Response: "Radioactive"

(Source.)

It took me three nights to realize that the cover and spine of Lauren Redniss’ Radioactive glow in the dark. For the first two nights, I lacked the ambition to climb out of bed and figure out what the heck was lighting up my desk. (I figured that the lights from my router were reflecting on something.) Finally, on night three, I got up to investigate.

And the book was glowing. And I was really impressed.

Radioactive is the sort of book I would love to write, mostly because it takes a concept and just owns it. Radium glows? Make the book glow. Radium-205 is the most stable isotope? Make the book 205 pages. (Note: That's speculation on my part. But it would be cool if that was her intent.) Need an interesting font? So make one, and base it on the font of manuscripts you used for your research. Much of the enjoyment that I got out of Radioactive came from these Easter egg-like surprises. The text and design interact in a number of interesting ways:

- At the beginning of the book, Pierre’s story occupies the left-hand pages, while Marie’s occupies the right. Then, when they meet on p. 26, this pattern starts to dissolve; their quotes are placed on the same pages, and they begin appearing in color illustrations together. I thought this was a really clever visual gesture to how their early lives ran parallel to one another before finally converging in a romantic relationship.

- Redniss also makes great use of empty space and font size/color to draw attention to certain phrases. On the otherwise black-and-white p. 26, the word “colorific” jumps out in a rainbow. And on p. 27, we have a quote from Marie about the beginning of her friendship with Pierre: “We began a conversation which soon became friendly.” This phrase appears in red and is larger than the preceding text. More importantly, though, it is set apart—a line in the background illustration separates it out, and the huge empty space below the quote draws the eye right in.

- The placement of the text creates certain effects, as well. Check out the way that the text moves between Marie’s arms on p. 19, slowing down the reader’s pace. I thought that the sequence on pp. 125-127 was also really cool, as Redniss asks: “Who wouldn’t rejoice in the union of Paul and Marie—a coupling of giants?” Two pages later, we get this isolated phrase: “His wife.” (Being the very serious literary critic that I am, I’d call that an “OMG” moment.)

That’s not to say that the text placement was perfect, though. For example, see p. 53, where white text over a light background makes for tricky reading. It goes to show how mindful a writer/designer has to be of every little detail for a book like this.

- Finally, text shape and spacing. Note the wavy shape of the text on p. 64, when Redniss is telling the dancer’s story, and how the lines radiate like light from the figures' bodies on p. 123. I also appreciated the way that the paragraph spacing increased and decreased, either slowing down or speeding up the reading experience. Line breaks also contributed to these effects.

As for the drawings themselves... I’m really torn about them. Though their style is not to my taste, I thought the majority of them were effective—this is “a tale of love and fallout,” after all, so the twisted, semi-grotesque figures are fitting. I loved the use of negatives to create a glowing effect (the couple on page 40-41 and the carrying away of Pierre’s body on pp. 100-101 were particularly nice). On the other hand, some of the art just distracted me from the story. Who is the man on p. 26, and why does he have three eyes, two noses, and two mouths? Why do people randomly switch from clothed to naked from page to page? And what am I looking at on pp. 98-99, given that the coachman wouldn’t be riding the horse?

Frankly, I found myself really wanting fewer drawings and more photographs in Radioactive, such as those on pp. 110-111 and pp. 156-157. They worked nicely to ground this fantastical book in reality. I mean, we didn’t even get a photo of Pierre!

Pierre Curie, seen here channeling the Dos Equis guy. (Source.)

Now, since I’ve spent so much time talking design, I’ll say a word about the story itself:

I connected best with Radioactive when it focused on Marie and Pierre. (The latter of whom got the short end of the storytelling stick here, I think. Marie seems more well-developed as a character, and not just because she lives longer.) Some of the non-chronological cutaways from their tale, like the story of Irving S. Lowen, felt very abrupt and broke the mood of the book for me. It’s not that I didn’t want the extra context of the Curies' radioactive legacy. The structure just didn’t feel quite right. Maybe if the book had opened with a hint toward the future of radium and then jumped back to the Curies, the back-and-forth structure would have felt more established and natural.

Something to consider: Would this story (in its current form) have worked as plain text?... I think not!


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ETA: In advance of reading The Devil in the White City, I just noticed that there is a H.H. Holmes documentary up on Netflix. It's called "H.H. Holmes: America's First Serial Killer." I'm not sure if it's any good -- I'm waiting to watch it until after I finish the book -- but it might be worth checking out.