Ambrose, David: The Man Who Turned Into Himself
The Man Who Turned Into Himself (1993)
Written by: David Ambrose
Genre: Science Fiction
Pages: 197 (Trade Paperback)
I don't remember where I first heard about this book, but as soon as I did, I knew I wanted to read it. However, it's languished on my wishlist ever since it's 2008 US release (it premiered in the UK in 1993), and it didn't budge from that wishlist until I discovered BookCloseouts.com and saw this title on their $1.99 sale. So of course I had to get it! And I've been reading so much fantasy lately that I'm trying to balance it with SF, and this book fit the bill, especially given the short and sweet length.
The premise: ganked from BN.com: In the middle of an important meeting, businessman Rick Hamilton has a terrible premonition: His wife is about to die. Racing to save her, he finds her lifeless body in the road, her car crushed by a truck. The light dwindles from his eyes . . . and then she is alive again, begging for help, and Rick Hamilton no longer is himself, but another man with another life, and a different history.
Based on the "many worlds" theory of quantum physics, which posits the existence of parallel universes, The Man Who Turned Into Himself is a suspenseful, mind-bending mystery that addresses our deepest questions about reality, death, identity, and the mind.
Review style: I want to talk about what happens when the premise and ideas are thoroughly engaging and the prose isn't; what it means to enjoy a story with characters who aren't likable or wholly sympathetic, and how twists can make or break a story. Spoilers, absolutely. So if you're even REMOTELY interested in this book, skip to the "My Rating" section at the bottom of the review and come back once you've read it.
I can't express how much parallel worlds fascinate me. The possibility of having differing versions of your own life happening simultaneously is endlessly fascinating for me, so much so that I sense a story idea fermenting.
It's the story idea, the intellectual twists and turns, that make this book worth reading. Contrary to the 2008 publication date of this edition, this book was released back in 1993, and a little digging taught me that it was also Ambrose's debut. It shows. The prose has a certain superficial level to it, which isn't to say that ALL debuts have the same quality, but it's more often found in debuts than not. The narrator's voice reminds me of the kind of boisterous loud-talker who can't stop running his mouth and never stops to think that he might be the only way to view the world the way he does. There's a melodramatic quality to the prose as well, especially at the beginning. I mean, sure, on one hand, the guy falls off a roof, nearly gets hit by a truck, and loses his wife to a car accident all in one day, but that doesn't mean we need to devolve into melodrama. And for the record, I don't use that term lightly. I've seen people brandy that word around haphazardly to describe any character driven/building scene that involves emotions, and that's not fair. Melodrama, to me, indicates a certain heaviness of TENSION to a scene that really doesn't need it. Imagine really DRAMATIC MUSIC during what would be an emotional death scene in a movie or tv show. Or characters saying obviously REALLY STUPID CRAP (I never got pregnant because you didn't love me enough) but with all the seriousness of, well, someone giving or receiving truly bad news. That's melodrama. This is more of bombast than saying stupid things we're supposed to take seriously, but it's melodrama. And it's only the premise that kept me turning the pages, that and the book's wonderfully short length.
I had a lot of trouble with Rick and Richard's observations and actions. Despite what both had been through, I really couldn't muster a whole lot of sympathy in my heart. I found Rick stupid for revealing to alternate-Anne that he was from a parallel universe (yeah, SURE she believes you…), and I couldn't stand his self-righteous observations of Richard. Admittedly, I'm of the firm belief that the one person in the world who'll be MOST disgusted with you is probably yourself, but this goes a wee bit too far. Rick makes observations of Richard's life that aren't wholly HORRIBLE (oh dear, he wants to be in politics! What a twit!) but he treats them as such. Hence, melodrama, and a super unlikable narrator (to say nothing of reliability). And I really dislike how, once Rick and Richard are in some kind of precarious balance within a single body, that Richard reaffirms Rick's observations of him. If Rick is truly from a parallel universe and therefore a character in his own right, I don't like seeing his mouthy opinions justified or acknowledged. I want Richard to prove him wrong. He does in some cases, but I wanted more than that.
I also hate Rick's actions when he gets back to his own world. He trapped Richard into seeing an affair and it turned out to be true, and he can't shake those suspicions of the same pairing in his own world and then drunkenly accuses his best friend of sleeping with his wife (who died in the car wreck). It's painful. So are Rick's rather stalkerish observations of Emma and how their destined to be together. Some lines are downright creepy. I don't think they're meant to be (I think we're supposed to see some irony or something in how Rick always misunderstands Emma's intentions, no matter what universe he's in), but certain word choices create melodrama, which in this case, create the creepy factor.
I did like how this notion of two parallel lives trapped in one body was treated. Often, I was reminded of dissociative identity disorder (formerly known as multiple personality disorder), and that was rather delightful, especially given how the climax of the novel rests on Richard's actual sanity and whether or not he made the whole thing up.
We get hints that something's up. For example, Rick makes a comment about ex-actor Ronald Reagan dying, but yet in what universe has Reagan not be President and Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles action figures still exist? The first pleasing twist was that Rick's world, which is the first we get and the one we assume is ours, is actually the parallel, and Richard's world is the one we currently live in. But more than that, everything about Rick's world is perfection, what Richard wishes he had: a great body, a loving and devoted and faithful wife, a son, and cool job, a great house. Which leads to the first conclusion that Rick is truly a figment of Richard's imagination, not a parallel self at all, but a DID coping mechanism to first deal with the shock of a car accident and then the trauma of learning about his wife's adultery. Richard murders both Anne and Harold but doesn't want to be defended with an insanity plea. He wants to be perfectly sane. He wants to be IN CONTROL of his actions, of himself. You'd think that said revelation, that Richard's world is the real world, that Rick was truly a figment, would be the end of it, but it's not.
We get twist after twist: theories on how parallel universes work and how Richard/Rick tried to go back in time to stop Anne's death in Rick's world so that Rick will never jump into Richard's body. How you can't truly go back to the universe you left behind, but rather go back to one where certain actions haven't happened yet and you can affect change. Confusing, but it makes sense in context of the book. While I'm not really swallowing it, I like how Ambrose uses the parallel selves to bring us back to the beginning of the book to explain all the weirdness we opened with, especially Rick's premonition that has him running out of the office and witnessing his wife's death.
Even with all the twists, I really can't think of a single sympathetic character. Not a single person I'd root for. Hell, merged Richard/Rick has learned to jump between multi-verses to different versions of himself, and he has to alienate them in their worlds as he's been alienated in his own, which is quite possibly the most selfish thing I can think of. Shouldn't SOME of the Rick's in the parallel universes have a sense of peace and NOT carry the weight of a million selves on their shoulders?
Wait, you thought the whole waking up in OUR world and the realization this was all a delusion was the end of it. What's this gibberish I'm babbling about? Well, after the double-murder, Richard/Rick try use Emma's hypnotism to go back and stop the whole cycle from happening. And something goes wrong and Richard dies. But somehow he narrates his entire experience to Emma via tape recorder, and it's only after he's done and tells Emma to touch his face (she doesn't know he's dead when recording, he's talking in her head) does she know he's dead. When she plays it back, it's her own voice narrating it.
We're left with a pile of twists and more than a few possibilities. That I can live with. I like entertaining the notion of parallel universes and how one might become aware of another and how it would all work. I like the notion that in this book, Richard just might be crazy but his stubborn need to hold on to sanity might convince someone like Emma that maybe he wasn't crazy after all, that there was a logical explanation. It's fascinating, and I don't think there's one "right" ending. I think we're meant to chew it over and wonder about the nature of sanity and reality and life and possibility, and to allow room in our lives for the unexplainable. There's a lot I didn't like about the book, but for whatever reason, I'm fine with where it leaves me.
My Rating
Find a Cheaper Copy: if the premise interests you, see if you can't find this discounted somewhere on Amazon or Book Closeouts or wherever. Because the nature of the premise and the exploration of ideas is fascinating, and while the fictional constructs frustrate me (after all, I really didn't care for our narrator/s, and the prose was sometimes melodramatic), I enjoyed reading this. Again, if the premise doesn't grab you, don't bother with this book. It suffers from debut-itis in terms of characterization and prose, but that's swallowable as long as you find the brain-candy enjoyable. It's a fast read, and the ending will in some ways remind you of Donnie Darko and the overall feel of the story may remind some readers Replay, only Grimwood's book doesn't deal with parallel universes, and Grimwood's book is far better in terms of narrative and prose. So really, this is a simple rating: find it cheap if the premise grabs you, but ignore it otherwise.
Cover Commentary: It's a pretty compelling cover. I think that was the first thing that ever caught my eye about this book, and then the title and premise combined really got me. But the cover itself is eye-catching, and while I'm not entirely convinced it's relative to the plot of the story, I like looking at it. :)
Next up: Perchance to Dream by Lisa Mantchev