In Joanna Kavenna's latest novel, Seven (Or, How to Play a Game Without Rules), the boundaries between philosophy, satire, and absurdity blur in a delightfully maddening way. The story follows an unnamed narrator, employed as a research assistant to Icelandic philosopher Alda Jónsdóttir, who specializes in "box philosophy" – the study of categorizing reality into groups and sets.
As the narrative unfolds, the narrator is dispatched to the Greek island of Hydra to meet Seven's devotee, Theódoros Apostolakis, a dentist/poet/mystic with a passion for the eponymous game. This game, played across ancient civilizations from Greece to Asia Minor, seems to embody humanity's innate desire to define and categorize reality. However, the more Kavenna delves into this world of intellectual pursuits, the more she reveals its limitations.
The novel careens through Europe, visiting scenic locations under parabolic skies and over silvery seas, introducing a cast of eccentric thinkers, gamers, artists, and "incoherent rich people" who all try to box reality into their respective categories. Along the way, Kavenna tackles mythical figures like King Minos and Alexander the Great, as well as literary icons such as Steve Harley.
Throughout this peripatetic journey, Kavenna's sharp wit and humor keep the reader engaged, even when the narrative becomes increasingly absurd. Her philosophical rigour is tempered by a generous sense of humour, making it easy to appreciate her outrageous characters and jokes.
Ultimately, Seven appears to be more about the limits of philosophy than a novel about philosophy itself. The author's use of episodic structure creates an ongoing contrast between the abstract discourses her narrator is subjected to and the cosmic sublimity of nature they experience. As the story hurtles towards its climax, Kavenna may seem to be leading us astray with red herrings and imposture.
However, once you let go of your desire to grasp every nuance, Seven reveals itself as an invitation to revel in the formless delights of a universe "hanging out with itself." It's a celebration of flux, where galaxies spiral into themselves, and everything – games, boxes, words, symbols, even the stars – exists in a state of constant transformation.
As the narrative unfolds, the narrator is dispatched to the Greek island of Hydra to meet Seven's devotee, Theódoros Apostolakis, a dentist/poet/mystic with a passion for the eponymous game. This game, played across ancient civilizations from Greece to Asia Minor, seems to embody humanity's innate desire to define and categorize reality. However, the more Kavenna delves into this world of intellectual pursuits, the more she reveals its limitations.
The novel careens through Europe, visiting scenic locations under parabolic skies and over silvery seas, introducing a cast of eccentric thinkers, gamers, artists, and "incoherent rich people" who all try to box reality into their respective categories. Along the way, Kavenna tackles mythical figures like King Minos and Alexander the Great, as well as literary icons such as Steve Harley.
Throughout this peripatetic journey, Kavenna's sharp wit and humor keep the reader engaged, even when the narrative becomes increasingly absurd. Her philosophical rigour is tempered by a generous sense of humour, making it easy to appreciate her outrageous characters and jokes.
Ultimately, Seven appears to be more about the limits of philosophy than a novel about philosophy itself. The author's use of episodic structure creates an ongoing contrast between the abstract discourses her narrator is subjected to and the cosmic sublimity of nature they experience. As the story hurtles towards its climax, Kavenna may seem to be leading us astray with red herrings and imposture.
However, once you let go of your desire to grasp every nuance, Seven reveals itself as an invitation to revel in the formless delights of a universe "hanging out with itself." It's a celebration of flux, where galaxies spiral into themselves, and everything – games, boxes, words, symbols, even the stars – exists in a state of constant transformation.