S. by J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst
A Book Review
You can buy Ship of Theseus, by V. M. Straka – also known as S. by J. J. Abrams (of Star Wars fame) and Doug Dorst – here.
Recently, I read S., which is really a book within a book. It is also unique – entirely unlike any book I’ve ever read. When you purchase it, you receive what appears to be a university library copy of a book called Ship of Theseus by the fictional author V. M. Straka. This book is filled with scribblings and notes by two fictional students (a senior and a grad student) who are attempting to decipher the mystery of the book and its illusive author. They are also in the process of falling in love with one another, even though they have never met before (they leave the book in the library, where one of them works, and coordinate drop-offs and pick-ups as though they were spies passing notes).
The book also contains postcards, a couple letters, a printout from the student newspaper, and various other paraphernalia or artifacts, some of it related to the mystery the students are trying to solve, some of it related to their relationship and personal lives.
It isn’t a romance novel, although there are elements of the book which will remind readers of romance novels. I would say it is less romantic than The Rise of Endymion, which is a science fiction novel and not a romance novel (but which is criticized sometimes by sci-fi fans who don’t like romance as being too romantic),1 but more romantic than most of Jane Eyre (which is sometimes considered a romance novel, but which is mostly about other things). At times, they are a little too flirtatious, but much of the time their relationship is sweet. If you are someone who doesn’t have much grace for individuals’ flaws, I wouldn’t read it, because the characters are quite vulnerable in their notes. But if you are generally forgiving and like most individuals you meet, you won’t find this to be off-putting.
The exciting hook of the book is the puzzle surrounding the life of V. M. Straka, who may or may not have been a real person. Our heroes (Eric and Jen) speculate as to whether he was a single individual, whether his name was an alias, or whether his novels were written by a secretive group of writers involved in controversial European politics with which Straka is supposed to have been entangled.2 Straka is an international man of mystery, who is involved with radical left-wing politics throughout Europe in the first half of the twentieth century.3 Although it is made clear that he did not consider himself an anarchist (anarcho-syndicalist),4 socialist, communist, or an “anything – ist,” he associated with all of them, and quite possibly was involved in various murders, bombings, and raids.
For the most part, the focus is on the intrigue (i.e., not on the criminality) and Straka and his fellows are made to seem sympathetic (i.e., more like spies than terrorists). They are being hunted by a shadowy organization connected to a powerful industrialist, the scion of a very wealthy family, who is perhaps manipulating world events behind the scenes. This organization may or may not still exist, and it may or may not be aware of Eric and Jen. Eric and Jen have intrigue of their own to deal with – rival academics intent on solving the Straka mysteries.
At times, the conspiracy seems over the top and the plausibility slips (i.e., it becomes a little difficult to suspend disbelief and the reader slips back out of the book for a moment): the “racket” of capitalism is propped up by a shadowy organization assassinating leftists, radicals, and dissidents, controlling politics across the continent in order to thwart labor movements and keep the racket going, and it all traces back to a single, shadowy robber baron.5 There is an allusion to the notion that this man may have been controlling the governments in the West and in the Soviet Union (in other words, true communism may have never really been tried). But for the most part, the mystery is exciting and as plausible as any James Bond film or Jason Bourne novel.
The plot of Ship of Theseus is less interesting than the mystery, and less interesting than the relationship between Eric and Jen. A character named “S.,” who has suffered amnesia and knows nothing of his past, wanders alone through cities and finds himself caught up with radical leftists (fighting detectives, policemen, assassins sent by industrialists, etc.), and keeps winding up on a bizarre ship crewed by men who have sewn their mouths shut. Time passes differently on the ship, and he appears not to age as quickly when he is onboard. While there are other fantastical elements, this isn’t enough to make it a fantasy novel.
Several scenes in the book illustrate common anti-capitalist or existentialist metaphors. Others appear to illustrate aspects of Straka’s life, or to send messages to Straka’s translator (who never met him, but who was in love with him), or to send messages (to whom?) about the shadowy cabal trying to kill him. Straka’s translator occasionally leaves her own footnotes, which sometimes reveal interesting and important information, but which sometimes come off as catty or odd or ill-thought-out.
The relationship between Eric and Jen develops over the course of the book in a fashion which is readable, if not strictly speaking logical by the premise of the book. They use different colored pens at different times in order to give the reader a clue as to when in time their notes are written. And while throughout the book there will be notes on the same page which were written months apart (in the timeline of the book), the early pages of the book contain their earliest notes to each other and the final pages of the book contain their final notes to each other and their relationship mostly develops linearly across the pages.
Theoretically, if they were passing the book to each other and scanning the entire thing every day for new notes, there should be no such order and their final notes could be written anywhere in the book. They have, after all, both read it multiple times (along with other Straka books). This would, of course, make the book difficult to read for us. Readers would need to read it twice (or more), while flipping pages back and forth and perhaps taking their own notes, just to understand what was going on. As it is, you can read it in the same way you would read any other book (front to back).
As one might expect of two young people enamored with V. M. Straka and his politics, there are the occasional obligatory digs at Christianity, Ernest Hemingway,6 getting a job, schoolwork,7 and overbearing parents who just don’t understand, as well as ruminations on self, self-expression, and existentialism. Not everything they have to say is profound, but they are writing private, intimate notes, not public ones for the world’s eyes. At twenty-two, nobody is profound in their confiding notes.
The plot of Ship of Theseus picks up in the final third of the novel, although the story never sheds its characteristic strangeness. Parts of it feel as though they occur outside of time. S. spends much of the story pining after a woman he barely knows, but whose fate is linked to his in some inexplicable way. He lacks much control over his destiny and at times there are real questions about why he does anything he does (he doesn’t appear know himself). He flits into and out of episodes, and sometimes this woman is there and other times he wishes she were.
While some of the conspiratorial anti-capitalist tropes sometimes grow tiresome, the book retains enough self-awareness that there is even an incisive short speech from a villain who “sold out.” In a few paragraphs reminiscent of Jack Nicholson’s speech in A Few Good Men, he lays bare the main character in a particularly cutting and insightful way, while also providing a reasonable explanation for his own (admittedly unvirtuous) decisions. He points out that S. spends his whole life fighting for a cause which isn’t his, merely because he happened to fall in with people he didn’t know (after suffering from amnesia), and he goes on long after they have all fallen away or been killed. He is a pawn of events and his cause is a burden to him, making his life infinitely harder than it could have been. He is frustrated in life and love and he never fully finds out who he is or was. There might be something admirable in that, but it isn’t an easy or even a fulfilling life.
The man who sold out did so for the same reason most people “sell out” – to live a comfortable life with his family and enjoy nice things. Admittedly, he was responsible for crimes against humanity. But for those of us for whom a comfortable and prosperous life and a happy family isn’t “selling out,” but rather “a good life” this actually seems like a pretty reasonable explanation.
There is closure to the story, both S.’s story and the story of Jen and Eric. But it isn’t tied up neatly with a bow. There is something slightly unsatisfying about never having more to go by than what Jen and Eric write down in the margins, and there is something more than slightly unsatisfying about S.’s entire life.
The book will leave you with questions, but that’s partly the point. I think I have a good idea of who V. M. Straka was, if he was a real person (in the book), but it is impossible to be certain. If Dorst and Abrams decided to write a sequel, they quite easily could pick things up where they left off. While Eric and Jen are happy, there is a great deal of uncertainty in their future, and there is more going on in their lives than meets the eye.
If you like puzzles, you might appreciate this book. I read it on a whim and very much enjoyed it. It isn’t the kind of book I would have picked for myself, but I gambled that I would like it anyway. This paid off. If you’re so inclined, please give it a read.
I loved The Rise of Endymion, as I loved all four of Dan Simmons’ Hyperion novels.
Think the Lost Generation and the Inklings crossed with the Impossible Mission Force and the Weather Underground.
Naturally. A similar book with characters involved in far-right politics wouldn’t work. Especially set as it is (the events of Straka’s life – Eric and Jen live in the twenty-first century) in the early twentieth century, before the fall of the Berlin Wall caused radical left-wing politics to lose some of its mystique. Straka’s politics make him exciting and intriguing, rather than scary (most history students remember what radical right-wingers were doing in Europe in the 1920s and ‘30s). But even if we were talking about less radical politics, the left throughout history tends to be more subtle and sophisticated, while the right tends to write bluntly and in all capital letters. This is one reason writers and artists in our day and Straka’s gravitate towards the left.
Indeed, Straka would be far from unique in left-wing or anti-capitalist circles in rejecting labels and “-isms.”
But if Straka and his compatriots manage to stop him, maybe the whole system will all come crashing down.
Who was left-wing in his politics, but who “codes” right.
Admittedly, Eric frequently tries to remind Jen to do her schoolwork, because she is in danger of not graduating.