How
many mysteries and thrillers open with the central problem of the story? A dead body found in unusual
circumstances? A damsel in distress
consulting a PI because the police won’t help her with her special
problem? A dreadfully evil deed
requiring retribution? Elizabeth Hand’s Generation Loss (2007) ignores this
convention. Telling a hardline, personal
story of a woman kicked to the curb of life (by herself and others), tension
and suspense unfurl organically around her until she not only needs an
explanation for the circumstances of her life, but immediate protection from
the situation arisen around her. That
may be the definition of real suspense.
Cass
Neary is a washed up photographer working the stock room of The Strand in NYC
when Generation Loss opens. Her first photography project “Dead Girls” a
one-off, she’s been fighting drug abuse and bad relationships ever since, and
always coming up on the losing end. When
a friend contacts her to ask if she’s willing to travel to a remote Maine
island to interview a once-famous photographer named Aphrodite, she jumps at
the chance. The opposite of NYC, the
small town life Cass discovers is more bizarre than she ever could have
imagined. Strange personalities, missing
persons, and an old hippy commune now in tatters exacerbate her finding that
Aphrodite a half-crazed bitch that doesn’t remember asking to be
interviewed. One drunken night Cass’
reality takes a hard spin, and she begins to discover just how truly bizarre
life on the island is.
From
NYC to the punk scene, techniques of photography to humanists like Mircea
Eliade, Hand uses her breadth of knowledge to fill the background details of
Cass’ strange experience. A drug addict,
kleptomaniac, and depressed woman who acts, thinks, and decides according to
rhythms and currents even she doesn’t understand, that she’s still alive is
amazing. But that she finds herself
caught in the proverbial basement of life on a strange island is even more
amazing, and Hand’s precise, detailed imagination brings every aspect of just
how strange it all is.
As
with every Elizabeth Hand story, much of the content of Generation Loss seems autobiographical. Cassy’s viewpoint so informed, so real, it
seems impossible to separate the things Hand lived from those she witnessed
growing up herself in the punk scene of NYC or just imagined for the
novel. All lending a strong hand of
verisimilitude, where many thrillers exist with more than one toe hanging over
the line of realism into fantasy in order to capture the reader and give them
escape, Hand’s story has all its toes in reality; Cass’ personal issues never
lose grip and the ultimate motivation for the plot is even rooted in a
believable explanation that recurses through the plot to make it a solid
whole.
In
the end, Generation Loss is a
spectacular example how to write a thriller.
Perfectly balanced across plot, character, and setting, it wholly
succeeds despite the fact the central plot motivator reveals itself more like a
rising sun than a gunshot. The narrative
gently pushing the reader forward until they are entirely ensconced in the
strange tale of Cass, the novel rarely if ever bows to stereotype, everything
about the story unique, right down to the real details of life in Maine and
singularity of the characters. The title
referring to the clarity of image, sharpness of feature, and overall loss of
fidelity in photos and other images as they are copied through the years,
nothing, however, is lost on Hand as she continues to produce one quality novel
after another.
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