Luminarium by Alex Shakar

Published by Soho Press on August 23, 2011

At some points, Luminarium risked dragging me into the depths of depression. At others, it engaged my senses of wonder and humor. Sometimes it fascinated me; just as often it bored me. On occasion it made me pause and think. For that, and for a main character whose miserable life captured my fancy, I came to like it.

Fred's life has not gone well. His twin brother George lapsed into a coma following his cessation of treatment for lymphoma. Fred was ousted from a software business he founded with George. His brother Sam is still part of the business (its development of disaster simulations to train first responders is leading to lucrative government contracts) but Fred, having broken up with his fiancée, is living with his parents. On a whim, Fred participates in an experiment that prevents sensory data from reaching his parietal lobes. This is designed to induce a "porous, expanded, possibly even a limitless sense of self," creating a spiritual experience, "a faith without ignorance." The researcher, Mira Egghart, wants people to understand that "belief" has a neurological basis, that it consists of "an inner reality" that is unique to each individual and false to everyone else. Fred later participates in additional experiments involving other parts of the brain. He steps outside his body, and then outside "the stream of his life." Finally he feels a Presence and gets a "glimpse of a perspective outside the smallness of his own mind."

As if Fred's life isn't bad enough, he's confronted with a new set of worrisome events. When Fred receives cryptic emails and instant messages that appear to be from George, he assumes he's the victim of a hoax. Then he meets George's angelic avatar in a burning building during a computer simulation of a terrorist attack. George's reference to "the tenth avatara" spurs Fred to research the Hindu concept of an astral plane that is divided into realms, one of which is populated by the spirits of those who are not quite dead. As the novel winds along, Fred encounters other phenomena he doesn't understand and can't explain.

Technology meets spirituality in a novel that gives us a God helmet and a "prayerizer," not to mention the possibility of communing with the dead (or near dead) via text messaging. Yet the ancient question that pervades Luminarium -- what is the meaning of life and death? -- is profoundly personal rather than technological. Perhaps the secret to understanding the universe is science. Perhaps it is religion or, more broadly, spirituality. Or perhaps -- as I think Luminarium might be saying -- the starting point is to understand ourselves.

I appreciated the neurological and psychological information Luminarium conveys -- scientific explanations for phenomena like out-of-body experiences and the brain's perception of patterns where none exist -- in language that is easy for a nonscientist like me to understand. I was impressed by Alex Shakar's ability to balance science and spirituality in his descriptions of Reiki and meditation and energy fields. More importantly, I was happy that Luminarium didn't attempt to force any particular spiritual viewpoint down my gullet. Late in the story, Fred wonders "how things might look from a higher order in which faith and doubt were reconciled, in which God and no God, even, were one and the same." That thought fits with the overall theme of Luminarium, a novel that doesn't attempt to posit answers to unanswerable questions.

Still, this is a novel with problems. Pace is sometimes lethargic. Long sections that might be meant to be enlightening (or at least interesting) border on dull. The plot stagnates with the attention Shakar devotes to a magic act that Fred performs with his father Vartan. While the relationship between Fred and Vartan adds some depth to Fred's character, the ongoing focus on the magic act pays diminishing returns.

Ultimately, Luminarium is more intellectually satisfying than emotionally engaging. Fortunately, Shakar injects enough humor into Fred's hapless life to prevent his philosophical excursions from becoming overbearing. Had Luminarium been more tightly plotted, I would probably have liked it more. As it stands, I recommend it, albeit with less than full enthusiasm.

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