“She could tell you exactly what was wrong with any game, but she didn’t necessarily know how to make a great game herself. There is a time for any fledgling artist where one’s taste exceeds one’s abilities. The only way to get through this period is to make things anyway.”
From Tomorrow, and Tomorrow and Tomorrow,
a novel by Gabrielle Zevin

I am pretty sure that I can identify what draws me to read a work of fiction. And Tomorrow, and Tomorrow and Tomorrow was full of promise: two protagonists, one is an undergrad majoring in math at Harvard and another studies computer science at MIT. Both are exceptional (is any other kind accepted to these venerable universities?) and yet neither fits where they are. At first, the encounter of two gifted misfits with baggage to overcome suggested to me a love story, but the novel is certainly not a romance.

It turns out that the protagonists, Sadie and Sam, have known each other since childhood, but haven’t been in touch, until a chance meeting in their early twenties. Although they have not spoken for years, it quickly becomes clear that Sam and Sadie deeply care about each other. Nevertheless, a childhood grudge weighs on their friendship. Still, both are avid gamers, and ambition pushes them to collaborate on creating a game that would raise them above hordes of game developers and propel their careers.

The first part of the book is a story of how Sam and Sadie follow this goal, and it’s an engaging read. Zevin alternates between “present” and “past”, so I could appreciate Sam’s willpower and be amazed that he managed to be in Harvard despite what life had thrown at him. Sadie was harder to like, yet I sympathized with her because in the competitive, male dominated environment of MIT’s computer science department in 1990s, she faced choices that none of the male students had to deal with. The plot thickened and was broadened by the presence of Marx, Sam’s benevolent roommate who bankrolled the enterprise, and Dov, a professor at MIT with whom Sadie has a very unhealthy, yet professionally rewarding, relationship.

As noted above, to create a great game, Sam and Sadie had to hone their abilities. Time, however, is a major issue for undergrads in very demanding academic programs. A choice had to be made: a degree from Harvard/MIT or following a risky dream.
ʻIf I were youʼ Dov said, ʻI would take the next semester off.ʼ
Sadie was listening, nodding.
ʻYou and your crew. You’ve got something here,ʼ Dov said, ʻI really believe that.ʼ
ʻBut school…ʼ Sadie’s voice was barely audible. ʻMy parents…ʼ
Taking that break and not graduating with their class was the first, but not the only, tough decision Sam and Sadie made for the small chance to make a splash with their game. Closed in a room for months, “…Sadie and Sam had programmed Ichigo, nonstop, until their fingers bled. Literally, in Sam’s case…Sadie had stared at her computer screen so long she burst a blood vessel in her right eye. She didn’t even go to the doctor; she just sent Marx to the drugstore for eyedrops and Advil, and soldiered on.” There were other sacrifices, and Sam’s and Sadie’s determination to complete and sell (the game) Ichigo took a heavy toll on their physical and mental health.

If Tomorrow, and Tomorrow and Tomorrow ended fulfilling the ancient promise “They that sow in tears shall reap in joy,” it would have been only a third as long as the actual novel and the message would be clear: the tremendous effort and the sacrifices were worth it. But reading on, I became confused about what the author was trying to convey. My disenchantment with the characters was gradual, but as Sam and Sadie became more and more miserable, I lost interest in the twists and turns of their misunderstandings and dissatisfaction. After a major tragedy toward the end of the story, I could not stand either of the protagonists and left the last sixty pages of the novel unread.

After closing the book and putting it aside, I tried to figure out why it didn’t deliver on its promise. The increasingly depressing tone contributed, yet I neither expect nor ask novels to lead to happy endings. The disengagement seems to be a consequence of the straining of the tenuous balance between the story’s events and the protagonists’ response to them. The deal breaker was the death of the character who kept the others in check; I saw no hope for the remaining cast. To say it more plainly, it was interesting to read about unusual people who worked hard to reach a position where they could reap the fruits of their talent and labor. When these people, having the advantages of still being young, well connected, and without financial worries, cannot find joy in their life, it becomes quite boring to read on and on about their petty grudges, endless squabbles and other ways they make themselves and each other unhappy. Then I reached Marx’s favorite speech from Macbeth:

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Those lines explained the aptly chosen title. They also seemed to say that there is no point in reading further, that the rest of the story would give me nothing.

A scene from Macbeth, Banquo’s Ghost by Théodore Chassériau 1855,
image from Wikimedia.