Excited electrons, falling back down the staircase of available energy states, flash for a second, to dissipate the boost that lifted them briefly into rarefied orbitals. This waste energy bounces off the lines of a grieving face and back down the hole of the aperture, momentarily opened. Inside, reflected light ruffles the waiting film emulsion like a child's hand impressing a birthday cake. Years from now, metal from the flash battery will leach into runoff and gather in the fat of fish, then the bigger fish that eat them. Powers' ability to bring us closer to the technical mysteries of our times is on full display on almost every page.
Soap makes for a handy American metaphor.
Anyone who has ever gone camping understands, if only briefly, what life must have been like for prior generations that lacked the luxuries of hygiene, or the illusions of health so avidly sought after by Americans. This novel's sheer scope and ambition place it in the ubertext realms of these authors, a place where the density of hyper-realism meets the biting critical sensibility of the American moralist. Brian Rieselman is a writer and reviewer who lives in Madison. All rights reserved.