This is the fourth novel written under the Joel Dane pseudonym; the other three were military SF that I haven’t read. Ragpicker is most definitely not military SF. It’s set about a century after a digital apocalypse that wipes out most humanity (all in thrall to their VR devices).

The survivors — including our teenage protagonist Ysmany — live an agrarian and (mostly) peaceful life in a small village on an Earth that’s replenished itself (there’s plenty to eat and drink; nature loves an apocalypse). The one hitch is that Ysmany’s community is under the protection of Server, one of the few survivors of the Bliss still ensconced (trapped) in their military-grade “secondskin” (a VR body suit). While the villagers fear Server, Ysmany works for the “Twitch”, building an art installation of threads and baubles meant to represent defunct nodes and networks. But when Server kills a group of travellers, abducting their baby, Ysmany is compelled to act. She does a runner from the village, baby in tow, seeking a new home for the child. But she and the infant are not alone. They are assisted by a Twitch, the titular Ragpicker, haunted by voices of people long dead, including their husband.

There’s so much to like about this novel. Dane makes a point of not explaining every aspect of his digital apocalypse. We do get snippets (mostly from Ragpicker), but it’s up to the reader to piece together how the planet got to this point. I also enjoyed Dane’s tweaks to the conventional apocalypse. After the Bliss, people help rather than turn on each other; the cockroaches die out (it’s a cute gag); and while people can die from an infected wound, they don’t live a subsistence life. 

All bar one of the chapters are told from Ysmany and Ragpicker’s perspective. This is a strength and a weakness. On the plus side, Ysmany is courageous and intelligent with a touch of the enigmatic. The Ragpicker is lonely and sad, their self-aware observations poignant, poetic, threaded with tragedy. But I also found the Ragpicker’s voice frustrating, a discordant, fractured mess of words that reflect their mental state but also kept me at arm’s length. This is a bit of a shame because, at its core, the novel is about human connection, the intimate bonds we form with friends, those we love, and our community. 

I have other minor structural quibbles. For example, the lone chapter, “The Pedestal, ” is an overwrought play that imagines how the digital apocalypse occurred. It’s funny and melodramatic but comes far too late in the novel. And yet, I can appreciate the innovation and smarts on display. Despite the flaws, this is the science fiction I want to read: science fiction that pushes against the field’s conventions and also has something to say about our humanity.