“She hadn’t realized music could reach inside you.”

What an unputdownable book! It wasn’t because of the plot – it was because of the characters’ feelings, experiences, choices, growth. There was music everywhere, too, even when no one was playing.

I liked how Sarah Pinsker created her near future world. It does not feel dystopian, since we are looking at it from the inside. It does feel prescient, though. For so many of the characters, this is the status quo, this is how things are (evil monopolizing tech corporations included) – until they accept it no longer.

Both Luce and Rosemary are fascinating POV characters to follow – somehow, the mundane stuff becomes as exciting as when they experience something awesome for the first time. I loved both their journeys. When the POV’s finally converged, my heart melted, it felt so right. Isn’t it wonderful when such book moments happen to you?

I am trying to remember when I last read a book that described playing music, listening to music, having music inside you in such a fitting, true way… and I cannot remember. I wanted a playlist for this book so badly! Guess what, I found one :) Or rather: of course there was a playlist. It’s on Spotify, made by the author. Apparently, the chapter titles are song titles. This is so cool :))), even though it’s not quite the same thing as listening to Luce’s music. But I will listen for sure…

“Playing music was the fire that kept the monsters at bay. Nothing could touch me in the middle of a song.”

People made powerful by creating relationships and connections, being stubborn and finding a way, and the power of music – all this brought me joy. ( )

Em meio a ataques terroristas e uma forte pandemia (quiçá deflagrada nesses ataques?), uma história roqueira dividida entre duas personagens, bem caracterizadas e com um bom desenvolvimento. Luce vai de nascente estrela musical a enfermeira a roqueira raiz. Rosemary vai de adolescente de um hikikomori (ficar em casa) normalizado, higienizado e ultra-corporificado a uma típica jovem ingênua cheia de si a alguém que precisa se preocupar em ficar esperta. E o que fica de fora, embora seja uma leitura prazeirosa e interessante, é o perigo do vírus, que é reduzido no fundo à conveniência institucional e paranóia. Escrito um ano antes da explosão de covid-19, não acho que seja justo dizer que nisso a autora se alinha com as piores opiniões oportunistas da extrema direita hodierna. Mas que há um sumiço na narrativa, há. Se é possível ler o livro sem que essa ausência conte muito é porque, afinal, o livro é sobre outra coisa, mais simples. Certamente sobre a indústria cultural e práticas corporativas perversas. Luce canta outra coisa, ávida por interação social presencial, mas no seu "fight the power", vemos não tanto já uma política mas uma injunção à política. ( )

This book was on the OUTBREAK! list and was eerily prescient to current times, just like Down Days. However, instead of being set in the midst of active pandemia, it's set a bit afterwards, when folks have adjusted to the new normal.

The author's bio details that she's a musician and that's a clear influence in the book but most importantly she exquisitely explains the joys of live music for the listener, the fan. It can be difficult to articulate to other folks how and why I love live music of any sort, any time but Sarah Pinsker does it for me. Hallelujah! ( )

Considering this book centers on what we gain and what we lose when the government doesn't allow 'congregations' of 10 or more people... this book is hitting close to home during this time of quarantining. Fantastic book with a lot of character development. It made me uncomfortable because I could very easily see that future coming to pass. ( )

I don't usually choose science fiction as a genre. However, this novel came to my attention because its author and critics called it "eerily prescient" when the 2020 pandemic government mandates began. Published in 2019, Pinsker focused on changes in the music industry and underground musicians. She chose to call an underground musicians' enclave in Baltimore "The 2020."

Rosemary, one of the protagonists, is a young adult who began attending school online when she was 13 and had little memory of the world of cities, crowds, and human interaction. When the author introduces her to the reader, we realize that Rosemary has worked at the helpdesk remotely for about six years for a company called Superwally, which seems like Amazon. She interacts with Avs (avatars) rather than images of real people. She only knows a virtual world, brought to her through hoodies, which provide a virtual reality existence. Living in a small community where her parents keep her isolated and safe, she has little knowledge of life "Before." the world changed. The crash happened after a pandemic and multiple terrorist attacks occurred in the country. When one of her clients tries to reward her with exposure to a music concert that enhances her virtual world, she seeks new employment that requires real-life human experiences. The story progresses as She begins to confront realities that existed before the pox spread through the country. It becomes apparent that bomb threats and other violent episodes provided enough of an antecedent for music concerts and other large gatherings to become illegal.

Another protagonist, Luce Cannon, is a singer whose band gave the last concert before the shutdown of live music. Luce and Rosemary meet as Luce attempts to maintain live shows, and Rosemary navigates the "Before" world in the "After." Rosemary is at first appalled that the musicians she meets violate congregation laws and seem to ignore all of the safety warnings about germs. However, the musicians she meets gradually help her realize that her upbringing was replete with fear and isolation. Music is the bridge that allows her to experience the human touch and navigate the world of human association without the barrier of hoodies and internet connections. Although crowds lead to panic attacks and new sensations, she realizes that there may be some value to what she had grown to avoid, even though face-to-face relationships lead to vulnerabilities.

Sarah Pinsker received the Nebula Award for the best novel of 2019. Her proposed society made me wonder about the new normal evolving on the tail of the 2020 pandemic and the simultaneous angst in an unsettled and sometimes violent America. Pinsker provided several thought-provoking situations and scenarios. Some thoughts I had while reading include:
What are the advantage and disadvantages of being disconnected from social media and the virtual world? People offline in the novel were considered almost cultish and called "noncomms."

What are levels of protection and monitoring acceptable for private companies and government agencies? Pinsker's story included "hoodspace" where everything was controlled, and humans were supposedly safe.
To what extent are we willing to accept conservation and automation? Veneers were common practice in Pinsker's novel so that resources were used more efficiently.

Other themes included:
What is home?
What laws may go overboard in protecting citizens?
What are the ramifications of police surveillance of citizens and body camera surveillance of police?
What are the consequences of big business conglomerates tracking our online footprint?
Is there value to an invisible or virtual bubble?
See my reviews at https://quipsandquotes.net/ ( )