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A review by richardrbecker
Anthem by Noah Hawley
2.0
Anthem is a book about extremes — an ambitious and biting near-future satire that may have worked had Hawley spared his readers on two points. First, his essays distract and disenchant as they reveal an author just as trapped in the same mire as his characters. Second, his initial effort to portray two factions as both far afield eventually favors one more than the other. One isn't better than the other.
The end result is that a story that starts strong — painting Hawley as an astute observer who accurately points out that the Internet that was supposed to Democratize information only delivered us a means for self-affirmation (no matter what we believe) — becomes as tiresome as his real-life inspiration — the evening news infused with Hawley's favorite acronym. LOL. LOL. LOL.
The primary plot thread is about two teenagers and a young man who escape from the Float Anxiety Abatement Center in Chicago — a place they were admitted to because teenagers all over the world are committing suicide over their lack of faith in our future. Their mission is divinely inspired — ignore the artificial civil war being waged by liberals and conservatives and take on an unimaginably wealthy, almost mythical figure of unspeakable evil that they call The Wizard. Along the way, they run into dozens of pop-culture-soaked characters who rely on their adopted names (a.k.a. Randall Flagg) to convey a depth that their author never bothered to give them.
What makes it all the more a shame is Hawley is an exquisite writer by every count. You don't have to agree with his conclusions to appreciate his essays (with poignant assessments but problematic solutions). You don't have to like the story to appreciate many of its scenes. And you don't have to embrace his thesis to cheer his observations in those rare moments he rises above the fray.
Yet, in the end, I found myself rooting more for the end of the book than the characters trying to find resolution in a broken world or, more precisely, a broken story that forgets to deliver us any real human beings. Instead, all we get are cartoons overlayed on an amplified version of the issues and ideologies that so many of us would rather avoid today. A11.
The end result is that a story that starts strong — painting Hawley as an astute observer who accurately points out that the Internet that was supposed to Democratize information only delivered us a means for self-affirmation (no matter what we believe) — becomes as tiresome as his real-life inspiration — the evening news infused with Hawley's favorite acronym. LOL. LOL. LOL.
The primary plot thread is about two teenagers and a young man who escape from the Float Anxiety Abatement Center in Chicago — a place they were admitted to because teenagers all over the world are committing suicide over their lack of faith in our future. Their mission is divinely inspired — ignore the artificial civil war being waged by liberals and conservatives and take on an unimaginably wealthy, almost mythical figure of unspeakable evil that they call The Wizard. Along the way, they run into dozens of pop-culture-soaked characters who rely on their adopted names (a.k.a. Randall Flagg) to convey a depth that their author never bothered to give them.
What makes it all the more a shame is Hawley is an exquisite writer by every count. You don't have to agree with his conclusions to appreciate his essays (with poignant assessments but problematic solutions). You don't have to like the story to appreciate many of its scenes. And you don't have to embrace his thesis to cheer his observations in those rare moments he rises above the fray.
Yet, in the end, I found myself rooting more for the end of the book than the characters trying to find resolution in a broken world or, more precisely, a broken story that forgets to deliver us any real human beings. Instead, all we get are cartoons overlayed on an amplified version of the issues and ideologies that so many of us would rather avoid today. A11.