“Survival is sufficient ” might be one of those sayings that accurately reflect our realm of existence. With 333 pages of imperfect perfection, Station Eleven, written by Emily St. John Mandel does the world justice by composing a novel that hollers authenticity and tenderness. The tale is set in a caved-in civilization following the Georgia flu that wiped out the entirety of the population. Adopting principles from Shakespeare’s repertoire, the book introduces Arthur Leander, a film actor that died whilst portraying King Lear in a live production of the play. Two decades later, Kirsten Raymonde, a child actress that witnessed Arthur’s death forms a small troupe that goes by the Traveling Symphony and performs plays strictly written by William Shakespeare. Without giving too much away, Station Eleven puts a face to fate and full circle moments by joining wide perspectives of characters before and after the pandemic. Mandel prioritizes themes namely loyalty, art, survival, demise, and memory that keep us sane and unveil our natural humanitarian instincts in situations like such.
The book gained popularity amidst the Covid-19 pandemic and received hostile criticism regarding its plot, which was seen as repetitive and ironic in the context of the pandemic. I don’t agree with these critiques. Not only was this book published in 2014 (seriously ahead of its time!), but it narrates our lives during the pandemic flawlessly and I believe we could learn a thing or two from this book. Our perceptions of the pandemic were and remain unsettling, yet we all turned to a creative outlet and if not, grasped onto what’s left of our now muted world. The novel exercises the motifs of “We’ll all die one day”, but also signifies that art, books and the sketchbook you rarely use will always survive.
My creative writing teacher created this analogy in correspondence to this novel. He would say that if someday aliens conquered our earth, they’d conjecture that humans worshiped marvel characters and bands & musicians because they are widespread figures that appear on our t-shirts, mugs, posters, etc. I treasure this analogy as it proves that art and literature live beyond us and our nature. They can tell stories, somewhat distortedly, without having their creator or host present. The plot corresponds to using art in all its forms to reshape civilization and communally create a “now”. It asks the essential questions — how do you want to be remembered? and what legacy do you want to leave behind? It’s frightening and somewhat paralyzing to have these conversations yet they are pressing matters that invite you to think about yourself and your dignity.