There are books that define a generation as “On the Road” or “Infinite Jest” (and there is no end), but what about the micro-generation?
Gabrielle Zevin’s “Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow” may be the first love letter addressed to the purse demographic between Generation X and Millennials. Born between 1977 and 1983, they call themselves the Xennials, or Oregon Trail Generation, named after them. Based on the 1985 version of the educational game many kids found on the bulky Apple IIE.
The author wrote her 10th novel, which follows the collaborative and competitive friendship between video game developers Sam Masur and Sadie Green with her colleague in mind. And this novel has exploded into a publishing supernova.
Even with so much experience, Zevin is shocked by the loud welcome. “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,” has been a bestseller since its release last summer. It’s the Jimmy Fallon Book Club’s choice, Amazon’s No. 1 Book of the Year, and more this spring. She left her Beverly Grove home to read in Spain and Germany. She then toured the country again. Visit Australia and return to her native city. She will be joining the LA Times Book Club on April 22 at the Festival of Books.
“I’m finding out,” said Sevin, “extroverted people who go out and promote books have very little to do with the introverts who write those books.”
or write a screenplay when you come back again She will return to adapt “Tomorrow” for Paramount, which secured the rights to $2 million in a heated auction more than a year before the book’s publication. This isn’t her first time: Other screenplays include “Conversations With Other Women” and “The Storyed Life of AJ Fikry,” based on her 2014 novel, a bookstore poem. Both films were directed by Zevin’s longtime partner, Hans Canosa.
When she doesn’t know how to shorten a 500-page novel into two hours or more. Perhaps she had slept or remained silent for days. 45-year-old Zevin, her piercing eyes and shocking raven-black hair. Doesn’t look tired at all, but oh, she’s “come in July. One year from the date the book is issued. let me call it I don’t travel anymore I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” she said with a laugh. Not you, dear reader. “I’m bored of myself, to be honest.”
Her fans felt differently about “tomorrow” being fueled by word of mouth and attrition. After appearing on several of December’s best shows, Zevin said, “It makes people think, ‘What’s going on?’ ‘I don’t want to read video game novels. What does that have to do with me?’” But especially if you’ve ever felt the alluring pull of the creative process. Or the pain of losing a lifelong friendship. or the hardships of disability or marginalization. to portray the two strands intertwined cutely in “tomorrow”
Gabrielle Zevin wrote “tomorrow” during the epidemic lockdown.
(Hans Kanosa)
Sam and Sadie met as ’80s kids who died of countless dysentery while playing “The Oregon Trail.” They lost contact. Then reunited as ambitious college students in the early ’90s, both (still) obsessed with video games. Sadie had already designed two high-minded experiments at the Massa Institute of Technology. Classroom shuffles taught by legendary programmer/designer Dov Mizrah, one of the few elusive geniuses who weave in and out of this story spanning approximately 30 years.
After Sam sees the potential in Sadie’s early endeavors, he buttons her down to join him. This invitation to play begins a creative relationship built on appreciation. grievances, resentment and love, their last friend and colleague. Marx was a charismatic diplomat in their almost unspoken contradictions.
For Zevin, the history of video games is a way to talk about how technology has changed lives on every level. including how we ask for directions how we date And what we do when we’re queuing up at the drugstore. She frantically lifts her iPhone from the table as if it were a sloppy dog toy. we But there aren’t many visible cues to that change.”
Enter Pixelated Screen In our discussion, Zevin cites two examples from the video game timeline. There’s an original beginning: Pong, released by Atari in 1972, had little more than two lines and two dots. not long ago One of Zevin’s favorite games is “The Last of Us,” a survival horror game released in 2013 that looks like a movie. (And eventually became an HBO series starring Pedro Pascal and Bella Ramsey.) The visual differences between the two games alone show a remarkable evolution.
history of capsules “It makes video games the perfect metaphor,” says Zevin. And what has it been like to be a person for the past three decades?” Contrary to what people might think of “tomorrow,” this topic concerns all of us. Based on spending behavior alone, last year, consumers in the US Video game sales reached $56.5 billion in 2020 during the pandemic. The global video game industry does more than just movies and sports combined.
Then there’s the case for video games as a legitimate art form. Zevin won’t let anyone walk out of her meticulously researched world without realizing the true talent and imagination that the best developers have. dedicated to their creations. Her description of Sam and Sadie making “Ichigo,” the first game to continue their careers, is visceral. As his fingertips bled on the keyboard, Sam only uses bandages to remove the obstruction. “He was used to more discomfort,” she wrote, referring to Sam’s crushed feet from the accident. It’s one of the many ways the book sheds light on our relationship with our physical form and avatar.
For her avatar, Zevin has let the mask of authority she found useful in the previous novels slip away more than ever before. “Before I wrote this book I’ve never let anyone be half Jewish and half Korean like I am and Sam is. Partly because at this point in life I understand more about what that is” and how to write about it.
Although Boca Raton, Florida, doesn’t appear in “Tomorrow” in the town where she grew up, Zevin held part of the book in Cambridge, with Sam attending Harvard just as Zevin did in the ’90s. First of all, she needs some distance. If she wrote about Harvard right after graduation “It must be full of dissatisfaction or disappointment. Or these are not really about Harvard. It’s about me,” as she wrote “Tomorrow,” during the pandemic-hit lockdown. Instead, she felt “nostalgia” for Cambridge, Tokyo and other places. that she used to go but can’t go back Including Silver Lake, where she lives near the happy past, sad feet, foot sign
Like Zevin, the characters in “Tomorrow” gain new insights. From the benefits of time and maturity After an argument with a female classmate at the beginning of the book. Sadie laments that life at MIT as one of the few women It’s a solitary experience. “It’s like being a woman is a disease you don’t want to be. As long as you are not associating with other women. You can imply most men: ‘I’m not like everyone else‘‘”
Decades later, at the end of the book Sadie talks to Sam about the new generation. She was stunned and a little angry that they had not covered up their wounds. but see them as the heart of creativity. “Their standards are higher. They called b— about the sexism and racism that at least I lived with.”
Readers may also be surprised by how much we all have changed. When the main characters of “Ichigo,” Sadie and Sam were originally thought to be non-binary children, Being quickly rebuilt into a little boy was to be expected. It was the late ’90s and the world wasn’t ready. Now it is (more than ever).
“Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow” is not a copyright novel. But the layers of time and experiences that overlap remind us of everything we’ve been on the path so far.
Book Club: Gabrielle Zevin
what: The LA Times Book Club is reading “tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow” during April. Gabriel Sevin Join us for a talk with Times Assistant, Executive Editor. Samantha Melbourne Weaver at the book fair
When: April 22 at 1:45 p.m.
where: Norris Theater at USC
information: ticket information and All festival schedules are online.
Book club newsletter: Join our community book club and get the latest news, stories and events: latimes.com/bookclub
