Cloud Six
By inserting herself into her own story, Fusselman allows herself the space to create confusion, to avoid explanation, and to operate as if she, too, is just trying to figure all this out. The fun of this novel—and so much of its pathos—lies in its unpredictability ... Cloud Six is Fusselman unleashed, a culmination of everything that’s come before and everything she’s thinking about now ... These high-wire tricks, which in a lesser work might cause the novel to collapse under the weight of its own shtick, are successful here because the absurdity has a purpose. Fusselman wants us as hopelessly disoriented as the new arrivals to Widdershins’s realm so she can remind us of what she told us at the book’s outset: she is here for us ... If heaven is an author who understands humanity, in all its flaws and its beauty, and still has mercy, then here, Fusselman has proven herself divine.
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The book’s kicker is its queasy marriage of tender-hearted optimism and pragmatic pessimism ... a tad too much Giving Tree meets Sesame Street. But even so, Fusselman’s jokes build on top of themselves, and her writing zips with the energy and spirit of someone having a truly good time ... In other words, Cloud Six is deeply silly. With many other books culling their sentences to pare away any emotions, it’s nice to read a novel hell-bent on making its reader feel something.
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Heartfelt moments offer insight into death, the afterlife, grief, violence, life phases, nature, and family ... Fusselman’s absurdist novel about the afterlife is perfect for fans of David Sedaris and TV’s The Good Place. It deserves a spot in every collection.
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