The many-worlds theory suggests every choice and every chance creates a split in reality, allowing both options to play out in separate universes. It’s a fascinating thought, that even the tiniest choice a person makes is a beat of a butterfly’s wings that can result in a dramatically different outcome. I’m almost always up for seeing this explored in fiction and entertainment. In Emet North’s debut, In Universes, the material consequences of this choice or that can vary widely, even if its characters, and their emotional journeys, beat on steadily regardless of which universe takes center stage.
As a physicist studying the cosmos and trying to gain a foothold in academia, Raffi has little downtime. What spare time there is, though, isn’t filled with Caleb, Raffi’s long-distance boyfriend, but rather Graham, Raffi’s sweet rugby-playing roommate, or—and mostly—Britt, a sculptor who grew up near Raffi but whom Raffi only met after being struck by Britt’s work. Raffi’s work leads to a lot of thinking about parallel universes, which naturally leads Raffi to wonder at how life looks like in those near-realities. The rest of the book explores that very thing: what if Raffi had talked to Britt when they were kids? What if an infection of alien fungus made all animals violently aggressive and brought about the apocalypse? What if Raffi walks away from academia? What if the world makes women literally fracture into a hoard of animals when they give birth? What if Raffi confronts the grief that trails in each of these realities like a shadow?
Each of these stories offers a different exploration of not only Raffi’s choices, but Raffi’s identity, too. Sexuality and gender identity see as much consideration as life circumstances, and all are allowed to be assumed within the same blank slate of its respective universe as any other facet of Raffi and the surrounding world. Despite the multitude of changeable factors, there’s a familiar cast of characters. Caleb and Graham make repeated appearances in Raffi’s life, sometimes as partners, sometimes as friends, and sometimes as ghosts (real or imagined). Kay, first introduced as Graham’s girlfriend, has several hats, as does Alice, first introduced as Raffi takes an impromptu “sabbatical” when the pressure of academia becomes too much to bear. And, of course, Britt.
The first story, where Raffi talks to Britt back in their hometown, where they become fast friends in adolescence, is the most cause-and-effect supposition within In Universes, and the result of their friendship and falling out reverberates in some of the following sections. It’s also one of the strongest stories. As fascinated—and perhaps interested—Raffi is with Britt as an adult, as a teenager, Raffi doesn’t have the maturity to navigate the friendship (and maybe more) through the whitewater rapids of a homophobic school and social group. The repercussions of that understandable cowardice are grave, and Raffi is haunted by them for decades.
Or just by dissatisfaction in how life has gone, a pervasive feeling that something’s missing. It’s unclear what makes, or could make, Raffi happy. Though the universes are a little uneven in their execution, the book’s greatest weakness is giving us ten versions of Raffi’s life and finding our main character happy in none of them. There are moments of pleasure and certainly love, but the melancholy seems endless and invincible, and the best we get is an occasional hope for future absolution. Perhaps this is intentional commentary from North on how no singular choice in our lives can take us from sad to happy, or that our essence—even if that essence might just be clinically depressed—doesn’t change whether we live in a post-apocalyptic world or one in which our partner is pregnant with an octopus. Still, this repeated emotional melody does make it hard to keep sitting with the book, or at least its character, after a while.
In the end, the only happiness, really, is an imagined one—though, admittedly, it’s a welcome and not un-satisfying one. Sometimes none of our choices are great enough to give us the ending we want or deserve, or that we think we want or deserve. There’s disappointment in that, true, but there’s also assurance that, despite not getting what we want—what Raffi wants—we are absolved from any guilt of not attaining it. Sometimes, even an infinite number of universes aren’t enough to bring about a happily ever after.
Ring Reads 