Enjoy fast, free delivery, exclusive deals, and award-winning movies & TV shows with Prime
Try Prime
and start saving today with fast, free delivery
Amazon Prime includes:
Fast, FREE Delivery is available to Prime members. To join, select "Try Amazon Prime and start saving today with Fast, FREE Delivery" below the Add to Cart button.
Amazon Prime members enjoy:- Cardmembers earn 5% Back at Amazon.com with a Prime Credit Card.
- Unlimited Free Two-Day Delivery
- Streaming of thousands of movies and TV shows with limited ads on Prime Video.
- A Kindle book to borrow for free each month - with no due dates
- Listen to over 2 million songs and hundreds of playlists
- Unlimited photo storage with anywhere access
Important: Your credit card will NOT be charged when you start your free trial or if you cancel during the trial period. If you're happy with Amazon Prime, do nothing. At the end of the free trial, your membership will automatically upgrade to a monthly membership.
-37% $15.79$15.79
Ships from: Amazon Sold by: RAINBOW TRADE
$14.14$14.14
Ships from: Amazon Sold by: gatecitybooks
Download the free Kindle app and start reading Kindle books instantly on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required.
Read instantly on your browser with Kindle for Web.
Using your mobile phone camera - scan the code below and download the Kindle app.
OK
Audible sample Sample
Plowing the Dark: A Novel Hardcover – June 2, 2000
Purchase options and add-ons
In a digital laboratory on the shores of Puget Sound, a band of virtual-reality researchers races to complete the Cavern, an empty white room that can become a jungle, a painting, or a vast Byzantine cathedral. In a war-torn Mediterranean city, an American is held hostage, chained to a radiator in another empty white room. What can possibly join these two remote places? Only the shared imagination, a room that these people unwittingly build in common, where they are all about to meet.
Adie Klarpol, a skilled but disillusioned artist, comes back to life, revived by the thrill of working with cutting-edge technology. Against the collapse of Cold War empires and the fall of the Berlin Wall, she retreats dangerously into the cyber-realities she has been hired to create. On the other side of the globe, Taimur Martin, an English teacher recovering from a failed love affair, is picked up off the streets in Beirut by Islamic fundamentalists and held in solitary captivity.
A mesmerizing fiction that explores the imagination's power to both destroy and save, Plowing the Dark recasts the rules of the novel and stands as Richard Powers's most daring work to date.
- Print length415 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherFarrar, Straus and Giroux
- Publication dateJune 2, 2000
- Dimensions6.25 x 1.25 x 9.25 inches
- ISBN-100374234612
- ISBN-13978-0374234614
Customers who viewed this item also viewed
Editorial Reviews
Amazon.com Review
From Publishers Weekly
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.
From Library Journal
---David Dodd, Marin Cty. Free Lib., San Rafael, CA
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.
From Booklist
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
From Kirkus Reviews
Review
"A fiercely visual book . . . the effect is spectacular . . . The most visceral prose Powers has ever written."—Daniel Zalewski, The New York Times Book Review
"America's most ambitious novelist . . . Plowing The Dark is virtual reality composed in a language that will never go obsolete. No one who becomes immersed in its poetry will walk out the way he or she came in."—Kevin Berger, The San Francisco Chronicle Book Review
"Plowing The Dark may be [Powers's] most finely executed story yet . . . Relentless and mesmerizing . . . a beautiful homage to the sine qua non of consciousness itself . . . the final triumph of art over pain."—Gail Caldwell, The Boston Globe
"Powers has an inventive, virtuosic writing style that reserves him a special category in today's fiction . . . I don't have the space to do justice to all the wonders of craftsmanship in Plowing The Dark . . . This is the first emblematic novel of the 21st century, a lesson and an inspiration."—Judy Doenges, The Seattle Times
"[A] tour de force. It has overwhelming inventiveness and fun moments as well."—Donald Newlove, The Philadelphia Inquirer
"This is, ultimately, a novel of ideas, but one with a soul . . . There is much to admire in this novel, particularly the ingenious way in which reality is captured."—Scott Leibs, The San Diego Union-Tribune
"Full of intelligence, exacting analysis and supple prose . . . [a] magisterial storybook."—Corey Mesler, The Commercial Appeal
"Powers' twin tales are rife with echoes and allusions that reinforce their shared concern with the ways in which we reinvent our worlds."—Ralph Rugoff, LA Weekly
"Superb . . . perhaps [Powers'] greatest novel . . . Nearly every page of Powers' astonishing book has stunning ideas that will force you to re-evaluate everything you thought you knew about these subjects, and the implications you never imagined."—Steven Moore, The Newark Star-Ledger
"Powers displays his trademark intellectual richness . . . His prose makes technology sing and music compute."—Michael Harris, The Los Angeles Times
About the Author
From The Washington Post
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
1Years later, when she surfaced again, Adie Klarpol couldn't say just how she'd pictured the place. Couldn't even begin to draw what she'd imagined. Some subterranean confection of dripped stone, swarming with blind cave newts. A spelunker's scale model Carlsbad. Summer dacha of the Mountain King.The Cavern, Stevie had called it. Stevie Spiegel, phoning her up out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, after years of their thinking one another dead, when they thought of each other at all. The Cavern. A name that formed every shape in her mind except its own.She had not placed him on the phone. It's Steve, he said. And still, she was anywhere.Adie fumbled with the handset in the dark. She struggled backward, upstream, toward a year when an a capella Steve might have meant something. Steve. You know: the twelfth most common name for American males between the ages of twenty-four and thirty-eight?Steve Spiegel, he repeated, hurt by her confusion. Madison? Your housemate and collaborator? Mahler Haus? Don't tell me: you've torched your entire past.A vision of herself at twenty-one congealed in front of her, like the Virgin come to taunt Slavic schoolchildren. Recollection swamped her carefully packed sandbags. Steve Spiegel. The three of them had planned to live the rest of their lives together, once. He, she, and the man who'd live long enough to become Adie's ex-husband.Jesus! Stevie. Her voice skidded away from her, a gypsum imitation of pleasure's bronze. Stevie. What on earth have you been doing with yourself?Doing ... ? Adie, my love. You still make life sound like a summer camp craft project.It isn't?No, you decorative little dauber. It is not. Life is a double-blind, controlled placebo experiment. Has middle age taught you nothing?Hah. I knew that at twenty. You were the one in denial.Tag-team remembrance dissolved the years between them. OK, the gaps and rifts. OK, all the expended selves that would never again fit into the rag box of a single curriculum vitae.Adie. Ade. You busy these days? I thought we might be able to hook up.Outside her loft, the stink of singed oil and rotting vegetables settled. Car alarms clear down to the Battery sounded the predawn call to prayer. She cradled the phone under her chin, a fiddler between reels.Steve, it's kind of late ... She hoisted the guillotine window above her futon, its counterweights long ago lost at the bottom of the sash's well. She crawled out onto her fire hazard of a fire escape, adopting her favorite phone crouch, rocking on her haunches, her lumbar pressed to the rose brick.Jesus Christ, he said. I am so sorry. Entirely forgot the time difference. What is it out there: like after one?I mean, it's a little late for reunions, isn't it?Missing the whole point, the sole purpose of reunions, their sad celebration of perpetual too-lateness, the basic one-step-behindhood of existence.Oh, I don't want a reunion, Ade. I just want you.She laughed him off and they pressed on. They made the obligatory exchange of hostages, each giving over the short versions of their overland passage across the intervening decade.Seattle, he told her. Can you believe it? Your doltish poet friend, the one who used to spout "Sunday Morning" until late Monday night. Supporting the computer industry's insidious plan for world domination.Still lower Manhattan, she replied. Your washed-up watercolorist. Currently supporting the wall of my crumbling apartment building with the small of my back.Surprised? he asked.About ... ?About where we've landed?Nobody lands, she said. So how is the world of software?It's the oddest thing, Ade. Ade: as if they still knew each other. You know, I lied to get into this business in the first place. Told them I knew C++ when I didn't know it from B-- --. But it turns out, I know this stuff in my sleep. Born to it. Code is everything I thought poetry was, back when we were in school. Clean, expressive, urgent, all-encompassing. Fourteen lines can open up to fill the available universe.Different kind of sonnet, though, right? Different rhyme scheme?I don't know. Sometimes you gotta wonder.Wonder, in fact, was why he'd called. He'd come to rest in a moist den of pine on a twisty black macadam road looking out over Puget Sound. He was coding for a start-up called the Realization Lab, the latest tendril of that runaway high-tech success story TeraSys. But the RL was still experimental, more of a tax write-off than a source of any near-term revenue.TeraSys? You mean you work for that little Boy Billionaire?Indirectly, he laughed. And they're all boy billionaires out here.What does your building look like?What do you mean? My building, building? What does that have to do with anything?I'm trying to visualize where you are. You're calling from work, aren't you?I ... well, I guess I am.William Butler Spiegel! The man who swore he'd never do anything more serious than wait on tables, so as not to compromise his muse. Still in his office in the middle of the night.Middle ... ? Out here, we're usually just getting started around 10 p.m.Just tell me where you are. OK, look: I'll start. I'm squatting in my undershirt out on a black wrought-iron grille about twenty feet above the exhaust fan of the kitchen of a pasta dive ...He played along, the stakes high. Khaki shorts and a green raglan T-shirt. Kicked back in a molded plastic office chair in the middle of a ... well ... redwood-and-cedar kind of thing. Lots of river stone. Local materials.Very tasteful, they declared in unison. Old shtick, recovered from a dozen lost lives ago.Geez, I don't know. What does my building look like? I've never really thought about it, Adie.Come on, poet. Look around you. Walk me through the front door.Hmm. Let's see. Maybe 10,000 square feet of usable floor, all on a single story. Lots of brick and earth tones. A maze of little cubicles made out of those tan-fabric-lined divider things. There's a nice little sunken atrium and such. A ton of vegetation per cubic liter. Big panoramic expanse of passive-solar smart window looking out at Rainier, on the ventral side.I see. Kind of a futuristic forest ranger's roost.Sure. Why not? You'll love it.Hang on. You? As in me ... ?He slowed and unfolded. We're putting together a prototype immersion environment we're calling the Cavern. Computer-Assisted Virtual Environ--Look, Adie. I'm not going to describe this thing to you over the phone. You just have to come see it.Sure, Steve. I'll be out in an hour.How about a week from next Tuesday? For a no-obligations site visit. All expenses paid.Oh. Oh God. You told them I knew C++?Worse. I told them I knew the greatest illustrator since representational art self-destructed.Illustrator, Stevie? How tasteful. Haven't lost your knack for words, I see.Nothing had changed in him. He was still that kid of twenty, compelled to round up and protect everything he thought he loved. A mini-Moses, still shepherding around the dream of starting an artist's colony where he could gather all those who needed a hideout from the real world. His voice alone was proof, if Adie ever needed it: no one abandons his first survival kit. The most we ever do is upgrade the splints.You're exactly what the project is looking for, Adie. We can make these incredible digital circus animals, and we can get them to jump through any hoop imaginable. We just need someone who can draw the hoops.I don't get it, Stevie. Don't get it at all.We're all coders and chrome monkeys. A bunch of logic monsters, trying to make walk-in, graphical worlds. We need someone who can see.Know how I picture it out there? Open-toe sandals made out of silicon. Fuzzy-faced, bicycling Boeing executives. Tofu-eating knowledge engineers and multiply-pierced, purple-frosted meth heads waiting next to each other on the curb for the Walk light.See? You know what the place looks like before you've even seen it. I told the team how you used to do those Draw-the-Pirate tests as a kid and fix all the original's errors. I showed them that ARTFORUM sidebar. The reviews of your SoHo show in '79 ...Oh God, Stevie. That's ancient history.Oh, I went further back than that. I showed them my color slide of your huge acrylic group portrait of us. The one that won the university painting prize ... ?How dare you. I hate you.I told them about the award controversy. How one of the judges thought you were using projection? How he refused to believe that you'd actually freehanded ...Steven. We were children then. You don't have to fly a stranger across the continent just to find someone who can draw. Courtroom portraitists are a dollar ninety-eight a square yard. Besides, I already have a life.You're not a stranger, Ade. He sounded hurt. That's what's so perfect about this. You don't have to stop painting. Just come out here and do what you--Steve. You have the wrong person. I don't do ... I'm not painting anymore.Silence pinged off the far coast, full duplex.Did something happen? he asked.Tons happened. Oh, all my parts are still intact, if that's what you mean. It's just that painting's over. No great loss, I assure you.Loss? Adie! How can you say that? What ... what are you doing, then?About what? Oh. You mean for work? I freelance. Commercial stuff. Fliers and the like. Book jackets.You'll do a book jacket but you won't ... ?Won't do original work. I have no problem with designing for a living. Copy and paste. All the pastel coffee mugs and cartoon cars that you want. But Art's done.Adie. If you can still make ... Do you see? This would be a chance to do something completely ...Sounds like you're looking for somebody else, Stevie. For the greatest illustrator since representation self-destructed.Well, have it your way. Something in his voice said: You always did. But do me a favor, Adie? Just make sure that you see this thing once before you die.The sentence jumped out at her, from a place she could not make out. The sound of the words, their roll, their order. See this thing once, before you die. The strange familiarity of the invitation caught her ear, if not yet her eyes.Put it that way, she heard herself mouth, I wouldn't mind.Sure, he said. He'd never asked for anything but the chance to save her. Whenever you like. Preferably after 10 p.m.The hard rose building brick pressed up against the small of her back. From a flight and a half up above night's fire escape where she sat, she watched herself say, How about a week from next Tuesday, then? On you.Copyright © 2000 by Richard Powers
Product details
- Publisher : Farrar, Straus and Giroux; First Edition (June 2, 2000)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 415 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0374234612
- ISBN-13 : 978-0374234614
- Item Weight : 1.6 pounds
- Dimensions : 6.25 x 1.25 x 9.25 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #1,979,153 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #69,013 in Suspense Thrillers
- #81,161 in Literary Fiction (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
About the author
Discover more of the author’s books, see similar authors, read author blogs and more
Customer reviews
Customer Reviews, including Product Star Ratings help customers to learn more about the product and decide whether it is the right product for them.
To calculate the overall star rating and percentage breakdown by star, we don’t use a simple average. Instead, our system considers things like how recent a review is and if the reviewer bought the item on Amazon. It also analyzed reviews to verify trustworthiness.
Learn more how customers reviews work on Amazon-
Top reviews
Top reviews from the United States
There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later.
It could be argued that I'm simply not smart enough to get how good it really is, and I wouldn't debate that. I will say I'm smart enough to see what a luxuriant virtuoso the man is. The story interweaves via rich, vertiginous artistry the plight of a group of virtual reality engineers in Seattle with the much more serious plight of an American hostage in the war-torn Middle East. Powers' writing is uncannily lustrous, lending even the most innocuous of subjects (crayons or potted plants) a drenching layer of curious import, and making out of the truly menacing (beatings, kidnappings, ambiguous political upheavals) something clean and transient.
Although I liked "Plowing the Dark," I'll readily admit I didn't fully get the whole thing, either. For the first time since my heady college days I found myself re-reading and re-reading entire passages in a book, simply because the meaning was too tightly sown to penetrate. I could see Powers' forest just fine (it's hard not to), but I never got a clear picture of some of its trees. There's really not much to the heart of the book, and Powers understandably spends only a few (slightly sentimental) moments dissecting that heart. The real interest here is in the rest of the story's body, the fibrous nerves, the semi-solids of its life force, the ingrown hairs, crooked scars, and open pores of every character and nuance surrounding its steadily beating core.
As such, much of the book feels a bit repetitive, and even unnecessary. "Ah, but when has art ever been necessary?" asks Powers, over and over again. And each time, it seems like he has a different answer. Since over half of the book concerns an artist (Adie Klarpol) who is working with some nerdy technoids on the VR room, the book has a lot to say on the function of art, but the truest (most potent) answer comes at the conclusion of the work, the final moments of the hostage's story, the novel's denoument a depiction of one of the simplest and most profound kinds of art.
In spite of Powers' elegance and the book's beauty, the whole thing is a bit long-winded. And although I applaud his effort to spin together the two contrasting storylines, I also have to say it doesn't really work. At its most crucial moment, when Adie Klarpol and the hostage find their life lines intersecting, Powers becomes his most obtuse. Perhaps he was simply worried that the almost magical realism of the moment might not jive with either the digitally fabricated realism of the one story or the painfully true realism of the other. In any case, the moment doesn't work, and its failure is as evident in the nuts and bolts of the plot as it is in the breezy and incomprehensible writing used to describe it.
Even with this kind of error soiling the story, the book is still an amazing read, a tribute to the time-tested struggle of imagination versus concrete experience. Just as Adie and company string their ones and zeros into an approximation of man's ugliest worlds and most gorgeous fantasies, so does Powers string together hopes and despairs into something that is amazing to read, even if it's not nearly as easy to understand.
The writer has talent, but needs more self control of his keyboard fingers and a better editor.
It was hard to read but I couldn't put it down.
I thought I knew the characters but then there were others. Sometimes I could picture the setting and other times it was more alien than any at novel.
Many have said Richard Powers is brilliant that doesn't seem to be a good enough description of his writing.
Thank you for writing this.
Central to PLOWING THE DARK are its two main characters. Adie Klarpol is a once-aspiring artist who has settled for doing commercial art and design work in New York; Taimur Martin is the idealistic young Arab-American who leaves the States (and his girlfriend Gwen) to teach English in Lebanon and becomes an easy mark for kidnapping by members of the militant group Sacred Conflict. Adie is enticed to the Seattle suburbs and the Realization Lab by her ex-boyfriend and college mate Stevie Spiegel, and in her own way, Adie gradually becomes as much a captive of the addictive power of the VR room the Realization Lab folks call "the Cavern" as Taimur has become under the callous but watchful eyes of his radical captors. Each is a sort of hostage, each forced to create their own form of virtual reality in order to exist as humans. As Powers writes, "Every life held in its hands a bit of charcoal stick pressed from the ashes of the first campfire."
There is inevitably a connection between the world of art as co-opted (or partially replaced?) by virtual technology and the world of terrorism, and that link presents itself in the form of military application. As we now know so well, the differences between war games on an Xbox or PlayStation and the laser-guided smart bombs seen on CNN is vanishingly small. Picasso warns us of this perversion of artistic creation in the book's epigram page when he refers to the camoflage painting of military equipment, and Powers repeatedly reaches out to the period's current events (Tiananmen Square, the fall of the Berlin Wall, Kosovo) to remind us of those connections.
Throughout the novel, Powers riffs on the very notion of artistic creation. Adie is recruited into the Realization Lab for her artistic background and immediately sets about creating virtual reality "rooms" built from such classics as Rousseau's "The Dream" and Van Gogh's "Room at Arles." Her former husband Ted Zimmerman, a genius slowly wasting away from MS, struggles to create his life's symphonic masterpiece using synthesized music. Stevie and Ted revel in their memories of college when they could immerse themselves in classical music and poetry and hold off-campus soirees at the commune-style residence they pet named Mahler Haus. Taimur Martin, locked in a titanic struggle to maintain his sanity, creates entire life scenes and books in his head when he's not entertaining himself trying to form a circus act with cockroaches, relive his relationship with Gwen, the girl he left behind in the States, or absorbing the entire Koran a few sentences at a time.
The artistic question at the core of this book is embodied in the William Butler Yeats poem "Sailing to Byzantium." Powers offers his first clues to this before Page 1, citing lines from Auden's poem "In Memory of W.B. Yeats." Spiegel first falls headlong in love, and first decides to abandon his civil engineering studies for a poetry major, when he hears Adie reciting lines from the final stanza of Yeats's poem. Those lines, "Once out of nature I shall never take/My bodily form from any natural thing," foreshadow events to come in Adie's adult life. Twice later in the book, Powers draws upon the poem's opening line, "That is no country for old men." Byzantium also figures hugely not only in Taimur Martin's hostage situation but in Adie's decision for her ultimate virtual reality demonstration. Beneath these surface cross referents lie, of course, Yeats's ultimate question in "Sailing." Is the true hope of man, and his life's inspiration, the monuments he creates - the buildings, the art, the music, the literature? Are these the tools by which humanity can conquer death? And if this be so, what becomes of these devices and their power in an age of copying, sampling, synthesizing, and virtualizing? How to resolve this "sacred conflict?"
Finally, one cannot fail in reviewing Richard Powers to remark on the sheer poetry of his prose. To read Powers is to luxuriate under a natural Hawaiian waterfull of words and images and metaphors, to bathe oneself in the beauty of language crafted by a master. Every page glistens, every description sparkles, words careen about the page and off of each other like supercharged molecules. Read PLOWING THE DARK for its story and theme, or just read it for the pleasure of its craft.
Top reviews from other countries
Take a bunch of geek-like characters, place them in an IT company, TeraSys, in Silicon Valley, give them the funding to work on a virtual reality project - called the Cavern, have as author of a story underpinning this mix, Richard Powers and immediately you would realise that you are in for a mesmerising, intellectual journey. To make things even more interesting imagine having a parallel story with a kidnapped character, Taimur Martin, incarcerated in a dungeon thousand of miles away from the setting of the main story and you could be forgiven for broaching the novel with trepidation. Powers have two protagonists for the two stories and they are effectively trying to escape from former lives. Taimur is escaping from a defunct relationship, and Adie Klarpol is escaping a New York where she had experienced "bumping into a groper ... with each of his hands cupping one of her defenceless breast". Furthermore, lodged in among the two narratives are miniature portraits of a range characters working on the Cavern project. In brief, a number of characters come together to build a virtual reality chamber called the Cavern. The conceptual starting point of the Cavern is drawn from Henri Rousseau's painting The Dream.
Mr Powers has taken the age old saying: art imitating life and reversed it. In Plowing The Dark what we have is life imitating art. Powers does this by using the painting Rousseau's Dream to allow his main character Adie Klarpol to use IT to create a virtual garden of Eden from the painting. In one scene, Powers tells us that Adie: "stepped into this dream, recalling herself to things long forgotten, the way one remembered one's body after a sustained illness". In another scene Adie takes, "a friend, Stevie on a tour. They slowed in front of a couple, knotted together under the vines".
One of Powers purpose in this novel of ideas is to explore the role of the artist in society, the purpose of art, if any, and the ethical boundaries beyond which the artist should not thread. Following a discussion between two characters about a photograph of someone who appeared to have committed suicide by jumping from a window, Powers questions whether it was appropriate to take the photograph. He comments on one of the characters moral disgust about the technique and subject matter that produced the photograph. "Adie could only stare. Stare at the ungodly, omnipotent technique. Stare at the obscene subject matter, painted here as if it were the heart of tranquil eternity". The same theme occurs in the story of Taimur Martin, kidnapped somewhere in Beiruit. As Taimur crave for books to stimulate in mind, one of his down trodden kidnappers tells him: "In this world, books are not even a luxury. They are an obscene irrelevance".
Another idea that Powers explores in the novel is the relationship between reality and the imagination. The story alludes to and perhaps draws upon Plato's cave analogy. Indeed it provides a connection between the two stories. By having the action of one story played out in a virtual reality setting and the other in a dungeon, Powers asks us to consider how in new and extreme situations we would deal with what is real and how we would draw on our imagination to anchor us in the reality of our situation.
The novel's narrative is highly intertextual; it proceeds by means of references and allusion to other works of art and significant cultural events. Along with a style that was vague and esoteric, the intertextual narrative made for a difficult read. Plowing The Dark is a novel that I could only take in small doses. It demands high levels of concentration, it requires the reader to bring some knowledge of high art to the reading, and the reader must be able to grasp at least some of the narrative allusions in order to understand and appreciate it.
I found neither of the stories gripping but what kept me engaged was a sort of intellectual exercise in trying to work out the ideas Powers were exploring. If you like reading the novel of ideas then you will find Plowing The Dark very interesting. If you are looking for a gripping story with character development and a familiar setting then you will be disappointed. I struggled about whether to award 3 or 4 stars to the novel but decided to give it 4 stars because as a work of artistic imagination and creation the novel is perhaps second to none.