Review of "There Are No Stars Here" by J.S. Thompson

Score: 94/100 (9.4 out of 10)

Imagine a world in which humanity is lost—where humans can be recycled.

Imagine a world wrecked and ruined by air pollution, so much so that it has created a weather phenomenon known as "the Haze" that blots out the sun for weeks at a time, draping entire cities in a chemical fog.

The Haze corrodes metal, burns skin, and warps electronics—drifting without warning, suffocating entire communities, and swallowing landmarks whole. No birds fly through it. No satellites see beneath it. It’s a creeping, sentient veil of man’s own making, a consequence so thick and toxic it’s come to be feared like a living entity. 

Imagine living in a dome where even the stars in the sky are artificial—pixelated constellations projected on a curved ceiling to keep the illusion of wonder alive. Children point up at patterns that never change, believing in a cosmos long since smothered. Outside the dome, the Haze coils like a predator, pressing against the glass with chemical hunger, testing for weakness. Inside, air is rationed, sky is coded, and seasons are nothing more than digital simulations.

People learn to celebrate the artificial sunrise, to pretend the wind is real, to trust the filtered smiles of the Department of Happiness when they say everything is fine. But some remember—the scent of real rain, the glint of genuine starlight, the sound of birdsong now stored only in archives. And among them, whispers spread like contraband: of a time before the domes, before the Haze, before the lie.

Because somewhere in the smothered world, the truth still flickers. Somewhere beyond the amber fog and dying machines, the stars may still be burning. Hidden. Waiting.

It's a world dominated by domes and controlled by unscrupulous, manipulative figures like Worthington—essentially a cult leader turned politician who smiles for the cameras while offering manufactured-hope to millions.

There are also organizations like LTE, a radical extremist group that seems to view humans as expendable and "no longer valuable," HERA (the authoritarian health organization), and corporations like Tommas Corporation, which is said to have polluted the water supply and turned it intermittedly gray.

That's the world of There Are No Stars Here by J.S. Thompson, who (apparently) actually had a career in politics on top of years of political activism. It really shows in this book, especially with characters like Senator Aiesha and Manuel's venture into politics on behalf of District 1.

But this book isn't all about those with power or those vying/campaigning for it. It's a book about people on the ground. Civilians. Citizens. Mothers like Solanis Tailor, arguably the central protagonist of the book, as she seeks a better life and world for her daughter, Gabby.

We say "arguably the central protagonist" because this is really a book with a huge, sprawling ensemble cast of characters. It's one of those.

And it's also one of those books with a huge, sprawling plot with huge, sprawling world. It's one of those too—one of those books that obsesses over the intricacies of the world and its world-building.

That's ambitious, admirable, and all, but... if you've read any of our previous reviews about books with a lot of world-building, we consistently express the sentiment that too much is just too much. Excessive world-building can distract from the characters and the plot. It should enhance and complement rather than distract. You could argue that the world-building in this book facilitates the conflicts and struggles that the characters are going through, but... we honestly felt confused and overwhelmed.

You could make the argument that this is the point: that this book is supposed to feel overwhelming and oppressive. This is what many of the characters are feeling, after all.

You could argue that the world-building does complement the arcs of some (if not all) of the major characters. For example, Manuel's story centers around his separation from his mother, who becomes trapped behind "the York Line" in the breakaway Free Republic of South Texas (FROST). Furthermore, he endures a quest for survival and meaning after a devastating earthquake kills his father.

Walter and Solanis discuss how they'll use Sirius (a star) near Orion's Belt (for much of the year) to connect with each other when separated by space ("when you look up, I'll look up too"), something that's made painfully ironic by the fact that the stars and constellations in the dome sky are artificial.

But all of that kind of gets lost in the massive avalanche of information we're bombarded with. Furthermore, we're buried in a snow squall of characters and their many, many, many tangled relationships. Gosh, there are just too many characters and too much to keep track of.

Let's just name a few whose names we wrote down in our notes:

Worthington
Manuel
Aiesha
Solanis
Greg
Gabby
Walter (the book's other main protagonist alongside Solanis and Manuel)
Childre
Katia
Tatiana
Luna
Leonardo
President Rosenbaum (mentioned briefly as part of the world's history)
Seban
Ronnie
Diego
Winston
Heidi
Salazar

There are maybe 20+ named characters in this book.

There just seems to be too much happening in this book and too many characters. Because of that, this book feels so much longer than it is.

It's dense. To top it off,  we found it to be exhausting.

We were tired and exhausted by the time we finished this book, and we desperately wanted and needed to finish this book. It was like a marathon.

We would've much preferred a more focused approach with the scope of the book centered around Solanis and Walter or Manuel, not all of them intermittedly and all in the same book.

The book shifts perspectives so many times, that it's really hard to like and get to know each character as an individual.

Really, the world-building is supposed to be the star of the show. Again, it's one of those books: those books where the world is the main character.

But let's not obsess over the negative stuff because this book does do some things right (or at least admirably).

For example, the book tries really hard to provide little stories within this larger story, creating multiple motifs. Perhaps the biggest is the story about the monster and the phoenix. Monsters take advantage of people and destroy them. Phoenixes give people hope in their times of need and raise them up. This really explores the dichotomy between good and evil in this book, with good people like Solanis, Walter, and Manuel (phoenixes) doing their best to do the right thing while manipulative people like Worthington take advantage of the desperate state of the world (monsters).

There's also another motif that we referenced earlier—the one regarding Sirius, the star near Orion's Belt (for much of the year). Both Walter and Solanis try to find it in times of need, of course failing to find the real version of it in the dome. This is sort of cheesy, but sort of beautiful at the same time.

There are also plants that are used as motifs, specifically the white/"albino" monstera and the evergreens.

It's extremely ambitious, but it's also a bit much.

This is the author's first novel, and you can tell they were really trying hard to make a big splash. You can also kind of tell they must have read a whole bunch of books about writing and world-building, then spent months (probably) plotting, listing, and diagramming each and every character and aspect of this world.

This is one of those rare cases when we wish this was a series and not a standalone book like this. A series would've allowed more of this book and its characters to breathe. Instead, it seems smothered and suffocated, which is sorta poetic and fitting considering the Haze in this book.

However, it seems like a lot of great ideas that just got mashed together haphazardly.

Let's talk about one more positive aspect of this book: Worthington.

Worthington is a worthy antagonistic figure in this book. Gosh, we wish the book would've just focused more on him and just let him cook.

Worthington is a lot like Immortan Joe from Mad Max: Fury Road. He's this cult leader with a hysterically devoted following who will make sacrifices (usually valuable items) to him and contend to be one of his "virgins"--"Worthington's virgins." It seems like everyone in his vicinity wants to do everything they can to please and gain favor with him. He has become like a deity on Earth.

Oh, and here's another somewhat good thing we noticed about this book: how it explores the suppression of information and buried history/culture.

Yes, there's this whole subplot about making some kind of chemical/medicine thing that can rewrite peoples' thoughts and erase their memories, making them more pliable and willing to do "what's needed" for the good of the utopia, but that's not what we're talking about.

We're talking about the fact that written, digital, and oral history seems to exist in one way or another despite all efforts to suppress them. Some people remember the Bible and characters like Moses and Sampson, reminding the other characters.

How is it possible for a book to do so much right and so much wrong at the same time?

We'll close by saying that, for all its faults, this is an ambitious novel with a lot of imagination and fascinating concepts/ideas. It also takes on a lot of issues that are becoming increasingly relevant to today's world: climate change, the control of digital media and the flow of information, fanaticism, and the need for leaders to step up and do the right thing.

Read updates about its release on the author's website!