Dear Cyborgs: A Novel

This is my first book review. I've read books by Cormac McCarthy, Denis Johnson and Umberto Eco since reading Dear Cyborgs. Depending on the day, I might say I liked one or two of those other books more (they are all very, very good books). But, it is Eugene Lim's book that I think has stayed with me the longest. I'm really not sure if it was the unique structure, the subject matter (I'm attracted to future scenarios, technology and Zizek-esque economic imaginings) or the frequent passages of well-considered and beautiful writing, but something about it was surprising in a great way and I just wanted to say thanks here so that the author might sometime see it.

A little all over the place, but that was kinda the point. Great writing, loved the prose and rhythm.

Well written but didn't really interest me much

Less a novel than an essay with fictional elements. Read like many conversations I've had with myself about identity (especially Asian American identity,) art, activism, and whether or not one person's actions can have any effect on the world, much less a positive effect. I loved this book, but it hit every one of my personal preoccupations. If you're not Asian American, an artist, an activist, or adjacent to these things, you might want to approach the book as an interesting window into a world/mind-set you're not otherwise privy to. Because this is part of the long tail.

writer doesn't succeed in pulling of the literary tricks.

In a small town, in the giant cornfield known as Ohio (where I live), two Asian-American boys bond over their love of comic books, both reading and writing and illustrating them. Elsewhere, perhaps in the future or a parallel universe, a team of superheroes fight supervillains, but also sit around drinking lemonade and pondering existence. Wow. Make sense? Yeah, not really. Sorry, I really didn’t know how else to describe the novel. That’s a pretty poor synopsis. This isn’t a book you can easily summarize to your friend in 2 minutes, and it’s certainly not one that I can capture with only a paragraph. So, sorry, you’ll just have to read the book for yourself to really find out what it’s about. The novel is told in—well, it varies, you see. It begins from the perspective of our nameless narrator, and I think it’s mostly from his perspective, but I can’t be sure. The chapters alternate, though I’m not sure how, exactly. One minute we’re in Ohio with the narrator and his friend Vu, and the next we’re somewhere else with someone else. It’s a lot of back-and-forth, though with whom I’m not sure. This sounds confusing, I know, but it’s not a bad thing. It’s true that I never really knew who was narrating each chapter, but I didn’t really care. Each chapter is about something different from the one before it, and it’s utterly captivating. The novel is incredibly philosophical. It almost reads like Plato’s The Republic—a group of people in a room, taking polite turns listening to each other speak about life experiences and philosophical ideas. One character tells a half-chapter long story, and another retorts with their own similar-but-not story; other times, after a character’s monologue, no other character will chip in, and there’s a short silence, and suddenly the conversation completely changes. It’s fascinating, honestly. And entirely too difficult to explain. I read this solely because it’s on the 2018 Tournament of Books shortlist, and it sounded more enjoyable than 80% of the other books on the list. I’m truly glad I read it. It was a deep read, and if nothing else, a book with an interesting structure and a bit of a mind-blower at the end. I enjoyed the chase scenes and black ops missions, but I also enjoyed the strange, philosophical banter between friends. Each story was engaging and had a unique meaning that really added to the whole framework of the novel. I’m not sure I’m doing such a good job at selling this novel, but I do encourage you to read it. If for nothing else, at least you’ll understand why I’m so desperately struggling to summarize and review it.

One of the best books I've read in a long time. Eugene Lim is a writer I want to see more from and will read as a lifetime fan. Never read a book like this. High literary value on an entertainment budget.

There's a story behind every person and the actions they undertake in Eugene Lim's Dear Cyborgs, though their origins may be surprising. In a Midwestern town, two young Asian American boys, who are frequently viewed as outcasts, bond over their appreciation of comic books and are perfectly fine with the silence they share as they explore the worlds in the pages before them. Countering the quiet of the boys's time together, a group of heroes discuss a variety of topics in their downtime, pontificating and telling stories in a one-up-manship way that presents concepts that greatly impact society and daily life, commenting upon their discomfort with the manner in which society has been progressing as they also casually (or not) slip in mentions of their assorted heroic feats. With a focus on language and storytelling to depict elements of contemporary political movements and the role of familial and other interpersonal relationships, the text is quite ambitious and provides periodic prose to provoke thought; the text is rather short, though dense, and would warrant another pass through to try to more deeply comb through the various ideas presented. The story works toward developing both character and plot throughout its brief duration, though there is a lack of easy comprehension from the presentation of them that makes it a bit difficult to follow at times. The text plays with conventional novel narrative techniques and structures, creating a different kind of reading experience with the framing tales it employs.

Há uma frase famosa de Fredric Jameson que diz: “É mais fácil imaginar o fim do mundo do que imaginar o fim do capitalismo”, e é citada na íntegra a certa altura no belo e melancólico DEAR CYBORGS, de Eugene Lim. A menção não é gratuita e vai ao encontro daquilo que o escritor investiga em seu romance: qual o papel da arte num mundo repleto de protestos? Qual o alcance da arte diante da falência da política? Lim não se esquiva dessas e outras Grandes Perguntas Difíceis, o que não quer dizer que faça do seu romance, seu terceiro, um romance de protesto. Pelo contrário, é um livro de urgência dotado de tamanha lucidez diante do mundo em que vivemos que chega a ser assombroso. Também é divertido e melancólico, sagaz e pop. É um livro para os EUA do Trump, e o mundo da pós-verdade. A trama começa com dois jovens de descendência asiática (sul-coreano e vietnamita), morando numa pequena cidade de Ohio, onde se sentem excluídos dos demais da mesma idade, que sempre os veem como exóticos, no mínimo. Suas solidões e invisibilidades para o mundo combinadas resultam numa fuga para um mundo fantasia, mediado por ficções-científicas e quadrinhos. Mas isso é só o primeiro capítulo, situado num passado dos EUA dos anos de 1980 de Reagan. A narrativa avança para um presente parecido com o nosso (mas, talvez, não necessariamente o nosso), composta por fragmentos, alguns deles quase anedóticos, contados por diversos personagens. Nesse sentido, Lim estraçalha com a forma clássica do romance burguês, compondo um painel abrangente e colorido a partir de diversas possibilidades e pontos de vista. É como se com seu livro quisesse dar conta de diversos pedaços do mundo que junto compõe algo maior. É também um livro sobre super-heróis no mundo do pós-Occupy e afins. Eles formam o Team Chaos, alter egos de pessoas frustradas com arte, com a política e o mundo. A vilã da equipe é a Ms. Mistleto, líder de um grupo de terrorista que sequestra filhos de diplomatas e pede como resgate soluções (pouco realistas talvez) para problemas sociais. Mas o romance toma seu partido. Ela não é a vilã, é a, possivelmente, a radical do presente cujas mãos atadas diante das impossibilidades de implosão do status quo tenta alternativas. Versões do presente se materializam de forma exagerada ao longo das pequenas narrativas que compõem Dear Cyborgs, sejam de protestos ou outros movimentos políticos. Tudo, no entanto, acaba sendo absorvido no cotidiano – seja a arte radical ou o radicalismo político. Na era da informação rápida, como a nossa, tudo é rapidamente digerido e também cooptado. Um ato de manifesto se transforma numa instalação, numa obra de arte singular e cara. O taiwanês Tehching Hsieh é mencionado em um momento, assim como seus “experimentos” artísticos do final da década de 1970, e uma frase famosa dele: “Eu não acho que arte pode mudar o mundo. Mas pelo menos a arte pode nos ajudar a desvendar a vida”. O romance de Lim cresce exatamente nessa direção – de ajudar na compreensão de um momento (entre tantos outros) obscuros da história do mundo. Sabe que seu romance não irá mudar o presente – obra de arte nenhuma tem tamanha força – mas tem capacidade de iluminar pontos nebulosos do nosso momento.