How High We Go in the Dark
A future shaped by grief, love, and strange hope.
Sequoia Nagamatsu
The story begins when an ancient virus is released from melting Siberian ice — but it’s not really a “pandemic book.” Instead, it follows a beautifully interconnected mosaic of characters across decades as the world reshapes itself. We meet grieving parents, lonely scientists, people searching for meaning through futuristic funerals, robotic caregivers, cosmic travelers, lovers lost in time, and children whose lives become bridges between worlds. Across these stories, humanity evolves, sometimes gently, sometimes painfully, learning how grief doesn’t just end us; it guides us into new ways of loving and existing.
Aug 22, 2025
Story behind the story
This book isn’t linear, and that’s intentional. Each chapter feels like a soft echo of another, like watching ripples move outward from the same moment in history.
He asks questions gently but deeply:
What happens when grief becomes so big it shapes society?
Can loss build new worlds instead of destroying old ones?
Where do we find meaning when old ways disappear?
There are chapters that feel like heartbreak in slow motion, others like a meditation, and some like a dream where the future is almost familiar. It’s the kind of book that doesn't push you — it invites you to walk beside it.
Creative journey
Nagamatsu blends emotional realism with futuristic imagination. His science isn’t flashy — it’s thoughtful. He isn’t writing apocalypse panic; he’s writing about humans doing what they always do: adapting, trying, loving, failing, rebuilding.
Some moments feel quietly cinematic — like standing in a future city where grief is built into architecture, memorial parks, new rituals, new ways of saying goodbye. Other moments feel soft and intimate, a doctor holding a child’s hand, a widow talking to the sky, strangers finding community in uncertainty.
His writing has a tenderness to it. It doesn’t rush. It breathes. And it asks you to breathe with it.
About the author
Sequoia Nagamatsu is one of those writers who reminds you that science fiction isn’t only about spaceships and gadgets, sometimes it's about hearts trying to figure out how to keep beating. He’s a storyteller who blends science, culture, spirituality, and tenderness with almost painter-like attention.
Nagamatsu writes as someone who believes deeply in people. His stories hold grief in one hand and comfort in the other. There’s always a gentle question beneath the pages: how do we stay human when the world changes faster than we can?
He explores the future not to shock us, but to help us better understand how we’re living right now, our fears, our connections, our longing to belong. He writes not from distance, but from emotional closeness.
What readers will take away
This isn’t a “plot twist” book, it’s a soul shift book. If you’ve ever lost someone, or changed in ways you didn’t expect, or felt the world move beneath your feet faster than you could catch up — this story feels like a companion.
You leave with:
a gentler view of grief
a wider idea of what “future” means
a reminder that love can exist even in endings
the sense that humanity isn’t fragile — it’s adaptable
You don’t finish this book thinking “the world is ending.”
You finish thinking: we keep finding ways to be human, even when the story changes.
Looking ahead
Nagamatsu is carving out a lane for emotional science fiction, fiction that holds your hand, not your adrenaline. His future work will likely continue exploring connection across time, culture, loss, and discovery. If you enjoy fiction that feels like mourning wrapped in a hug, you’ll want to follow him.
Fun personal touch
Nagamatsu often collects folklore, family stories, and historical fragments, then turns them into futuristic myths. It’s as if the future is built from memory, not machinery.
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