A bizarre, experimental debut novel, Oh God, the Solar Goes is about in a world the place the solar has mysteriously, unexplainably disappeared. As an unnamed narrator heads west, the e book takes a hairpin flip right into a searing and eerie romance.
The abstract for Oh God, the Solar Goes is under, adopted by the beforehand launched cowl and a two-chapter excerpt.
The solar has disappeared from the sky. Nobody can clarify the place it has gone, however one wayward traveler is set to attempt. As our unnamed narrator begins his odyssey throughout the parched landscapes of the American Southwest, he’s drawn into an online of phantasm and thriller, a shifting astral mindscape that shimmers with the aftermath of loss—and the promise of redemption.
I. TEMPE, ARIZONA
The stroll throughout the car parking zone is a protracted one. It stretches out like a stroll by means of a desert—a second turns into a minute after which an hour after which a second once more. And after a number of moments move, a automotive pulls up subsequent to me and somebody rolls down the window.
“Hello there,” says a lady, smoking a camel out the motive force’s facet. She faucets it towards the window.
“You left this within the diner,” she says, reaching down and grabbing an envelope—she fingers it to me.
Ah, I mutter. “Can’t imagine I forgot.”
She nods. A automotive pulls into the lot.
“Are you from Tempe?”
“No,” I say. “I’ve been right here a month.”
“A month,” says the girl, taking a smoke of the cigarette.
Her hair is the colour of the camel. “What brings you right here?” “The solar,” I say. “I’m in search of it.”
“I see,” says the girl, staring now. “On the lookout for it.” “I’m,” I say.
The lady pauses for a minute, then speaks once more.
“You understand, my son, he’s the star of the swim group at college.”
“The day the solar went lacking, he wakened and forgot how you can swim. I swear to god, the day the solar went away, my son jumped within the pool and sunk straight to the underside, fully forgot how you can transfer his legs and arms, his teammates needed to pull him out.”
⃝
“He was going to swim at nationals. He’d been coaching all yr.”
“I’m sorry to listen to that,” I say, and the girl nods in settlement, blinking a watch.
“Anyway,” she says, outing her cigarette on the facet of the automotive. “I ought to get going,” and inside a minute, she faucets on the gasoline and pulls instantly away.
And for a second I’m excited about the underside of swimming pools, concerning the star of the swim group sinking to the underside, waking up one morning and forgetting how you can swim. The identical day the solar goes lacking, how odd.
Odd.
Odd.
A second later, and I’m on the freeway.
I’m on a street headed out of Tempe, in the direction of the desert, winding and unwinding into the gap like a shoelace loosening itself—a burlap ribbon coming undone—Tempe is behind now, and the desert is forward.
The desert is a protracted expanse of dust, and rocks and crags and cacti that line the street like hitchhikers in search of a trip. The sky right here is similar sky as anyplace, however brighter now, however in some way more durable to see. Because the desert goes on, its shapes come solely barely into focus, every rock a hidden object in sand.
Someplace within the distance is a city named Solar Metropolis, which is the place I’m headed at the moment, to fulfill Dr. Higley. Solar Metropolis—of all names for a city in Arizona—is the place Dr. Higley lives, the place he’s lived for the previous eighteen years along with his spouse, Martha Adie. Dr. Higley is now retired, however apparently in his day he was a number one thoughts within the area of photo voltaic astronomy, particularly helioseismology, the examine of the solar and its seismic actions. Solar Metropolis is about forty miles away from Tempe, simply north of Phoenix, and I ought to get there with loads of daytime to kill.
The street I’m on now could be turning into increasingly slim, which is good as a result of there’s much less to give attention to—the thoughts can wander elsewhere, like in the direction of the panorama and the ideas layered in it—a considered a rock passes beside me, and with out understanding, I’m excited about a mountain I as soon as climbed—I’m excited about the highest of the mountain, how quiet it was, how you would see for miles in each course— I’m excited about how the mountain regarded out over a desert, and the way the desert regarded very very like this one, sparse and vast open, with craters and crags in all places.
A considered a shrub passes by, after which a ditch, and a burrow, and instantly the picture of sand comes over my thoughts and I’m excited about one thing somebody as soon as instructed me about sand. They mentioned sand is just like the previous—it’s the identical and totally different every time you see it. They talked about one thing a few footprint, about how issues are at all times a bit of totally different, I neglect precisely what they mentioned.
I take into consideration one thing else, after which one other, after which I look down on the passenger’s seat and see the envelope resting there, the one the girl handed me outdoors the diner. It’s clean and going through down, so I flip it over and see a reputation printed on the entrance in black ink. I stare down on the letters, however they’re smudged and exhausting to decipher. I pull the envelope nearer to my face, however the phrases are too jumbled to make out.
I give attention to the street, then again on the envelope, and squint my eyes to see what it reads, however once more, the letters spell out nothing. If I didn’t know higher, I’d say the letters weren’t letters however pictographs—certainly one of a mountain—certainly one of a moon— certainly one of a smaller mountain—one other of a key.
I look out the window and see a cloud float by—it’s additionally uncertain of its form, floating east in the direction of a plateau within the distance. I watch it morph from one factor into one other, till I look down once more on the envelope and see a phrase starting to kind from the smudge.
From.
From, it reads.
Who? I believe, after which I see it. Within the distance, a cloud is popping gray.
M, it reads. From M.
The letter M
and instantly I start to cry.
And shortly outdoors the window, the cloud begins to rain. It’s pouring over a plateau within the distance.
From M, I say aloud, and mutter it once more, till I notice I’m unsure who M is, and I’m unsure why I’m crying. From M, I say once more, and notice the tears maintain falling, there’s no stopping them. I open the letter and browse what’s written, it’s a single phrase:
Miss you, at all times —M
M, I repeat to myself, and fold the notice over. I place it again within the envelope and fold the envelope over, and over twice extra.
Who’s M? I believe, looking out my thoughts as if looking out the desert for a footprint however nothing, however nothing—after a while, I give it a relaxation and focus again on the street. I glue my eyes to the street indicators and look ahead to one thing to sign the strategy of Solar Metropolis, till I see it within the distance, an indication after which a city behind it. A desert city. A mirage rising from the bottom.
I step on the gasoline and ship the automotive flying. Exterior the home windows, the clouds have cleared—the sky is the colour of a clue.
II. SUN CITY, ARIZONA
A metropolis emerges from flatness. Like floating, like falling slowly asleep.
If the city of Solar Metropolis appeared as a imaginative and prescient in a dream, it could almost certainly be a daydream, and it could almost certainly be a city the place all the homes are the identical roughly—the lawns the identical hue of inexperienced, the streets aligned in the identical method in every nook of the grid. At one finish of city, there can be a golf course with a big water fountain on the heart, a man-made lake with geese and lily pads and reeds alongside the facet. On the heart of city, there can be a put up workplace, and a put up workplace worker standing outdoors the workplace waving. Within the nook of his eye, there can be a mirrored image of a hen touring at a number of hundred ft aboveground, the hen’s imaginative and prescient taking in an aerial view of the scene, which reveals a city within the form of an ideal O, a circle of homes surrounding a radial heart and increasing out in the direction of the desert in good symmetry. A Solar Metropolis, certainly, a city within the form of a solar. If Solar Metropolis appeared in a dream, it could be a dream induced by the warmth of the desert or induced in a state of delusion introduced on from driving too many miles. If Solar Metropolis have been a city in a dream, it could be a city that doesn’t make sense within the desert, too spherical, too inexperienced. If Solar Metropolis have been a city in a dream, it could be a retirement city and all of its residents can be over the age of sixty-five. They might drive golf carts and put on comparable shirts and make jokes whose punch strains ended with instant laughter. The laughter would begin violently after which path off as everybody caught their breath. If Solar Metropolis have been a city in a dream, it could be a desert city, a sleeping eye, a flattened solar. However Solar Metropolis will not be a city in a dream however a city in Arizona, within the northern bounds of the Maricopa County line, simply twenty miles north of Phoenix, a number of miles farther from Tempe.
“Is all the pieces all proper?” a voice asks as I step out of my automotive into the asphalt car parking zone.
A person stands on the heart of the asphalt, a pair of binoculars in his fingers. He’s an older man, a resident of Solar Metropolis.
“Is all the pieces all proper?” he asks once more, setting the binoculars to his facet. The person is heavyset, blue-eyed, reddish face. On his shirt, he has a tag that reads Parking Lot Attendant.
“I’m all proper,” I say, gathering to my ft. “Simply right here to fulfill someone.”
“Who’s that?” says the person, stepping nearer.
“I’m in search of the solar,” I say. “I’m right here to see Dr. Higley.”
It turns into clear that the person is a longtime resident of Solar Metropolis, a volunteer on the Customer’s Middle. He pauses for a minute, and his face turns into redder.
“Higley?” says the person. “Higley.”
“That’s proper,” I say. “I imagine he lives right here.”
“Properly, this can be a retirement city,” says the person, wanting straight at me then blinking. “We’ve obtained over twenty thousand residents right here.”
I go searching.
“Higley,” repeats the person, adjusting the tag on his shirt—it’s a collared shirt, coloration of mud, he ruffles it. “You understand what?” he says. “That identify sounds acquainted. Let me run inside and test.”
The person turns round and disappears by means of a pair of double doorways—Customer’s Middle—a second later, he comes again with a notice in his hand.
“I obtained ahold of his spouse,” he says, “Martha,” slipping me the notice: “14073 Oakmont Drive, that’s the handle. And so you understand, they’re not anticipating you for a number of hours.”
“That’s what I believed,” I say. “Thanks.”
“If you happen to’ve obtained time,” provides the person in a low voice. “There’s someplace on the town I believe you need to go to. It’s not removed from their home, good place to move an hour.”
“Positive,” I say.
“It’s the Solar Metropolis Museum,” says the person. “Good place to move time.”
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll give it some thought”—and thank him. “Simply to move time,” says the person, smiling.
I nod and head again in the direction of my automotive. And the person re- turns to his put up and reaches for his binoculars. He waves as I go away the car parking zone.
“Simply to move time,” he yells once more, waving. A minute later, he’s gone.
A minute later, I’m driving by means of the center of Solar Metropolis, previous one-story bungalow homes, and rooftop satellite tv for pc dishes, and sprinklers in yards twisting in exact mechanical spasms, relieving the grass of its dryness and warmth. Should be the hour for that, as a result of the sprinklers are shifting at a reasonably fast tempo, turning every yard right into a coloration of inexperienced that doesn’t belong within the desert.
After some driving, a yard seems up forward with an indication within the entrance studying Solar Metropolis Museum, so I pull over the automotive and step outdoors.
Solar Metropolis Township, established 1960,
Del E. Webb Building Firm.
A placard reads:
Solar Metropolis Museum. Municipal Landmark.
The museum is a home on the finish of the block, no totally different from the others round it—yard, rooftop, antenna—an an identical antenna atop every slated roof, atop every one-story residence in Solar Metropolis, pointing upward and awkwardly on the similar desert sky. After a sprinkler’s twist, I open the entrance door of the museum and step inside a darkish room.
The one discernible hint at first is a scent, an odor like steel or fragrance. Because the door opens additional the odor fades, and a room comes into focus, a lounge set as if from the yr 1960.
On the heart of the room is a protracted oak espresso desk—subsequent to it, a sofa and a sand-colored carpet stretching midway throughout the ground. The sofa is wrapped in a skinny plastic slipcover, and resting atop the desk are a number of objects like a pen- nwood clock, a triangle ashtray, and a small silver tin of various caramel candies. From a room within the again, the sound of a radio will be heard simply barely, taking part in an old style group just like the Fleetwoods or the Everly Brothers.
Dreeeeeeeam dream dream dream
The sound of an individual will be heard as nicely, shuffling some papers in a again workplace, till it turns into clear that they’ve seen my presence, and the radio shuts off, a pair of ft scurrying out to the doorway room to greet me.
“Hello there!” a lady says, showing from the hallway.
I say hello as nicely and the girl nods accordingly. A vivid shade of eye shadow marks the higher half of her eyelids, and approaching nearer, I can inform that the scent of the museum is coming from her.
“Hello,” I say once more, and clarify who I’m. The lady says I higher make myself at residence, and she or he closes the door behind us, as a light-weight bulb sputters on within the nook.
What’s hanging about the home is how nicely it resembles a barely older residence—the girl explains that the furnishings is preserved from when the home first opened. “It hasn’t modified since 1960,” she says. She mentions that it was the very first home constructed in Solar Metropolis.
I step farther in and the girl exhibits me a determine on the wall. It’s a cardboard cutout of Del Webb, the city’s founder. “The best of all my accomplishments have been the Solar Cities,” it reads in daring lettering on a textual content sq. above him. He’s not a good-looking man, however perhaps presidential in look.
“He’s beloved round right here, he actually is,” says the girl, beaming. “All the things in Solar Metropolis will be traced again to Del Webb.”
“Appears essential,” I say.
“He was,” says the girl, beaming. “Essential.”
The lady appears to be like at me brightly, then retreats to the nook to repair the faltering gentle bulb.
“Del Webb,” she mutters. “Do not forget that identify.”
I smile and step inside, and the girl returns to the again. Throughout the room, I discover a map on the wall with a structure of Solar Metropolis on it—a city certainly formed after its namesake. If the map exhibits something, it exhibits a city that was meticulously deliberate, a round grid increasing out in the direction of the desert in reticular style—emanating from a singular level within the center which, in line with the map, seems to be a car parking zone, an empty spot, the lot I’d parked in earlier.
SUN CITY is a master-planned retirement neighborhood, reads the placard to its proper. Developed by DELBERT WEBB and the DEL WEBB CONSTRUCTION COMPANY: to function an active-living retirement city for these within the latter portion of their lives.
Beneath: It’s certainly one of a number of throughout america. There are over a dozen Solar Cities constructed all through the area alone. California, Utah, Nevada, Oklahoma, Kansas, Texas . . .
I flip round and see the girl standing there.
“Isn’t it nice?” she says, hovering like a statue. I nod and the 2 of us stare.
“It’s simply so good,” she says, smiling. I say it positive appears that method.
The lady takes a loud, thrilled breath. “It’s simply so good,” she says, practically shouting.
I hear a second sound coming from the again room and see there’s one other individual in the home. A second later, a pair of ft shuffle out into the lounge and a person seems, the girl’s husband. “Berta!” he yells. Then he sees me and adjustments his expression a bit.
“Berta,” he says, shifting tone. “Did you present our customer the Del Webb room?”
“Sure, honey, I did, he is aware of.”
The person stares at me and smiles affirmatively. A stern smile. “That’s so good to listen to,” he says, assured. He stares at me till Berta speaks up.
“I simply love all the pieces,” she says, beaming. “It’s all so nice.” “All the things in Solar Metropolis?” I ask, watching Berta. “All the things, honey. I really like all the pieces.”
She factors me to the nook.
DEL WEBB is an avid golfer and an element proprietor of the NEW YORK YANKEES franchise. He has performed a number of rounds of golf with well-known character Bob Hope. Image under.
“What do you consider it?” asks Berta’s husband now, stepping in.
“Appears all proper,” I mutter, briefly wanting round.
“You understand Mr. Webb is beloved round right here,” he says, staring in the direction of me. “Mr. Webb. Mr. Webb. He was a really particular man, certainly, very particular. A person. Particular. Very particular.”
⃝
“Some would name him a visionary.”
The person walks in the direction of me. He seems considerably sturdy and tall, as if he performed a ball sport when he was youthful. I have a look at his eyes and see them soften barely, as if he’s taking one thing in.
“You look drained,” he says to me, and I pause. “Such as you’ve been touring for some time.” A second pause. I say it’s true, I’ve been on the transfer now for a bit of bit, and the person says nothing, letting a sure sort of quiet enter the room between us, the sort that may solely enter a room between breaks in a dialog. “You remind me of my brother,” he says, smiling. “He was similar to you, my brother, at all times touring, at all times on the transfer.”
I say nothing however let the person know I’ve heard.
“We used to joke, about my brother, we’d say he was at all times touring, even when he was standing nonetheless. We’d say he was at all times half in a room, and half someplace else. You don’t want a automotive to journey, there’s different methods,” says the person, and I say I suppose that’s true.
It’s unusual listening to the person say what he thinks of me, his impression, in a way as a result of I haven’t had a lot time to assume myself the previous few weeks, driving round and round within the desert—it’s not a panorama that lends itself to many mirrors. And on prime of that, and extra important perhaps, is that my thoughts’s been form of fuzzy the previous month—for the reason that solar went lacking, I’ve kind of forgotten most issues.
For example, previous a month, I don’t keep in mind a lot of the solar. What it regarded like, the way it felt to be beneath it, that spherical glowing orb—I imply I do know what I’m in search of, however for some motive, I can’t actually keep in mind its picture. After I shut my eyes, it’s not there.
Higher that method, I determine, as a result of I think about if I did keep in mind the solar, it’d be too horribly unhappy, to recollect some- factor so huge, that’s lacking now. In a method I believe perhaps I hit the street to neglect it—when the solar went lacking, I wished time to maintain shifting ahead.
Solely consequence in fact is that I’ve forgotten fairly a bit, practically all the pieces actually, for the reason that solar’s disappearance— all I can keep in mind is the previous month. Who I’m, my whereabouts, that’s all a thriller.
“Honey.”
A noise clangs within the nook of the room and I look over. Berta and her husband are standing there, subsequent to the lamp, which has simply sputtered on. The 2 of them are watching one another with loving eyes, happy with their handiwork.
Within the different nook of the room, I have a look at the clock, which has turned its hour hand a number of notches down, later than I believed, I believe, and notice already a number of hours have handed. I flip again to Berta and her husband, who’ve begun remounting the lampshade over the bulb.
“I ought to go,” I say in a tender tone and level to the clock. Berta and her husband discover and agree it’s gotten late and inform me I ought to come once more quickly, and I say I’m positive I’ll, and so they say they’re positive as nicely.
“Solar Metropolis’s not the kind of place you solely come to as soon as,” says the person to me, and I nod as if I do know what he’s saying.
“An excessive amount of to see,” he says.
“I’m positive,” I say. “I’ll.” “We’ll be right here,” says Berta.
I have a look at the person and see one thing change—his face shifts a bit. For a second I swear he appears to be like precisely like another person—like a ghost, or perhaps Del Webb—however an on the spot later, the look goes away. I begin to say one thing however can’t consider any phrases.
“Do not forget that identify,” says Berta. “D-E-L E W-E-B-B.”
“I’ll,” I say, and Berta and her husband assist me to the door. And earlier than I do know it, I’m inside Dr. Higley’s home.
Whereas we’ve got tried to duplicate the formatting of the excerpt supplied, some spacing could also be totally different within the ultimate publication. This two-chapter excerpt from Oh God, the Solar Goes by David Connor is reprinted with permission from Melville Home.
David Connor’s Oh God, the Solar Goes is out at the moment, August 1; you’ll be able to order a duplicate right here.
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