Genre: literary fiction
Published: Soft Skull Press, November 2024
My Rating: 1.5/5 stars
“They say that walking is controlled falling, they say put one foot in front of the other, they say things will return to normal and you will adjust to the change, as if those are similar promises, and possible. They give you special equipment if you are deemed worthy of it, and if not, they assure you that you have special talents for adaptation. They call you resilient. If I am repeating what they say rather than what I think of what they say, it’s because – not being resilient – I struggle with every step.”
It’s probably too early in the year to be calling anything most disappointing read of 2025, but can’t imagine any scenario where this book isn’t at least a contender… I picked this book up based off its synopsis and having read the first page standing in the bookstore. I was immediately sold on the first paragraph (see above), thinking this was going to be a new favourite. The sad part is; I can see the bones of that favourite book in here. It’s outline is there in the symbolism and the ideas. It’s just that I hated the way the author went about constructing the “body” of the book around it.
The backflap tells us that follow an unnamed narrator with a failed career as a method-actor behind her, as she struggles to regain the ability to walk in the wake of a seismic event that leaves the world constantly unstable. Unmoored by the shifts in the dystopian world around here, she (seemingly without reason) begins to fantasize about killing her roommate. The idea of relearning to walk on undulating ground, as a metaphor for trauma/change alone was the main draw for me but unfortunately this is barely comes into play. Instead we get a lot of reflection on method-acting, performance theory, and how it influenced our protagonists sense of self. Yes, there’s potentially a lot of interesting discussion to be had here too, but as a topic it’s a lot less original and has been explored before (and better!) many times.
The author also indulges in a lot of (for lack of a better word) “language-games” and dissecting words to the point where they lose all meaning. It’s a trend I’ve been seeing quite a bit in prize-winning fiction, and only works for me if it’s done really well and sparingly. An Earthquake is a Shaking of the Surface of the Earth doesn’t have enough restraint to pull it off tactfully.
The result is something that feels bloated, pretentious and strangely “literary-prize-coded”. It’s no surprise that the words BOOKER PRIZE are plastered over the front-cover; this book is pulling out all its tricks in hopes to win it. “Look how clever my writing is” it seems to scream; “this is more than just fiction”. It leads to little gems like these:
“The flash is not the same thing as understanding. The flash is what understanding was invented to replace.”
or
“Assonance is for asses.”
or
“An aster is a member of the planet’s second largest family of plants, to which many people are allergic. Its flowers resemble stars. A disaster is a conflict or a dissonance, a problem between what people want and what the stars want for them. In any game, one player’s disaster can be another’s win.”
Connecting “asters” (the flowers) with “disasters” as if they’re an antithesis… I mean, sure it sounds profound and interesting, but when you sit and think about it, its an absolutely hollow sentence without deeper meaning beyond word-similarity. I genuinely fear that literary critics will praise quasi-profundity like this, just out of fear of being called “too stupid to understand it”. I for one, won’t be joining in.
Overall: stunning cover, brilliant concepts, but an execution so self-aggrandizing and bloated that it borders on unreadable. Unfortunately, I cannot recommend this one.
Find this book here on Goodreads.
