Why Is 'The Immortalists' Considered A Philosophical Novel?

In 'The Immortalists', the four Gold siblings—Varya, Daniel, Klara, and Simon—are shaped by a childhood prophecy that predicts their exact death dates. Varya, the eldest, becomes a scientist obsessed with longevity, locking herself in sterile routines only to face her mortality in a lab accident. Daniel, the rigid military doctor, dies in a freak accident after a lifetime of denying fate. Klara, the magician, chases illusion until her final trick on a Vegas stage goes fatally wrong. Simon, the youngest and free-spirited, embraces his predicted early death by living fiercely in San Francisco’s queer scene, succumbing to AIDS as foretold. Their fates intertwine with themes of destiny versus choice. Varya’s cold rationality cracks too late. Daniel’s need for control makes his death cruelly ironic. Klara’s artistry blurs reality until it consumes her. Simon’s acceptance lets him live fully, though briefly. The novel questions whether the prophecy doomed them or their belief in it did—each sibling’s path feels inevitable yet painfully avoidable.

I’ve dug into this a lot because 'The Immortalists' is one of those novels that feels ripe for a cinematic treatment. Right now, there’s no official movie adaptation, but the buzz is real. The book’s premise—four siblings hearing a prophecy about their death dates—has that perfect blend of drama and existential tension that filmmakers love. There were rumors a few years back about a potential deal, but nothing concrete surfaced. The story’s structure, jumping decades between each sibling’s arc, would be a challenge to condense, but it could make for an epic miniseries too. Fans keep hoping, though. The novel’s vivid characters and moral dilemmas would translate so well to screen, especially with the right director. Until then, we’re left imagining how those haunting scenes—like Simon’s dance in San Francisco or Klara’s magic tricks—would look in film. Interestingly, author Chloe Benjamin has mentioned in interviews that she’s open to adaptations but wants them done right. The book’s themes of fate and free will need a delicate touch. Maybe that’s why studios are cautious. For now, the closest thing we have is fan art and book club debates about who should play the Gold siblings. A visually stunning indie director like Sofia Coppola or Barry Jenkins could nail the tone—melancholic yet luminous.

In 'The Immortalists', the fortune teller isn’t just a plot device—she’s the catalyst that fractures the Gold siblings’ lives. Her prophecy about their death dates forces each sibling to confront mortality in wildly different ways. Simon flees into hedonism, Klara chases magic as escapism, Daniel clings to control, and Varya buries herself in science. The irony? Their obsession with the prophecy shapes their fates more than the prediction itself. The novel asks: Does knowing your death date liberate or imprison you? The fortune teller embodies that question, her cryptic words haunting every page. The siblings’ choices reveal how belief bends reality. Simon’s reckless joyride through life mirrors his ‘short’ timeline, while Varya’s sterile longevity research mirrors her ‘distant’ death—yet both are trapped by the prophecy’s shadow. The fortune teller’s role is genius: she’s barely a character, just a voice, yet her influence lingers like a ghost. The book suggests that maybe destiny isn’t fixed—it’s the weight we give to predictions that makes them real.

'The Immortalists' dives deep into destiny by showing how the Gold siblings' lives unravel after learning their predicted death dates from a mystical fortune teller. The novel cleverly explores whether destiny is fixed or shaped by our choices. Simon, the youngest, embraces hedonism, believing his short lifespan justifies reckless living. Klara chases her dream as a magician, defying her fate through sheer will. Daniel, the skeptic, clings to control, only to spiral into paranoia. Varya, the scientist, tries to outsmart death through research, sealing herself in a cage of fear. The book doesn't just ask if destiny is real—it shows how the idea of it can consume us. Each sibling's path reflects their relationship with time: some race against it, others surrender, but all are haunted by that prophecy. The irony? Their beliefs about destiny become self-fulfilling. The prose is sharp, blending magical realism with raw human drama, making you wonder: do we chase fate, or does it chase us?

The Immortalists' paints 1960s New York as a gritty yet vibrant tapestry, where the Gold siblings’ lives unfold against a backdrop of cultural upheaval. The Lower East Side tenements hum with immigrant resilience, their cramped kitchens smelling of simmering brisket and Yiddish chatter. Outside, the streets pulse with folk music drifting from cafés and the occasional protest march—echoes of Vietnam and civil rights. The novel nails the era’s contradictions: the glamour of uptown galleries clashing with downtown’s bohemian squalor, where artists chain-smoke over existential debates. Benjamin’s chapters capture the queer underground pre-Stonewall, a world of coded glances and hidden bars, where danger and desire share a dance. Meanwhile, Klara’s Vegas escapades contrast sharply with her New York roots, highlighting the era’s escapism. The city’s energy mirrors the siblings’ restless searches for meaning—whether in magic, medicine, or mortality. The 1960s setting isn’t just scenery; it’s a character, shaping their dreams and downfalls with its chaotic, electric heartbeat.