I don’t know whether this counts as an alternative read, but since the only reason I’ve heard of it is because I went to the author’s reading when he visited Iowa City shortly after the book was published, I’m going to go ahead and say that it does. The subject for today’s review is The Brief History of the Dead, by Kevin Brockmeier.
I had trouble with this book. I had to set it down and walk away around the middle of it and gear myself up for the second half, for reasons I will explain in a moment. It’s not a long book (the paperback version is 272 pages), but it is a lot of work to get through – Brockmeier is quite irreverent when it comes to things like plot, choosing instead to focus on language and character. Both of which shine pretty well here.
The story of The Brief History of the Dead is given to the reader as a puzzle. First, Brockmeier introduces you to the City, which appears to be the place people go when they die. Not the final place, but sort of an intermediary location. The City functions like the normal world (except no one ever ages) – people work, they shop, go out to eat, hook up, etc. Next, we meet Laura Byrd, an environmental biologist working for Coca-Cola in the Antarctic who has been left by her two companions in their research station. They left to find help; the outside world is in a crumbling state of biological warfare and communications is in complete disrepair.
The two stories of the City and the people within, and of Laura in her journey to find someone else, anyone else, twist around and feed into each other, providing clues and insights into the world that Laura inhabits as well as the dead. When the City starts to drain of its inhabitants and those that are left start speculating about why certain people leave and certain people don’t, Laura has to come to grips with the certainty that she may, in fact, be the last person on Earth. It’s a beautifully told story that uses memory and nostalgic story telling to achieve a very haunting effect. Brockmeier composes sections of the book as though they are prose poetry; lilting images and lyrical syntax, especially when people describe how they got the City after their deaths. Those interludes were my favorites, because Brockmeier obviously took care to make each experience not only unique to each character, but to use it as a chance to reveal something intimate about each person. It's never obvious what he's revealing, but you do get the feeling of someone telling you an important secret about themselves.
Now, the reason I had to set it down for a few days was because I think that I went at it too aggressively. The plot here is secondary. The correct way of reading History is to let it flow over you, to accept the things you are told as they occur, and not to work too hard to find the plot. It’s there, but it’s very direct in a way that made me almost miss the subtleties; I am not used to having the actual plot laid so bare before me, because in this case it is not strictly the plot that’s important. It’s the little details: Brockmeier brings back the idea of small memories, the every day details, being the ones that stick, and it is the small details that come together to make the portraits of his characters so rich and full, and what gets at the story that is his true purpose.
Even the smallest secondary characters in History are lovingly crafted and fascinating to read about. There are the “main” characters, of course, Laura and a handful of people immediately connected to her, but there is also a little girl who greedily stuffs a candy stick into her mouth so she won’t have to share. And a doorman who keeps a silver crucifix around his neck. And a man who considers the city to be heaven, because after his suicide he found his wife and daughter there. The way that Brockmeier gets the passing descriptions to stick in your head is masterful.
The Brief History of the Dead is a worthwhile read, if you don’t mind having to work a little harder at a novel. Kevin Brockmeier is one of those rare authors that trusts his reader enough not to give them everything; instead, he places tantalizing morsels of personality and memory in front of you, trusting you to piece them together into his envisioned whole. Or maybe it’s a personalized puzzle, meant to mean something different to everyone. Either way, it’s worth every effort that you care to give it.
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