Published by G.P. Putnam's Sons on May 24, 2022
The protagonist in David Yoon’s City of Orange lives in a bivouac under a bridge in a post-apocalyptic world. He eventually learns that his name is Adam Chung, but as the story opens Adam doesn’t remember his name or what caused the apocalypse or where all the people went. Snippets of memory return to him as the novel progresses, including memories of a wife and child, but he isn’t ready to remember their names and doesn’t know if he will ever be ready.
Adam meets an old man who answers every question with the word “berries.” He meets an 8-year-old kid named Clay who gives him some information from a child’s innocent perspective. Most of the time, the protagonist talks to crows and imagines them holding up their end of the conversation. He also carries on internal conversations with Byron, a pre-apocalyptic friend whose humor and advice the protagonist appreciates, even if Byron isn’t actually there.
Adam doesn’t know how he came to be living under a bridge. He’s afraid to explore, afraid of what he might find. He’s discovered one dead body and doesn’t want to repeat that experience, but his larger fear is of discovering more of his lost past. Adam’s scavenging is therefore limited, although Clay seems to have an ample supply of goods that Adam believes to be scarce: canned food, soap, medicine. Clay’s home even seems to have electricity, presumably from solar cells. Adam thinks he should meet Clay’s mom but doesn’t want to spook her. Maybe Adam just isn’t ready to rejoin the company of adults. Or maybe he isn’t ready to recognize the truth about the world he now inhabits.
Regardless of what the novel initially seems to be about, City of Orange is a novel of grief and the pain of loss. The subject matter is dark, but the story is seasoned with light moments to keep it from becoming oppressive. Adam’s backstory is tragic and moving while the story of Adam’s unsettling present is crafted to hold the reader’s attention until its true nature becomes clear.
Yoon weaves social commentary into the background without turning the larger story into a polemic. A white guy doesn’t understand why a Korean American is offended to be addressed as Charlie. The internet feeds a lust for videos that end in gory death. Toxic comments on the video of a fatal traffic accident capture the modern need to revel in rudeness.
City of Orange is a post-apocalyptic story, but the apocalypse isn’t one a reader might expect. Whether events quality as apocalyptic might be a matter of perspective. Yoon’s novel is, in part, a reminder of the need to live in the present, to appreciate what we have before it’s lost. But the novel is also a reminder that, although it takes time to process and accept tragedy, moving forward is both possible and essential.
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