Devil on My Back by Monica Hughes
I have a penchant for juvenile science fiction from the 1970s and 1980s, probably because it reminds me of my youth and the wonderful stories I read at that time by authors like John Christopher. I also revert to young adult literature from yesteryear when I am dealing with health problems and find it hard to concentrate on more mature works of science fiction. This is the first book by Monica Hughes that I have read, and my feelings about it changed as the novel progressed.
Devil on My Back was first published in 1984, and on the surface seems pretty typical of novels aimed at teenagers in that it includes adventure along with a coming-of-age story and dilemmas involving authority figures and the yearning to find a place where one really belongs.
Fourteen-year-old Tomi lives a privileged life in a domed city which was built to protect some of the survivors of a global breakdown of civilization. Life changes suddenly and drastically for Tomi when events beyond his control result in his ending up outside the protective environment where he grew up. How can he survive alone in the wilderness beyond the dome, and what will he learn by attempting to do so? Is there any chance of returning to his parents and the status he enjoyed before, and would such an outcome be desirable anyway?
First of all, I must say that although many similar ideas have appeared in books before and since Monica Hughes wrote Devil on My Back, this story is quite original in its content. I am sure that I would have thoroughly enjoyed it and found it highly memorable had I read it in my early teens. Some thirty-five years later, as a more seasoned and experienced reader of science fiction, I was reasonably certain that the plot would prove to be fairly predictable, and in some ways it did. Nevertheless, I was completely wrong in the ending I envisaged. The author cleverly employed a twist in the tale which renders the whole story much more meaningful and balanced than it would have been if she had settled for a more conventional ending. The finale also binds the narrative together more tightly, and makes sense of certain seemingly inconsequential details which were mentioned early on in the book. What originally seemed to be a blanket indictment of technology thereby takes on a much more reasonable aspect.
I had some trouble fitting this book to a particular age group. At first, I thought that it was likely aimed at readers in their early teens, but as the content and language developed (and a couple of examples of mild swearing appeared), I altered my opinion to include older teens. Thus, this work is probably suitable for young people aged anywhere between twelve and eighteen years. The sensitively-handled and understated love interest between Tomi and another character adds poignancy to the story and seems to confirm this conclusion.
Since Devil on My Back was well-written and enjoyable, I will now continue directly on to its sequel, The Dream Catcher, which is set in the same world.
Here are some quotations from the text of the story:
Seventy-Three suddenly looked up, straight into Tomi's eyes. It gave him a shock, looking straight into the eyes of a slave. They were as human as his and quite young. He wondered who Seventy-Three had been before the implant failure had led to a slave's life.
You have acquired some knowledge over these years: a week with a mathpak, a week with ancient history, a week with science. Now we have reached the most important day in your young lives: Access Day.
"Why do we access this way if it is so easy to fail?" He blurted out. "Is it only luck that separates us Lords from soldiers or workers or even slaves? I don't understand anything."
You ask if it is all luck? Perhaps it is. All life is luck if you look at it one way. It is luck that your ancestors were part of the ArcOne team during the Disaster. It is luck that your forefathers lived safely underground through the Age of Confusion. It is luck that you were born as sons of Lords. It is all luck. Now ask yourself: is that a useful thing to know?"
Even Seventy-Three congratulated him. But of course there was an honor in being the slave of one of the chief families: an honor to the House was also an honor to its slaves. Tomi nodded casually and went on thinking about the Togethering and the Feast. He never noticed the hurt expression on the slave’s face.
"We are all free, Rowan, remember. You are free to stay with us, Tomi, to share our shelter and food and learn to gather food yourself, to repair and clean...""That is not Lord's work." Tomi drew himself up. "Or you are free to leave." Swift went on as if Tomi hadn't spoken. "Free to move north or south, east or west. Free to be warm if you can make a fire, or to be cold if you cannot. Free to eat if you have the skill to snare an animal or go hungry if you cannot. Free to pick berries and dig roots, eat them and live—or die. Out here in the forest you are quite free."
Each person had something to add to the store of food: a basket of roots or berries, a string slung with fish, a couple of birds, a rabbit. Each returning person was welcomed by the others with a hug or a kiss. Savages, thought Tomi, unnoticed in the shadows. Why, his parents, the Lord and Lady Bentt, would never even touch each other in public, much less kiss. And nobody had ever hugged him that he could remember. He suddenly remembered the morning of Accession Day, when he had been so nervous and Seventy-Three had reached out and gently squeezed his foot. Had that really been the most loving moment of his life: the touch of a slave? He pushed the thought out of his mind. Just savages, he told himself firmly.
Another voice from across the circle took up the story. "The Arab States collapsed with the last of the oil in 2005 A.D. Then followed the Age of Confusion."
"Each small part of the nation had to make its own rules and its own plan for survival. One such plan was ArcOne. ArcOne was a magnificent dream."
She even taught him the proper way to climb a tree and how to stop the earth from spinning around when he looked down. "You are the center of wherever you are," she told him. "And you are doing. You are not being done to. You have to tell yourself that."
Then Rowan came running down the hill to meet him. "Here, give me one basket," she panted. "We share the loads, remember? "I wish you could share mine, thought Tomi. No, I don't. I take that back. You're so good. I wouldn't want you even to guess how horrible I really am inside.
"The son of the Lord-High-Muck-a-Muck was called Tomi. Him they killed in the slave rebellion last September. I saw him once. Fat stuck-up little bastard." He chuckled. "He was no loss!"
"You didn't have my advantages, you see." "Huh?" "Well, it stands to reason. I was next to free already, wasn't I? I didn't have nothing but my shovel and I threw that away. You had your family and your nice home and your robes and your paks and your head filled with knowledge. But you got free in spite of all that, didn't you?"
It was very difficult to be wise, Tomi was learning. It was so much easier to be generous.
He thought about Man and Woman battling the Ice Age, sustained by the great mammals that were their food. Then, as the ice receded, came the freedom to move and to gather food as you moved. Agriculture. The City. The whole history of societies built up and destroyed, knowledge building upon knowledge, knowledge shared and knowledge hidden, knowledge forgotten, subverted, misunderstood. So often nearly lost for ever.
In the Dark Ages, when life became in many parts of Europe a simple struggle for existence against disease, ignorance and the Viking hordes, it was the monks, on tiny headlands, and islands scattered through the seas around Ireland, Scotland and the north of England, who had kept the lamp of knowledge burning, so that Renaissance Man might build upon it.