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Tell the Machine Goodnight: A Novel Hardcover – June 19, 2018
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NAMED ONE OF THE "BEST LITERARY FICTION OF 2018' BY KIRKUS REVIEWS
"Sci-fi in its most perfect expression…Reading it is like having a lucid dream of six years from next week, filled with people you don't know, but will." —NPR
"[Williams’s] wit is sharp, but her touch is light, and her novel is a winner." – San Francisco Chronicle
"Between seasons of Black Mirror, look to Katie Williams' debut novel." —Refinery29
Smart and inventive, a page-turner that considers the elusive definition of happiness.
Pearl's job is to make people happy. As a technician for the Apricity Corporation, with its patented happiness machine, she provides customers with personalized recommendations for greater contentment. She's good at her job, her office manager tells her, successful. But how does one measure an emotion?
Meanwhile, there's Pearl's teenage son, Rhett. A sensitive kid who has forged an unconventional path through adolescence, Rhett seems to find greater satisfaction in being unhappy. The very rejection of joy is his own kind of "pursuit of happiness." As his mother, Pearl wants nothing more than to help Rhett--but is it for his sake or for hers? Certainly it would make Pearl happier. Regardless, her son is one person whose emotional life does not fall under the parameters of her job--not as happiness technician, and not as mother, either.
Told from an alternating cast of endearing characters from within Pearl and Rhett's world, Tell the Machine Goodnight delivers a smartly moving and entertaining story about the advance of technology and the ways that it can most surprise and define us. Along the way, Katie Williams playfully illuminates our national obsession with positive psychology, our reliance on quick fixes. What happens when these obsessions begin to overlap? With warmth, humor, and a clever touch, Williams taps into our collective unease about the modern world and allows us see it a little more clearly.
- Print length304 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherRiverhead Books
- Publication dateJune 19, 2018
- Dimensions5.5 x 1.25 x 8.5 inches
- ISBN-100525533125
- ISBN-13978-0525533122
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Editorial Reviews
Review
"The book feels like an extended episode of ‘Black Mirror,’ and certainly has that show’s taste for dark humor and high-concept philosophizing around our tech addition, though what raises it above another clever-clever slab of science fiction is that its characters are complex and contradictory and real...Williams offers a master class in not losing sight of the human element… the kind of story that – in the subtlest of ways – can instruct us, and nourish us, and make us want to live and love a little better."—Matt Haig, New York Times Book Review
"Allow me to introduce you to your new favorite writer. Katie Williams plunges into our obsession with technology and its effect on our lives and dreams, and emerges with miraculous gifts for us—she unwraps the present and the future." —James Hannaham, award-winning author of Delicious Foods: A Novel
"[A] vivid, clever debut." —O, the Oprah Magazine
"With its large heart, compelling cast of characters and frighteningly-not-far-from-reality technology, Tell the Machine Goodnight is a story that will compel you to keep reading, while also allowing you the space to meditate on the understanding that happiness looks different for everyone." —PopMatters
"Sci-fi in its most perfect expression…Reading it is like having a lucid dream of six years from next week, filled with people you don't know, but will." —NPR
"Inventive debut." —Real Simple
"Between seasons of Black Mirror, look to Katie Williams' debut novel." —Refinery29
"Delightfully weird and humorous...a fascinating exploration of our increasing reliance on technology and our obsession with finding a quick fix for everything." —Shondaland
"So fundamentally human that it transcends time—our insatiable need to feel better, to decipher whatever happiness means." —BookPage
"Williams's debut, a savvy take on technology's potential and its moral failings, imagines a near future in which lives are altered by a happiness machine...Williams never allows satire to overtake her story's moral center or its profoundly generous and humanistic heart, resulting in a sharp and moving novel." —Publishers Weekly
"With its clever, compelling vision of the future, deeply human characters, and delightfully unpredictable story, this novel is itself a receipe for contentment." —Kirkus Reviews, starred review
"My prescription for happiness is: ‘Sit still, read a book that can't be classified by genre, and tell everyone.’ I'm telling you, Katie Williams delivers. Tell the Machine Goodnight transcends categorization in the best way possible—it is part love story, part science fiction, part feminist inspirational wake-up call, and all of it moving and compelling. I never knew what was going to happen and, when I found out, I was always delighted." —Helen Ellis, New York Times-bestselling author of American Housewife
"Philosophical, funny, cleverly structured, unpredictable. The characters are recognizably humans, but not ones I have met before; the world-building is creative and completely convincing. I doubt I will ever read another a novel with a more moving trip up a VR mountain." —Gabrielle Zevin, New York Times-bestselling author of Young Jane Young and The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry
"Filled with extraordinary writing, wish-they-existed characters, and unexpected narrative turns, this novel will delight your mind and heart." —Courtney Maum, author of Touch and I Am Having So Much Fun Here Without You
"Katie Williams’s fierce moral intelligence sparks off the page…Generous, perceptive, intensely smart: thisis just the novel we need." —Kirstin Valdez Quade, award-winning author of Night at the Fiestas
"How much control do we have over our own happiness—and would we be better off if we had the ability to nudge it just a little more?…A captivating, thought-provoking and utterly charming novel about the elusive nature of happiness and the limits of both technology and our own self-knowledge." —Carolyn Parkhurst, New York Times-bestselling author of Harmony and The Dogs of Babel
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The Happiness Machine
Apricity (archaic): the feeling of sun on one's skin in the winter
The machine said the man should eat tangerines. It listed two other recommendations as well, so three in total. A modest number, Pearl assured the man as she read out the list that had appeared on the screen before her: one, he should eat tangerines on a regular basis; two, he should work at a desk that received morning light; three, he should amputate the uppermost section of his right index finger.
The man-in his early thirties, by Pearl's guess, and pinkish around the eyes and nose in the way of white rabbits or rats-lifted his right hand before his face with wonder. Up came his left, too, and he used its palm to press experimentally on the top of his right index finger, the finger in question. Is he going to cry? Pearl wondered. Sometimes people cried when they heard their recommendations. The conference room they'd put her in had glass walls, open to the workpods on the other side. There was a switch on the wall to fog the glass, though; Pearl could flick it if the man started to cry.
"I know that last one seems a bit out of left field," she said.
"Right field, you mean," the man-Pearl glanced at her list for his name, one Melvin Waxler-joked, his lips drawing up to reveal overlong front teeth. Rabbitier still. "Get it?" He waved his hand. "Right hand. Right field."
Pearl smiled obligingly, but Mr. Waxler had eyes only for his finger. He pressed its tip once more.
"A modest recommendation," Pearl said, "compared to some others I've seen."
"Oh sure, I know that," Waxler said. "My downstairs neighbor sat for your machine once. It told him to cease all contact with his brother." He pressed on the finger again. "He and his brother didn't argue or anything. Had a good relationship actually, or so my neighbor said. Supportive. Brotherly." Pressed it. "But he did it. Cut the guy off. Stopped talking to him, full stop." Pressed it. "And it worked. He says he's happier now. Says he didn't have a clue his brother was making him unhappy. His twin brother. Identical even. If I'm remembering." Clenched the hand into a fist. "But it turned out he was. Unhappy, that is. And the machine knew it, too."
"The recommendations can seem strange at first," Pearl began her spiel, memorized from the manual, "but we must keep in mind the Apricity machine uses a sophisticated metric, taking into account factors of which we're not consciously aware. The proof is borne out in the numbers. The Apricity system boasts a nearly one hundred percent approval rating. Ninety-nine point nine seven percent."
"And the point three percent?" The index finger popped up from Waxler's fist. It just wouldn't stay down.
"Aberrations."
Pearl allowed herself a glance at Mr. Waxler's fingertip, which appeared no different from the others on his hand but was its own aberration, according to Apricity. She imagined the fingertip popping off his hand like a cork from a bottle. When Pearl looked up again, she found that Waxler's gaze had shifted from his finger to her face. The two of them shared the small smile of strangers.
"You know what?" Waxler bent and straightened his finger. "I've never liked it much. This particular finger. It got slammed in a door when I was little, and ever since . . ." His lip drew up, revealing his teeth again, almost a wince.
"It pains you?"
"It doesn't hurt. It just feels . . . like it doesn't belong."
Pearl tapped a few commands into her screen and read what came back. "The surgical procedure carries minimal risk of infection and zero risk of mortality. Recovery time is negligible, a week, no more. And with a copy of your Apricity report-there, I've just sent that to you, HR, and your listed physician-your employer has agreed to cover all relevant costs."
Waxler's lip slid back down. "Hm. No reason not to then."
"No. No reason."
He thought a moment more. Pearl waited, careful to keep her expression neutral until he nodded the go-ahead. When he did, she tapped in the last command and, with a small burst of satisfaction, crossed his name off her list. Melvin Waxler. Done.
"I've also recommended that your workpod be reassigned to the eastern side of the building," she said, "near a window."
"Thank you. That'll be nice."
Pearl finished with the last prompt question, the one that would close the session and inch her closer to her quarterly bonus. "Mr. Waxler, would you say that you anticipate Apricity's recommendations will improve your overall life satisfaction?" This phrasing was from the updated training manual. The question used to be Will Apricity make you happier? but Legal had decided that the word happier was problematic.
"Seems like it could," Waxler said. "The finger thing might lower my typing speed." He shrugged. "But then there's more to life than typing speed."
"So . . . yes?"
"Sure. I mean, yes."
"Wonderful. Thank you for your time today."
Mr. Waxler rose to go, but then, as if struck by an impulse, he stopped and reached out for the Apricity 480, which sat on the table between them. Pearl had just last week been outfitted with the new model; sleeker than the Apricity 470 and smaller, too, the size of a deck of cards, the machine had fluted edges and a light gray casing that reflected a subtle sheen, like the smoke inside a fortune-teller's ball. Waxler's hand hovered over it.
"May I?" he said.
At Pearl's nod, he tapped the edge of the Apricity with the tip of the finger now scheduled to be amputated in-confirmations from both HR and the doctor's office had already arrived on Pearl's screen-a little over two weeks. Was it Pearl's imagination or did Mr. Waxler already stand a bit taller, as if an invisible yoke had been lifted from his shoulders? Was the pink around his eyes and nose now matched by a healthy flush to the cheek?
Waxler paused in the doorway. "Can I ask one more thing?"
"Certainly."
"Does it have to be tangerines, or will any citrus do?"
pearl had worked as a contentment technician for the Apricity CorporationÕs San Francisco office since 2026. Nine years. While her colleagues hopped to new job titles or start-ups, Pearl stayed on. Pearl liked staying on. This was how sheÕd lived her life. After graduating college, Pearl had stayed on at the first place that had hired her, working as a nocturnal executive assistant for brokers trading in the Asian markets. After having her son, sheÕd stayed on at home until heÕd started school. After getting married to her college boyfriend, sheÕd stayed on as his wife, until Elliot had an affair and left her. Pearl was fine where she was, thatÕs all. She liked her work, sitting with customers who had purchased one of ApricityÕs three-tiered Contentment Assessment Packages, collecting their samples, and talking them through the results.
Her current assignment was a typical one. The customer, the up-and-coming San Francisco marketing firm !Huzzah!, had purchased Apricity's Platinum Package in the wake of an employee death, or, as Pearl's boss had put it, "A very un-merry Christmas and to one a goodnight!" Hours after the holiday party, a !Huzzah! copywriter had committed suicide in the office lounge. The night cleaning service had found the poor woman, but hours too late. Word of the death had made the rounds, of course, both its cause and its location. !Huzzah!'s January reports noted a decrease in worker productivity, an accompanying increase in complaints to HR. February's reports were grimmer still, the first weeks of March abysmal.
So !Huzzah! turned to the Apricity Corporation and, through them, Pearl, who'd been brought into !Huzzah!'s office in SoMa to create a contentment plan for each of the firm's fifty-four employees. Happiness is Apricity. That was the slogan. Pearl wondered what the dead copywriter would think of it.
The Apricity assessment process itself was noninvasive. The only item that the machine needed to form its recommendations was a swab of skin cells from the inside of the cheek. This was Pearl's first task on a job, to hand out and collect back a cotton swab, swipe a hint of captured saliva across a computer chip, and then fit the loaded chip into a slot in the machine. The Apricity 480 took it from there, spelling out a personalized contentment plan in mere minutes. Pearl had always marveled at this: to think that the solution to one's happiness lay next to the residue of the bagel one had eaten for breakfast!
But it was true. Pearl had sat for Apricity herself and felt its effects. Though for most of Pearl's life unhappiness had only ever been a mild emotion, not a cloud overhead, as she'd heard others describe it, surely nothing like the fog of a depressive, none of this bad weather. Pearl's unhappiness was more like the wisp of smoke from a snuffed candle. A birthday candle at that. Steady, stalwart, even-keeled: these were the words that had been applied to her since childhood. And she supposed she looked the part: dark hair cropped around her ears and neck in a tidy swimmer's cap; features pleasing but not too pretty; figure trim up top and round in the thighs and bottom, like one of those inflatable dolls that will rock back up after you punch it down. In fact, Pearl had been selected for her job as an Apricity technician because she possessed, as her boss had put it, "an aura of wooly contentment, like you have a blanket draped over your head."
"You rarely worry. You never despair," he'd gone on, while Pearl sat before him and tugged at the cuffs of the suit jacket she'd bought for the interview. "Your tears are drawn from the puddle, not the ocean. Are you happy right now? You are, aren't you?"
"I'm fine."
"You're fine! Yes!" he shouted at this revelation. "You store your happiness in a warehouse, not a coin pouch. It can be bought cheap!"
"Thank you?"
"You're very welcome. Look. This little guy likes you"-he'd indicated the Apricity 320 in prime position on his desk-"and that means I like you, too."
That interview had been nine years and sixteen Apricity models ago. Since then Pearl had suffered dozens more of her boss's vaguely insulting metaphors and had, more importantly, seen the Apricity system prove itself hundreds-no, thousands of times. While other tech companies shriveled into obsolescence or swelled into capitalistic behemoths, the Apricity Corporation, guided by its CEO and founder, Bradley Skrull, had stayed true to its mission. Happiness is Apricity. Yes, Pearl was a believer.
However, she was not so na•ve as to expect that everyone else must share her belief. While Pearl's next appointment of the day went nearly as smoothly as Mr. Waxler's-the man barely blinked at the recommendation that he divorce his wife and hire a series of reputable sex workers to fulfill his carnal needs-the appointment after that went unexpectedly poorly. The subject was a middle-aged web designer, and though Apricity's recommendation seemed a minor one, to adopt a religious practice, and though Pearl pointed out that this could be interpreted as anything from Catholicism to Wicca, the woman stormed out of the room, shouting that Pearl wanted her to become weak minded, and that this would suit her employer's purposes quite well, wouldn't it, now? Pearl sent a request to HR to schedule a follow-up appointment for the next day. Usually these situations righted themselves after the subject had had time to contemplate. Sometimes Apricity confronted people with their secret selves, and, as Pearl had tried to explain to the shouting woman, such a passionate reaction, even if negative, was surely a sign of just this.
Still, Pearl arrived home deflated-the metaphorical blanket over her head feeling a bit threadbare-to find her apartment empty. Surprisingly, stunningly empty. She made a circuit of the rooms twice before acknowledging that Rhett had, for the first time since he'd come back from the clinic, left the house of his own volition. A shiver ran through her and gathered, buzzing, beneath each of her fingernails. She fumbled with her screen, pulling it from the depths of her pocket and unfolding it.
"Just got home," she spoke into it.
k, came the eventual reply.
"You're not here," she said. What she wanted to say: Where the hell are you?
fnshd hw wnt out came back.
"Be home in time for dinner."
The alert that her message had been sent and received sounded like her screen had heaved a deep mechanical sigh.
Her apartment was in the outer avenues of the city's Richmond District. You could walk to the ocean, could see a corner of it even, gray and tumbling, if you pressed your cheek against the bathroom window and peered left. Pearl pictured Rhett alone on the beach, walking into the surf. But no, she shouldn't think that way. Rhett's absence from the apartment was a good thing. It was possible-wasn't it?-that he'd gone out with friends from his old school. Maybe one of them had thought of him and decided to call him up. Maybe Josiah, who'd seemed the best of the bunch. He'd been the last of them to stop visiting, had written Rhett at the clinic, had once pointed to one of the dark bruises that had patterned Rhett's limbs and said, Ouch, so sadly and sweetly it was as if the bruise were on his own arm, the blood pooling under the surface of his own unmarked skin.
Pearl said it now, out loud, in her empty apartment.
"Ouch."
Speaking the word brought no pain.
To pass the hour until dinner, Pearl got out her latest modeling kit. The kits had been on Apricity's contentment plan for Pearl. She was nearly done with her latest, a trilobite from the Devonian period. She fitted together the last plates of the skeleton, using a tiny screwdriver to turn the tinier screws hidden beneath each synthetic bone. This completed, she brushed a pebbled leathery material with a thin coat of glue and fitted the fabric snugly over the exoskeleton. She paused and assessed. Yes. The trilobite was shaping up nicely.
When it came to her models, Pearl didn't skimp or rush. She ordered high-end kits, the hard parts produced with exactitude by a 3-D printer, the soft parts grown in a brew of artfully spliced DNA. Once again, Apricity had been correct in its assessment. Pearl felt near enough to happiness in that moment when she sliced open the cellophane of a new kit and inhaled the sharp smell of its artifice.
Product details
- Publisher : Riverhead Books; First Edition (June 19, 2018)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 304 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0525533125
- ISBN-13 : 978-0525533122
- Item Weight : 14.9 ounces
- Dimensions : 5.5 x 1.25 x 8.5 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #1,473,912 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #9,721 in Psychological Fiction (Books)
- #12,769 in Coming of Age Fiction (Books)
- #62,877 in Literary Fiction (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
About the author
Katie Williams is the author of the novel Tell the Machine Goodnight and the young adult novels Absent and The Space Between Trees. Her writing has appeared in The Atlantic, Best American Fantasy, American Short Fiction, Ploughshares, Subtropics, and elsewhere. She earned her MFA from the Michener Center for Writers at the University of Texas. She teaches writing and literature in San Francisco.
You can find Katie at www.katiewilliamsbooks.com
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Now fast forward a little over a dozen years, “Tell the Machine Goodnight” takes us to the year 2035. It is not so far off from a time of our own, but distant enough in the future that technology has developed past what we know today. One such creation that we meet early on in the book, and which we focus on for the duration of the story, is the Apricity Machine. By means of a small DNA swab the machine can inform you as to what you can do in your life to make you happy. A machine that helps you become happier, seems great right?
While this seems like a fantastic invention we take a look into the lives of some who follow the advice of the Apricity, some who refuse to let technology let them know what makes them happy and some who become obsessed with it. William’s writing relates the concept of the Apricity Machine to our present day use of technology and how many rely on the use of it to make them happier in life.
The chapters hop around from character to character without a linear storyline, so while you read it can prove to be a little difficult to follow how the characters' stories are related. That style of writing may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but for me personally, it kept me on my toes and intrigued as to who the author was going to introduce me to next.
I would recommend the novel if you enjoy a fresh and original sci-fi book with good writing, but would not suggest it if you are looking for a new read with an immersive plot. I was immediately drawn to the characters and the concept of the Apricity machine as I read the first few chapters. Pearl’s job and Rhett’s relatability made the story all the more compelling to read and the style and diction of the author’s writing was unique and captivating. For example, there is a chapter where the author weaves in a character’s journal entries and another chapter where she delves into etymologies. However, as the story progressed, I found myself becoming a bit confused and lost among all of the individual stories. Time jumped around a lot and I often thought to myself “are we still in the present or are we back in the past?” Furthermore, although the characters had intriguing backstories and personalities, they were only briefly addressed. Personally, I would have loved for the author to go more in-depth with their characters as they had so much potential. Overall, the novel itself is well-written, but the plot is somewhat lackluster.
Top reviews from other countries
The book started off with an interesting concept, and yet by the third chapter, you will be looking in the trash for the receipt to see if it's too late to return it. The problem isn't the concept, but the author lacks to tell a unique and engaging story around the idea. The plot you may ask? I to ask, what of it, its nowhere to be found. The book constantly changes perspective between characters so much that developing a plotline is impossible. Now on to the characters...
The lead character Pearl, is so average and boring that you will never really find yourself rooting for her. It's not that she's bad but just forgettable. Rhett is Pearl's son and is a driving character in the only interesting part of this book. Unfortunately, none of the questions asked about this character ever get answered. There are characters in this book besides these two, yet they're so forgettable that I struggle to write about them in this review.
All in all, if the machine were to tell me what would make me happy, it would say don't read this book.
- Chancellors Book Club
Williams' earlier experience writing YA fiction is especially evident in the chapters concerning Rhett, whose mother Pearl works for Apricity and who is currently struggling with an eating disorder. However, these chapters don't feel jarring, and Rhett's plot thread was actually among one of those I found most interesting, as Pearl tries to deal with the idea that the machine thinks that the only way to make her son happier is for him to harm somebody else. Although, again, this material didn't have a great deal to do with the Apricity machine, I also liked Rhett's investigations into the recent humiliation of his friend Saff at school, and his later friendship with his roommate Zi at college, when they climb 'imaginary' [virtual reality] mountains together.
As this suggests, Tell the Machine Goodnight is less about one specific idea than a wider consideration of how technology affects our responses to other people, from the idea that pain and fear can be recorded and transmitted to a film audience, to the ability to meet up with a friend in a virtual space. As this is a common theme in recent fiction, the novel doesn't feel especially original, but I liked its balanced consideration of both the positive and negative impacts of tech, and its Black Mirror-esque interest in thinking about what humans do with technology, rather than assuming that the machine itself is all-powerful. I'd certainly like to read more by Williams.
I think hard science fiction readers won't necessarily get much out of it as the device, while consistently used won't meet their requirements in terms of believable technology. But for a reader ready for some literature and immersion in a world of characters who feel real, this is definitely a book to make you happy.
Another thing that makes this novel interesting is the different viewpoints given. We explore the thoughts and actions of several characters, all connected to the main character, and thus we get different opinions on the same event. This multi-stranded approach allows the author to develop a range of reactions and experiences and I enjoyed this too. The characters also seem realistic and believable, another definite tick in this book's favour.
And finally it has a quick pace with never a dull moment.
The only possible negative, although I don't necessarily see it that way, is the ending. It all ends rather abruptly and inconclusively, and the story is left hanging somewhat. This could certainly be frustrating but I think it is the author's way of making the reader think beyond the book, and so the pondering continues once reading has finished.
I especially enjoyed the first half of Tell the Machine Goodnight. Williams has previously written for young adults and I appreciated her insights into adolescent emotions as well as the wider theme of what happens when artificial intelligence collides with human behaviour. The writing style I found dry but compelling. Each of the main characters takes turns to narrate the story, a literary device which gives the book a disjointed feel but works well in giving different perspectives on events.
The second half of the book I found less satisfactory. New sub-plots develop before existing ones have been fully developed. Williams has a powerful but at times macabre imagination (on the cover of my proof copy is the machine’s recommendation to “amputate your right index finger”) and the matter of fact relating of various gruesome episodes was not entirely to my taste. And it is a book that just stops rather than ends, if you see what I mean; I would have liked a bit more tying up of loose ends.
Despite these reservations I love the fact that Williams is addressing such a topical theme, and that she is not shy about exploring the darker side of human nature. Thought-provoking for sure.