PARALLEL LINES

A hurtling ride through the world’s collapse.

Continuing a storyline begun in Double Blind (2021), St. Aubyn’s latest opens with a view through the window of an onrushing train—a metaphor that will appear frequently—where Sebastian, an eminently sensitive young man, feels “the gaping wounds” of the English countryside. Sebastian is being treated, without much success, for schizophrenia and is certainly not prepared for the surprise that his doctor will reveal about his past. Sebastian’s twin, Olivia, is busily married and mothering, having grown up as an adoptee apart from him. Olivia has found work writing radio scripts on the unfolding sixth extinction, with “artificial intelligence, pandemics, nuclear annihilation, global warming, asteroids and overpopulation” among her unhappy subjects. Olivia’s tale entwines with that of the mogul Hunter Sterling, now the partner of Lucy, the center of the previous novel, both of them having retreated from the world after Hunter’s sale of a startup to “a Silicon Valley amortality company, which exploited the fear of death by offering to download its customers’ consciousness onto a ‘non-biological substrate.’” St. Aubyn’s piece makes a neat companion to David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas in depicting harried people constantly on the run, on the make, and at the end of their tethers in a time of crumbling civilizations—in which, pointedly, the “current batch of the super-rich” who want to “piss off to Mars or swap Europe for Europa” are savaged as a class and a few world leaders (“I due amici, Putin and Trump”) are lampooned by name, all with great good slashingly sarcastic humor. St. Aubyn’s closing, which leaves room for another episode, is quite sincere, though, and even affecting in recounting Sebastian and Olivia’s tentative efforts to form not just a relationship but a family, the only bastion against doom.

An elegantly arch but empathetic excursion into impending apocalypse, and some of St. Aubyn’s best work yet.