Station Eleven – Emily St. John Mandel
100-Word (or Less) Synopsis: After a global pandemic kills all but one percent of the world’s population, those that remain slowly try to move forward by remembering the past.
Expectation: A high-brow thriller set in the post-apocalyptic Midwest.
Reality: A richly drawn character study that expertly balances multiple, intersecting plots and timelines.
Recommended For: Fans of “The Road” and other slow-burn dystopia tales.
Why I Read It: It had been on my TBR for two years and was widely recommended by friends and acquaintances.
While pandemic-focused novels may not be at the top of everyone’s reading lists these days, Emily St. John Mandel’s “Station Eleven” is one of the finest post-apocalyptic tales I’ve read — and easily one of my favorite books of the year.
Weaving together the atmospheric and character-driven strengths of Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road,” and infusing the plot with enough “here’s how it happened” details to skirt perceived shortcomings in Rumaan Alam’s “Leave the World Behind,” St. John Mandel plays at the line of typical end of times tropes but never crosses it, delivering a wholly original and intimate tale of survival, history and art.
The novel takes a fair bit of concentration as it shifts timeline and character POVs, often in the span of pages, but this structure provides you with a rich view of life before and after the Georgia flu for many of the core characters.
At first I was frustrated by how frequently St. John Mandel shifted from one POV to another, especially when some narratives were rooted mostly in a pre-flu world (sometimes years before) and others were current times, in this case 20 years post-flu in communities around the Great Lakes.
But I was hooked on each of the core characters — Kirsten, Jeevan, Arthur, Miranda and Clark — and how St. John Mandel weaved their seemingly disparate stories together. The flashbacks and flashforwards, provided a sense of closure to each person’s arc and made you think about the ways in which your life is shaped by another person.
I don’t want to give away much of the plot, because part of the fun is seeing how it unfolds, but I will say a few things really stuck with me:
How St. John Mandel dialed up and down the tension at various points. The first several chapters were oddly similar to many reactions to COVID-19’s spread.
Clark’s experiences in the Sovereign City airport were strong enough to sustain an entire novel, which means his plot is the gold medal among many other formidable challengers.
The role of Miranda in so many facets of the post-flu world even though (spoiler alert) she didn’t survive the initial surge.
The role of theater and music in trying to keep people rooted in humanity. It made me realize how often some of the best art is born from tragedy and it builds a connection to our past that is necessary for survival.
Narrated by Kirsten Potter, she does an excellent job of bringing personality to each character, even though her strongest narrations were with Kirsten (maybe she felt connected to her?) and Miranda.
In the end I’m in awe of how St. John Mandel was able to weave understated horror, social commentary, richly layered writing, and a compelling interwoven cast of characters into barely 330 pages. There are few books that leave me wanting more when it ends, but this was one of them.
Simply a must read; I’ll think about it for years.
Rating (story): 5/5 stars
Rating (narration): 4/5
Formats: Audiobook (SIL’s library)
Dates read: August 4 - 8, 2021
Multi-tasking: Okay. If you really want to appreciate the writing and story, a higher level of concentration is necessary.
