Crosstalk

You know, I really had high hopes for this story, which is kind of like “Dark Mirror” meets “Abbott and Costello”. In showing us a satirical vision of the our obsession with connectedness and instant communications, Connie Willis could have made a powerful statement about conformity and lowest common denominator entertainment. In sending up our demand to know what is always on everyone's minds via social media apps like Twitter/X and Facebook, she shows us our vanity, shallowness and insecurities. But in casting the novel as a silly romantic comedy/farce, she dilutes some of its power.
The basic premise is that a neurosurgeon has developed technology that, through a brain implant, allows emotionally-bonded couples to experience one another's emotions. Trent and Briddey, two young lovers who work for an Apple-like electronics giant, are planning to undergo the procedure so that they can be more fully connected – at least, that's according to Trent, at whose insistence they are planning to do it. They do, over the objections of a co-worker, CB Schwartz, and, as expected in romcom, hijinks ensue – the hijinks in this case being Briddey and CB discovering they have a telepathic (as opposed to merely empathic) connection. Which is fine, I guess, and there are some funny bits along the way but it's the way Willis brings about the complications that kind of got on my nerves.
Willis uses fractured, elliptical dialogue, interruptions from ringing phones (and absolutely grating family members), and disjointed conversations to create misunderstanding and confusion. Typical of Willis, she also uses subtle hints and narrative misdirection to spring plot twists that set the narrative careening off in a new direction.
But after awhile it all becomes tiresome, delay and obfuscation for their own sake. As with any romcom problem, this one could have been solved with a simple conversation but, as with every romcom ever, the characters choose the least sensible response.
Fans of Willis's novel To Say Nothing of The Dog will recognize her style and wit. In that book, though, it came across as Wildean comedy of manners. In Crosstalk it feels a bit forced. Unlike To Say Nothing . . . (and the other time travel novels), which handwaves away the sci-fi elements, Crosstalk bogs down in complicated explanations of the causes and effects of the telepathy. And in standard romcom fashion (no spoiler), true love wins, the crooked is made straight, the complications simplified, and the characters stand blinking in the bright, shiny dawn of new possibilities.
It's ok, but just ok. If you're looking for Connie Willis's magnum opus, this isn't it.