Completed February 2023
TOMORROW, AND TOMORROW,
AND TOMORROW
I first read Gabrielle Zevin as a teenager in the form of her young adult novel Elsewhere, and I don't think I heard her name from then until the release of Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow in 2022. I think it says a lot considering that, given the around 13 years that elapsed between those two points in time, when I did hear her name I recognised it immediately. Elsewhere had a huge effect on me, and so I had high expectations for her latest release.
I was not disappointed. This book is an absolute gem. Now I come to write about it I have so much to say, I honestly don't know where to start.
Let's go with... the characters. Our main duo, Sadie and Sam, feel complex and real and flawed. They defy every stereotype and assumption, instead existing at the boundaries of various roles you might expect them to fill. In particular I loved the oscillation between their self sacrifice and egotism, as they strove to fulfil their own ambitions whilst considering the needs of the other. They were so clearly good people, and yet at times they acted horribly (Sam in particular saying some seriously vile shit). This is reasonable and realistic over a plot that spans decades, and yet it's not something seen a lot in fiction where once a character is codified as the good guy they constantly behave as such.
This made their relationship with each other feel all the more real. I both relished in reading the high points of their connection and totally understood the reasons they pulled apart. I would have been a bit devastated if by the end they weren't on speaking terms, of course, but I also appreciated the acknowledgement of turbulence in future too. Things change and relationships that served us once might not always do so.
I also loved their conflicts as to me it felt true to reality of creative collaboration. It is often the kind of friction that is required to create a spark of something truly ground breaking, and if one or the other hadn't been so ambitious and ruthlessly perfectionist, their achievements wouldn't have been nearly as grand. Their easy friendship was a sacrifice that had to be made at the altar of art.
As someone who works in the creative industries, the portrayal of their work felt true to me in other ways too – for example, Sadie's struggle with failure. The supposed 'quality' of creative work is so subjective and arbitrary and yet the responses of others are so often how we decide whether we ourselves are worthy. This is an endless conflict which will be familiar to every creative professional and one I could empathise with deeply.
Sadie's self image also led to situations which were much harder to read, in particular her romance with Dov. Unarguably this relationship was an abusive one, both in his exploitation of his position of power over her as her tutor, and in his consistent physical abuse and emotional manipulation. One of the very few doubts I have over this book is the lack of conclusion here – sure, she escapes, but never acknowledges the severity of what she experiences, consistently denying her own trauma by remaining in touch with him. She never seems to blame him, nor does he ever face consequences of his actions. The only time there may be a whisper of progress is at the end of the novel when she expresses her admiration for the next generation of students she is mentoring, and how the girls are willing to put up with so much less than she did.
Moving over to Sam, he also shared an experience I could heavily relate to – that of chronic pain. His frustration and, at times, rage at the betrayal he felt by his body was so realistic and so clearly expressed that I would be amazed if this isn't something Zevin has experienced herself. In one passage in particular he states that he is 'happiest when his body was feeling nothing', 'when he didn't have to think about his body–when he could forget that he had a body at all'.
This was a punch to the gut. Sensory pleasure is one of the greatest gifts of the human experience, and to hear how his pain was severe enough to wish this away in favour of nothingness was just heart wrenching... and understandable. I have felt the same thing when my pain was preventing my ability to live a normal life.
Life as a twenty-something is difficult enough without health issues, or emotional trauma. And even when things appeared from the outside to be going so right for the characters, they still struggled. Success is both complex and fragile, and achieving their goals only led to more obstacles. Again the reality of this portrayal just hit differently – they don't just achieve their goals and then bask in their success, instead are confronted with their next challenge. I loved the denial of a simple happy ending. I wonder if this relates to Zevin's experience as an author – the inescapable 'what's next?' of the creatively ambitious; the finding yourself where you wanted to be but still feeling lacking.
In conclusion, I left this book feeling very, very seen. I'm not sure I've ever read a novel which felt so much like my own experiences reflected back at me. I kept having to put it down and just take a deep breath. I was overwhelmed by its beauty and insight. The writing was both ambitious and razor sharp, playing with form with deftness.
I still have so much more I could say, but I should probably stop. Go and buy this book.
“What is a game? It’s tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. It’s the possibility of infinite rebirth, infinite redemption. The idea that if you keep playing, you could win. No loss is permanent, because nothing is permanent, ever.”