Generosity: An Enhancement
When it comes to the mad scientists of American letters, no one sees more clearly through his safety goggles than Richard Powers. In his new novel, Generosity: An Enhancement, the National Book Award winner (鈥淭he Echo Maker鈥�) and recipient of a MacArthur 鈥済enius鈥� grant takes something quintessentially American 鈥� the pursuit of happiness 鈥� and sends it spinning through the radioactive centrifuge of modern genetics.
Russell Stone was, briefly, a literary wunderkind who published essays in the New Yorker and scored a gig as a satirist on NPR. It turns out he wasn鈥檛 鈥渕erciless and mean enough for real creativity,鈥� and after a crisis of conscience, Russell ends up editing self-help pieces for a magazine called 鈥淏ecoming You.鈥�
As the novel opens, he is offered a job at a Chicago college teaching creative nonfiction. There, one of his students turns out to be something as rare as a unicorn: a truly happy person.
Thassadit Amzwar is an orphaned refugee from Algeria who radiates such perpetual well-being that her classmates nickname her 鈥淭he Bliss Chick鈥� and 鈥淢iss Generosity.鈥� 鈥淭en years of organized bloodbath have reduced a country the size of Western Europe to a walking corpse. And Thassa has emerged from that land glowing like a blissed-out mystic.鈥�
Russell, for his part, is dumfounded and terrified for her. 鈥淎ll he can think is: It鈥檚 not safe out there. Happiness is a death sentence.鈥� He鈥檚 worried that Thassa鈥檚 effervescence is somehow disguised trauma, and starts obsessively researching both Algeria and happiness. He stumbles across a term called 鈥渉yperthymia鈥� that might cover Thassa鈥檚 鈥渃ondition,鈥� and consults with one of the college counselors, a woman named Candace Weld, who becomes as entranced with Thassa as everyone else.
Then Thassa foils an attempted rape, and Russell gives an ill-advised report to the police. Soon, thanks to the wonders of the Internet, Thassa comes to the attention of a geneticist named Thomas Kurton.
鈥淔rankenstein鈥� has already been written, but Kurton is just spoiling for a cosmic beating, spouting catchphrases designed to catch the attention of both venture capitalists and jealous deities: 鈥淚 don鈥檛 believe in God, but I do believe that it鈥檚 humanity鈥檚 job to bring God about.鈥� His business plan involves hunting down and wiping out misery and creating a society where 鈥渁nger will be less of a concern than ringworm.鈥�
Instead of better living through chemistry, it鈥檚 better living through genomics, and Powers lays out economic and ethical implications that are already playing out in life science labs throughout the US. (He鈥檚 not the first: Years ago, I remember reading a story where a man is on the run because a lab owns his genes and wants their asset back.) But Powers is after something more complicated than allegory. His narrator is a wryly rueful presence, acknowledging 鈥渁 loss of nerve鈥� and pronouncing himself 鈥渃aught, starving to death between allegory and realism, fact and fable, creative and nonfiction.鈥�
Kurton studies Thassa to see if he can map a 鈥渉appiness gene,鈥� and the resulting furor turns her into a media sensation. As she鈥檚 paraded out 鈥渓ike some trained seal of elation,鈥� Russell and Candace watch with growing alarm. Russell, especially, thinks the whole thing is bogus and exploitative, and blames himself for calling in the experts. 鈥淲e鈥檝e been given this amazing gift and somebody wants to take it apart and look inside without voiding the warranty. She鈥檚 not an object.鈥�
Powers never pinpoints the source of Thassa鈥檚 joy 鈥� although the atheist herself rules out faith. 鈥淢y father was so disgusted with religion that he wouldn鈥檛 let it in our house. I don鈥檛 know, myself. If there is God, he is just laughing at every religion we invent!鈥�
Thassa is, understandably, befuddled that being consistently happy is enough to label her a genetic oddity. The way she sees it 鈥� at least before the bloggers, pundits, and 鈥渧ery 海角大神 people with too much time鈥� get hold of her 鈥� happiness is merely a matter of common sense. 鈥淓veryone alive should feel richly content, ridiculously ahead of the game, a million times luckier than the unborn. What more can she tell them?鈥�
Besides, happiness is a warm puppy. I thought everyone knew that.
Yvonne Zipp regularly reviews fiction for the Monitor.
