The Luminaries in Book Riot's Read Harder Challenge

Apr 04, 2014 Molly rated it liked it

Shelves: historical-fiction, literary-fiction, borrowed, 3-stars, meh, read-in-2014, irc-2014

I didn't hate this, and parts of it were pretty great, but right now my overwhelming impression is: meh. It was okay. Perhaps I'll be able to sort out an actual review in a day or so, after I let it sit.
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I’m conflicted. This is, without a doubt, an extremely smart, well-written book. And yet...I just wasn’t enthralled with it. I feel like I “got” it (major pet peeve of mine, though, the whole notion of “getting” something. I both “get” and detest Catcher in the Rye, for instance, so I do I didn't hate this, and parts of it were pretty great, but right now my overwhelming impression is: meh. It was okay. Perhaps I'll be able to sort out an actual review in a day or so, after I let it sit.
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I’m conflicted. This is, without a doubt, an extremely smart, well-written book. And yet...I just wasn’t enthralled with it. I feel like I “got” it (major pet peeve of mine, though, the whole notion of “getting” something. I both “get” and detest Catcher in the Rye, for instance, so I don’t feel like those two things are mutually exclusive), and I even understand the hype surrounding it. The style is experimental, and I think it works for the story Catton set out to tell. But neither the style nor the story (nor many of the character) fully appealed to me in the end. We begin in Hokitika, New Zealand on January 27, 1866, when Walter Moody (who is not the protagonist, though he’s framed as such in the blurb) unwittingly stumbles upon a secret council of 12 men. Perhaps against their better judgment, the men let him witness the council, and Moody’s inclined to hear their tale because of a strange incident he himself witnessed on the ship to Hokitika. Moody hoped to strike it rich in the gold rush, and there’s some hastily described (and equally hastily resolved) family drama that acts as a catalyst for his departure from his native England. But as the truest outside of the group of 12 -- now 13 -- Moody can hopefully offer the most objective take on the yarn these fellows are about to spin. And spin they do. And spin. And spin. These 12 seemingly unconnected characters (which include a Chinese opium dealer, a Maori tribesman, a newspaper owner, and a hotelier, to name a few) have all been brought together by a series of strange events that originally transpired two weeks earlier, on January 14th, when a hermit died and a prostitute nearly committed suicide. Circumstances surrounding both the hermit’s death and the prostitute’s attempted suicide (though she claims to have been under the influence of opium and not in her right mind) are suspicious, made all the more so by a fortune uncovered in the hermit’s house, as well as a contract that seems to grant half of said windfall to the prostitute -- although it’s not legal because it hasn’t been signed. And what does all of this have to do with the strange, bleeding man Walter Moody ran across in the cargo hold of the ship? Could he be the missing man who drew up the contract between the hermit and the hooker?

Obviously all of the characters are connected, and Catton unravels those early connections in the first of the novel’s twelve parts. Thomas Balfour takes primary narration duties at the outset, but we follow all twelve of the men at one point or another, as their connections -- to one another and to the dual mysteries -- become clear. What bugged me is that it just takes so long for the threads to come together. An astute reader can spot the connections early on, and then it just becomes sort of ponderous, waiting for people you know are connected to cross paths with one another.

After unraveling the events of the 14th (on the 27th), we now know the connections between these people -- the how, but not the why, which is what the majority of the rest of the novel comprises. Why did Anna try to kill herself? Why did Crosbie Wells have a fortune hidden in his cabin? Why did Ernest Staines disappear? (and is he dead? (view spoiler)). Eventually, Crosbie’s supposed widow Lydia comes forward -- though no one in town has ever heard of her -- to contest the sale of his property (including the windfall of gold) because as his -- albeit estranged -- wife, the money is hers. This was where things finally became interesting for me, because Lydia is one fascinating hot mess of a character. I found Anna to be kind of a drip, but I would have loved to hear more from Lydia’s perspective.

In short, there’s a trial, both attempted and actual murders, a verdict, and then the story circles back on itself to the beginning and we learn the truth about all of it. Like I said, it’s a unique, experimental way of telling a story, and there’s a definite elegance to the way the plot circles back on itself like a calendar. Some of the themes of doubling were a bit too on the nose for my tastes, and while it’s certainly a mark of a smart writer to be able to craft a plot in which each part is exactly half as long as the part that precedes it...I’m not sure that did much to enhance the story. It didn’t detract from it either, but it was just... a thing. I’m not sure I would have noticed the halving if I hadn’t seen it mentioned in another review. Clearly each part was shorter than the last, but I don’t think I would have realized each is half as long. By the last few parts, the “in which...” commentary at the beginning was far longer than the contents of the chapters themselves, which felt...off. Like suddenly everything was happening at breakneck speed and wrapping up quickly and even though this damn book was over 800 pages, I still wanted to savor some of those moments.

The astrology...angle? framing device? schtick? was another element that I found to be just there. My knowledge of astronomy/astrology consists almost entirely of knowing that those are two different fields of study, the occasional astronomy question in Scholastic Bowl, or reading my horoscope once and a while (and having watched a few episodes of Cosmos). I thought about researching the symbolism behind the star charts (or are they horoscope charts?) at the beginning of each Part, but again, they weren't essential to understanding the novel. The story made perfect sense without them, in my opinion, so I don’t necessarily see the need to include them, other than to really bop you over the head with the theme. I’m also in agreement with the review who suggests the novel should have ended much earlier -- I’d heard all I needed/wanted to hear by page 717, and I feel like that may actually have been the perfect note to end on. What follows are almost 100 more pages wherein, as I’ve said, every plot point is meticulously spelled out (many of them in the pre-chapter synopses).

Overall, this was...fine. If I’d truly disliked it, I wouldn’t have finished it (though I do sort of wish I’d taken that reviewer’s advice and just stopped at 717). The courtroom scene is truly fantastic, and none of it would have made a damn bit of sense (or had ANY impact) without the 400 pages of backstory that precede it. I’m still just torn -- I adore historical fiction, and usually a great piece of historical fiction piques my interest in the time period. After reading Life After Life and Blackout /All Clear, I had a Blitz obsession. In the Shadow of Blackbirds immediately made me want to learn more about Spanish influenza (and I’m dying for someone to point me to a great piece of World War I fiction, because I still know jack-all about that war!). But after reading this, I’m neither more nor less interested in the gold rush. Catton does a fantastic job of scene setting here, such that someone with ZERO background in the subject can feel surefooted. I think it’s the fact that the subject itself doesn’t necessarily interest me -- it’s too close to Westerns I think (cowboys and Indians and all that implies...it does nothing for me). And again, it’s the mark of a skilled writer to draw me into a subject about which I know nothing and don’t have a previously vested interest. Also, I’m in love with the way Catton named her characters, because all of the names are absolutely perfect and Dickensian-sounding. Any time I’ve ever done any creative writing, I have the hardest time coming up with names for my characters (that goes double for coming up with names for, like, grammar worksheets). Alistair Lauderback? perfect name for a politician with a secret. Anna Wetherell? Of course she’s a hooker with no personality! Walter Moody? absolutely a fish out of water. Just really subtle and fantastic. It’s little details like this that keep me from giving any less than 3 stars, but my general lack of interest in the subject, and decided apathy towards the experimentation, leaves this at a solid 3 for me. It’s good; it will appeal more to some people than others, but it won’t be my go-to “doorstop book” recommendation (that honor would have to go to any of the Song of Ice and Fire series...probably Storm of Swords).

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