Such a Fun Age

Debut novelist Kiley Reid said during a recent interview that she's interested in "class dynamics in tiny microcultures." Those five words immediately drew me to her book "Such a Fun Age," a fast-paced, thought-provoking novel that I read while screaming at the pages. 

"Oh no, she isn't going to do that?" "Is she?" All the while dreading the answer.

The she I'm referring to is Alix Chamberlain, the prototype of a wealthy, white, liberal woman who congratulates herself on her "wokeness" even as she struggles with an inferiority complex stemming from an incident during her

senior year of high school that she cannot put behind her. That incident spools out gradually over the course of the story, a trick that Reid effectively utilizes to make the anticipation all the more dreadful.

The novel begins late at night in a high end market in Philadelphia where Emira Tucker is babysitting for the Chamberlains' three-year-old daughter, Briar. The Chamberlains' home has been vandalized because husband Paul, a newscaster, had earlier in the day been caught on an open mic making a dubiously racist comment. Not wanting to subject Briar to the drama of the police investigation, the Chamberlains have called Emira away from a night out with friends to watch over Briar for a couple of hours.

The problem is that Briar is snow white and, you guessed it, Emira is black. A "do-gooding" patron of the store, suspicous of the relationship between Briar and Emira, calls security and, though she is grace under pressure, Emira exudes enough angst that another bystander, Kelly Copeland, sensing an injustice about to go down, films the altercation on his cell phone. Sound familiar?

From this single, timely incident in the first chapter of the book, Reid takes readers down a rabbit hole, examining issues of race, class, integration, and authenticity. Emira, a college graduate who hasn't been able to find her passion, works low-paying odd jobs in a desperate attempt to keep up with her more sophisticated friends. She's embarassed by the fact that she babysits even though she truly loves the work and cares deeply for Briar. Everyone seems to expect more from her, except her.

Soon, both Alix and Kelly are vying to Emira's attention and friendship. But is it Emira they want or just another black friend to add to their collection. I know that sounds harsh but as you read you will see what I mean. This is a great first novel. Especially strong is Reid's sense of the zeitgeist. Conversations among Emira and her pals, Emira and Kelly, and Alix and her friends are perfectly characterized. So this is how it feels to be a millenial I thought. 

In the end, this is a book that makes us look at our own selves with a sharp eye. Sometimes it may not be pretty. What kinds of judgements do we make - just automatically - out of the box - when we see something that doesn't fit into our preconceived notions based upon our world view. The lesson is to widen your world view! With that in mind I'll be off to Costa Rica tomorrow to read and relax and bask in the joy of old friends and a country that sees no need to fund a standing army. Pura vida!

Ian McEwan's Machines Like Me

Once again I must accuse myself of pre-judging a novel, deciding that I wouldn't read it, only to discover that it was on Professor Elaine Newton's (Emeritus, York University, Toronto) list of books that she's discussing this year in Naples, Florida. Ms. Newton is one of the closest readers I've ever had the pleasure of listening to so I knew that I'd better get my nose into "Machines Like Me." So glad I did! Especially in light of the fact that I chose Jeanette Winterson's "Frankissstein" as a Library Journal top ten for 2019.

Two decades into the twenty-first century the incredible development of machine technology and artificial intelligence has even been front and center in the latest presidential campaign. Think Andrew Yang. It is also the subject of more novels that once would have read like sci-fi but now read like representations of current times. And though McEwan's story takes place in an alternative iteration of 1980's London, it feels all too plausible.

Because the novel springs from the imagination of multi award-winning McEwan (Booker Prize, Whitbread, National Book Critics Circle) you can trust that it is

constructed of layer upon layer of nuance and moral conundrums that make it ripe for discussion. The basic premise is that Charlie, a thirty-something young man with a degree in anthropology and a passion for all things technological, has spent his life's inheritance on an Adam, one of the first batch of androids created by the still living and working Alan Turing - the scientist made famous in Cumberbach's The Enigma Code.

Charlie plugs Adam in and, while reading over the directions and waiting for him to charge, decides that a clever way to entice a closer relationship with Miranda, the doctoral candidate who lives upstairs, would be to invite her to help him program Adam's traits. Even as I read this I suspected trouble but, oh, I had no idea! Ethical dilemmas quickly arise as Adam's computerized brain works 24/7 to scan the digital universe for all the knowledge that's out there, processing and memorizing large swaths of science, literature, and laws, much like Watson. How, now, can Charlie and Miranda use Adam to cook, wash dishes, and perform menial tasks so far beneath his intellectual heft?

As Adam becomes more and more "human" he exhibits so-called human attributes that confound Charlie; jealousy, love, sorrow, depression. These feelings also confound Adam. Ms. Newton proclaimed Miranda a delightful character while I found her to be manipulative and untrustworthy. Was I channeling Adam? You see, with his wide swath of factual knowledge he has discovered that Miranda has a secret. She has committed a crime and has gotten away with it. Whether or not it was executed with the best of intentions is a moral gray area that Adam is incapable of judging. And now Ian McEwan leads his readers down a twisted rabbit hole of unanswered questions, questions that will fascinate and perplex.

This novel, that I didn't think I wanted to read, was profoundly disturbing, challenging, funny, complicated, and thought-provoking. A friend remarked that for days after finishing it she could think of nothing else. I concur. Ever since Mary Shelley created her Frankenstein readers, writers, philosphers, and scientists have questioned what exactly it means to be human. Our future will no doubt be "peopled" with more and more machines that can replicate our every move. But can they live with us? Can they tolerate our innate ability to weather disasters, devastating illnesses, love and loss, the messy facts of life that dog us every day of our lives and that we face with stalwart resilience at every turn? Think about it. Then run out to your local library and grab a copy of "Machines Like Me." I think you'll thank me.