Tom Hering
Rememberer
I finished reading Way Station yesterday. It's one of those books I always thought I had read, back in the 1970s, when I was making an effort to read everything considered a classic - up to that time. But skimming its pages this year (when I'm again making an effort to read the classics), I realized I had never actually read Way Station - I had only read about it. Damned memory!
Anyways, what can I say about the book that hasn't already been said? As fond as I am of City, I think Way Station is probably Simak's masterpiece. I actually cared about the protagonist, Enoch Wallace, and kept turning the pages to find out what happened to him next. Probably because, being in my 60s now, I found Enoch's situation to be a metaphor for aging. Though he doesn't age (or rather, ages very little), the years still pass him by, the world around him changes and becomes increasingly unfamiliar, and all his loved ones are gone. His isolation in the station, as a relatively immortal man, perfectly expresses the increasing isolation of old age. The pain of loss is a major theme of the book. There's no one left who Enoch is really, intimately close to. There are just simulacra of past loved ones whom Enoch has manufactured. Like the memories of loved ones we ourselves have lost, Enoch's simulacra are vivid for a while, then begin to fade, and eventually vanish altogether. Which only doubles his (and our) sense of loss.
Definitely the most emotionally moving book by Simak I've ever read. Younger readers might not find it so. (Simak was in his late 50s when he wrote Way Station. An age that felt more "ancient" in the early 1960s than it does now.)
Anyways, what can I say about the book that hasn't already been said? As fond as I am of City, I think Way Station is probably Simak's masterpiece. I actually cared about the protagonist, Enoch Wallace, and kept turning the pages to find out what happened to him next. Probably because, being in my 60s now, I found Enoch's situation to be a metaphor for aging. Though he doesn't age (or rather, ages very little), the years still pass him by, the world around him changes and becomes increasingly unfamiliar, and all his loved ones are gone. His isolation in the station, as a relatively immortal man, perfectly expresses the increasing isolation of old age. The pain of loss is a major theme of the book. There's no one left who Enoch is really, intimately close to. There are just simulacra of past loved ones whom Enoch has manufactured. Like the memories of loved ones we ourselves have lost, Enoch's simulacra are vivid for a while, then begin to fade, and eventually vanish altogether. Which only doubles his (and our) sense of loss.
Definitely the most emotionally moving book by Simak I've ever read. Younger readers might not find it so. (Simak was in his late 50s when he wrote Way Station. An age that felt more "ancient" in the early 1960s than it does now.)
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