One of the most unusual things about Hank Green's 2018 novel An Absolutely Remarkable Thing is that the book is not a comedy. At its core, An Absolutely Remarkable Thing is a very straight-faced, high-concept science fiction story charting humanity's first-contact with an alien intelligence, and the social and political upheaval this event brings. As a result, as is often the case with other stories in this genre, the driving element of Green's plot is a very carefully imagined examination of how the contemporary world might react to the arrival of something that by its basic nature requires we rethink our place in the universe.
However, what Green understands about this material is that first-contact stories thrive not by their realism, but by their absurdity. As a genre, alien first-contact narratives derive much of their tension from how they depict an otherwise realistic world reacting to the arrival of something that defies all conventional notions of reality. Because of this, regardless of the nature and intent of the alien visitors who appear in these stories, the focus of such a narrative is not really the alien beings themselves, but rather how the human characters in the story do (and do not) react to these beings.
It's for this reason that the bizarre concept behind An Absolutely Remarkable Thing is so impressive. In effect, this is a novel in which an extraterrestrial intelligence chooses to make first contact with humanity by, of all things, indirectly arranging for the creation of a YouTube video that triggers a worldwide cultural movement. This material could have been played off as a farce--a satire of contemporary social media and the constant need to "go viral." Yet the book thrives because Green steadfastly refuses to view his story as a joke. Instead, he takes a premise that initially seems funny (aliens making first-contact with humanity via YouTube), then absurd, and then slowly allows this narrative to morph into something deeper: a portrait of both the potentials and limitations of social media as a communication device, as well as a chilling critique of the cults of personality that develop within these platforms by design.
An Absolutely Remarkable Thing (Summary)
The main character of An Absolutely Remarkable Thing is the awkwardly named April May, a 23-year old college graduate with a degree in graphic design who, at the start of the novel, is working at a small tech startup in New York. Late one evening while on her way home to the apartment she shares with her girlfriend, Maya, April stumbles across a large metallic structure standing imposingly on the sidewalk--a massive ten-foot-tall robot statue wearing what she describes as "samurai armor." Assuming this statue to be yet another example of New York's numerous avant-garde art installations, April very nearly ignores it before feeling guilt at her own lack of cultural engagement. Despite being an artist herself, she soon realizes just how close she came to ignoring an object that is (as she puts it) an "absolutely perfect and remarkable thing." (p.4) As she says to the reader in this moment:
I'm an artist working way too hard at a deeply uninteresting job to pay way too much in rent so I can stay in this place--so that I can remain immersed in one of the most creative and influential cultures on earth. Here in the middle of the sidewalk is a piece of art that was a massive undertaking, an installation that the artist worked on, possibly for years, to make people stop and look and consider. And here I am, hardened by big-city life and mentally drained by hours of pixel pushing, not even giving something so magnificent a second glance. (p.5)
Due to this self-reflection, April ends up calling a friend of hers, an acquaintance from college named Andy Skampt who runs a moderately (un)successful YouTube channel. Despite the late hour, Andy soon shows up with a camera and some lighting equipment, and together the two film a quick video of this statue which they humorously dub "Carl." In a line that becomes oddly prophetic for the story that follows, April describes to Andy's viewers the possible intension of Carl's unknown creator by saying of this statue and of the surrealism she feels gazing at it:
His icy stare is somehow comforting, it's like, look, none of us has our lives figured out... not even this ten-foot-tall metal warrior. The weight of life getting you down? Don't worry... you're insignificant! Do I feel safer with him watching over me? I do not! But maybe safety isn't what it's all about!" (p.14)
Yet the next day, April awakes to discover that the video she and Andy have made has gone viral overnight, and that they both now have so much money in ad revenue and TV licensing deals that they can quit their jobs and pay off their student loans. More unexpectedly however is that it turns out that statues just like the one April stumbled across the night before have appeared spontaneously in every major city on Earth, with all nearby security cameras mysteriously cutting to static at the exact moment they arrive.
As a result, April and Andy soon find themselves at the center of a growing media spotlight--it being clear at this point that there is more to the "Carls" (as these statues are now inevitably called) than even an impressively orchestrated marketing campaign. When it's discovered that the Carls are composed of a previously unknown substance that defies even the most basic laws of thermodynamics, the extraterrestrial origins of these structures become irrefutable.
Bewildered by their newfound fame and influence, April and Andy do the one thing their degrees as graphic designers trained them for: they begin to create a "brand" for the Carls and the developing mystery of their origins. As the world reacts in turmoil to the Carls' sudden arrival on Earth, April does her best to provide a voice of reason, using her newfound platform to do what she thinks is most necessary, which is to draw attention to what an amazing moment in history this event represents.
All the while, evidence of an invisible entity exerting an influence over various institutions of society begins slowly manifesting. Odd and apparently random typos begin appearing in Wikipedia pages that cannot be corrected, while later on all existent recordings of well-known pop songs have their lyrics changed in bizarre and seemingly nonsensical ways. Most unsettling of all is that all over the world people begin having the same extraordinarily vivid dream--a dream in which they find themselves in a bland office building containing a massive 30-foot version of a Carl statue, and are then asked by a dispassionate robot sitting behind a desk for a "passcode" before they awake with a start.
Whatever they are, the Carls seem to have a plan for humanity that they are actively bringing to fruition. Consequently, as their original discoverer, April soon finds herself in a very public role that she cannot willfully abandon, even as she begins slowly questioning what the consequences of playing that role may be.
Thoughts on the Story
As with many story elements in An Absolutely Remarkable Thing, Green handles this initially absurd concept in a way that soon reveals it to have far more nuance than was otherwise apparent. While first dismissed by April and Maya, Andy's reasoning behind wanting to use this class project to market "Bubble Bum" eventually shows not only the depth with which he cares about the craft of marketing, but also the underlying nature of advertising, and what the creation of a "brand" entails. When making his case to April and Maya, Andy says:
"It's easy to make something cool look cool, that's why everyone picks cool things. Ultimately, though, cool is always going to be boring. What if we can make something dumb look amazing? Something unmarketable, awesome? That's a real challenge. That takes real skill. Let's show real skill." (p.6)
In the moment, April very overtly brings up this anecdote as a method of demonstrating how there is clearly more to Andy than his outwardly goofy manner suggests. Just as with April, Andy is a person who has earnestly devoted himself to his own particular brand of "art" (marketing), and so like all artists he uses his skills to draw his audience's attention to things they might otherwise ignore.
Yet, tangential to April's interpretation of this anecdote is a secondary level of meaning that An Absolutely Remarkable Thing gradually comes to explore as the plot develops. In marketing their fictional "Bubble Bum" product, April, Maya, and Andy don't so much communicate value to a hypothetical customer base, but instead demonstrate the way in which all media has the power to create the illusion of value where none exists--imparting meaning and intent to something that could very well be meaningless. As Andy himself almost directly points out in the above quote, no one should want to buy butt-flavored bubble gum, and so convincing an audience that such a product is somehow valuable is a task that requires (as he puts it) "real skill."
This manipulation of an audience--and more generally the question of when a work of art becomes a work of propaganda--is eventually the very issue that April finds herself contending with as An Absolutely Remarkable Thing progresses. After learning of the Carl statues' true origins, April and Andy quickly realize both the opportunity and responsibility that they have as the Carls' original discoverers. As such, the two set to work creating a "brand" for April that will allow her to operate as a public figure who defines the Carls by association--a media personality who accepts the otherworldly nature of the Carls without fear or hostility, and consequently allows people to attribute to the Carls a human face and identity where none exists.
When describing her reasoning to the reader, April says of this choice:
We had to figure out what Carl's brand was, what my brand was, and how those identities would be a part of each other. We had to think realistically about the role I would play. I wasn't going to be the president. I wasn't going to be a national security or science expert. But how we defined me would be informed by how we imagined Carl. We decided that Carl represented power and the future and the "other." I would represent humanity and weakness and the world Before Carl. I would balance Carl. For all the "This is huge" and "OMG" freak-outs, I could be a balance. Just a small, unassuming civilian who was handling this new reality fine, so you shouldn't worry too much either. (p.70)
There's something inevitably surreal about the story that follows. As April is drawn into the vast industry of media personalities and advertising agencies that comprise the "attention economy," the Carls and their mysterious origins and motives are slowly eclipsed by the pressures that she faces in the public eye. Thanks to the help of Andy's father (a lawyer who conveniently works in the entertainment industry), April and Andy quickly end up in business with a high profile Hollywood agent who coaches April on how to best manage her social media presence and public image. Soon, even in spite of her altruistic motives, April's life is dominated by TV appearances, book deals, and (most importantly) televised debates with a rival pundit known as Peter Petrawicki--a right-wing commentator whose own reactionary politics compel him to call for the immediate destruction of the Carls by any means necessary.
Meanwhile, the Carls continue to act in strange and increasingly nonsensical ways. While Peter Petrawicki insists that the Carls are hostile, and April in contrast insists that these utterly immobile structures must instead be benevolent emissaries of an alien civilization, reality in turn slowly reveals itself to be something even stranger. As bizarrely random "clues" to the Carls' mission on Earth continue to appear, a kind of planet-wide scavenger hunt develops, with both April and Peter Petrawicki leading two opposing movements which race to uncover the truth of the Carls' purpose on Earth. Through all of this, April slowly finds herself drawn further and further from the life she once led, with the brand and personality that she has been required to construct gradually consuming all aspects of her identity.
Conclusion
If the book were to be distilled into a singular thesis statement, perhaps it would be that when everyone is required to present themselves as simplified brands and social media personalities, then even ten-foot-tall robot statues that appear on the sidewalk at 3:00 AM might be mysteries which people (ironically) forget to contemplate.