Longlisted for the 2021 Booker Prize.

At first I wasn’t sure about this book, but it grew on me a lot and the ending was rather moving. The main character, Theo, is an astrobiologist who has lost his wife to a car accident. He’s been left as a single parent to Robin, a very clever nine year old with unspecified emotional and learning difficulties, and he’s struggling with rearing Robbie whilst juggling a career trying to find life on other planets. His wife, Alyssa, was an amazing animal rights activist and legislator, and Robbie has inherited this love of animals, at a time when the planet is in crisis mode and humans are responsible for endangering most other species on Earth. Any small fact about this crisis sparks terrible emotional struggles for Robbie, and Theo is at a loss with how to protect his son and keep him on a stable footing. Then he hears about some experimental neurofeedback therapy which might help Robbie and keep him off antidepressants, he jumps at the chance. This isn’t exactly our world, but it’s clearly closely related to it, and almost dystopian. A fascinating mixture of science, science fiction and alternate reality.

This book is beautiful and tragic, strange and impressive. At first I didn’t like the way Robin’s speech was formatted, or how we seemed to be jumping planets, and I found these things offputting, but I got used to them. Theo makes up planets where other life is found and presents them to Robin as bed time stories, I found this bit really interesting once it developed. I was expecting a novel about the relationship between father and son, but I also found a work of environmental fiction, a cry to protect other forms of life and to realise how precious a commodity life is in the wider universe as an argument for how much more we should value it right here, and how much it is ignored right now.

My thanks to #NetGalley and the publisher, William Heinemann, for an advanced reader copy in exchange for an honest review.

This was a beautifully written book, and I definitely understand why many people have given it rave reviews. I did enjoy it, but unfortunately clearly not as much as everyone else.

It’s about Theo, an astobiologist searching for life on other planets, and his behaviourally-challenged son, Robin. Robin is struggling in school and there is a constant insistence from authorities that he must begin taking psychoactive drugs to help regulate his moods. Theo opposes this and instead explores an alternative, experimental method…

I’m going to be honest; for me personally the first 30% of this novel dragged. I think this is because there was so much emphasis on the description of the various potential life on other planets without full context. I found this really confusing and found myself skipping paragraphs, wondering where the story was going. It only really began picking up when Robin began his therapy sessions, and that’s when the novel became remarkably better.

I appreciated the parallels between this story and real life; the planet becoming more unstable and the climate crisis beginning to take effect and people still not being aware to it, the appearance of the fictional versions of Greta Thunberg and TED talks, the emphasis on comparatively trivial matters of politics and the Trump-esque President demanding a recount on the election and communicating through Twitter. It felt like a not-so-subtle commentary on the state of the planet as it is. I loved Robin’s zeal for environmental conservation. The reader can’t help but be drawn to the intense father-son relationship. For me, the rawness of this made me invested in both characters despite both of them frustrating me at different points of the book.

I also enjoyed all of the references to Philosophy and Buddhism - a small reference to the Four Immeasurables at the beginning ends up being a huge theme of the book despite never again being mentioned. Different ideas and practices (e.g. the meditation involved in Robin’s therapy) show strong Buddhist influences throughout the story, which I found really enriching. It’s exploration of metaphysics of mind from a philosophical standpoint was also a really interesting reading experience.

Overall, it was a gorgeous book and the ending was very emotional and bittersweet. Unfortunately though, I think there were too many examples used of other planets throughout, especially in that first 30% (which still sits too strongly in my mind despite improving later!).

A singularly strange and wonderful book, a tragic story of loss on a personal and also a human scale.

Theo is a scientist used to a methodical approach and tenacity, even when there is no way to verify his experiments looking for life on other planets.

First his wife, then his son, show him an unbounded compassion for the disintegrating life on earth, and lead the way to an understanding of life beyond logic.

The tenderness, the love and the pain for the state of the world come through so strongly, until Theo is left alone finally to piece together meaning from so much destruction.

Transformative and revealing, this books makes you think more deeply and pull your loved ones a little closer.

Thoughtful and wise. It was such a triumph. I learned so much. It was clever, insightful and written with sensitivity and kindness. A remarkable feat.

I really enjoyed the story of Theo the astrobiologist struggling to raise his son Robin who has behavioural issues. It is a moving and thought provoking story & I hope this book moves to the Booker shortlist as the writing is superb. My only issue was sometimes the descriptions of the planets were a bit too detailed.

This is a most intense, extraordinary book about a nine year old boy who is desperate to save the planet. His mother has died and his father is struggling to keep him at school and on an even keel. The chance to take part in an experimental therapy brings elation, fear and bewilderment. The writing is engaging, impactful and truly shocking.

I had to write this review as soon as I'd finished the book, as I was so moved. I don't think I'll ever come across a 9-yr old boy who talks or thinks in such an intelligent way as Robin, and the conversations he has with his dad Theo (an astrobiologist) are very profound. If you have an interest in the universe, space, life on other planets, and also nature, then you'll love this. If you don't have an interest, a bit like me, then you'll still love it because you'll end up wanting to run outside and study it all! A sad, deep, clever, enjoyable read.

Following the death of his wife two years ago, astrophysicist Theo is raising nine-year-old Robbie alone. Robbie fails to meet his school’s threshold for behavioural standards, and the recommended solution is psychoactive drugs. That is, until the wife’s male friend offers an experimental alternative.

Powers writes with evangelical zeal on the wonder of nature and the universe. At times, this comes across as heavy-handed. Then again, our unsustainable use of Earth’s resources is destroying the living world.

The renaming of real people and organisations, eg. Inga Alder for Greta Thunberg, seems unnecessary and, like the smear on a glass, draws attention to the writer, not the story.

Powers excels at portraying the government’s growing interference in science, the influence of the right-wing on policy, and the climate of fake news.

I usually have an issue with the use of italics in novels. However, here they serve a specific purpose and work well to guide the reader.

Impassioned and affecting.

My thanks to NetGalley and Penguin Random House for the ARC.

This is an impassioned novel, dealing with mighty subjects (the politics of an endangered unique planet) in a very near future which feels very much like almost our present. It does so through the story of a widowed astrobiologist and his nine year old son. Despite the undoubted interest of the issues explored and the knowledge imparted and embodied in the main characters (a narrator father looking for life in the universe, his troubled behavioural divergent son, and her iconic, dead environmental activist wife) the actual narrative developed around the father's search for a non-medicated solution to his child's problems was not for me.

I found the plot mechanics repetitive and the tone relentless, rather stern and didactic, whilst the actual drama left me weirdly cold as I did not really engage with the narrator's tribulations. The text is clearly a good summary of the problems facing our planet right now and that few of us seem to actually want to confront properly, from the populist philistinism of politicians and a steadily eroded democracy, to the ever-present dehumanising powerful media, to the plight of dying species and an endangered planet at large. Obviously the crucial problem which is treated as the conundrum and metaphor par excellence of our dismal situation is the growing number of angry, troubled children who seem to "need" to be medicated... Bewilderment at human ingenuity and ignorance, at the beauty and uniqueness of our world...

Thank you so much to Penguin Random House via NetGalley for the opportunity to read an advance copy of this topical novel.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publishers for an advanced copy of this book.

I absolutely loved this book - utterly captivating from start to finish. The writing is precise, considered, but hugely heartfelt. There's a tremendous amount of warmth for the characters and, considering the subject matter, there's a strong vein of humour throughout.

The relationship between Robbie and Theo is drawn with great specificity and sensitivity. Their journeys back to one an another, after the death of Robbie's mother, is beautifully told. I was moved on more than one occasion, especially by Theo's struggle to communicate with his son.

I found the lyrical descriptions of the planets they both visit captivating, and haunting. I've read a number of climate change novels, and often find them so laden with doom that it's almost impossible to keep reading. Richard Powers manages to balance the sense of looming catastrophe with a great deal of levity - the journeys to other planets are magical and transportive.

I found the last act of the novel really quite upsetting, unexpectedly so. Part of me wondered whether the denouement was entirely necessary. It felt a little more savage than the rest of the book, though I understand why the plot moves in the direction it does.

All in al, it more than earns its place on the Booker Longlist. It's a book I am sure I will return to, and one that lives long in the memory. I've not stopped thinking about it since I've finished it. A beautiful, utterly captivating, haunting work.

Firstly, thank you for selecting me for an early copy of this wonderful book - I got through it in under a week. Nonetheless, reading through the other reviews I'm noting a possible issue with the scientific references contained within its pages. However, as a feature writer for one of the world's leading scientific websites, I can assure you that any science-based passages are in their most basic terms and are, therefore, not in any way overwhelming. It is clear that these beautiful imaginations of alien planets are a metaphor for a parent of a special needs child desperately trying to find a world accepting of his son, Robin, who is on the Autism spectrum.

We watch as our protagonist, Theo Byrne, attempts to terraform the world around him for his child, coming to the slow realization that he must terraform his child with special needs to adapt to a cold and alien world that mostly limits the less-abled. And due to the harsh, clumsy old-fashioned therapeutics chemically coshing these kids, terraform is the right word here. With only a minute number of evolved treatments and technologies in the pipeline for these deserted children, making for a heartbreaking (and sometimes frustrating) read.

Through neglectful parenting, we see Robin's parents fighting for the rights of everything on the planet apart from disabled people. This is all done to the backdrop of human rights atrocities and breaches that go ignored - complicitly accepted by our avid animal rights campaigners. This common situational theme, veined throughout the book, also begs the question: why would the world treat animals as equal, sentient beings when it mostly has a hard job of accepting its fellow humans as equal, sentient beings? Particularly where said fellow humans warrant special needs.

And as Robin's behavior understandably becomes progressively worse after the death of his mother and the apparent lack of any cognitive or behavioral therapy, we see his father ignore these dangerous flags, preferring to blame an uncaring world. This is all done while claiming grade A parenting status by refusing chemical intervention or advice from any other person on the planet. A planet that becomes as starkly isolated and alien as the many fictional worlds Theo creates for his son every night.

This beautifully written book expertly explores the dichotomy of parenting an autistic child, well aware of the reality and ease most parents have accepted drug regimes into their young children's lives. Regimes that can, at times, supplant for one-on-one time and long-term therapy treatments. That's not to say these therapeutics are not sometimes warranted, but just how strong are the doses now being given to our children? Moreover, how aware of the world with no interest in updating antiquated therapies for these children is this mini Prozac nation? And even more importantly: just how aware is the world of these Adderall-subjugated children?

Power's writing is textured and emotional, as he takes us on an exploration of isolated worlds throughout an unforgiving and scientifically correct universe, full of chaos paradoxically standardized by algorithms.
Cleverly, it's these extraneous planets we see mirrored in Robin and his father - preferring to live in isolation, indifferent and unconnected in their ecosystem surrounded by potential, yet rejected, allies. A stunning read you'll be thinking about months after finishing.

Firstly I’d like to thank Cornerstone for my advanced copy of Bewilderment, which will be released on 21st September.

With a spot on the Booker Prize longlist and rights to a film adaptation sold before the book has even been released, Bewilderment’s success seems to be written in the stars. Richard Powers is an incredibly celebrated novelist, recipient of a MacArthur Fellowship, and Stanford professor. Bewilderment is his first novel since The Overstory won him the Pulitzer Prize in 2019.

While I’m unsure Powers needs the £50k Booker Prize money, I can see Bewilderment being shortlisted, and perhaps winning. When the longlist was announced, I was particularly interested in this book. It seemed to promise the vivid sense of place that comes with an ecological narrative, while integrating science and science fiction as core themes in the story. While it certainly accomplishes these things, I unfortunately found that the story didn’t entirely work for me.

At the core of Bewilderment is the relationship between astrobiologist Theo and his young son Robin. Over the course of the novel, Theo tries to balance the pressures of a successful academic career with raising a child alone since the untimely loss of his wife Alyssa (of course a far more interesting character than he). Robin, coming to terms with grief himself, is a very emotionally complex character, feeling things deeply and unpredictably. After a violent incident between Robin and a classmate, alongside an influx of what his school perceives as behavioural issues, Theo is encouraged to medicate or find therapy for his son. Eventually, Theo allows a friend of his deceased wife’s to use Robin in an experimental therapy trial.

Robin’s behaviour slowly begins to change, embodied in his approach to ecology. At first he is devastated and unable to reckon with his own emotions, but eventually he becomes a promising young activist, particularly palatable to the online masses. The strength of the story definitely lies in the dialogue. Robin’s dialogue specifically is formatted in an unusual way, italicised rather than in quotation marks, which I actually really liked; it felt emphasised, mirroring the way a child’s speech naturally lilts.

Early in the novel, the two listen to an audiobook of a classic sci-fi story. I won’t mention which, since it feels like a spoiler, though from the themes of experimental treatment in Bewilderment it may be an easy guess. From there, the story follows an entirely predictable trajectory, mirroring this novel pretty clearly, right to the unnecessarily bitter end. For me, Bewilderment didn’t feel original or experimental in the way a celebrated and prize-winning novel should, rather, it rehashes a storyline from the 1950s that I’m uncertain is still necessary in the same form in our contemporary world. I particularly find issue with the way Robin is presented as a loveable and ‘better’ child once he is ‘cured’ of his behavioural concerns; I’m unconvinced this is accomplished in an entirely compassionate way on Powers’ behalf.

Alongside meditations on the climate crisis and animal extinction, the story also follows parallel storylines of funding in the sciences, the pathetic plights of academia in the face of global crisis, and the ethics of raising a child when the world is so fragile, all in under 300 pages, with a writing style that is discreet and slow. The result is a confused and overcrowded story that I don’t think entirely worked.

Something I found deeply annoying was that Powers chose to set the story in our recognisable world, but would change very random details. At one point, Robin becomes obsessed with a young girl who goes viral online – a Scandinavian environmental activist with autism who wears her hair in plaits. While this is blatantly Greta Thunberg, Powers’ changes her name to Inga Alder, for no reason. Similarly, TEDTalks are changed to CODTalks (why????). These very random and baseless decisions detached me from the world of the story entirely.

Overall, while I can see why people love this story, I found it to be a bit shapeless, and that it didn’t really achieve the grandeur I felt it promised.

⭐⭐⭐

Bewildered is a fair description of how I am feeling having finished this book. I enjoyed the father-son relationship, the grief in losing the mother was well described and the climate change/frightening president added a current flavour to the tale. But I was lost by the astrobiology and the endless planets - I had to skim through these parts to get to the bits that hooked me.
So a book of two halves - I was all there for the human story but completely turned off by the astrobiology.

Richard Powers’ new novel is a retelling of Flowers Of Algernon for the early 21st century (and to be fair, Powers dies explicitly tip his hat to Daniel Keyes’ classic early on). It continues the ecological themes of The Overstory but adds a strong element of human drama as a widowed father struggles to cope with raising a son who comes with his own set of challenges, against a backdrop of the US (tbh, for all the protesting at doomed ecology that suffuses this book, the world outside North America might as well not exist) sliding into dystopian fascism. It’s a quick read, but a memorable one, with a central character that sticks in the mind.

'Bewilderment' was one of the top 3 books I wanted to read in 2021 and I was beyond thrilled to be approved to read an ARC thanks to NetGalley.

I was blown away by 'The Overstory' and had high hopes for Powers' latest. I was not disappointed. This is a remarkable novel. What stood out for me was the desperate sense of increasing panic regarding the state of the environment and the impact of climate change. It explores both the arrogance of humanity ironically while exploring its insignificance in the universe. This novel is timeous. While I was reading this the IPCC report on climate change was published. The impact of humanity on the environment is startling: with a 70% decline in the animal population in the last 50 years.

The writer explores these enormous issues through the close examination of the relationship between a father and his son. Theo is a young widowed father trying his best to look after his son, Robin, who struggles to conform to the school system. The exploration of the labelling of individuals and the need to medicate anyone who doesn't fit into what society decides is 'normal' is profound.

''I wanted to tell the man that everyone alive on this fluke little planet is on the spectrum. That is what a spectrum is. Iwanted to tell the man that life itself is a spectrum disorder, where each of us vibrated at some unique frequency in the continuous rainbow. Then I wanted to punch him. I suppose there is a name for that, too.''

This is a novel that is incredibly well structured. Not a word is wasted. It is wise. It is urgent. I can't wait to read a hard copy so that I can highlight all the beautiful quotations.

I whole-heartedly recommend this novel.

Richard Powers latest offering is a more human, ambitious, profoundly moving, genre defying novel that echoes, consolidates and moves on from The Overstory, a blend of science, fact and fiction. At its core is the incredible bond and love between a widowed father, astrobiologist at the University of Madison, Wisconsin, Theo Byrne, and his bright, kind, if emotionally volatile, troubled 9 year old son, Robin. Both are grieving the loss of wife and mother, birdwatcher Alyssa 'Aly', passionate environmentalist and activist, who died in a accident, still looming large in their lives. It is set in a U.S. in a near dystopic future, mirroring contemporary realities, with a populist unnamed President emulating Trump, in a world teetering under a host of issues, such as climate change and animal extinction, cuts in scientific research budgets, with a civil war averted merely because of the bewilderment of the population.

Theo is struggling to raise his son, Robin faces being thrown out of school that wants him medicated into becoming a more manageable student, something that Theo is against, there have been multiple 'explanations' of Robin's 'condition', including being on the spectrum, Theo feels that psychoactive drugs are not the answer. He takes Robin camping, the two of them captivated by the possibilities of life beyond earth, imagining and speculating about what could be on other planets. Theo ventures towards an experimental approach for Robin to help stabilise him, overseen by a friend of Aly's, a technique of using real time neural imaging and AI mediated feedback to help Robin manage his emotions and thought processes by replicating the more desired qualities of his mother, using her as a model template for behavioural training. This really helps Robin, he becomes an activist, campaigning and lobbying for what really matters.

I really felt for Theo when it came to responding to the innocent and idealistic Robin's bafflement at humanity's insanity and self destructiveness when it comes to the environment and the multitude of life that comprise our complex eco-systems, allowing the planet to reach such a crisis point. There is little in the way of answers to the eco-challenges we face on earth, this is a heartbreaking and despairing read in so many ways, but what shines in this novel is the depth and intimacy of Theo and Robin's father-son relationship, the nature of human consciousness, and the importance of all life on earth. I hope many readers do not get put off by the science in this book, because this is both thought provoking and inspiring, and I loved it. Highly recommended. Many thanks to the publisher for an ARC.

I'm not quite sure what to make of this book. I thought I would enjoy it much more.. Robin is a very different child, enormously intelligent with empathy for all beings and Theo his father desperate to protect him.
Very bittersweet.
I can understand why people will love this book but I couldn't quite click with it. Robin is a wonderful character, too old for his years. The experimental treatment I had major problems with too.
Well written and highly emotional

Beautiful book - the story seems small but it touches so many big themes: from grieve and dealing with loss, to politics and climate change and the special relationship between father and son.

Richard Power’s ‘The Overstory’ is one of my favourite novels. Telling the story of a forest through many protagonists trying to save it made me look at nature and trees completely differently. I will never pass a great specimen without offering up a silent prayer of thanks and gratitude. I was hoping that ‘Bewilderment’ might do the same for astrobiology but although I learned a lot about the subject, there was, for this reader anyway, too much information. The central story of a bereaved father and his son is very touching but the central tenet, reaching the afterlife through AI, was not totally convincing. Nevertheless, if this sounds like a harsh review it should be noted that I remain in awe of Powers- his erudition, writing and bravery to tackle new subjects.
Thank you NG for the opportunity to read this advance copy.

There’s a definite case to be made for Richard Powers to be one of the best novelists living and working today. Certainly, he’s often one of the most interesting. His novels cover an impressively wide array of subjects — from ecology to music to art to science — and he usually has something significant to say about all of them. His 2018 novel The Overstory, for example, is a remarkable work of eco-fiction and wholly deserved to win the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction that year.

And yet, as I read the description for Bewilderment, I have to admit to feeling a little wary — largely because it sounded a little close to Operation Wandering Soul, Powers’s rather mawkish and by his own admission least successful novel. But I needn’t have worried. It’s not as sentimental as Soul (although it teeters pretty close to it at times) and is as a whole a much better book.

That said, it does at times feel rather more scrappy than Powers’s best work. There’s almost a ‘greatest hits’ vibe to it at times, with significant similarities to not only Soul but the philosophical musings on neuroscience in The Echo-Maker and Galatea 2.2 and the eco-concerns of Overstory. This, in itself, is no bad thing and every writer of course has themes that they return to over and over. And yet, it seems rather overt here. The neuroscience researcher Currier, for example, seems at time rather too similar to his AI-researching counterpart Lentz in Galatea 2.2.

Another slight misgiving is that it feels a little frantic in its desire for currency. It’s clearly highly influenced by the activism of Greta Thunberg (who has a clear fictional analogue in the novel), not to mention an unnamed but decidedly Trump-like present who Powers, depressingly, gives a second term. But then maybe there is a need for urgency here — not only with an ongoing and dramatically worsening climate crisis but a political climate (and just in the US but also here in the UK) of growing anti-scientism and post-truth machination. It just feels that, unlike Galatea and Overstory, these elements have been written with more passion than care and will ultimately age the novel.

The novel centres around widowed astrophysicist Theo Byrne and his attempts to get his troubled son Robbie through the grieving process. (It’s far from being just about this, of course, but this is the surface layer from which Powers delves deeply into science, climate, politics and so on.) It’s established early on that Robbie is autistic and Powers’s representation of the condition did tend to worry me slightly. It’s possible that this is from a personal over-reaction on my part (having been recently diagnosed with ASD myself) but it just seemed that Powers leaned just a bit too closely into the trope as those with autism being otherworldly and unknowably alien savants. It’s something that I feel can be rather counterproductive and it’s made even more overt here with Theo’s flights of imagination to other planets — one of the key ways he continues to relate to Robbie.

However, with these things said, this is still a novel absolutely stuffed with great ideas, expressed with considerable skill and style. I’ve found, particularly with the move to using an ebook reader, that one superficial metric for judging a book’s merit is the number of bookmarks you put in it and I bookmarked a lot in Bewilderment. And it wasn’t just the ruminations on art, politics and science. Powers adds a rather nice layer of SF speculation to the novel, with direct allusions to a number of science-fiction writers, most notably Asimov, Daniel Keyes and Olaf Stapledon.

But it’s not just a novel of ideas. If Powers can sometimes be a little too mawkish for his own good, he can, with a little discipline, very effectively tug at the heartstrings too. I was engaged enough in the father/son relationship at the heart of the book to definitely want to keep reading, despite a growing fear that I was going to receive an emotional punch to the face, much in the style of the ending of Galatea 2.2. It’s with decidedly mixed feelings that I can say I wasn’t disappointed.

Bewilderment is far from being Powers’s best work but it’s also far from being his worst either. It’s an extremely well-written, timely and characteristically smart discussion of a number of topics that really do need to be discussed and it does so in a way that is not only intellectually engaging but emotionally too.