Station Eleven

Imagine that a deadly flu took out most of the world’s population and now, as a result, people are forced to live without electricity, gas, or internet, and learn live off the land to survive. This is the premise of Station Eleven, a novel by Emily St. John Mandel.


Station Eleven reminded me a lot initially of the (now sadly canceled) tv show Revolution. It’s a post-apocalyptic survival story, and the characters are traveling across the North American landscape with no electricity and no “United States”. In the novel’s case, however, the destroyed world is more of a background setting for an exploration of how humans have become disconnected from the natural world and how some interactions, moments, or choices can have an inexplicable lasting impact on someone.

The most interesting feature of the novel is how the story is told. Mandel jumps around constantly from moment to moment, and setting to setting. It feels almost carefree on her part, but you know it can’t be because it’s done in such a way that it’s not causing the reader to have to do any additional work, and everything makes sense. I don’t know how Mandel kept straight in her head what information she had and had not given away as she was writing, but she’s done a great job. You’re constantly waiting until the end to find out what happened in the future to the characters you’ve connected with in the pre-flu world and you’re wanting to know more about the origins of the people you’ve connected with in the post-flu world. It’s not a mystery novel, but as you read it feels like you’re following lots of mini-mysteries which are all these characters’ life stories and how their interactions, chance or otherwise, have profound effects on their lives.

Mandel really makes you think about how the world is structured today. We constantly hear about how much knowledge we have available to us in the information age, but we don’t often consider that just because it’s available to us, doesn’t mean we have it. All the tasks necessary to run our society are divided into separate careers. A banker probably doesn’t know how to hunt, a hunter probably doesn’t know how to generate electricity, an electrical engineer probably doesn’t know how to run a successful government, and a politician, whatever he or she may say, probably doesn’t know how to set up an efficient economy. We know we have all of this information available at our fingertips with the internet. But, if we lost that magnificent tool, the knowledge in today’s world is so subsetted that we’d probably be lost for a long time too.

Ironically, as I was reading Station Eleven, I kept coming across an ad on TV by America’s Natural Gas Alliance. It starts, “Someone once told me that working for the power company is a noble calling. I believe that it is. People don’t have to think about where their electricity comes from. They flipped a switch, and the light comes on. It’s our job to make sure that it does.” Obviously this type of system has helped our world develop much more quickly than if everyone tried to be knowledgeable about everything – there’s only so much information a human brain can hold. Nevertheless, reading this book made me think that it probably couldn’t hurt to learn a little more about how I get things like running water, electricity, food, and clothing!

All in all, I’d give this book 8/10 stars. It’s narrative is a little choppy (unexpectedly picks up and slows down through the book) but the style is unique and does work. The characters aren’t ones that will stick with you forever but their stories are engaging and will probably make you think about the interactions you have in your own life. Finally, if you, like me, are interested in the post-apocalyptic genre but can’t stand to read another book revolving around a sordid teen romance, then you should definitely check this book out!

Have you read Station Eleven or any other books by Mandel? What is your favorite post-apocalyptic or dystopian book? What do you think of the genre? Let me know in the comments below!



Michelle 1

New York City – I was walking down 2nd Ave in Manhattan when I heard a crowd. I looked around more carefully at my surroundings and realized that I was at Dag Hammarskjold Plaza. I remembered the location from having danced at a Holi festival there about a year and a half ago. But whereas then, the grey courtyard had been filled with bright colors and laughing, rowdy people, the people in the Plaza now held a different kind of energy. It was a sea of somber faces and covered heads. Fiery, passionate eyes gazed toward a stage where a man’s voice rang out in a beautiful but desperate melody. The colors red, black, white, and green were dotted everywhere. As I crossed the street to get a closer look, I saw the Palestinian flag waving in the distance and could read the words “free Gaza”, “racism”, and “genocide” on countless posters.

I have never been to any sort of political rally before. I’ve generally preferred to read or watch the news and discuss it with friends. And, in the effort to be completely honest, I don’t think I’ve read enough about the Israel-Palestine conflict to consider myself “fully informed”. My only real opinion about it is what I think of all such conflicts – that it is horrifying that the political aspirations of a few powerful people should cost the lives of so many civilians. In the past few months, my Facebook news feed has been filled with friends posting their own opinions and others’ on the conflict. Perhaps motivated by them, I decided to check the rally out.

I could tell from the speakers on stage that I had arrived at the end of of the event. Still, it seemed like at least a couple hundred people were around, taking photos, handing out flyers, and answering reporters’ questions. I accepted some flyers and looked around to see if I might be able to speak to one of the organizers (NY4Palestine) to get some more information. Then, in the audience, a young woman caught my eye. She was bedecked in Palestinian colors, and her arms were stretched tall above her, holding two huge posters. Her jaw was set, and her eyes were fierce. I decided that she – someone who looked my age but was clearly so passionate about this cause that she came fully prepared for this event – was someone I really wanted to meet.


Michelle’s sign caught many people’s attention. “It’s a real quote by Obama” she would say, when people asked. Tweet: ‘ “I’m here because I am listening… I’m listening to Americans all across the country.” – President Obama #OpportunityForAll ‘

I waited as various reporters and other attendees took pictures of her and her signs, and then asked if I could interview her. She agreed, and we began.

Her name is Michelle Cassis. She was born and brought up in Chile and moved to New York two years ago. She is 24 years old, and she is a filmmaker. From the way she spoke, it was clear that Michelle had kept herself well informed of the conflict. She spoke of the shocking loss of life in Gaza and about the imbalance of power between the Israeli military and the Palestinian defense. She talked about the Israeli propaganda that has flooded mainstream media through the use of phrases like ‘self-genocide’ and ‘self-defense’ (she called it “auto-defense” – I assume it’s a linguistic leftover from Spanish to English translation). However, she also spoke about the difficulty civilians and press with Arabic last names have in traveling to the region, how news is abundantly available now and how important it is to “read everything“, and how we have a duty to use social media (she called it “our civilians’ weapon”) to spread the word. I didn’t need to ask her many questions – she already had a message that she was focused on passing on.

For me, it was both eye-opening and inspiring. I am often skeptical of young activists. I generally think of them as zealously passionate about a cause they have little understanding of, simply because they are swept up in the drama of protesting something. I spent less than an hour with Michelle, so it’s possible that I am mistaken about her, and that she too falls into this camp. Regardless, I could tell that the plight of the people in Gaza had seriously impacted her and that she was making every effort to keep up-to-date on what is happening there. Her determination to not be passive and to stand for what she thought was right really struck a chord with me. I wanted to find out more about her background.

I learned that Michelle’s grandfather was born in Palestine and that she is the fifth out of six siblings. She told me about how one of her sisters passed away a few years ago from leukemia, and how her father told Michelle that the situation in Gaza had become so bad that it upset him more than when her sister died. She told me how when she first learned of the recent streak of violence, she felt so sick that she lost her appetite for a week. She told me that she took every opportunity she could to attend rallies like the one we were at. She wants to take advantage of the fact that she lives in the same city where the UN is headquartered. She said that it is important to her that when her future children learn about these events in school, they know that she stood on the right side of history when it happened.

After the interview, Michelle and I continued chatting with each other and a couple other attendees of the rally. We spoke with one (white, American) man about the lack of unbiased news sources in the US and general American apathy and ignorance about world conflicts. We discussed that such ignorance may exist because people’s everyday lives in the developed, western world strike such a stark contrast with the constant terror depicted in news stories about other countries – that it may be too stark a contrast for many people to mentally handle. Another girl came to take a picture with Michelle’s signs and prompted us all to exchange Facebook information.

In a political and human conflict such as this one, there are millions of stories and accounts of events. Truthfully, I felt that I could have spent much longer talking with Michelle and the other people at the rally. I found myself wishing that I had known about it earlier and had had time to prepare. I have so many questions both about the conflict itself and about what motivates people like Michelle to actually take part in such rallies.

Michelle 2

If you were in my place, what questions would you have asked? What are your views on activism? Have you ever been to a political rally? Comment below, and let me know!

The Origin Story

A Blogger's Tools

                       Tools of the trade

So here is the tale of why I started this blog… 

One day, not too long ago, I decided to try writing about what was around me for the first time. I don’t usually write about what is real. It’s usually all in my head. But on this day, in Le Pain Quotidien, I began to observe the people around me, engaging in the Manhattan routine of a Saturday afternoon brunch. 

And then I realized why I don’t usually write this way. It’s true that even when writing what you observe, you’re still using your imagination. You’re still interpreting a woman’s tired face as exhaustion from pregnancy, or a young man’s fervent hand gestures as excitement about the work project he is describing to his friend. But when the people you are observing are the kind of people you always interact with, the task of interpreting their behavior isn’t very exciting. The way I was trying to write now, I was neither getting anyone’s real story, nor did I have to stretch my imagination very far. So, I left the café, and decided to try something else. 

I’ve told you I’m interested in people and stories. In fact, when I was growing up, whenever my parents would ask me what I was really passionate about in terms of a future career, all I could come up with was some variation of that response. I’ve decided to stop looking for a job that allows me to get at these things, and rather go for the things themselves. Part of my motivation in moving away from home and to New York was to expose myself (metaphorically) to the world and meet people I wouldn’t otherwise encounter. With this in mind, I came up with the idea for this blog. 

The goal is to meet and interact with new people, but not to force it. If I see someone who looks interesting to me or if there is someone I have wanted to find out about, I’ll speak to them. Hopefully this will happen often, but I won’t expect it to be regular. Along the way, I hope I’ll better get to know the people who read my blog, and I hope you’ll share with me the stories of the people you’ve met. 

Thanks for reading! 🙂


Patrick and Molly (Header)

New York City – I walked past Patrick on the southwest corner of 61st St and Lexington Ave. He was grimy and had what looked like barely a shirt and khaki workman’s overalls on, but he was attracting a lot of attention from passerby. It may have been his dog or his bright smile, or maybe just his boldness. Unlike most other homeless people I have seen squatting around the city, Patrick wasn’t slouched against a building, easily ignorable to the rest of society. Instead, he had placed himself right on the corner of the intersection, just out of the way of people walking by. His sign, though on battered cardboard, was written in a neat, artistic font. Something about him caught my eye. After a few minutes of consideration, a fruitless trip to a nearby jewelry boutique, and a few more moments of agitated deliberation on the sidewalk, I decided I needed to know his story. I approached the young man crouching on the sidewalk and asked if I could interview him.

He naturally asked what it was for – I told him I was thinking of starting a blog about people I met around the city. He said it would be fine if I interviewed him, but could I give him a dollar? I had already checked my wallet in my few minutes of mental back-and-forth on the sidewalk and had decided I would give him $15. He looked surprised but grateful. I turned on the camera, and began the interview.

For a few minutes, I just jabbered back and forth with him. He smelled strongly of sweat, but he and his dog were friendly. I often get flustered talking to strangers. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep a conversation flowing. Now here was this person with whom I probably had nothing in common, who I had just approached blindly on the corner of a street. I was nervous, but, somehow, the conversation had a lilt, if not a flow.


This is Molly, companion to Patrick’s friend and Patrick.

Southern Pacific Tattoo

Patrick’s newest tattoo. He said the “SP” was for the “Southern Pacific” train-line. I took the initials as a good omen.

After the interview, I gave Patrick his promised $15. His friend had just come back and looked (humbly) surprised and appreciative. Patrick asked what the interview was all about, and if it was for an internet thing. I said yes, that I want to start a blog, and that I’ve always wanted to write. I told him I had realized I have always been interested in people and their stories. He asked if it was like journalism. I said kind of, but it was really more focused on the people themselves. I said New York is a place with so many different people, but they don’t interact – you get stuck in your own group or bubble. I said people like he and I walk past each other every day on the street but don’t interact, and I actually want to meet different people. He said, yeah, you want to know where other people come from and stuff. And I said yeah, and you never know what someone might have in common with you – like we both lived in Florida. In the end, I said bye to him and Molly and got up.

As I started to walk away, a man walking next to me said “that was great”. I said thanks, surprised. I hadn’t realized we’d had an audience. He said, “really, good job”. I smiled and said thanks again and kept walking. Hopefully one day soon I’ll be less flustered by such an interaction and will be able to calmly point them towards this blog!

I never gave my own name to Patrick. I was nervous about giving my own information to a stranger. And, I’m sure, my prejudice from a sheltered and privileged upbringing kept me wary when speaking to someone homeless. I sincerely hope, though, that Patrick sensed that I truly just wanted to hear his story. I wanted to meet someone coming from a different walk in life, with no judgment, just a listening ear.

Molly and Patrick (Footer)

Patrick and Molly.