’t seem to mind.
Despite feeling like he was still just a kid, he had grown up quite a lot that year. His voice was deeper, and muscles were beginning to show on his frame. In the fall, he would be starting the seventh grade — a monumental achievement.
But he was awkward with the other boys. Shortly after Alex had turned twelve, he realized he was attracted to other boys the way his friends were attracted to girls. He fought this feeling, knowing that it was deeply wrong, even if it felt so right. He had overheard adults talking about “pansies,” and at church, he heard the minister refer to “sodomites.” He certainly hoped he was not one of them.
He was fearful, but hopeful, about the camp.
Maybe it would be fun.
The day of departure arrived, and the three of them climbed into Uncle James’ old car, an ugly old Ford that Uncle James polished every weekend.
The city diminished behind them. About an hour into the trip, out the window, Alex saw the endless trees of the promised forest, passing by on the road. So, this is a forest, he thought. It was as alien to him as the worlds in his science fiction books.
Eventually, they arrived at the Little Indian Camp for Boys. Tall trees like nothing he had ever seen before towered above them. Despite his age, when confronted by the reality of parting with his aunt and uncle, Alex began to sniffle, and a tear fell out of his eye.
“Now, now,” said Uncle James. “You’re too big for that.”
Aunt Jessica held him close. “Write us letters,” she told him. “If I don’t get any, I’ll be very cross.”
He watched as they drove away in the car.
First thing was orientation, and the camp counselors directed all the boys to sit in a big circle beneath the trees. Once arranged, they went around in a circle telling everyone their names. Alex nervously awaited his turn, hoping he wouldn’t stutter or do anything that would make the others laugh at him. When they came around to him, he said, “Alex!” in a clear voice he hoped could be heard. He felt his face turning red. They went to the next boy — it was over.
The camp counselors were grown men, but they still dressed in the camp uniform of olive shirts and shorts. Older boys assisted them. After about ten minutes of confusion, the boys were paired off into roommates. Alex was assigned to a tent with a lanky boy named Tom, who had short, curly blond hair and green eyes. They shook hands loosely and awkwardly, as prepubescent boys do. They dispatched to their tent, which was just a drab olive canvas tarp held up by metal poles — surplus from the war. They each threw down their bags and decided who would have what bunk.
“You can have the top,” said Tom. “I don’t care.”
“You sure?” Alex asked. “It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Go ahead, take it,” Tom smiled, rolling onto the bottom bunk and stretching out.
After a folklore presentation, it was time to eat. The food was not very good, but it was filling and hot. Alex and Tom sat next to each other. It was Tom’s second year at camp. Alex asked him where he was from. Tom hesitated at first but told Alex he was from Harrisburg. He would be attending the 7th grade in the fall, like Alex. Tom didn’t say much about his mom or dad.
The first night at camp was the hardest. Alex couldn’t sleep. He missed his home, his bed, and most of all, his room. The bunk was uncomfortable, and the night was loud with insects. Since Alex was wide awake, he decided he would go for a pee. He climbed quietly down out of bed only to find Tom reading stealthily with a flashlight. Alex smiled but said nothing as he put on his shoes and went outside to use the outhouse.
He didn’t bother being so quiet when he returned. Tom closed his book and shone his flashlight at Alex, asking if he couldn’t sleep.
“No, not really,” said Alex.
“Me neither.”
“What are you reading?” Alex asked.
“Foundation, by Isaac Asimov.”
“Oh yeah?” Alex responded, excited. “I read that!”
“You like science fiction?”
“I’m going to be a science fiction writer someday,” Alex promised. “I definitely like it. I love it!”
“Cool,” said Tom.
Alex took off his shoes and climbed up to his bunk. “Have you read Alfred Bester’s book, The Demolished Man?”
“No … never heard of it.”
“Oh, you just have to! It’s great! I’ve read a lot of Asimov, too. I’ve never known anybody who reads sci-fi like I do.”
“My teacher in school introduced me to it,” said Tom. “Mr. Hammel is great. I didn’t like what the rest of the class was reading, so he gave me The World of Null-A.”
“I love that book!” Alex exclaimed. His voice went quiet, as he remembered the lateness of the night. “It’s so far out!”
“I like far out, too,” Tom agreed.
Alex smiled. A science fiction fan in his tent! They were sure to be good friends.
The next day, the campers started their new morning routine — a dawn run around the lake. Alex quickly realized he wasn’t as in shape as he thought, jogging slowly as a cramp pinched his abdomen and he gasped for air. Tom, who seemed better prepared, kept pace with Alex, and the two trailed behind the swarm of boys.
A voice shouted from behind them — “C’mon, Alex, you run like a girl! I’m on my second go round. Goddamn pansies!”
Alex turned and saw a tall, older boy with black hair and fuzz on his lip racing past them. As the boy sped ahead, Tom told him, “That’s Chris. Senior camper. I know him from last year. Total bully.”
Alex, out of breath, did not reply, but was thankful Tom was with him. Finally, the ordeal ended, and Alex panted for five minutes afterward.
“Not so bad, huh?” Tom grinned.
“Ugh,” Alex answered, clutching his belly.
The rest of the day was filled with crafts, folklore, and other outdoor activities. The hours passed quickly, and soon dusk descended. Campfires were set, and the older boys told ghost stories as the younger campers shivered.
Alex felt satisfied. Other than the morning run, he had enjoyed the day. And also, Tom’s company. They had stuck together for the most part, and he was glad he had made a friend. That night, when they retired to their tents, Alex and Tom discussed science fiction before falling asleep.
It's a slow burn, for sure. Opening tale A Great Assembly has a somewhat stilted quality to it; a tale of an adolescent in 50s America going away to camp for the first time, and facing up to his burgeoning sexuality, there's something in the way of the prose that reads as if aimed at children, a bare bones simplicity that feels dry. When the ending comes, however, it's both well-chosen and moving. Second tale The Misapprehensions of John Wayne, about the actor finding a black baby in a dumpster and drunkenly deciding to adopt it, also doesn't quite live up to the inherent bizarreness of its concept. That bizarreness, however, is more than enough to engage and entertain and, once more, Snee nails the landing.
It's only when we reach Princess, the third and longest of the stories, that something magical happens. A rich white girl, daughter of a right-wing tv commentator, falls pregnant accidentally and her life is reshaped entirely by her decision to keep it. Protagonist Margaret is so well-drawn, so authentic, and the dilemma of her position and challenges of her sex so elegantly articulated, that it's somewhat staggering to think this wasn't written by a woman. Lines like 'I’ve always suspected that as a boyfriend, he’s more taste than nutrition' and '“But what about your future? You can’t just throw away everything you worked so hard for!”
“I never really worked very hard,” I tell her.' have an easy charm that allow us to feel Margie as a real, living person. It's so easy to root for her, and become invested in the story.
While Neo-Tokyo Weeps is another extraordinary story, blending the futuristic environmentalism of the author's fantastic vision of a new city raised by balloons to escape rising sea levels, with a simple and yet achingly moving proto-love story that blossoms between the visiting Asian-American and the Japanese Nurse who treats a headwound in hospital and then comes unexpectedly back into his life shortly afterwards. Our hero is a tender soul - 'He quickly chooses a vegetarian dish (he’s been trying to be more compassionate)' - the use of 'compassionate' rather than, say, 'ethical' there speaks volumes, an effortless way of seeing into his soul. The fact that Emiko is right for him is signposted just as easily; when reviewing her bookshelves and commenting on her taste in futurism, she responds simply '“You must meet the future with optimism,”'
Environmentalism is touched on again in final tale We Thought We Would Find Beauty in the Rubble, as the decay of a broken world is echoed by the protagonist's recalling a lost love. More abstract, yet full of beautiful imagery.
All in all, then, a breathtaking, remarkable collection that will reward the reader with stories that will stay with them long after they've finished the book.