Every Anxious Wave by Mo Daviau
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“YOU’RE TOO DUMB TO FIX THIS YOURSELF, GO FIND AN ASTROPHYSICIST,” a disgruntled Wayne texts (don’t question it) from the tenth-century island of Mannahatta.
So Karl enlists the services of Lena Geduldig, a no-nonsense, gutsy astrophysicist and former fan of the Axis. As the two devise a plan to retrieve Wayne, they break their own rules about time travel, meddle with their pasts and futures, and fall in love. Except Wayne decides he prefers the past (“SO MUCH FISH,” Wayne relays in one of his trademark all-caps texts) and Lena considers using time-travel to prevent her traumatic adolescent rape, which would endanger her and Karl’s relationship. Faced with losing both Wayne and Lena, Karl confronts the realities of regret, loss and the irresistible pull of the past. The story never gets too mired in the complexities of time travel, though it manages to touch on the very real issue of our crumbling and neglected environment. It’s probably the most light-hearted book about mourning I’ve ever read, a spunky, cheeky tale of moving on and accepting the truth of loss. Every Anxious Wave is charismatic and comical, its characters painted to feel both unusual and familiar. You know someone like them, even if there’s no one precisely like them. They were made carefully, rendered lovingly. Despite their follies and their fixations, Daviau never takes the easy route of ridiculing her characters, never turns an absurd plot into a farce. And what you’re left with is something impossibly charming, a book that is capable of touching that delicate place between mirth and nostalgia. Like a night out with old friends, like a drive around a city that used to be yours. But it is the compassionate rendering and care for these characters that has made me so ambivalent about the book’s ending. For a book about loss, Every Anxious Wave allows Karl Bender to emerge mostly unscathed. That which he ultimately parts with has been long-gone, and there’s a sense our hero gets to have his cake and eat it too. It feels as if Daviau so loves her people that she ultimately has to protect them from the situation she has devised for them. There are no “darlings” among the body count of Every Anxious Wave. While I can’t help but feel relieved for my new friends, what does it mean to create this universe and not let it touch them roughly enough to leave any scars? |
Lauren Prastien is a Zell Fellow at the University of Michigan's Helen Zell Writers' Program, where she previously completed her MFA in Fiction. She is also a blogger for Michigan Quarterly Review. Her writing can be found at Refinery29, National Ave, and elsewhere.
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