Review: Rem’s Chance by Dave J. Andrae

Capturing the quiet struggle of a resilient generation with scathing wit and emotional depth, Rem’s Chance by Dave J. Andrae is a sardonic portrait of a generation.

A washed-up musician plagued by worst-case-scenario thinking rediscovers an almost forgotten passion when he embarks on a quest to uncover the past. After serendipitously running into an old bandmate in the midst of a tragedy, Remy Bruxvoort is catapulted back into the memories of his rock ‘n’ roll youth with Gene and Dusty, the other members of The Bubbling Samovars.

Setting aside his daunting ambition of writing a novel, and the painful stress of separating from his ex-fiancee, Rem begins to fixate on the current location of the master tapes from their short-lived band. In his mind, if he could somehow remaster and put out their never-released album, a missing step from the ladder of his life could finally be slid into place.

As Rem puts it early in the novel, “The Bubbling Samovars, aye, that was my best band, I can see that now… Maybe someday, somehow, the world will notice.” This single line encapsulates the story – a thought-provoking attempt to resurrect (or bury) the past in search of validation in the present. That theme applies to both the reunited protagonists and the sinister white van-driving villain, with his murderous impulsivity and decidedly incel-like qualities. The mirrored relationships of Rem/Dita and Gene/Nadine swirl around similar motifs, inextricably tied to the past, but playing out in starkly different ways.

An offhand philosophical manifesto for Gen X-ers and elder millennials, this novel is an unadulterated peek at the paradox of aging gracefully, the bittersweet siren song of nostalgia, and the unsettling sense of slowing down in an accelerating world. Brushing against dozens of contemporary themes, from the vitriol of online trolls and the pitfalls of masculine connection to the isolation of the Covid pandemic and midlife crises in their modern forms, this feels like an extant memoir of a collective moment.

Appealing to the “Goldilocks latchkey kids of the Information Super Highway,” the book doesn’t shy away from pop culture takedowns and the head-scratching trends of recent decades, and addresses them with a vivisecting wit that would make Chuck Klosterman proud. Laced with devastating turns of phrase and a casually nihilistic undercurrent, the writing is relentlessly honest and consistent in its tone, pleasurably blurring the line between author and protagonist. That raw authenticity is difficult to fake, and impossible to miss for readers who appreciate bursts of profound commentary between the ugly and banal moments of reality.

From an editorial perspective, the book is propelled forward by refreshingly clean and purposeful prose, without repetitive sentiments or wasted words, aided by a premium on original phrasing and gutshot lines that will blindside unsuspecting readers. The dialogue crackles with tension and personality, while the musings on artistic frustration/elation for writers and musicians are delivered with the clarity of lived experience.

All told, Andrae has a voice that demands attention. From the arrhythmic heart of an apathetic nation comes a thought-provoking masterstroke of cultural critique.