"The Gone-Away World" by Nick Harkaway (2008)

 **A cross between a post-apocalyptic scifi novel, political and social commentary, and a oldschool Kung Fu movie.  Yes.  This book is amazing**

Nick Harkaway is a fantastically underrated author.  That is of course his pen name, his real name is Nick Cornwell, son of David Cornwell, who in turn was better known by his pen name, John le Carré.  So, yeah.  If nothing else, Nick has the pedigree

Yet while his father was gritty and real (and amazing, truly a legend.  If you haven't read "The Spy Who Came in from the Cold", honestly, maybe you should stop reading this post and go do that), Harkaway instead find joy in the fantastic.  He's one of my favorite world-builders in the business, and couple that with prose that is so damn quotable, yeah.  You should be reading more Nick Harkaway

And yes, he has a lot to say about the world:

Modern war is distinguished by the fact that all the participants are ostensibly unwilling. We are swept towards one another like colonies of heavily armed penguins on an ice floe. Every speech on the subject given by any involved party begins by deploring even the idea of war. A war here would not be legal or useful. It is not necessary or appropriate. It must be avoided. Immediately following this proud declamation comes a series of circumlocutions, circumventions and rhetoricocircumambulations which make it clear that we will go to war, but not really, because we don’t want to and aren’t allowed to, so what we’re doing is in fact some kind of hyper-violent peace in which people will die. We are going to un-war.

So, let's talk about "The Gone-Away World".  You're going to have a lot of questions about this book, and the answer to most of them is going to be "yes".  Is it a drama?  Yes.  Is it a comedy?  Yes.  Is it anti-capitalist social commentary?  Yes.  Is it a war novel?  Yes.  Is it a postapocalyptic novel?  Yes.  Are there ninjas?  Yes.  Are there Kung Fu masters?  Yes.  Are there Mad-Max-style land pirates?  Yes.  Are the postapocalyptic traveling mimes?  Yes.  There is a lot happening in this book, and I love all of it

We open upon our heroes, hanging out at a wasteland bar after the apocalypse has destroyed much of human civilization.  They get called in by the remaining government for one big, important job--possibly to save what's left of humanity.  And then . . . flashback to years prior, as we find out exactly how humanity got into this mess

We follow our main character as he grows up, and he in turn follows his best friend Gonzo Lubitsch, the badass supercool dude who grows up and learns about the world.  And boy, do we learn.  We learn about politics and about coming-of-age.  At one point, we learn about Kung Fu as the main character becomes the disciple of an old martial arts teacher, every classic "old, wise, inscrutable" master from every oldschool Kung Fu movie rolled into one:

“Why didn’t you fight him?” And then she hears her own question and is abashed.

Master Wu shrugs. “Mr. Lasserly wanted to know if I knew Secrets,” he says. “He wanted to fight me so that he could find out. And now he thinks he knows the answer. He knows that I was so absolutely sure of which way it would go that I didn’t want to fight him.” 

“But he thinks he would have won!” And this, in the end, is the heart of the matter, because in Lasserly’s certainty our own is eroded. 

“Oh, goodness me,” says Master Wu, with vast sincerity, “I didn’t mean for him to have that impression at all!” He opens his eyes very wide, as if realising for the first time how it must have looked. “Oh dear! I am so clumsy! Do you think I should call him and tell him that I would have beaten him because he has stiff legs, moves like a cow and tenses his shoulders? But,” says Master Wu happily, “he didn’t leave a number. Well, never mind.”

Our hero grows up, has adventures, makes mistakes, gets laid, and generally has a pretty fun time of things.  And then he joins the army, and gets sent to a strange and terrible forward theater, and we start to learn where this apocalypse thing from the beginning of the novel originated

Catch up to the present, the team completes the job, and deals with the aftermath, including . . . well, I guess I can't say more without spoilers

This books jumps around.  One section of it is a rather charming little "two friends growing up" tale.  Then it becomes a classic Kung Fu movie.  Then it's a series war drama.  Then it's a wasteland postapocalypse adventure.  Then it's an urban thriller with sociopolitical commentary.  Then it's . . .

This world is populated from top to bottom with memorable characters, from the main characters to their misfit crew of heroes to characters that only have a scene or two but shine nonetheless (such as Malevolent Pete, their aggressively misanthropic mechanic:  "Malevolent Pete nods in a way which suggests I have been degraded from Threat to Nuisance, and Nuisance is a broad category which includes Paying Customer.").  There is a fantastic villain, and wonderful support characters that you'll remember for years

And throughout all this, Harkaway takes a joy in an almost Pratchett-esque tendency to get sidetracked, to soapbox about something only tangential to the plot, but you find yourself smiling as you read it because it's just so much fun.  For example, when our narrator meets his future wife for the first time:

I need bruschetta (that’s “broo-SKET-uh,” not “brushetter,” a slender piece of ciabatta toasted and brushed with garlic and oil and covered in fresh tomato and basil—the chunks inevitably fall off the bread and the olive oil runs over your lips and down your chin. The whole thing is delicious, deeply physical and delightfully undignified, and a woman who can eat a real bruschetta is a woman you can love and who can love you. Someone who pushes the thing away because it’s messy is never going to cackle at you toothlessly across the living room of your retirement cottage or drag you back from your sixth heart attack by sheer furious affection. Never happen. You need a woman who isn’t afraid of a faceful of olive oil for that)

I loved this book because, basically, the author clearly loved writing it.  He put in his love for pulp fiction and for badass hero stories and for classic kung fu movies and he wrapped it all up and he told a story

And yes, this book has a thoughtful center as well.  Because in the end, you can't tell a war story or a classic Kung Fu movie story without loss.  Loss is very much the center of this novel, as much as the outside trappings are silly mime and ninja shenanigans.  It's a postapocalyptic book, right?  So it's a book about what we do with our lives when the worst thing that we can imagine happening . . . has happened.  Just like when Gonzo's father spoke to him after the death of his son, Gonzo's older brother:

Gonzo’s father told his son to grieve without reservation or embarrassment until he could grieve solemnly and inwardly, and then finally to hang up his tears and wear them only occasionally, as befits the true men of the heart. Grief is not a thing to be ashamed of or suppressed, he told Gonzo. Nor yet is it a thing to cherish. Feel it, inhabit it and leave it behind. It is right, but it is not the end. Old Man Lubitsch could barely bring himself to say the last word aloud.

Give this book a chance, as silly as it sounds.  I promise, if nothing else, you'll have a good time.  And then message me when you want to talk about the line, "Every single one of them will remember this feeling for the rest of their lives, in quiet moments and in the cold, truthful hours of the night, and every time they see Tupperware"

I loved this book

"Each single day is short, yet when you come to count them you find that time’s strange process has forged them all together into years."