S.

This book/experience is one of the neatest experiences i have ever had. The finished product, in it's physical form, is amazing. It looks like a really old library book, down to almost every detail, inside and out. This is so much more well done than I could have imagined. The feel of reading the book is exactly what I wanted it to be. The actual story of the book is a very literature based one. It isn't immediately clear, even after finishing, the clear digression of the tale. The book requires analysis, thought, and consideration. The story itself has light-scifi/fantasy elements to it, though it is not overt through the book, and only when considered literally. Otherwise, it is a drama action tale, or maybe a tale of exploration, or maybe a spy thriller, or maybe something else entirely. The "Margin story" has elements of all of these as well, and would be much more clear and straightforward if it weren't for the method by which it is communicated. I want to be clear to define that the way I read the story was thus: I read the entire printed story straight through, including the footnotes, and I also read the pencil notes. I then went back and read the pen notes one "set" of colors at a time all the way through. I feel, for me, this is the superior method. My reasoning has to do with the Ship of Theseus itself. By reading it in this method, you take the "ship", in this case the book, and experience it 5 separate times. Each time you go through it, you experience different parts of it, even though it is the same book. When you get to the end of it the final time, you really can consider if it is the same book that it was when you started. I enjoyed reading it this way very much, and I think if I had tried any other method I would not have gotten the same experience. I like things linear though. Pros: This was a neat experience. The finished product is beautiful and amazing. The story is captivating and lovely. The inserts are interesting.This was a memorable experience I will remember for a long time. Cons: The inserts get really annoying on subsequent reads, falling out at bad times. There is a lot of this experience that can be found online, and for some this may make the book itself feel incomplete. The pen markings in the book are not chronological, so you might here about something that is happening "In real life" but not find out why for many chapters and then find something that comes before that event later in the book. Production con: Some of the pen mark in my book is faded in places. I honestly don't know if this was on purpose or a defect: perhaps it was indicating that actual pens do run out of ink? Overall, this was a great purchase, an interesting book to read, and something I may come back to in the future to try reading it again.

There is no easy way to describe S., the multilayered composite novel experience created by J.J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, but it is undeniably brilliant and an absolute joy to explore. Like Mark Z. Danielewski’s brilliant House of Leaves, it is a book that refuses to be contained within the boundaries of its pages, with multiple levels of narrative that bleed into one another. Even more than House of Leaves, however, S. is a love letter to the physicality of real books as tangible objects, to be held and collected and admired and treasured- there is no way this book could work as an e-book, and that is not just snobbery. The reason for this is that S. is not just a book, but a multimedia artistic experience, a puzzle, and a layered narrative that the physical book itself is just one portion of. In fact, the book included in S. is not itself called S.; it is a book called Ship of Theseus by a man (or perhaps not a man) named V.M. Straka (except that may not be his real name). The book itself is weathered, and appears to have come from a public library, complete with a filing sticker on the spine and a stamped check out/return page in the back cover. From the “Translator’s Note and Forward” at beginning of the book we learn that Ship of Theseus was the final novel written by an enigmatic but prolific writer named V.M. Straka, whose true identity remained a mystery to all but a very few people- in this it seems Straka was at least partially based on B. Travens, author of Treasure of the Sierra Madre, whose true identity has never been uncovered. Straka was a literary genius, and his novels are full of symbolism and allusion that imbues his works with layers of meaning and opinion depending on the interpretation of the reader, much like Moby Dick. Luckily for us, the book is footnoted and annotated by the translator, F.X. Caldeira, which adds the second level to this metanarrative, as there is quite a bit of thoughtful interpretation and discourse by Caldeira, who appears to be nearly as enigmatic as Straka. Ship of Theseus, amazing enough, can stand on its own two feet even if it was the true story being told here. Someday I plan to read the novel by itself and ignore all of the other extraneous material and see what sort of literary takeaway I get. I will avoid spoilers, but at its barest essence, Ship of Theseus is about a man who is suffering from amnesia, who goes by the name of “S,” because when he woke up his only possession was a slip of paper with an ornate letter “S” written on it. He ends up shanghaied on the eponymous ship, whose terrifying and almost bestial crew seem to know something about him, and who often disappear below the decks to take part in some sort of secretive ritual. I won’t reveal any more of the plot, but it is very engaging and well written. In any event, this is the book you are reading, not S. This is because the physical book itself is only one part of the narrative. As previously mentioned, the annotations and footnotes by FXC make up another layer of the story, imposing a fictional literary universe that places the book in its conceptual parameters. The third layer is provided by handwritten notes in the margin in (at least) two different hands and five different colors of ink, in which two readers of the book are keeping up an ongoing correspondence. Eric is a disgraced university student who is obsessed with V.M. Straka and believes that clues to the author’s identity is hidden within Ship of Theseus- his original notes are written in pencil in the margins, and he has underlined certain passages. Since he is no longer a student at the college where the book was housed, he could not check it out anymore, but continues to study the book’s mysteries. Jen is a current student at the college who is also studying Ship of Theseus, and discovers Eric’s obsessive but brilliant notes. Realizing that they are ongoing, she “replies” to Eric’s notes, sparking an ongoing conversation between the two. Besides their different handwriting, Jen’s initial notes are in blue ink, Eric’s in black. Together they begin to try to tease out the book’s secrets. They make multiple passes through the book over the course of years, and the changing colors of ink mark the passage of time. In their second pass through the book, Jen writes in orange ink, Eric in green. Their third pass is marked by Jen writing in purple, Eric in red. Their final pass is the books “epilogue,” discussing strange events that have transpired for both of them, and both are written in black ink. And at certain times, notes are left by an unidentified third party who seems to be closely watching the pair and following their research. In addition to their notes, Jen and Eric are continuing their research in the “real world,” as represented by a number of very cool physical artifacts that are included in the book. These include computer printouts, personal letters written on university letterhead, postcards, newspaper clippings, notes written on napkins, handwritten letters, and even decryption wheel, to name but a few. These are part of the third level of the narrative between Jen and Eric, but add a level of physical reality and verisimilitude to the story. What it reminds me most of is the Griffin and Sabine “correspondences,” by Nick Bantock, a love story told entirely through handmade postcards, notes, and other creative physical notes and artifacts. But in S. these are more than just a nifty layer to the metanarrative. In many cases they are clues necessary to unravel the book’s many secrets. Because beyond the mystery of Straka’s identity and the relationship growing between Eric and Jen, there also seems to be a shadowy force that is watching the pair, and actively trying to keep them from unravelling the mystery, somehow tied to Straka, F.X. Caldiera, and the greater mystery of the enigma surrounding the author. The fourth and final layer of the narrative is the actual real world, for which you, the reader, are the cipher. You are not only reading Straka’s novel, FXC’s annotations and clues, and Jen and Eric’s attempts to unlock the puzzle posed by both, but are also being provided with clues that spill out into the real world, in particular the internet. There are names, companies, phone numbers, the names of cafés and other establishments mentioned by Jen and Eric, and so on that if searched for on the internet bring you to websites that provide you with further clues and take you deeper into the conspiracy. I must admit that while I find this both interesting and charming, I have not spent much time on this level of the narrative. While it is neat, and very much indicative of J.J. Abram’s influence on this level of the narrative, I just don’t have this kind of time to spend on a single novel, no matter how interesting it is. The nice thing is that even though this is a metanarrative on a number of levels, the whole thing is strong enough to stand on its own. Ship of Theseus stands on its own, but S. as a multimedia experience is the sum total of every level of the narrative. As of yet, I have only really experienced S. as contained within the physical boundaries of the book (which, by the way, comes within a slipcover that is sealed with a strip of paper, so that none of the materials inside can fall out, which is marked with J.J. Abrams and Doug Dorst’s names, along with the picture of a capuchin monkey. Once you break that seal, the S. experience begins). Even without the viral marketing internet mystery level of the narrative, the first three layers of the metanarrative work perfectly well on their own- the fourth layer just makes the work open ended and tantalizingly ambiguous. I don’t think the ultimate “answer” to the enigma of S. is really out there on the internet, meaning it is a mystery without a solution and without an end. But that is okay, because in this case, the fun of the whole experience is in the journey, not the destination.

Reading The Ship of Theseus felt like embarking on a grand and mysterious adventure. I’ve already read it twice and I’m starting a third time, simply because of the multiple intertwined stories and the fascinating time jumps it contains. Each read reveals new insights that are truly incredible, making you feel like a detective piecing together hidden clues. It’s a book that challenges and rewards you, offering layers of meaning that keep drawing you back.

Like many reviewers before me, describing this story is a challenge. I'll cut to the chase: I gave it 5 stars because the story telling and packaging is ingenious. For an avid reader, it's especially fun to be presented with such a creative book. The reader is getting 3 stories at once: The Ship of Theseus written by fictional author Straka, the story of a pair of college students as handwritten in multi colored pen in the margins, and last the story of the real parties and their dubious purposes as revealed by Straka, which is the focus of the students' handwritten exchanges. And then of course you have 22 tangible items neatly tucked between the pages to add to those stories (e.g., photos, postcards, hand drawn map on a paper napkin, newspaper clippings, letters, and even a decoder wheel). I suggest printing and using as your bookmark SFiles22's webpage which identifies each of the items and the correct page they are to be read, just in case any slip out while you're immersed in the story: [...] List of Book Inserts I enjoyed the adventurous fictional tale, Ship of Theseus, which from time to time reminded me of The Odyssey and Gulliver's Travels, and I love stories where the characters' friendship/relationship grows via correspondence which in this case it is done in the exchange of handwritten messages in the margins. There is plenty of discussion among readers about how best to approach reading this multi layered and multi colored story and the end result I believe is that there is no correct way. For my reading pleasure I would quickly review each page to determine a stopping point, whether it be at the end of a paragraph or where I would find distinct annotations (e.g. underscoring, arrows, comments in the margins). The different marginalia colors were created by the pair of students at different times, so whenever possible I would first read the gray, black & blue handwriting because those were made earlier than the red and yellow/orange annotations, the latter providing me with a bit of foreshadowing. The decoder "Eotvos" wheel was an interesting trinket. I learned in advance that it was to be used in the final chapter so I dutifully kept it tucked in the back of the book for the two weeks I was reading. However upon reading that final chapter I didn't see any hint on its use so I did a quick Google and not only did I learn how to use the code but the message was prominently displayed on the website. And you can't unsee that and I was disappointed in what I read. I won't reveal the message here in my review but after having read such a huge saga, the message in my opinion was too flowery for this type of story. So the wheel is an interesting souvenir but in my opinion it's not needed and doesn't add to the story. Typically a book of 450 pages with 2" margins would get absorbed within a week by my eyes but this book required blocks of undisturbed time so that I could concentrate. I also needed good lighting because some of the marginalia was in pencil or faded orange/dark yellow. And, last, I needed some reserve of energy to pay attention to the details. So at the end of the work day when dinner was finished and the kitchen cleaned, THEN I could treat myself to reading and that's why it took me two weeks to read this story. I can see myself re-reading this story again in the future.

"S." is perhaps the highest "high concept" novel I've yet to encounter. It makes CLOUD ATLAS seem uncreative. Start with the authorship: J.J. Abrams conceived the work, and Doug Dorst did the actual writing. Abrams is the creative soul behind "Lost "and a number of other TV shows, while Dorst is a fine author with a number of literary credits (Ploughshares, etc.). Unlike Abrams, though, he's not exactly famous and hardly a household name. The concept: Two novels in one. The first is a traditional novel, written by the fictional author V.M. Straka, entitled SHIP OF THESEUS. It is presented as a library book, complete with stickers on the spine, library numbers, stamps on the inside: all the stigmata. Just about every page, in addition, is covered with marginalia, an unlikely conversation between Jan, a senior lit major, and Eric, a disgraced grad student specializing in Straka's works. The margin notes, many extensive, form a loose and chaotic story of their own, a story that parallels many aspects of SHIP. Oh, and there are multiple footnotes provided by the translator of the book which make, in effect, a third novel, the translator being a probable love interest of V.M. Straka. Still with me? Now, while you may adore this concept, in actuality, reading the two (or three) novels together proved, at least for my humble brain, impossible. I was about to throw the book into a wall across the room, when it occurred to me to just read SHIP OF THESEUS, ignore the marginalia, and go back later to read novel #2. For me, at least, this proved a success. Dorst is a fine writer, and SHIP OF THESEUS stands on its own. It is a formidable work. A Kafkaesque story, it is full of well-turned phrases, mystery, danger, murder, ghost ships, wine made from blood, and not unimportantly, powerful allegorical references to the crushing nature of the military-industrial complex. Reading it was the high point of the S. experience, at least for me. I thoroughly enjoyed SOT. It's a work of art. Going back and reading the marginalia was, at first a chore. The linear nature of the narrative becomes fractured and scattered. Some of the notes make temporal sense, others don't. For example, there are notes in pencil by Eric from an earlier read long ago. Oh, and did I mention the postcards, letters, napkins with maps, and other loose odds and ends that fall out of the book? Yup. They're there, too. The problem for me with the second novel is a big one: suspension of disbelief over two young people, trading notes in the margins of a library book, as if in real time, as if they were using iPhones or computers. Abrams' conceit uses modern conversation done, supposedly, on a library book left on a shelf. For many pages, the two don't meet in the flesh. Once I got over this issue things went better. I can't say I got the same sense of drama and excitement I took in from SOT, though. Yeah, reading a marginalia novel is novel. It's new. So is having postcards and messages jump out of the leaves. New does not always make for Good, though. The work "gimmick" comes to mind. Still, SHIP OF THESEUS is wonderful and well-worth the price of admission. I recommend it highly. I'm on the lookout for more fine work by Doug Dorst.

If you enjoy Secret History of Twin Peaks, the Pale King, Crying of Lot 49 you will love this, and if you love this definitely investigate those. Somewhere between Gravity's Rainbow and Invisible Man or Notes From the Underground, with mixed media components that rival anything I've witnessed assembled. The layered complexities of mystery and diversity of components and source material are reminiscent to classic visual novels series such as Higurashi or Umineko, also much in similar vein of the television series Strange Angel and the Lodge, innovative, unique and unforgettable, so glad a dear friend turned me on to this contemporary classic!

This is probably the most unique reading experience I’ve had in a long time. Rather than a traditional novel, S. is presented as an old copy of the fictional book “Ship of Theseus” by “VM Straka” from 1949. The book has a period appropriate cover design, and is faux-aged to look like an old library book, complete with old stamps, yellowed pages, and even fake stains. The margins of the book are filled with the “handwritten” notes of two previous readers, Jen and Eric; the ink colors change with time, and there are even smudges and cross-outs. Tucked into the pages are various documents including photocopies, photos, letters, postcards, and (my personal favorite) an actual napkin with a “hand-drawn” map. The attention to detail is absolutely amazing, and the story is pretty good too. “Ship of Theseus” itself is the meandering, surreal story of a man, “S”, who find himself washed up in an unnamed city with no memory or knowledge of his identity. He is soon shanghaied aboard a creepy ship with no apparent captain and a strange crew whose members have sewn their mouths shut. When S. tries to escape the ship, he is then caught up in a struggle against the corrupt Vevoda, a business magnate with an unstoppable weapon of mass destruction. The margin notes tell the story of two readers trying to unravel the mystery surrounding the reclusive author VM Straka, and his apparent involvement in major historical events. Jen, a college senior, finds the copy of “Ship of Theseus” left behind in the college library by Eric, a disgraced graduate student. Seeking an escape from her impending graduation and recent breakup, Jen begins delving into the Straka mystery, corresponding with Eric in the margins of the book. As the two uncover more information about the mysterious Straka, they find themselves possibly drawn into a conflict decades and maybe even centuries old. Jen and Eric’s story jumps around a bit, as the notes are not always in chronological order. Some details and events are also only alluded to, leaving the reader to fill in some of the gaps. There are, however, additional codes in the book to solve, and in-universe websites, so the story doesn’t necessarily end with what’s in the book. The reading order is completely open, but I found it easiest to start by reading through “Ship of Theseus” on its own, then going back and reading the margin notes. The ink colors denote different time periods; Jen’s notes start out in blue ink, with Eric’s responses in black. The second set are in orange and green, the third in purple and red, and the most recent all in black. It’s probably best to read all the earlier, blue and black notes first, then going back and approaching each set in turn. The inserts are mentioned in text by Jen and Eric at their appropriate points in the story; it helped me to make a list of the insert locations beforehand, so I could easily find the appropriate document. S. is just a lot of fun, and is a must read for anyone who likes unique, experimental reads.

I've ordered three copies of this book in the last 2 years. They make a great gift for book-lovers. I've kept one for myself, given one as a gift, and bought another one for a future gift. The book reminds me a little of the old Infocom computer adventure games. It's not as interactive as a computer text adventure, but it has the same "feel" to it. The closest Infocom game to this book is "A Mind Forever Voyaging" which puts you in the position as a protagonist in a very real way--as if you're not playing a game, but actually participating in the process as the story unfolds. This book is very similar, although you're not the protagonist(s), you are viewing them in a way that feels very real. It's hard to describe how it works, but you can consider it something like what they call "breaking the fourth wall" in a play or movie. If you love those little moments, then you will probably like this book. The main story, The Ship of Theseus is interesting in itself, although I don't think it delves into the actual philosophical questions that arise from the Ship of Theseus story. The better story is the relationship that builds slowly through the other two "protagonists" as they leave each other messages in the margins. If you can suspend disbelief of the obviously unwieldy method that these two use to communicate (as well as how long in actual time that it would take for them to communicate in such a way), then you will find yourself pulled into their story as they solve another story involving the author of the story. It has at least four layers of narrative running along (some might say two, but I count the story written by the author, the story *of* the author, and the two people communicating in the margins). Could this book be better? Of course--the critiques of the other reviewers are valid. But, just imagine if this way of creative storytelling were done by <insert your favorite author here>. Even so, the author does a fair job given the stories that have to be woven together to make it interesting. This was not actually written by J.J. Abrams, by the way, but an author who J.J. Abrams collaborated with to create this book, but more people know Abrams, so that's why he's listed as author. That's forgivable if you consider that Tom Clancy is still turning out books long after his passing.