I approached this book warily. After all, fiction and playwriting are such different forms, why put the two together? Fiction is designed to pull you into a world, and a published play requires you to imagine seeing a stage and, despite the stage directions, you forget that a stage is there or that the script is really meant for actors. Ideally, the characters and actions are so intriguing, you forget all the artifice. It’s a difficult form to get right for readers.
Still, as a published novelist and produced playwright, I adore both forms, so I plunged in, starting with the novella; "The Queue" is absolutely brilliant.
"The Queue" takes place sometime in the future, perhaps not that far off, where our world is under guidance of a leader whom people call Leader. With resources starting to become short, the Leader has decreed that the state will confiscate the homes of “citizens of advanced age,” people eighty and older. They all have to report to a specific spot, a queue of people that extends to the horizon. What will happen to the elderly citizens, arranged by age, oldest first, when they get to the front of the line? No one knows.
The story is told by a middle-aged man who has helped his two parents to the line, and he stays with them. Author Michael Hager pours out the truths of the human condition in an existentialist tone reminiscent of No Exit by John-Paul Sartre. The story is not just about aging, but of many aspects of the human condition.
For instance, some people in line including the narrator’s parents take solace from their religion. How can faith exist when it seems so clear there is no higher power, no sense, no fairness? Yet when the narrator runs into a group of elderly nuns, he is awed by their strength.
The narrator experiences a mixture of the Stanford prison experiment and the surreal. Guards abuse older people and shoot or hang them if they’re the least bit surly, yet the old folks patiently stand and worry, moving sometimes only meters a day, wondering what will happen to them. Maybe it’ll be good.
What adds to the strength of this book are the contradictions, such as the upbeat nature of some of the people in line when so much is horrible or how a pleasant scent of the soldiers’ coffee leads to a positive memory.
As one elderly gentleman tells the narrator in the harshness of the line with a smile, “To age well, one must accept suffering and death, not only as inevitable but as something natural and good—whether it comes in a battlefield or in a hospital bed.”
The format of the book is unusual, a dance between standard design and indented sections in italics that jump into the protagonist’s memory. Expositive by design, they nonetheless reveal a lot. For instance, he remembers a day he was deeply in love and was about to propose to his girlfriend when she “had something to say. She’d met someone. This would be our last time together.” Such juxtapositions lead the reader to nod at life’s inherent unfairness and absurdity while remain fascinated by the moments of beauty.
Hager’s three one-act plays, in contrast, lack the truth and lyricism of "The Queue." I won't get into them because they are on-the-nose and clunky. However, they shouldn't dissuade you from getting the book to read the novella, which is haunting.