Erika Swyler

It’s been a while since a book so captured my imagination that I found myself talking to the characters. (You know, like when you’re watching a movie and you tell the girl not to look behind her as she runs away through the woods.) Simon lives in the house he grew up in on the Long Island Sound, but the cliff is eroding and the house is in danger. Simon is unable to keep up with repairs on a librarian’s salary. Someone sends him the logbook of the owner of a traveling circus from the show more 1700’s. His grandmother’s name is written in the back of the book along with the names of other women who all drowned at a young age on July 24th. His own mother drowned on July 24th when he was young. He struggles to find the connection and solve the mystery before something happens to his sister Enola.

The chapters alternate between Simon and the story of the traveling circus and its members. Some reviewers have found this book to be slow moving and dull, but that was not my experience. I devoured this tale in two days because I didn't want to put it down. I'm looking forward to more books from this author. show less

Really 4.5 Stars! When a novel begins with a house teetering precariously on the edge of the Long Island Sound you know you are in for a riveting, unusual read! Debut novelist Swyler has written a fast paced, mesmerizing story about a family with a haunted past.

A mysterious antique book arrives addressed to our first narrator - research librarian Simon. It is his home that is slipping over the edge into the sea. The reader is quickly drawn into an intriguing mystery. The novel presents dual show more narratives - Simon in the present day trying to determine where the antique book came from, what connection it has to his family, and whether or not it can provide answers to the questions he has regarding his mother, who died when he and his sister Enola were young. If you love books, libraries, the ocean, and/or your family, not to mention a good mystery, Simon's storyline will pull you in.

The second narrative belongs to the young mute boy Amos. Set in the 1780's, for me this was the most fascinating portion. A traveling circus, curses, murder, an epic love story, mermaids, tarot cards, caravans - the author brings it all to life so vividly! I found myself racing through the book, eager to read each chapter, but then I forced myself to slow down and savor the brilliant descriptions and spend time with all the fascinating characters.

I added to the enjoyment by checking out Swyler's tumbler and Pinterest feeds - great pictures of things that inspired her as well as the process whereby she learned to book bind and age paper in order to send out her novel to perspective publishing houses looking like an antique book such as the one Simon received in the mail - so cool!

My big quibble with the book is the cover the publisher has chosen for the USA edition - way too generic and bland! I much prefer the drawing on the back of the ARC I received, it shows the house on the edge of the cliff. It looks like the UK edition may get this cover - lucky! It would be interesting to see how the cover influences sales..... show less

We carry our families like anchors, rooting us in storms, making sure we never drift from where and who we are. We carry our families within us the way we carry our breath underwater, keeping us afloat, keeping us alive. I’ve been lifting anchors since I was eighteen. I’ve been holding my breath since before I was born.

The Book of Speculation, the debut novel by author Erika Swyler, is divided between two time periods two hundred years apart but tied together by blood, the circus, the show more tarot, drowning despite an uncanny ability to breathe for long periods of time under water, and by a curse that has followed the women of this bloodline over successive generations.

In the present, everything in librarian Simon Watson’s life seems to be about to fall off a cliff both literally and figuratively. His house is situated on an eroding cliff and is going to fall into the Long Island Sound if he can’t find the money to fix it which is a problem since he is losing his job to budget cuts. His parents are dead; his mother, who had been a mermaid in the circus and ‘made her living by holding her breath’ had drowned, his father has died of apathy and grief, and his sister, Enola, who has the same talents as their mother left home years before and joined the circus.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he is sent a very old book by a complete stranger, a bookstore owner, who says he had bought it on speculation but damage made it useless to him. However, he saw a name inside that seemed to link it to Simon’s family and he hoped it would find a good home with him. The book is a log kept by the owner of a travelling circus in the late 18th c. Among the entries are those about Amos, a young mute, whose love for the circus ‘mermaid’ leads to tragedy .The arrival of the book coincidentally (or not) coincides with a message from Enola that she is taking a break from the circus and coming home.

There’s just something so enticing about books about books and The Book of Speculation, the debut novel by author Erika Swyler is, for the most part, no exception to this rule. It is well-written and, if at the beginning, the pace seemed a bit slow and uneven in parts, it eventually picked up and, by the end, it completely grabbed my attention. It is a story about family and memory and what, in the end, really matters. As a debut novel, The Book of Speculation is very impressive – I look forward to seeing more of Ms Swyler’s work in the future. show less

"Behind every brilliant woman is her doubly brilliant mother."

(Full disclosure: I received a free e-ARC for review through NetGalley. Trigger warning for child abuse.)

She knew them by their light, the gentle differences—Amit’s warm, yellowish brown, Evgeni who glowed like a pearl, Louisa who was brighter than all of them. Nedda would know them anywhere; if she lost their shapes, she’d recognize their light.

They would likely die. It was why they were childless, unwed. Freedom of show more sacrifice. It was a shame that only three people would ever again be in the same room as Evgeni when he sang. Only three people would know that Singh ate with his pinkie out. That Marcanta pulled hairs from her eyebrows when frustrated. Children would know their names, and drive on roads named Sokolov or Papas. Children would know their ship, Chawla, and who she’d hauled. A little girl somewhere would rattle off everything she’d read about them, and with it everything she knew about space and time, about light.

###

"I got a boat too. It’s not real big, just enough to take a few people out, that’s all.”

“What’d you name it?”

“Flux Capacitor.”

“Doc Brown’s a better name.”

“Yeah, but boats are women.”

“Everything’s a woman. Cars, boats, houses. Anywhere that’s safe or takes you somewhere better is a woman,” she said.

“So, Chawla is a woman?”

“Obviously.” She opened her eye to find him staring.

###

Her father’s machine was as much hope and wish as it was metal and glass.

###

In the present day - her present, our future - Nedda Papas has achieved everything she's dreamed of. As one quarter of the crew of Chawla, Nedda is humanity's last best chance. Climate change has wrought havoc on earth: rising sea levels have disappeared entire islands and shrunk continents, hunger fueled by drought is the new normal, and wildfires plague what little land is left. The planet is beyond saving; now flight is the only long-term option.

Sent to colonize another planet in a galaxy far, far away, Nedda will never again set foot on earth. And she's okay with that - it's for the greater good, after all, and doesn't she owe her species at least that much, anyway? But when cost-cutting and politicking threatens Chawla's success, Nedda must revisit her past in order to salvage our future.

It was 1986 when Nedda's world imploded: first, with the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster; and again with Theo Pappas's magnum opus, the Crucible.

Light from Other Stars unfolds in two parallel narratives: aboard the Chawla, and in January/February 1986, when Nedda is eleven years old.

Middle-schooler Nedda lives Easter, Florida, in the shadow of Kennedy Space Center. She and her professor father Theo - newly laid off from NASA after the latest round of budget cuts - are inseparable, whether devising and executing experiments or trying to spot Halley's Comet shoot across the night sky. Her relationship with mother Betheen is a little frostier, but not necessarily for lack of mutual interests: Beth is a chemist. But her (women's) work is undervalued, because of course it is. It also doesn't help that Betheen has been drowning in grief for most of young Nedda's life. But spoilers!

Theo has suffered from psoriatic arthritis since childhood, and the joint pain and inflammation makes his work difficult (as does the markedly inferior resources at Haverstone College). Ostensibly, this is the impetus behind his crowning achievement, the Crucible, a machine that can slow down, stop, or even reverse time (and thus heal all manner of physical injuries) by manipulating entropy. (Swyler includes a fair amount of background on the science, only a fraction of which I can claim to understand, and I have no idea how sound it is. But I didn't find these bits boring or excessive, fwiw.)

Theo's machine is a success, in a manner of speaking, but things go sideways, because of course they do. When Crucible threatens to devour all of Easter (including Nedda's best friend Denny), it's up to Nedda and Betheen to save the day.

Judy Resnik, Sally Ride, Gus Grissom, Roger Chaffee, Ed White - Nedda's heroes have always been astronauts. WWJD - What would Judy do?

As much as I loved Swyler's previous novel, The Book of Speculation, I think she managed to outdo herself with Light from Other Stars. It is beautiful and magical and excruciating in the best way. I am writing this review weeks after turning the last page, tears coursing down my face anew. (Okay, that makes my ugly crying sound a lot prettier than it is. A spectacle, I am making one.)

A big part of this are the passages on death and dying and the afterlife. I'm an atheist, and don't generally envy people their religious beliefs ... that is, unless it's the comfort that the grieving can find in stories about heaven (or reincarnation, or what have you). Some days I'd give anything to believe that I'll be reunited with my deceased love ones, eventually. But I can't make myself believe in something I don't, even when it's convenient, and so I go scavenging for secular comfort wherever I can find it, like a sad, lonely little heathen magpie.

I find it in all sorts of places (but mostly books, to no one's surprise): Aaron Freeman's essay, "You want a physicist to speak at your funeral." The passages in The Subtle Knife where Lyra and Will lead the ghosts out of the world of the dead. The entire science-based religion created by Lauren Olamina in Octavia Butler's Parables duology. Add to that Theo Pappas's ideas about thoughts, memories, and electrical impulses; heat and light; gas and carbon and star parts. (Carl Sagan's quote about starstuff! I knew I was forgetting something!) There's some truly breathtaking stuff in here. This is a wonderfully godless book; a wonderful book for the godless. I'll hold it close to my heart and cherish it, always.

(I want desperately to include some excerpts here, but spoilers!)

Light from Other Stars is also fiercely feminist, even if the ferocity sometimes comes in a whisper instead of a shout. It's a story about fathers and daughters and fathers and sons ... but also, especially, about mothers and daughters and mothers and sons. Nedda's relationship with Theo is as magnificent as it is tenuous, but her bond with Betheen is all the more wonderful for its complexity, for the way it grows and strengthens and changes - and holds fast even across the vast chasm of space. Nedda's evolving perception of her mother as she discovers what Betheen is capable of is a revelation. I wonder if they ever perfected that champagne cake together?

Last but not least, it's a joy to watch as these two narratives come together, often in unexpected ways (Amadeus, I'm looking at you).

Swyler's writing is exquisite and will pummel you right in the feels. I really hope Netflix picks this one up for a screenplay or miniseries. I need to see what time made liquid looks like, stat.

http://www.easyvegan.info/2019/05/10/light-from-other-stars-by-erika-swyler/ show less