In 2009, two high school outcasts meet up to watch the end of analog TV broadcasts. One of them sees a strange program on the airwaves that makes them question everything about their identity and life. The other looks on, and their relationship fractures.
It’s a Jane Schoenbrun moment through and through, and a scene that could belong in their breakout film, I Saw the TV Glow. As a follower of Schoenbrun’s work, I can’t help but know so much about them. I know that they used to work as a film critic before directing and writing movies.
I know that they’re trans, and that their work is in constant conversation with that identity. It has propelled them to become one of the most notable voices in indie cinema. Public Access Afterworld, their first novel, is out this week.
It takes away the camera but gives Schoenbrun unlimited scale. The result is stubborn and unwieldy, for better or worse, and a great example of why Schoenbrun’s fans keep returning to their work. While their stories are a mishmash of tropes and references, Schoenbrun arranges the pieces in a way that’s uniquely their own.
The story begins with David Sawyer, a high school boy in love with his best friend, Erin Morrison. When they’re not in school, they’re watching TV in her basement. On the last day of the analog TV broadcast, Erin notices a surreal program called Public Access Afterworld.
She records it on tape and becomes obsessed, believing it to be a portal to somewhere else. When David watches the recording, he doesn’t understand it, but he doesn’t want to disappoint her, so he pretends to be just as entranced by it. He takes the tape online and finds a community of people with similar stories and inexplicable connections to TV, all hoping to learn where these transmissions come from and what they mean.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
