AWAKE IN THE FLOATING CITY

In the last days of an American metropolis, a grieving artist finds purpose in preserving an elderly neighbor’s legacy.

In her marvelously graceful debut, artist and writer Kwan looks to the future with an arc of emotions ranging from existential panic to quiet moments of hope. While this gem sits firmly between the mushrooming genre of climate fiction and the more subdued melancholia of Station Eleven or The Dog Stars, it’s very much its own creature, meditating with fresh eyes on the resilience of memory and the inevitability of time. It’s become an all-too-familiar scenario in novels like The Mars House and New York 2140: Here San Francisco is the drowned world where life, against all odds, goes on for now. “Everyone wanted Bo to believe that there were better places out there, places that weren’t under relentless threat,” Kwan explains. “They called this city a death trap. But she knew the truth: it was terrible, sometimes, everywhere.” Why Bo hasn’t left, long after her mother disappeared and her remaining family fled to Vancouver, she keeps mostly to herself. “If I leave,” she asks, “how can I be found?” Just as she’s been convinced to finally abandon her home, she gets a note under her door from Mia, one of the holdout supercentenarians in her building, who needs home care. Even as Mia’s health deteriorates, connecting with her brings Bo back to the world in the wake of her grief. With the help of Antonia, a resilient and determined librarian, and Eddie, a conservation biologist, Bo sets about composing a work of art that will layer her story on top of the places and history that made the city live and breathe. What might seem at first like sacrifice is really more like endurance­—holding on tight because letting everything go means losing who we are.

What it means to see things through at the end of everything.