What do you think?
Rate this book
259 pages, Hardcover
First published August 9, 2016
Good morning, Midnight!
I'm coming home,
Day got tired of me –
How could I of him?
Sunshine was a sweet place,
I liked to stay –
But Morn didn't want me – now –
So good night, Day!
He treated her like a pet because he didn't know what else to do - with clumsy kindness, but as a specimen of a different species. He fed her when he fed himself. Talked to her when he felt like talking. Took her for walks. Gave her things to play with or look at: a walkie-talkie, a constellation map, a musty sachet of potpourri he'd found in an empty drawer, an Arctic field guide. He did his best, which he knew wasn't very good, but - she didn't belong to him and he wasn't the sort of man who adopted strays.
He remembered that she was only a little girl, and that recollection kindled emotions he didn't quite recognize. Tenderness, perhaps, but something else as well, something darker - fear. Not of her, but for her. Was the journey safe? Had he thought it through? Should he be more careful with this tiny spark of life that had somehow ended up in his care?
Augustine knew only about the distant stars, billions of miles away. He'd been moving from place to place his entire life and had never bothered to learn anything about the cultures or wildlife or geography that he encountered, the things right in front of him. They seemed passing, trivial. His gaze had always been far-flung. He'd accumulated local knowledge only by accident. While his colleagues explored the regions of their various research posts, hiking in the woods or touring the cities, Augustine only delved deeper into the skies, reading every book, every article that crossed his path, and spending seventy-hour weeks in the observatory, trying to catch a glimpse of thirteen billion years ago, scarcely aware of the moment he was living in…When he considered how long he had been alive, it seemed remarkable how little he had experienced.
With each passing day, their separation from Earth became more acute. Now, after two weeks of silence, it was beginning to feel like an emergency. Without the tether of Mission control rippling through the vacuum, they were truly alone. Even though they had begun the long journey home, gradually closing the yearlong gap instead of lengthening it, the crew was feeling farther from Earth than ever. All six of them were coming to terms with the silence, and with what it might mean - for them, and for those they'd left behind on the now-mute planet.
Sitting with him in the control room, and more broadly, joining him here at the end of civilization—the edge of humanity, measured in both time and space. He wondered how it happened, how she had arrived here and how she had stayed, where she came from, who she belonged to, whether she had any feelings on these subjects; she never once said anything about it, and it was somehow unimaginable that she ever would. She was a puzzle, but she was his puzzle, and her presence kept him working, kept him striving without rational expectation of success. It was possible, he mused, that she was what had kept him alive this long.What if the end-of-the world arrived and you didn’t get the memo? Augustine Lofthouse, a legend-in-his-field astrophysicist is 78 years old. He was never much for connecting with people, which may be a good thing, as he has been alone at an Arctic research station for a year when we meet him, everyone else having been shuttled home on rumors of war. Well, almost alone. It seems that a young girl of indeterminate parentage was left behind, which is much more than cold comfort. All communications have ceased. For all he knows, Augie and the girl are the last people on Earth. But they are definitely not the last people.
When the sun finally returned to the Arctic Circle and stained the gray sky with blazing streaks of pink, Augustine was outside, waiting. He hadn’t felt natural light on his face in months. The rosy glow spilled over the horizon ad seeped into the icy blue of the tundra, casting indigo shadows across the snow.It goes on like this for a bit, but you get the (snow) drift. A lotta nice in that. And there are plenty more of this sort scattered throughout the book. And that is the main strength of the novel, that and the treatment of the last-man-on-earth trope, tweaked by the presence of the incomings.
He’d accumulated local knowledge only by accident. While his colleagues explored the regions of their various research posts, hiking in the woods or touring the cities, Augustine only delved deeper into the skies, reading every book, every article that crossed his path, and spending seventy-hour weeks in the observatory, trying to catch a glimpse of thirteen billion years ago, scarcely aware of the moment he was living in.There is certainly merit to the species from folks of this sort. I imagine many of our greatest advances have been at their hands. But this does not make them, necessarily, people you want to spend time with. Sully is a bit less of a loner, but she is portrayed inconsistently. Here is an astronaut who has gone on a multi-year mission leaving behind an ex-husband and a daughter, yet brings only a single photo of her child. Really? Ok. If we accept that, though, then her going all mush at one point seems out of character. There are other inconsistencies that call for a Louis-Black-style double take. Sully’s mother, we learn, was a very successful scientist, yet dropped her career, moved to Canada and spent her time raising her babies. Really? No thought given to, I don’t know, arranging for child care? I don’t buy it.
He didn’t understand love any better than the bear did. He never had. In the past, he’d felt the nibble of a lesser emotion—shame or regret or resentment or envy—but whenever that happened, he would turn his gaze to the sky and let awe wash it away. Only the cosmos inspired great feeling in him. Perhaps what he felt was love, but he’d never consciously named it. His was an all-consuming one-directional romance with the emptiness and the fullness of the entire universe. There was no room to spare, no time to waste on a lesser lover. He preferred it this way.There is plenty in the book about aloneness, loneliness too, but less of the latter than one might expect. Family, or lack of same is a theme, one of the downsides of having an all-encompassing passion for one’s work. But is the passion for work a pure one or are there elements of it being at least in part a cover for not being comfortable relating to people? We are shown why both Sully and Augie might have become less than the most effusive of human beings.
Stargazing the Milky Way from North West Victoria, Australia![]()
She understood everything, even the failure, even the loneliness, had led her here. It had prepared her and taught her and guided her to this. She felt a warmth rising, beginning in her toes and flooding up through her body, like a thousand doors swinging open, all at once… there was only the warmth, the opening in her chest, the unfurling of a quiet intuition, a reservoir of love that had never been touched.