Book Review: Undercover Agent Disrupts Climate Activists' Work at 'Creation Lake'

Buckle up: Known for her bold, cerebral work, Rachel Kushner knows how to take readers on a wild ride. Unafraid to mix bold narrative with biting sociopolitical commentary, her novels explore the scourge of colonization and empire, the American prison complex, and the intersection between anarchy and art. In a recent interview with the literary magazine Drift, Kushner lays out her stakes: taking note that “A novel is a refuge, made from a place of deep curiosity and deep doubt. It is never a polemic.” And yet, she sees the political potential implicit in novels, as they “make the invisible visible.” The dirty hands of power and money, otherwise invisible, are exposed in her fourth novel.

In “Creation Lake,” her narrator is not who she presents herself as. The unassuming Sadie Smith is clearly an antiheroine. But that’s not even her real name. The only autobiographical detail Sadie offers is that she’s from Priest Valley, a place with no population that exists only as words on a sign on a deserted California highway. What we do know that her contemporaries don’t is that she’s a malevolent secret agent paid by governments, shadowy individuals, or corporations to embed herself in activist communities with the intent of provoking behavior that disrupts their protests and political efforts. Hers is an absurdly lucrative, high-risk job that demands you put your body and your sanity on the line. And it’s a career that has an expiration date: the possibility of death is greater than that of exhaustion. Are readers following what could be her last assignment?

Six months earlier, bulldozers intended for the creation of an industrial depot in the south of France had caught fire. The likely suspects were a community of subversives from the Guyenne valley known as Le Moulin, led by a charismatic and privileged young man named Pascal Balmy. To those in power, who wanted nothing to stand in the way of their development, this unbridled behavior was unacceptable. With no clear link to Le Moulin’s culpability, only someone from within could uncover his guilt and disband the group, by any means necessary. And that’s where Sadie comes in.

As with any good spy novel, “The Lake of Creation” begins with sex and romance and leads to violence. For Sadie, Europe is not full of picturesque landscapes. Instead, it is “a borderless network of supply and transport.” In Paris, Sadie arranges an innocent meeting with a rich, pretentious filmmaker, hungry for her body and willing to accept her mysterious past, which opens the door for her to pursue the painstaking work of Le Moulin. Lost on her way to her remote village, she finds herself adrift in what “seemed like a place of aftermath.”

Using the framework of a spy novel, Kushner creates a fascinating tale of intrigue and subterfuge that examines the limits of control and moral influence. Its brisk pace and enigmatic details trace the games people play, unconsciously or not, in the name of art and justice. With that tantalizing premise, Kushner can't help but introduce a philosophical and historical background that builds and absorbs the reader as Sadie slowly moves toward her ultimate goal.

Sadie comes to understand that it is no coincidence that radicals, titans of industry, and government officials share a common, unstable illusion of power. Its influence tarnishes everything it touches. She posits that “coincidence, as an explanation for things that are mysteriously aligned,” hides what is “in reality a plot.” Beyond capital and control in a world of smoke and mirrors ruled by despots, what is humanity’s driving goal?

Someone else shares Sadie’s jaded perspective. Bruno Lacombe, a former revolutionary turned meditative recluse, spends most of his time living in a cave in an attempt to get closer to primitive man. He also serves as Le Moulin’s mentor or guru. To better understand the forces at play in this commune, Sadie monitors Bruno’s emails to the group. Rather than stoke discontent, he avoids tactical conversation and focuses on what fascinates him now. Concerning his former life, Bruno remarks, “I left that environment not to reject it but to find something else.” A veteran of the conflicts surrounding 1968 and its ripple effects, he looks beyond his personal tragedy and the forces of society to mine deeper motivation.

Bruno's obsession with the evolution of human behavior and desires links him to the Neanderthals. Did they become extinct because they lacked a relentless drive to survive? Was it a melancholic fascination with art that sealed their fate? In the absence of a “conscious study” of prehistoric art, Bruno is forced to speculate that while Neanderthals were “magicians” and “artists,” Homo sapiens They were “copycats” and “frauds.” Are modern men beasts driven by power and control? Echoing the words of his interview with Drift, Kushner bestows his wisdom on Bruno, who notes, “Making the invisible visible: that’s what an artist does.” When the battles have been fought and the world’s resources have been exhausted, who is, in fact, better positioned to survive?

Sadie, a woman whose past has been erased and abandoned as a prerequisite for her work, is completely alone. Marked by her previous projects, she has a cynical and sophisticated view of her work, but it also leaves her vulnerable. The intimacy of these illicitly recovered emails offers Sadie a lifeline into human history guided by a man as lonely as she is. Bruno’s missives address broader questions about the roots of our inner being. While the rebellious commune has little patience for his broad philosophical brushstrokes, Bruno strikes a chord with Sadie. His questions unbalance her and change her focus. She remains determined on the mission to destabilize Le Moulin and topple a government deputy in the balance, but at the same time she is falling apart. There is no stability in power.

“Creation Lake” is a sensual, physical novel of lies and caustic, increasingly heartbreaking decisions that lead us to ruin. Step by step, it demands that we question what each of us is. Stripped of our names, our histories, and any goal beyond successfully executing a project, who are we? Kushner also stresses what we hope to gain from any measure of effort, benevolent or otherwise, if we cannot confront the painful truth of human intervention. Regarding the future, Sadie recalls Bruno’s reflection: “When we confront our need to control it, we are better able to resist that need and live in the present.”

Many literary novelists have plumbed the dark depths of domestic life to question our collective existential crisis, while others have embraced genre writing for these explorations. Such as Kushner's “Creation Lake,” Eleanor Catton's “Birnam Wood,” and “The Ministry of Time” by Kaliane Bradley These are two high-stakes novels that embody the pace and tropes of spy novels. Whether melancholic autofiction about divorce or cinematic drama, there is an interesting overlap between these bold novels: what remains when you live your life as a lie? When do you face the truth? What is the turning point and how do you move on?

Kushner speaks of openness as a space of opportunity. Bruno’s words stick in Sadie’s mind, acknowledging, “We want to escape from what ails us, into something blessed, but know that when you leave, you travel with cargo, stowaways, memories of the old world. Don’t be afraid of them.” We can never let go of our past and live in an ideal world, but “these things you’ve brought with you will pass. Wave and watch them go.” We can’t erase the past, but we can listen and strive for a better world. Kushner brilliantly questions the impulses that drive art and action, but remains receptive to their potential. “Creation Lake” confronts the horror of industrialization, the desire to retreat in the face of conflict, and the need to remain present for all that is to come.

Lauren LeBlanc is a board member of the National Book Critics Circle.