Connie Willis

Originally published: United Kingdom: Gallancz, 2016.

Crosstalk

Bessie Small

If you suffer from anxiety or read to distress then don't read this one.

Becky A

I am going back and forth on how many stars I want to give this book. What I'd really like is to give it 3.5 but I can't, and I also can't quite bring myself to round it up to 4. I came pretty darned close to DNFing this book in the first hundred pages, but this morning I had 20 pages left when I got off my train and I freaking stood around in Grand Central to finish it and was slightly late to work. So. Conflicted!

The premise, in brief: Briddey and her boyfriend, Trent, want to get an elective brain surgery (EED) that will allow them to feel each other's emotions. Things go wrong, and instead of Trent's emotions, Briddey starts hearing the voice of her company's mad-scientist-wannabe CB, and it turns out the two of them are telepathically connected, and Briddey's new gift is getting stronger. As she starts hearing more and more people, she has to hide the truth from Trent. Shenanigans ensue.

On the one hand, I was pretty psyched for this book because Willis's Bellwether is one of my all-time faves, and this was very, very reminiscent -- a few sane people in the midst of a giant company where everyone else is very silly, stupid, or both; lots of banter, romance, and escalating chaos. On the other hand, it was also abundantly clear that the premise of this book was predicated in a disdain for modern communication, particularly smartphones and social media, in a way that felt very old-lady-shakes-fist-at-cloud. Why can't young people today see that twitter is destroying the world as we know it?!?! 

The first act of the book felt so tedious to me. Briddey is having communication problems -- she's trying to duck gossip, answer a million phone calls and texts, and avoid her family. Meanwhile she's being scolded by CB for wanting the EED with Trent (while CB is designing a phone that's that will make it easier to pretend you're getting another call so you can avoid whoever you're talking to). It was supposed to set up the dark side of communication, but actually it just made me roll my eyes because most of Briddey's problems could be fixed by actually setting up and enforcing some boundaries (CHANGE YOUR LOCKS if your family barges in uninvited, girl! maybe don't immediately answer every single call and text if you don't want to! they will survive!!); also because Briddey keeps getting the run-around from Trent and never questions it (not to mention lots of pressure and REALLY OBVIOUS red flags about the whole relationship); also CB is pretty condescending. At that point I wasn't enjoying any of the characters or the premise very much.

But things start to pick up after the surgery, when Brinney and CB connect, and then REALLY pick up at the halfway point when Brinney gets deluged by voices. From that point on, I resented every time I had to put it down (for things like "sleep" and "work," you know how that goes). When it stopped feeling like a lecture about Those Kids Today And Their Smartphones and started escalating the stakes and chaos, and and picking apart the idea of telepathy, it was fascinating and compelling. (I particularly enjoyed the possible telepathic accounts that were pulled out of history.)

But I never really warmed up to the characters -- particularly CB, who spends the entire book hiding secrets (For Brinney's Own Good), and trying to mentor her through all of her telepathic issues. The latter bit of that is on me, I just really don't enjoy romances where the heroine is being mentored by the hero and he's always the one who knows what to do and how to rescue her from whatever's happening; but the former... UGH. I really dislike anytime a protagonist's agency is undercut by withholding information, especially when it's being done to hold up narrative tension more than for actual plot reasons, and I ESPECIALLY hate it when that withholding is being done by a male character to a female character. AND ALSO so much of it was obvious, there are many, MANY times in the narrative when CB would be saying something and suspiciously cut himself off, but Brinney would never ask him what he'd been about to say. And there were a lot of times when suddenly they JUST COULDN'T!! continue the conversation because of REASONS, but often those reasons were "you have to keep your phone off so your family/Trent can't contact you," when again, I would point out, SHE COULD JUST NOT RETURN THEIR CALLS.

Also, one note re: the resolution, Twitter DOESN'T WORK LIKE THAT.

(Oh also: what is Brinney's job? She literally never does any work. She has an assistant and lots of meetings that she reschedules, but never actually attends a meeting or runs a report or anything else.)

And yet. AND YET!! Like I said, I COULD NOT put this book down once I got into the second act. (And not in a spite-reading kind of way, either.) It was INCREDIBLY compelling, and the plot escalation was perfect in that way where you're bracing yourself because you know what's coming, but it doesn't feel obvious so much as inevitable. Once the book finally gets up to speed, it does not slow down, and once it gives Brinney actual problems to contend with that can't be solved by not answering her phone, it becomes really smart and thoughtful while remaining exciting. 

So my feelings about this are pretty mixed. It's not Willis's strongest novel but it's interesting enough that I'd probably recommend it to friends with caveats about all of the above. I didn't love it as much as I wanted to, but I also didn't dislike it as much as this list of complaints might have you think. It's more that I was frustrated by its weak points because I really wanted to like it so much.

Briddey is about to get exactly what she thinks she wants . . . Briddey is a high-powered exec in the mobile phone industry, overseeing new products from concept ('anything to beat the new apple phone') to delivery. And she works with her wonderful partner, Trent. They've been together for six magical weeks, in a whirlwind of flowers, dinners, laughter and now comes the icing on the cake: not a weekend away or a proposal but something even better. An EDD. A procedure which will let them sense each other's feelings. Trent doesn't just want to tell her how much he loves her - he wants her to feel it. Everything is perfect. The trouble is, Briddey can't breathe a word of it to anyone (difficult, when the whole office is guessing) until she's had two minutes to call her family. And they're hounding her about the latest family drama, but when they find out about the EDD - which they will - they'll drop everything to interrogate her. And it might just be easier to have the procedure now and explain later. The race is on: not just for new, cutting-edge technology, but also for a shred of privacy in a public world and - for Briddey - a chance for love at the heart of it all. This is a brilliant, heart-warming romantic comedy from one of the wittiest and wisest of our authors. Written with a light touch and a smile, we're swept up in Briddey's romance - and into the difficulties of a world just one technological step away from our own, as technology and social media blur (or indeed remove) the line between personal and public.

Sarah Escorsa

I’ve been staring at this bloody shrimping screen for the past 162.5 hours (give or take 2356 minutes or 2), and still have no fishing idea what to say about this book. Looks like I just can’t beat the abominable A Connie Willis Book Never Shall You Be Able to Review in the Entirety of Your Entire Life and Beyond Curse (ACWBNSYBAtRitEoYELaBC™). Our Lord Shrimp knows I tried to find nefariously creative ways to thwart it, but nothing seems to work. Not even sacrificing puny human babies, if you can believe it.



Quite so, my deer friend, quite so.

I guess that, given my total utter and complete lack of inspiration, I could fill this space with a fascinating plot recap, but, as you well know my Little Barnacles, I’m lazy as fish and can’t be bothered that’s what blurbs and other reviewers are for, so I won’t and stuff. 

Okay, there must be something I can say about this book. Oh, hey, I know! Here: there are lots of 2-star reviews for this book. (view spoiler)[
  

  

  
 (hide spoiler)] Gotta love the Fiendish Hordes of Despicable Book Taste (FHoDBT™)! Life would be so shrimpy boring without them! Okay okay, I have to most reluctantly admit that some of said FHoDBT™’s points are *whispers* not completely unfounded (view spoiler)[😱😱 (hide spoiler)]. Yes, it is revoltingly true, Crosstalk is not nearly as scrumptiously good as To Say Nothing of the Dog (and super extra light compared to Doomsday Book and Passage). And it is also revoltingly true that the story drags on a lot bit at first. And it is also also revoltingly true that, even though the book was published in 2016, some of the technological references feel dated already. And it is also also also revoltingly true that is this book is of the horrible, appalling, disgusting, allergy-inducing romantic kind. 

BUT. It’s Connie Willis. So QED and stuff. The end.

Just kidding. Hahahahahahaha. You didn’t seriously think this non-review was over, did you now my Tiny Decapods? I mean, it’s not like having absolutely nothing to say about a book ever stopped me from blabbering about it for hours and stuff. (view spoiler)[
  

  

  
 (hide spoiler)] Anyway, moving on and stuff. 

So. This book is a Typically Delicious Willis Comedy of Manners (TDWCoM™). It comes fully equipped with a frantic pace, chaos galore, confusion aplenty, all-around quirkiness, shenanigans a gogo, twists and turns and surprises (oh my!), wonderfully eclectic quotes and cultural references, clever stuff, farcical stuff and Super Extra Witty Stuff (SEWT™). In other words, Quintessential Willis Lusciousness (QWL™). In other words, there’s something I need to do post haste and stuff. 



Avoided this could not be. Most awfully sorry I am not.

Oh, and in case you were wondering (or not), this story is about telepathy, communication (or lack thereof) and connectivity. It’s about mad scientists in basements, zombie hordes, and Rapunzel. It’s about Hitler being all warm and fuzzy, Sanctuary phones, and the Hunchback of Notre Dame (you know, that guy who lives in a dungeon?). It’s about rubbish plan A’s, the utter lack of plan B’s, and the Daughters of Ireland. It’s about apps that make 
  really loud slamming-down-the-receiver noises
 (best invention ever, methinks), burnings at the stake, and Frozen. It’s about three A.M., “Danny Boy” and the lying brute of an Englishman who wrote it, and library stacks. And ultimately, it’s about Night Fighter and Dawn Patrol, drilling a hole in one’s little head for love, and all sorts of other Wondrously Wondrous Willis Stuff (W³S™).



➽ Nefarious Last Words #1 (NLW™): Connie Willis, I 💕lurves💕 the way your mind works and stuff. 

➽ Nefarious Last Words #2 (NLW™): All Hail Hedy Lamarr, Hollywood goddess and frequency-hopping inventor extraordinaire. Without her there’d be no GPS, WiFi or Bluetooth. And therefore, no Crosstalk. Ha!





[Pre-review nonsense]

This book probably doesn't deserve a full 4 star rating, but it's one of those Delightfully Delightful Connie Willis Romps (DDCWR™) that make me feel despicably fluffy inside (yes, it's disgusting, I know), so 4 stars it is. Ha!



Yes, being petted by a leek and reading a DDCWR™ are two very similar experiences. FYI and stuff. 

Full review to come and stuff.

Science fiction icon Connie Willis brilliantly mixes a speculative plot, the wit of Nora Ephron, and the comedic flair of P. G. Wodehouse in Crosstalk—a genre-bending novel that pushes social media, smartphone technology, and twenty-four-hour availability to hilarious and chilling extremes as one young woman abruptly finds herself with way more connectivity than she ever desired. NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY NPR In the not-too-distant future, a simple outpatient procedure to increase empathy between romantic partners has become all the rage. And Briddey Flannigan is delighted when her boyfriend, Trent, suggests undergoing the operation prior to a marriage proposal—to enjoy better emotional connection and a perfect relationship with complete communication and understanding. But things don’t quite work out as planned, and Briddey finds herself connected to someone else entirely—in a way far beyond what she signed up for. It is almost more than she can handle—especially when the stress of managing her all-too-eager-to-communicate-at-all-times family is already burdening her brain. But that’s only the beginning. As things go from bad to worse, she begins to see the dark side of too much information, and to realize that love—and communication—are far more complicated than she ever imagined. Praise for Crosstalk “A rollicking send-up of obsessive cell phone usage in too-near-future America . . . [Connie] Willis’s canny incorporation of scientific lore, and a riotous cast . . . make for an engaging girl-finally-finds-right-boy story that’s unveiled with tact and humor. Willis juxtaposes glimpses of claimed historical telepaths with important reflections about the ubiquity of cell phones and the menace that unscrupulous developers of technology pose to privacy, morality, and emotional stability.”—Publishers Weekly “An exhilarating and laugh-inducing read . . . one of those rare books that will keep you up all night long because you can’t bear to put it down.”—Portland Book Review “A fun technological fairy tale.”—BookPage “One of the funniest SF novels in years.”—Locus

A Novel

cygnoir

I finally gave up on ever finishing this book. The premise was somewhat interesting, but the protagonist was utterly unlikeable and kept making foolish decisions that bored me. I still gave this two stars because Connie Willis can make pretty much anything fun to read for a while.

Crosstalk

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