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Three times Jupiter’s determinedly meandering narrative stops dead as Carney quite literally puts on shows: First, a pair of plays at a Jupiter festival, a comedy and a tragedy in the Roman mode, and then, near the novel’s end, a more contemporary discursion—the teleplay of a chatty science-fiction thriller. Each interruption proves memorable, especially the plays, the first of which centers on Anthony and Cleopatra and affords Carney ample opportunity for daft puns (legions/lesions, ostracization/Ostrich Nation) and bawdy satire. (His Antonius, caught up in what Cleopatra deems “drunken idiocy,” is much to eager to geld slaves.) The tragedy concerns the fate of Atlantis, while the science-fiction interlude, set on a Jovian moon, finds students in a distant future presenting the history of humanity’s relationship with the planet Jupiter.
These excursions run from 50 to 100 pages . They’d slow the momentum of most novels, but Jupiter pointedly has little to begin with. The framing story finds Giovanni taking a float trip on a river, competing in a poetry contest, watching plays, and falling asleep in front of the TV, all while haunted by a relationship with a woman whose name neither he, his friends, nor the author can bring themselves to mention. Readers of literary fiction and classical literature will find much to wrestle with here.
Takeaway: Whether it’s a novel or a collection of plays, Jupiter stands as a memorable literary achievement.
Great for fans of: Nicholson Baker’s The Mezzanine, Henry Green’s Party Going, The Troubadour Theater Company.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: B+
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: C