In this novel, actually three intertwined stories, Michael Cunningham sets a different tone for each, according to the timing in past, present and future New York, respectively. Each story is breathtaking in its own way. The first one, dating from the Industrial Revolution, is off to a somewhat awkward start, but captures you very soon and makes your heart ache; the second one sounds a little thrillery-trashy, and the last one, sci-fi, could be located somewhere between "1984" and "E.T.".

Cunningham displays to the fullest his knack for pointed facets of human feelings in just a side-sentence or two, which is all the more remarkable since the prevailing subjects in each chapter are non-human, namely machines.  The humans all have some sort of flaw, be it the physical deformation of the Lucas/Lukes (counterweighed by a precocious depth of spirit, as it may be assumed with teenagers conversing in Walt Whitman-phrases), lack of character of the Simons, or social incompatibilities of the Catherines.  But like lost souls on the eternal quest for happiness and love, they are magnetically drawn to one another.  A beautiful symbol that connects the characters throughout the entire book is a shiny white bowl, passed on from one low-life merchant to another.  By hinting that, unbeknownst to the buyers and sellers, it may be immeasurably precious, but never revealing if and why nor the fate of the bowl, Cunningham leaves us wondering about the concepts of value, luck and misfortune in general.

The novel could be read as a prophetic warning, decrying social injustice and general misery caused by inventions meant to be helpful, but Cunningham accomplishes more than that.  He goes full circle in showing that there really is no beginning and no end;  the outcasts in the sci-fi chapter departing to another planet to seek their fortune don't seem much different from the first settlers populating the Wild West or America altogether, for that matter.  In doing so, he puts our fear of our transience in perspective. A different and brilliant read.
In this novel, actually three intertwined stories, Michael Cunningham sets a different tone for each, according to the timing in past, present and future New York, respectively. Each story is breathtaking in its own way. The first one, dating from the Industrial Revolution, is off to a somewhat awkward start, but captures you very soon and makes your heart ache; the second one sounds a little thrillery-trashy, and the last one, sci-fi, could be located somewhere between "1984" and "E. T.". Cunningham displays to the fullest his knack for pointed facets of human feelings in just a side-sentence or two, which is all the more remarkable since the prevailing subjects in each chapter are non-human, namely machines. The humans all have some sort of flaw, be it the physical deformation of the Lucas/Lukes (counterweighed by a precocious depth of spirit, as it may be assumed with teenagers conversing in Walt Whitman-phrases), lack of character of the Simons, or social incompatibilities of the Catherines. But like lost souls on the eternal quest for happiness and love, they are magnetically drawn to one another. A beautiful symbol that connects the characters throughout the entire book is a shiny white bowl, passed on from one low-life merchant to another. By hinting that, unbeknownst to the buyers and sellers, it may be immeasurably precious, but never revealing if and why nor the fate of the bowl, Cunningham leaves us wondering about the concepts of value, luck and misfortune in general. The novel could be read as a prophetic warning, decrying social injustice and general misery caused by inventions meant to be helpful, but Cunningham accomplishes more than that. He goes full circle in showing that there really is no beginning and no end;  the outcasts in the sci-fi chapter departing to another planet to seek their fortune don't seem much different from the first settlers populating the Wild West or America altogether, for that matter. In doing so, he puts our fear of our transience in perspective. A different and brilliant read.