The release of “The Companions” couldn’t have been more timely. This debut novel by Katie M. Flynn is largely set in a near-future California that has been ravaged by a virus. This is just a backdrop, however, for a loosely threaded mystery that lacks a consistent theme. 

While “The Companions” is told from the perspective of eight characters over several decades, the central figure is a teenager named Lilac. She’s quarantining in a San Francisco high-rise with a mother and daughter as they all wait impatiently for the virus to be contained.

Lilac is a plucky teen, her shyness offset by relentless curiosity. What sets her apart from other girls her age, though, is that she’s dead. Or, sort of dead. After dying unexpectedly at a high school party decades ago, Lilac had her consciousness harvested by a tech corporation (she was an organ donor!) and placed in a robotic housing — making her one of the first of the novel’s titular “companions.”

Companions are rented out to whoever can afford them. Many, like Lilac, are clunky robots designed to serve people cooped up during the long quarantine. Other more expensive models look an awful lot like flesh-and-blood people. Despite the fact that they’re driven by a human mind, companions still function like robots; their design forces them to obey whoever paid for them. That is, until Lilac ignores this programming and flees.

Over the span of 20 years, Lilac meets eight people whose points of view frame the story. The young companion’s escape is fueled by the resurgence of old memories — the mysterious nature of Lilac’s death and the uncertain fate of her best friend. As she searches for answers, some of these characters — like a kind nursing home caretaker named Cam — become fixtures in Lilac’s life. Others, like the teenage farmer Rolly, only briefly cross her path. Their stories intertwine, trail off and sometimes intersect years later.

It’s a great concept that works well initially, but the interwoven strands start to fray not long into the novel. While Lilac is initially presented as the central character, her importance wanes quickly. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing — this kind of narrative switcheroo has worked wonderfully in other books. Here, though, it feels unwieldy, especially as the additional voices threaten to crowd Lilac out.

This is made worse by the monochromatic presentation of these viewpoint characters; you could swap out their dialogue or inner thoughts seamlessly. There are exceptions, most notably Gabe. “The Companions” introduces her (and her cringey dialect) as a feral child scouring the streets of urban California. Unlike most of the other characters, Gabe continues to grow and change each time she appears. In some ways, Gabe completely overshadows Lilac by the novel’s end. Intentional or not, this decision to make the ending Gabe-centric gives the novel an emotional heft that was sorely missing early on. ​

“The Companions” has drawn some attention due to its pandemic backdrop and release in the early days of COVID-19 in the United States. But the setting is inconsequential. After the initial setup, it fades into an occasional mention every 50 pages. Ms. Flynn seems more interested in using companions as a stand-in for a variety of important issues, like discrimination against marginalized people and the disregard large corporations have for human rights. These themes would have worked much better if they had room to breathe.

As with the onslaught of characters, this effort feels like too much crammed into a small space. There are a lot of good intentions, but the execution is jumbled. While Ms. Flynn’s writing often feels like it’s trying to rush you to the next chapter, it really shines when the plot slows down. It succeeds most in the small moments. This is especially true for the quietly sad ending, which feels perfect. “The Companions” isn’t perfect, but has enough bright spots that I look forward to Ms. Flynn’s next work.

Jason Panella is a writer from Franklin Park.

First Published: September 3, 2020, 11:00 a.m.