This melancholic and beautiful science-fiction story is an example of the power of good writing, Cushla McKinney writes.
GOOD MORNING, MIDNIGHT
Lily Brooks-Dalton
Orion/Hachette
By CUSHLA McKINNEY
Once or twice a year I am fortunate enough to review a book that reminds me how powerful good writing can be. Good Morning, Midnight is one such example; a melancholic beautiful tale that is both an intricately crafted science-fiction story in which the end of the world comes as an offstage whisper, and an examination of the isolation that faces each of us at the end of life.
The story opens with a portrait of Augustine Lofthouse, an astronomer who has used every research position and relationship to come his way as an opportunity to advance his career and feed his own ego.
Now 78, his current position at an observatory high in the Arctic Circle is his last chance for scientific immortality and as such, he sees no reason to leave with the rest of the personnel when they are evacuated amid rumours of war. Indeed, unable to think of a single person he does not despise, he welcomes the thought of solitude.
The discovery of a young girl hiding in one of the abandoned rooms is therefore an unwelcome development and, although he comforts himself with the thought that someone is sure to return for her, when months pass with no contact with the outside world he realises that not only is nobody coming, there may be nobody left to come.
For the first time in his adult life, Augustine finds himself responsible for - and eventually concerned about - somebody else's welfare, and by the time summer's midnight sun has obscured his beloved stars he is ready to acknowledge exactly what his single-minded obsession with the universe has robbed him of in this world.
Meanwhile, millions of miles away, the six-member crew of the space shuttle Aether are returning from a successful exploration of Jupiter's moons. When mission control falls silent, they conclude some disaster must have befallen the world and, although they have little choice but to continue their journey, their once close companionship begins to disintegrate as each astronaut withdraws into his or her own personal grief.
This section of the story is told from the perspective of Communications Officer Sullivan, who, like Augustine, has chosen to pursue the stars at the expense of her relationships on Earth, and now wonders whether the price she has paid for her passion has been too high.
These two narratives form a coalescing web of parallels and contrasts at the heart of which is a connection that is simultaneously obvious and so subtly drawn that its revelation seems almost an afterthought.
A similar skill is evident throughout all aspects of the book; although I have an almost pathological dislike for "spiritually meaningful'' writing, the setting is so tangibly realised and the plot so compelling that it was not until I emerged from the story that I became consciously aware of its underlying allegorical nature.
Good Morning, Midnight is one of those books that can be enjoyed on several levels and merits multiple rereading. That it is a debut novel makes it all the more extraordinary an achievement.
Cushla McKinney is a Dunedin scientist.
