The first thing to know about S. — J.J. Abrams’ and Doug Dorst’s literary experiment slash ode to the written word — is that you get out of it what you want to get out of it. If you want to get all crazy conspiracy theory and puzzle out a bunch of mysteries, you can. If you just want to sit back and be immersed in the story, with a little brain power, you can. If you want to engage somewhere in between those two levels, guess what: YOU CAN. In any of those scenarios, reading this book is going to be pretty much unlike any other reading experience you’ve ever had, and that’s very much by design.
I wasn’t actually very interested in reading this book, despite J.J. Abrams’ name being attached. ‘Meh’ was my overall feeling when I heard it was being released. Then they published this article on Pajiba, and I was in. This is going to be a long review because there’s a lot of different, just, stuff to talk about in relation to this book, not just just the story and the writing. At any given time there are two, three, four, even five levels of story happening at the same time. It’s tiring, but it’s also really fun. I started the book on a Friday, and ended up spening almost the entire weekend doing nothing but reading it. Because of the interactive nature of the thing, it took me about three times as long to read a single page as it normally does. It also took me about three times the mental energy. I think it was worth it in the end, though.
Ship of Theseus: The first level of the text is the fictional novel Ship of Theseus, by fictional author V.M. Straka. The story itself is about a man named S. who finds himself one day without a memory of who he is, but before he can make much headway on that mystery, he is taken forcibly aboard a mysterious ship whose sailors have their lips sewn together and who take him on the beginnings of a mysterious, inexplicable journey. The main text of Ship of Theseus is very symbolic, and steeped in allegory. Without the further levels of the S. story, it’s exactly the kind of book that would drive me up the wall in frustration. But it was a very well done example of that kind of literature, and it had a satisfying ending. With the further levels of interpretation, it was actually a pretty satisfying reading experience, full of meditations on identity and memory. Not the kind of book I would have read, otherwise, though. More centered on ideas and metaphors than character or plot. But as a base for this entire S. experience, very effective. A straightforward base text would not have worked for what Abrams and Dorst had in mind.
The Footnotes: In the world of the text, Straka is a famous literary author who died many years ago. Ship of Theseus was his last book. Nobody ever met Straka, and his identity is famously debated in public and scholarly circles. Throughout the novel, Straka’s fictional editor, F.X. Caldeira leaves annotative and oftentimes enigmatic and useless footnotes to accompany the text. Sometimes these footnotes are technical, explaining editorial decisions he had to make as a consequence of publishing the book after Straka’s death, and missing the last ten pages of the manuscript. He also touches on a bunch of subjects, including authorship, history, and real-life counterparts from Straka’s life that made their way into his fiction. The footnotes by themselves are interesting, but what really got me is the notes on top of, and frequently about, these footnotes by characters Jen and Eric.
The Margin Notes: There’s no question in my mind that these are the highlight of the book. Every single page of Ship of Theseus is marked up by Jen and Eric in the margins. The conceit is that Jen picked up Eric’s book, which he had written in and left in the library where she worked, and she left him notes and returned his book. He in turn left her more notes. They end up passing the book back and forth, dissecting Ship of Theseus, researching the history surrounding Straka, delving deep into the conspiracy and mystery surrounding his life, and getting to know one another along the way. The margin notes are color coded into four sections: the first pass Jen is blue ink and Eric is black ink, in the second Jen is yellow and Eric green, the third Jen is red and Eric purple, and in the fourth both are black. Often, all four of these differently colored timelines exist on the same page, and you have to decide not only what order you want to read the text/footnotes/margin notes in, but whether or not you want to read all four margin note timelines at once. I’ve talked to several people who read all the black/blue first, then the yellow/green, etc. I read all at once and am glad I did, because often the notes hinted at things to come and I thought it added shading to the characters, to see their past and future selves existing together in the same space and interacting with one another. I also made the decision to read all the notes/main text at the same time, instead of reading one first and then the other. Jen and Eric’s notes made Ship of Theseus enjoyable, and their research into its mysteries was fascinating. I don’t think it would have worked as well for me if I hadn’t done it the way I did (mostly reading one page of main text at a time, then the footnotes, then margin notes in color-coded order).
The Inserts, and the Physicality of the Book: As if all that other crap wasn’t enough, they had the (frankly genius) idea to include inserts in the book as well, as if we really were reading Jen and Eric’s copy, and seeing the notes and postcards and maps they left each other along the way. These inserts add an extra dimension to the story, although as I document here, it was a pain in the ass to keep them in their correct spots (which I was determined to do). I ended up using the code wheel stuck in the back of the book as a bookmark because the blasted thing just wouldn’t stay put. (Also, I never figured out how to use that thing; see section below about things I missed.) Again, documented more here, but this thing is a dream for bibliophiles. Every single bit of it was designed to appeal to book lovers: the smell, the feel of the paper (carefully ‘aged’). The back cover containing one of those old library check out cards. Just chocked full of nostalgia, this thing is.
Overall and Beyond: Reading this book was a capital ‘E’ Experience. It’s not just story on the page, it’s five stories in one, in experimental format designed specifically to pull the reader directly in to that experience. And if you’re one of those people (not like me) who also enjoys solving puzzles and clues, my guess is you can take it even further. Websites, clues, hidden official Tumblrs with that famed missing chapter in it, YouTube viral videos, even codes in the text of the book that Jen and Eric missed. It sounds exhausting to me, but it’s there if you want to track it down.
Final Verdict: Worth the effort. Check this puppy out.