How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe (Charles Yu)

by Thom Dunn

I've been looking forward to reading this book since I first heard about it prior to its release last year. I was already familiar with Yu's short story collection, Third Class Superhero, and I enjoyed his dry humor, his simplistic approach to complicated scientific situations, and his complicated scientific approach to simple situations. Unfortunately, How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe proved to be quite the popular book, and I had difficulty getting my hands on a copy until recently. I rarely approach a modern novel with a full year's worth of hype behind it, so I was increasingly worried about how disappointed I might feel after finally reading it.

Lucky for me, How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe quite lived up to all of my expectations.

The premise of the book is absolutely delectable: Charles Yu (the character, not the author) is a time machine mechanic with a Masters degree in Applied Science Fiction. He spends most of his life in his time machine along with his non-existent dog, Ed, who was retroactively removed from continuity but, like all good dogs, still provides his master with unconditional love despite this paradox of causality. He will readily tell the long, possibly detailed story of not meeting The Woman I (he) Never Married. And so on. Charles Yu embarks on a quest to reconnect with his father, during which he accidentally shoots his own Future Self, who gives him a book called How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe, which is (or, more accurately, will be) written by Charles Yu (the character — wait, no, the author — oh, whatever).

That should pretty much tell me exactly what to expect from this book — ridiculous, self-referential, incredibly clever nerd humor disguised as ridiculously convoluted techno-babble. Charles Yu uses time travel as a means of exploring language, grammar, and the construction of our own memories. Don't be scared off by all the talk of Closed Timelike Curves and wormholes — even when he rambles on about technical terms you don't understand, he does so in an entertaining, tongue-in-cheek manner:

The base model TM-31 time machine runs on state-of-the-art chronodiegetical technology: a six-cylinder grammar drive built on a quad-core physics engine, which features an applied temporalinguistics architecture allowing for free-form navigation within a rendered environment, such as, for instance, a story space and, in particular, a science fictional universe.

Or, as Mom used to say: it's a box. You get into it. You push some buttons.

In many ways, How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe can be seen as a successor to Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut. Both tell psuedo-autobiographical stories (at least, stories initially inspired by personal histories) through the veil of time travel and other silly tropes of science fiction (fully acknowledging their own absurdities). This gives the author a chance to look at his own (fictionalized) life from the perspective of an outsider. Some of my absolute favorite parts of the story are when Charles Yu uses complex quantum physics (including some made-up psuedo-physical story terms) to discuss his relationship with his father, and the emotions that surround that relationship, as they offer a unique but undeniably sympathetic angle on the situation, something you don't often find when using technical science to explain how you're feeling.

Rating

How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe, by Charles Yu

Story: 8.0

While the basic story doesn't stray so far from the established tropes of time travel science fiction (paradoxes, timeloops of cause-and-effect, etc.), Charles Yu still manages to create a unique and distinctive fictional world, one that is fully conscious of its own fictional nature but never loses its heart. The characters and situations are as absurd as they are endearing, and almost make you wish that you could live in a science fictional universe with them. But it's the meticulous plotting of such a(n intentionally) convoluted mess that is particularly impressive; Yu manages to spin his readers into a cloud of wacky metaphysical concepts and weird science, but never gets lost himself.

Style: 9.6

Cosines, physics equations, and chronodiegetical substrates have never been so hilarious or easy to understand. Charles Yu writes with an incredibly unique voice, exploring otherwise bizarre and emotionless situations with the raw heart and wonder of a child. The humor is subtle and dry and wildly clever, but the reading feels quick and easy.

General: 9.4

How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe is one of the most touching and entertaining books I've read in a long time. If you like humor, read it; if you like stories about father-son relationships, read it; if you like science, read it; if you like science fiction, read it; if you like memoirs, read it. It even manages to use all of those incredibly-clever-but-not-really-anymore-because-duh tropes of metafiction (like writing the story you're reading while you are reading the story that's being written) and makes them feel fresh and enjoyable, and actually have a greater resonance in the story as a whole. While some people might be put off by its seemingly esoteric (or just plain weird) nature, give this book a chance; I don't think you'll regret it.

Overall: 9.00

TIMEQUAKE: A Guest Post

*With our head Genoshan off wandering the streets of San Diego (probably dressed like Rocket Raccoon), he's handed the reins of the kingdom over to me for the week, so here goes...something, anyway.

You're sick, now you're better, there's work to be done — Kilgore Trout

The final novel published by acclaimed Absurdist/Sci-Fi author Kurt Vonnegut (followed only by a collection of essays and short stories), Timequake is inherently a failure. Don't get the wrong idea here; Timequake was actually the first Vonnegut I ever read (when I was about 12 — boy, did that go over my head! Why did you buy this for me as an Easter present, Dad?), and I enjoyed it even more the second time around (when I could actually comprehend and appreciate it), but the book Timequake is constructed entirely around Vonnegut's inability to complete the novel Timequake to a satisfactory degree.

Confused? Don't worry about it. Vonnegut's metafictional conceits have metafictional conceits, which in turn have more metafictional conceits, but not in that hurts-your-head kind of way; no, Vonnegut is clearly having fun with this, in that quirky, self-conscious way he does so well. And fortunately, he lays it all out on the line for the reader right up front, to avoid any unnecessary confusion: Timequake was (originally) a novel in which the universe suffers from a crisis in self-confidence—should it go on expanding? What's the point?—and forces everyone within it to re-live the last 10 years of their lives. Everyone would retain their memories of the first 10 year go-round, but would still be forced to go through them again on autopilot, reliving every moment precisely as it happened the first time, unable to change a thing.

Eventually, Vonnegut mostly gave up on this idea, and the Timequake that was ultimately published transformed into a different creature. The book consists of part salvaged sections from the original novel—presented as such, and usually concerning Vonnegut's fictional literary alter ego, Kilgore Trout—and part personal memoir. Taking the notion of a Timequake and applying it to his own personal experiences, as well as to the personal experiences of those close to him, Vonnegut explores ideas of fatalism, determinism, and human nature in the modern world through this fascinating (and often quite comic) lens. These anecdotes range from tragic (a woman who accidentally paralyzes her husband, and must relive it through the quake) to triumphant (a man wrongly imprisoned but eventually released and exonerated who must relive his entire redemption arc to become a hero again) and everything in between, narrated with that delightfully sardonic wit for which Vonnegut has become so renowned.

That being said, Timequake tends to eschew most of the traditional conventions regarding plot and linear cohesion, and this might turn some people off from it. Vonnegut does eventually return to many of his (and Trout's) briefly touched upon anecdotes and stories, often giving us small, almost stream-of-consciousness bursts of information before moving on to something only tangentially related and eventually working his way back several chapters later, but one gets the feeling that it never really goes anywhere. Each anecdote or story has a beginning, middle, and end, and the thematic connections are typically clear, but the story as a whole lacks an arc. As a reader, you are drawn in not by the ongoing meta-adventures of Kilgore Trout, but by the sheer enjoyment of each story as conveyed by Vonnegut (or Trout); there is very little beyond that, however, to compel you to turn the page and continue.

But this isn't necessarily a bad thing. The end of the novel is surprisingly uplifting, and Vonnegut does flirt a bit with the massive destructive forces of Ennui and Apathy (the true antagonists of the story) that overcome the human race once they are free from the grasps of the Timequake (this would have been the action-packed, heroic climax of the original Timequake, in which Kilgore Trout must wake the people up and urge them to continue living, etc., etc.), which all kind of resembles a plot. Surprisingly enough, the apparent lack of cohesion almost makes it easier to read, as most of the anecdotes are both brief and enjoyable. As a reader, you never quite know where it's going to take you next, and a large part of the enjoyment is seeing where all of these seemingly non-sequitur characters and concepts lead and intersect. For those of you entirely unfamiliar with the works of Kurt Vonnegut, a large part of his appeal lies in his ability to speak simply about the most profound things, and this book is certainly no exception. There are times when his language and sentence structure feel almost childlike, but the concepts and ideas contained within are enough to blow your mind all the way to Tralfamadore, to Dresden, or to somewhere else entirely.

I give Timequake 3 and a half out of 5 Vonnegut self portraits:



So it goes.