Product Description

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #41164 in Books
• Published on: 2007-08-21
• Released on: 2007-08-21
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 464 pages

From Publishers Weekly
Starred Review. A truck jackknifes off an "arrow straight country road" near Kearney, Nebr., in Powers's ninth novel, becoming the catalyst for a painstakingly rendered minuet of self-reckoning. The accident puts the truck's 27-year-old driver, Mark Schluter, into a 14-day coma. When he emerges, he is stricken with Capgras syndrome: he's unable to match his visual and intellectual identifications with his emotional ones. He thinks his sister, Karin, isn't actually his sister—she's an imposter (the same goes for Mark's house). A shattered and worried Karin turns to Gerald Weber, an Oliver Sacks–like figure who writes bestsellers about neurological cases, but Gerald's inability to help Mark, and bad reviews of his latest book, cause him to wonder if he has become a "neurological opportunist." Then there are the mysteries of Mark's nurse's aide, Barbara Gillespie, who is secretive about her past and seems to be much more intelligent than she's willing to let on, and the meaning of a cryptic note left on Mark's nightstand the night he was hospitalized. MacArthur fellow Powers (Gold Bug Variations, etc.) masterfully charts the shifting dynamics of Karin's and Mark's relationship, and his prose—powerful, but not overbearing—brings a sorrowful energy to every page. (Oct.)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From The New Yorker
This novel, a finalist for the National Book Award, addresses the question of how we know who we really are. Mark, who repairs machinery at a meat-processing plant, suffers a head injury that prevents him from recognizing his sister Karin; he believes that she is a look-alike sent to spy on him. Karin, who has spent her life trying to escape their small Nebraska town, returns to old lovers and habits she thought she'd renounced. Stung by Mark's rejection, she sends a desperate plea to an Oliver Sacks-like neurologist whose popular books have suddenly come under critical attack, causing fissures in his public persona and his seemingly perfect marriage. Powers's smooth coincidences and cute patter can be unconvincing and leaden, and he has a tendency to lapse into distracting repetitions. Yet his philosophical musings have the energy of a thriller, and he gives lyrical, haunting life to the landscape of the Great Plains.
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From The Washington Post
Richard Powers's new novel -- a kind of neuro-cosmological adventure -- is an exhilarating narrative feat. The ease with which the author controls his frequently complex material is sometimes as thrilling to watch as the unfolding of the story itself. Yet it opens quietly enough, on the banks of the Platte River in Nebraska, where the cranes are preparing for their annual migration. Powers clearly has symbolic duties in mind for these birds (the "echo makers" of the title), evolutionary oddities from the center of America; and much of the first part of the book suggests we are in for a traditional novel of theme and character, complete with natural symbolism.

The central character, a 27-year-old meatpacker named Mark Schluter, is in a coma following a mysterious automobile accident. An amiable underachiever, he is devoted to his truck, and it seems inexplicable that he could have flipped it on a straight road when sober. While he is unconscious, an unseen visitor leaves a note by his bed. The note's contents suggest that whoever wrote it was at the scene of the accident -- presumably the person responsible for calling the emergency services and saving Mark's life.

Mark slowly recovers. All his faculties return to him, save one: He does not recognize his elder sister, Karin, who has always been devoted to him. It appears that Mark is the victim of Capgras Syndrome (a real complaint), in which patients refuse to believe that those closest to them are who they claim to be. Mark concedes that the woman who tends to him and takes him home is very like the real Karin and has done her homework on their family history, but he never believes she is really his sister.

Capgras is typically found only in psychiatric patients -- often schizophrenics -- so its development from a head injury raises unusual medical and philosophical questions. In her despair, Karin writes to a famous East Coast neurologist named Gerald Weber, and with his entrance the novel becomes richer. Weber, a sort of Oliver Sacks figure, has made a name by publishing essays about his patients. His curiosity is not unreasonably aroused by this case in a million: "Capgras from an accident," he muses, "a phenomenon that could crown or crash any theory of consciousness." Or, as he puts it to his wife, Sylvie: "It's the kind of neither-both case that could help arbitrate between two very different paradigms of mind."

As the narrative switches temporarily to Weber's point of view, we see Mark in a different light, but it's still a character-driven novel with the puzzle of human consciousness as its meaty theme. That would be enough for most readers, I imagine, but Powers has other ideas. At about the halfway stage, these themes become secondary to the story. What really happened to Mark that night? Who wrote that note? Will he ever recognize Karin again?

Around these three questions, Powers draws in a larger cast: Karin's nature-conservationist lover and her property-developer ex; Mark's two old buddies from the meatpacking plant and, most importantly, his care assistant, Barbara, who seems over-sophisticated for her job and appears disconcertingly familiar to more than one other character. This complicated story is masterfully controlled; the pace never slackens; the writing remains direct and clear.

While Mark attempts to reintegrate himself, Weber slides unwillingly the other way. An adverse critical and public reaction to his new book, coupled with a sense of failure in Mark's case, precipitates a frightening disintegration. He questions his life's work and, especially, its motivation; he even fails (in a neat parallel to Mark) to recognize the virtues of those closest to him. Weber's breakdown, apparently psychological in cause and effect, is nevertheless analyzed by him in neurological terms, and in a book of bravura switches of viewpoint, this is Powers's greatest coup.

By the end of the novel, the narrative stakes have been raised very high, yet on the three main questions, Powers delivers handsomely: Mysteries are resolved, answers satisfactorily given. For this concentration on plot, however, there remains a price to be paid in thematic richness. It is futile to complain that the riddle of human consciousness is not fully explained; Powers illuminates it as far as current science permits and dramatizes his findings with a novelist's concern for character. Yet the resolution of the Capgras issue, realistic though it is, does not pull its weight emotionally, and the end of the mystery-note story does not reverberate as much as it might.This certainly should not dim one's admiration for Powers's boldness. He is a formidable talent, and this is a lucid, fiercely entertaining novel -- which, incidentally, with the inevitable loss of intellectual richness, would make a terrific movie.

Reviewed by Sebastian Faulks
Copyright 2006, The Washington Post. All Rights Reserved.

Customer Reviews

"Everything dances."
Is the self a smooth continuity of being, or a patchwork that shifts and rearranges to create an illusory but convincing image of unbrokenness? Exactly how reliable are our perceptions of our surroundings and experiences? Are human beings constitutionally unable to harmonize and harness their cognitive powers to the needs of the ecosystem that sustains them? If science's hypothesis that consciousness arises from organic brain function is true, where does that leave us spiritually?

THE ECHO MAKER considers these and other hefty questions within the framework of a sophisticated story about a young Nebraska slaughterhouse machine mechanic, Mark Schluter, who suffers head injuries when his truck overturns at eighty miles an hour. When he awakens from a coma, his only surviving family -- his sister -- is a stranger to him. This is not a case of "typical" amnesia. He remembers his sister, but he feels no affinity or love for, no connection to, the woman in his hospital room who looks like her. He has the same impostor feeling about his faithful dog. Diagnosed with the extremely rare condition called Capgras syndrome, he soon attracts the attention of world-renown cognitive neurologist, Gerald Weber, who comes to interview and test Mark.

As the novel progresses, Mark, sister Karin, and Gerald grapple with dissolving and re-forming self images. Mark's deficit evolves over a year's time, so Capgras doesn't become his only claim to fame in the medical literature. But perhaps even more interesting are the psychological convulsions that jolt Karin and Weber as they react to Mark's rearranging personality.

We meet Weber's wife, two buddies of Mark's, the men in Karin's life, a nurse's aide who makes an indelible impact on just about everyone. And we become awed voyeurs as masses of majestic, migrating cranes rest stop on the fading river near small town Kearney from Valentine's Day until about St. Patrick's. All play important roles in the measured, dense unwinding of THE ECHO MAKER.

Also at the heart and soul of the plot is a mysterious, nearly mystical message in a spidery scrawl Karin finds by Mark's hospital bed that begins "I am No One" and continues "GOD led me to you / so You could Live...." Who wrote it? Was it someone who saw the accident and can tell Mark why he swerved off the road? Does it transmit some transcendent meaning to and for the characters?

Having read Richard Powers' PLOWING THE DARK, I'm familiar with his techniques of welding at-first-glance-unrelated subjects together. THE ECHO MAKER achieves an amalgamation earlier and with more impressive effect. Nevertheless, after both books, I felt emotionally distanced. It is as if the author's cerebral strivings smother other potential gifts to the reader. There is an arty unreality to some of the conversations and situations in ECHO: for example, the "cute" shorthand between Weber and his wife can be cloying and patience-testing (although, overall I did enjoy their marital bond). Furthermore, Power's language leans to the pretentious and flirts with narrative hyperventilation in places.

In THE ECHO MAKER, the basic plot, somewhat on the lean side for a book of 451 pages, is elaborated by educational information about cranes, myriad cognitive disorders, water politics, and the stream of self-absorbed intuitions of the main characters (who aren't particularly sympathetic individuals). While the leisurely pace of the characters' self-discovery and the plethora of technical and natural detail can be attributed to thoroughness of exploration, less might have been more. Smart, layered, skillfully subtle novels deserve wider readership. But they often don't gain that wider audience...perhaps because authors write 450 pages where fewer could suffice.

This novel is, at its heart, a study of consciousness: its determinants as defined by the scientific community; the suffering caused when its "normal" template is cracked or irreparably shattered by biological change; how any of us might, through mid-life crisis or other personal shakeup, face psychological realignment of our precious "selves." The novel also reminds us that the human race, as the earthly species with dominant brains/minds, is running out of the luxury of time to make decisions that will either cooperate with or decimate our environment and fellow living creatures. And we are reminded that even if the mind is a product of the brain, life is a wonder. As one character puts it, "Everything dances."

Yes, this is a exhaustive and magniloquent volume. It is also an unusual, intellectually invigorating novel, and a very worthy endeavor. Please give it a go.

Dreadful
Having read the Amazon readers' reviews, I can tell I'm going to get flamed for this. But I am truly confused. Did these people read the same book I did? To me, it read like an airport/beach book in hack prose with arty bits about the annual migration of certain cranes thrown in. The story was just an excuse to wax philosophical about ecology, neurology and the sense of the self. The characters were mostly wax figures, dummies in a crash test.

The plot, if you can call it that, can generally be described as follows: Young man "Mark" has terrible accident in a truck and suffers brain damage. When he wakes up from a coma, he believes that his sister "Karin", his dog, his house are all imposters, and that this is part of some conspiracy, the nature of which he never figures out. These are apparently symptoms of something called "Capgras syndrome," a neurological disorder that causes its victims to believe such things. None of the medical professionals in the book has ever seen this in a trauma victim. A famous neurologist "Weber" is consulted. He comes, examines Mark, performs a few tests and leaves. Karin, who gives up a job as a customer service rep (!), moves in with a man she used to know, who is currently a vegan environmentalist hippie who meditates a lot, and who was Mark's best friend growing up. There is a corresponding plot line about environmentalism versus real estate development - which will probably end badly for the cranes and the hippies. Weber returns a few times. Karin sleeps with the hippie and with another guy as well. Also, there's a character who's a nurse and has secrets to keep (revealed later, but by that time, who cares?). Eventually Mark takes medicine and is restored to sanity. More or less.

There are so many things wrong with this novel, I don't know where to begin. Among other problems, there is very little character development. The sister seems like a big self-hating baby who lives a totally uninteresting life - probably because she is basically a not very interesting person. Her neurotic suspicion, that she has no personality, arises from the apparent fact that she does, in fact, have no personality to speak of. To the extent that her character is described, she appears to be an excruciating whiner.

The character she sleeps with, "Daniel", is a straw man - he barely speaks or shows any emotion whatsoever (the reader is told occasionally about Daniel's emotions, but they are never demonstrated or shown). His entire purpose seems to be a listening board to Karin's self-pitying, soporific patois. Everything we know about Daniel, we know because the narrator told us. Nothing is shown; only told. Daniel doesn't do anything and barely speaks till the end, and even then it's mundane and totally overwhelmed, in any event, with Karin's relentless self-pity.

Related to the author's inability to show rather than tell is that the author's characters - and the whole plot, actually - really only exist as a scaffolding for the author's musings on environmental devastation and what neurology can teach us about the sense of self. But the environmental statement is something most of us already know (real estate development is bad for migrating birds), and Oliver Sacks already told us about the fragile self in his many popular books. In fact, the character Weber is a Sacks doppelganger. We're told he goes through a lot of anguish after receiving bad reviews on his latest book.

Moreover, this book is excessively slow. Most of the time we're in the characters' heads thinking thoroughly banal thougts because that's all they have in them to think about. I stuck with it though to the end, and I can confidently say that the author did not redeem himself at the end. Mark's recovery is mentioned and never referred to again. I can't even remember what happened to most of the other characters, and it's only been a week since I finished the book.

I cannot emphasize enough how amazingly bad this book is. And keep in mind: if you read this, you'll never get that time back. Don't waste it.

A relevant book for our time
This book deals with important issues - what exactly is the mind? What is the self? Should we view the brain/mind as a teeming ecosystem of competing impulses and neuro-chemicals? Or, should we take a more holistic perspective?

Even as I try to form some sort of dichotomous framework here, I'm struggling, because Echo Maker is all about showing that the lines are blurry. Before more analysis, a brief synopsis.

Mark Schluter, average redneck, gets into a horrific car accident. He experiences brain damage, and as he rehabilitates he develops "Capgras" Syndrome - the condition of believing your closest friends and family members have been replaced by impostors or robots. His sister, Karin, is the main target. Mark rejects her and accuses her of working for the government in some vast conspiracy against him - he demands his sister back.

The case attracts famous neurologist Gerald Weber. Weber has written several books of case studies on mental patients - his overarching theme is that `we're all a little crazy - each person's brain struggles to produce a consistent story from the information it receives.' Weber's newest book is dismissed as overly simplistic and unscientific - it appears that the world is no longer satisfied with his literary approach to understanding the mind. They crave physiological and chemical explanations, and pills. Even worse, they accuse him of opportunism - visiting mental patients only in the interest of writing highly readable case studies.

The book follows the personal struggles of Karen Schluter and Gerald Weber - both individuals experiencing intense personal doubts. Karen is eternally frustrated that her brother rejects all her love and care. Weber increasingly questions everything he used to believe about the mind - he "stops believing in his research". Both individuals keep returning to Mark. Karen gives up her job to be with him, and Weber, haunted by a sense of abandoning the Schluters, returns several times to see him.

As for the themes...

The obvious one is "medicalizing the human condition." Every deficiency can be smoothed out with a drug. Should it be so? Or is that which is "wrong with us" really that which makes us human?

Powers pokes fun at the common phrase, "are you back to normal?" by asking, "what is normal?" The `normal' characters in the book are constantly experiencing episodes of intense self-confusion, and their crises of identity are highly analogous to pathological conditions that Weber describes in his books.

Capgras is the most pervasive of these disorder-symbols in the book. We are consciously changing, and it takes quite a bit of mental smoothing for the brain to accept the new version of reality (the present) as a continuation of a prior version of reality (the past), rather than something altogether new and strange. Mark literally rejects this leap of logic, but Karen and Weber both struggle with similar issues. Who was I one year ago... five years ago? Am I really the same person who said those things and did those things?

I am No one.

The cryptic beginning of the note that Mark finds at his bedside, and cannot understand. All three major characters felt like nothing at points in the novel. In each case, that moment of desperation and radical humility allows the person to reboot.