‘The Immortalists’ (2018) examines life through lens of death

Chloe Benjamin’s “The Immortalists” (2018) has a spicy premise – four young siblings in 1960s New York City learn the dates of their deaths from a fortune teller – but this is a trick to get you in the door. You’ll be glad you did though, as the author – in her second novel – examines death’s impact on life via four bildungsroman segments.

They progress chronologically, and although the Gold siblings appear in each others’ stories, it’s a handoff in order of their predicted death dates, from Simon to Klara to Daniel to Varya.

The premise doubles as a made-for-book-club question: Would you live your life differently if you knew the date of your death? Interestingly, the Golds do not fret over their death dates on a page-by-page basis, but they are aware of what the fortune teller predicted. So at the end of the sections, that date approaches, leading to automatic drama – and also some frustration for the reader.

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Fate or free will? (Spoilers)

(SPOILERS FOLLOW.)

Klara and Daniel are in total control of their destinies on their fateful dates; their actions lead to their deaths, as they themselves could’ve predicted. Klara outright kills herself and Daniel commits suicide-by-recklessness.

But it’s a headier problem when you consider the first segment: Simon dies of AIDS. This is due to his actions, yes, but the exact date is not something he can control. Varya will live a long life, the fortune teller says, and the novel wraps before we get to that future date.

So if you came to “The Immortalists” hoping for a “Terminator”-esque dive into the push and pull between fate and free will, you won’t get it. Benjamin doesn’t even hint that Klara or Daniel are propelled by outside forces, so the best we could conclude is that fate and free will are the same thing – that they will behave that way whether they know their death date or not. It’s not a satisfying answer, but it’s all the novel provides.

(END OF SPOILERS.)

Extended family drama

If you’re reading “The Immortalists” for metaphysics, you made a mistake. The premise is merely a hook – like how the jumping to different time periods is the hook of “This Is Us.” The real purpose of that TV show and this book is to explore related characters as they make decisions, driven by their personalities and proclivities, dreams and hang-ups.

This extended-family drama dips into wider issues like Judaism (or lapsed Judaism), big moments in history (the AIDS crisis, plus a fiery Thanksgiving-table debate about the Iraq war) and aging. And, related to that last theme, the difference between existing and living.

Each of the four sections have something special to offer but are simultaneously flawed. This is an excellent sophomore effort by Benjamin, but at times we’re reminded it’s a sophomore effort. Simon’s section is an unsurprising portrayal of how a promiscuous gay man’s life might go in San Francisco at the turn of the 1980s. But I don’t read much about that subject, so even in its predictability, it makes an impact.

Klara’s section comes the closest to literary poetry, slightly evoking “The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay” as her day-to-day problems (she lives out of an RV and her life savings are in a box) are subsumed by the magic of her day job: She’s an illusionist. Her passion for the craft is rooted in a same-named grandmother she never knew, who invented a trapeze trick where she hangs by her teeth.

This is the section I wanted to like most, and it often delivers as it tiptoes into secrets about magic. But it’s also the section I come down hardest on. Benjamin can’t figure out how to make Klara’s mental-health issues poignant while simultaneously hiding them from the reader. Klara is hiding them from us, so that’s fair enough, but the author misses an opportunity.

Life versus existence

Daniel is the straight-laced one, and then Varya is – in the author’s eyes – too straight-laced. Benjamin lets her biases come through, most clearly in the conclusive Varya segment. It makes me want to argue with her but also praise her for being honest and consistent.

“The Illusionists’ ” pattern becomes clear: The characters who die the youngest lived the hardest. Those who die later lived cautiously. Benjamin’s glorifying of the former approach is evident.

She emphasizes the importance of finding romantic love, with Simon’s tale being of the whirlwind variety. Interestingly, she skips over the courtship segment in Klara’s yarn, quickly jumping to the second way in which she partners with Raj: She’s the talent, but he’s the wizard who moves her act to Vegas so they can make big bucks.

Daniel’s story starts with a meet-cute with Mira in college and leads into a contented marriage. Then Varya’s tale strikes a melancholy tone as the author critiques her for being obsessed with her work (in an anti-aging laboratory, working with primates) and for not settling down with a husband.

In one paragraph, Varya says outsiders can’t understand the pleasure she takes in a predictable routine. In this way, Benjamin tips her cap to the theory that Varya is different rather than damaged. But a reader gets a sense she’d be unable to write about an asexual, celibate person’s pleasures in life because she would never understand them.

Sibling similarities and differences

Obviously, Varya is Benjamin’s fictional creation, and Varya can be filled with regrets about not having a spouse. I’m just saying it’s clear all four of these siblings come from the same author.

That should perhaps stand as an observation more so than a criticism, though, because the links between these superficially different siblings are the understated point of “The Immortalists.” They try to be different, but are they actually the same, deep down?

Certainly, they branch from the same starting point, not only in the literal sense of having the same parents and growing up together and all going to the fortune teller. They bounce off each other like parts of an atom. Their physical distance, being separated by the width of the USA, doesn’t dilute their impact on each other.

Despite the hooky premise, “The Immortalists” leans toward familiar lessons rather than daring outlooks on life. (Even the daring siblings, Simon and Klara, are daring in the tradition of “being their own person.”) Benjamin doesn’t display radical thinking, but her research into the 1980s AIDS epidemic, magicians’ tricks and aging research are thorough.

And honesty about her personal values goes a long way, even if those values fall within the status quo. These four siblings read as real people, and represent real slices of history and questions many people struggle with. It’s just that fate-or-free-will is not one of those questions.