According to Arthur C
Clarke’s third law of prediction, ‘any
sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic’. There’s
certainly a strong element of prestidigitation involved in the launch of new
technologies, and we indulge in magical thinking when we consider technology’s
power to end hunger, reverse climate change and transform our everyday lives.
Technological innovators like Steve Jobs
are transformed into messianic figures; but how much do we understand the gadgets that surround us, how they work and what they can do?
This mindset is satirised by Anthony Trevelyan in his debut novel The Weightless World, for
Galley Beggar Press. Narrated by the cynical nonentity Steven Strauss (late twenties, balding, with a bad back), the plot
focuses on Raymond Ess, a senior
executive at a failing aviation firm, who has travelled to India in order to
purchase the anti-gravity device which he believes will save his business.
Accompanied by Strauss, his personal assistant, Ess travels into the Indian
hinterlands in the hope of salvation, armed only with his expense account and a
fanatical belief in the device’s power.
From the beginning, there is a sense that the purpose of
Ess’s trip is as much spiritual as commercial. There is a fervent, religious
quality to his description of the device’s potential impact (he pictures 'airborne crowds, ascended
multitudes,' bringing to mind images of the Rapture), and the
story of its discovery – he had been wandering the desert for two days when he
first encountered Tarik Kundra, the
‘genius recluse’ who invented it. Ess believes that Kundra can teach him a new
way of doing things, much as The Beatles did when they travelled to India to
learn from Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.
Strauss humours his boss in public, while despairing in
private. Ess had suffered a breakdown following a disastrous business deal, and
is now seen as an eccentric by the majority of his colleagues; his talk is 'wild, fast and loose, without the
inertia of detail'. He is still high functioning,
but Strauss worries that he might fly off the handle at any moment, and turn
homicidal.
Strauss and Ess are a good comic pairing. The former
is all mannered, old-fashioned English charm, his speech punctuated by
exclamations of 'now look here,' 'what say you,' and 'I daresay'. His apparently naïve enthusiasm for what seems a
doomed project, and the way he is being apparently sidelined by his bosses,
invite the reader’s sympathy, whilst also propelling the two characters into
increasingly bizarre situations. Strauss is the straight man, with a nice range
of downbeat one-liners. For all that the pair seem mismatched, there is a
strong undercurrent of loyalty between them, lending The Weightless World the air of a surreal road trip.
As they come closer to achieving the purpose of their
journey, we see Ess and Strauss begin to unravel, in their own ways. Feeling
increasingly protective of his Quixotic companion, Strauss becomes increasingly
paranoid about their fellow travellers, Henry, an American businessman whose
motives are unclear and Asha, their guide. The reader’s perception shifts as
the novel progresses, with Ess gradually gaining in plausibility whilst we see
hints that Strauss may not be as reliable as he first seems. Ess, at least,
seems to be motivated by philanthropic aims, but Strauss appears far more
self-centred, not least in his relationship with his girlfriend and her family.
The subtext of the novel explores the relationship
between the UK and India. Ess, and other Western ex-pats they encounter, view
India as a land of unlimited potential, a place where they can pick up new
ideas or pursue philanthropic hobbies without too much outlay. The downside is
a tendency to ignore the local situation, and treat Indians like low-level
employees. When Ess arrives at Kundra’s home, he puts the inventor in serious
danger: 'he didn't mean to do it. He just
didn't care enough to make sure he didn't do it by accident'. This is
privilege in action; Ess and his fellow ex-pats are looking for the advantages
of being in India, without considering the possibility that people might be
affected by their actions.
On the whole, The
Weightless World is engaging, funny and imaginative, with a fascinating relationship
at its centre. Reading the opening chapters, I thought it was going to be very
special indeed – however, there are a couple of sections where the narrative
lingers too long in one place, and occasional lapses into exposition and
narrative omniscience which hold it back slightly. Still, it’s a fine debut, a
well-aimed satire which manages to be equally enjoyable and thought-provoking.


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