Premise
As your intrepid editor and Star Rot whisperer, I’ll confess I occasionally ponder how my life might’ve differed if I’d never discovered The Star Rot Chronicles. Likely, I’d have finished law school. There’d be no possible warrant for my arrest. I might have a steady job. A mortgage. A loving partner. The patter of pajamed feet running up the stairs of my two-story suburban home; I pivot in my ergonmoic office chair to see a young boy and girl in matching striped jammies rush to hug my legs and then look up with wide-eyed cherub faces to say, “Daddy, we love you. Daddy, you are special. Daddy, you are our universe.”
“Pedestrian pleasures. I have another universe, and it is the Metallic Realms.”
Meet Michael Lincoln, the world’s foremost fan (or, as he’d put it, “scholar”) of the science fiction writing collective Orb 4.
For its millennial members, it’s one creative outlet of many. For Michael, it’s everything. He’s also the founder’s roomate, and spies on their meetings via a recording device he hid in a potted plant.
Holed up in an undisclosed location after a “tragedy” breaks up the group, Michael edits their short stories into a collection, complete with his extensive commentary on the tales, their tellers, and (at much greater length) his own tenuous connections to it all.
This fictional work provides the text for Lincoln Michel’s real novel, Metallic Realms, and what a novel it is.
My Review
I stumbled into this novel via a listicle into an impulse buy. It’s now my favourite new release in years.
As someone engaged with science fiction, literary fiction, and fandom communities, I loved reading such an accomplished lampooning of all three. The opening chapters made me laugh harder than any other book I can recall. Michael’s antics are ridiculous, but hilariously realistic, too. If you’ve spent any time in fandom, you’ve met many Michaels.
He is more than caricature, though: Michael is a sympathetic character, relatable in his loneliness and insecurity, and even admirable in his good intentions (though less so in the misguided actions that they inspire).
It’s voice that makes the novel, both Michael’s and those of Orb 4’s four members. Michel excels at this quintuple duty. Each Orb 4ian—from experimental Jane to pulpy Taras—reads differently, so much so that I found myself forgetting that it was all the work of a single author.
This made Michael’s unreliable narration all the more rewarding. Sometimes, Michel uses it for comedy, like when Michael fails to grasp the social insanity of spying on a meeting while taking a shit with the door cracked open. More rewarding, though, are Michael’s misreadings, both of Orb 4’s stories and his own life. He praises Taras’s stories above all, even though they’re pulp shlock. He disdains Jane, even though she’s most sympathetic to him, and completely misses the point of a genuinely moving story she writes about his neurodivergency.
And the prose! I am awed at Michel’s audacity, to intentionally write so poorly at such length. Michael’s musings are the most egregious (“we had been “ghosting” each other and I do not mean in the useful Force Ghost way”), and the Orb 4ians are no prose stylists, either.
That said, don’t worry that it’ll be grating to read—Michael balances badness and readability perfectly. Kevin Brockmeier’s review nails it:Metallic Realms accomplishes in prose what the classic silent comedians accomplished on film, turning the trips and missteps of a born fumbler into acrobatics.”
From there, the novel changed my perspective on bad art. In their stories, the Orb 4ians deal with timely themes—othering, capitalism, climate doom, etc—that shine through their inelegant articulations. The Orb 4ians aren’t great artists, but Michaels’ observations show how approaching these themes in fiction made them more bearable in reality. Realizing that, and seeing all that Michael was able to mine from the stories, too, made me realize that art’s quality isn’t as important as it’s effect on the reader. Other than Metallic Realms and other satires, few creative works are written to be bad. If someone mines more meaning out of a John Scalzi novel than a classic, who am I to judge?
Okay, back to judging. Fortunately Lincoln Michel is a better writer than his characters, so I don’t have many complaints. Some jokes that betray unfamiliarity with the fandoms involved. Some improbabilities—Jane’s $100,000 deal for umarketable literary drivel, Wizards of the Coast partnering with a Kickstarted copycat card game, Star Rot going viral twice—that, while annoying, did improve the story.
A story that, by its ambiguous ending, made me far more upset than I’d anticipated. I think I know what happened, but I can’t quite believe it in my soul.
Final Thoughts
I don’t know if Metallic Realms is an all-timer. The themes around creativity, friendship, and isolation are universal, but the contemporary references and chronically online humour might not work as well in ten years, or even today for someone in different readers’ and fandom spaces than me.
But for me, right now, this book is pretty much perfect.