To label this a "dystopian" novel isn't quite fair. Sure, the world the novel delineates isn't real -- it is set roughly 80 years in the future. But the book works most compellingly, I think, as a commentary on our contemporary world, and our increasingly harsh justice system, where juveniles -- especially juveniles of color -- are incarcerated in substandard living conditions, as a matter of routine.
It also raises a fundamental question about science -- and the use of science for the betterment of human life. Are technological advances misused by humanity, time and time again? Yes. Will the sequencing of genes, and the idea of genetic determinism someday be a part of that story of misuse? Quite plausibly. So, this is a speculative story about what happens, in that case.
It's also about religious fundamentalism -- the main question of our age. In a society that deteriorates, how quickly does the collapse of infrastructure lead to a rise in fundamentalist belief, and the constriction of liberty? The text asks this vital and important question.
But, most of all, what sets this book apart are the sentences. They are beautiful sentences. The prose tells the story -- the fast-paced, inventive story -- of James Goodhouse, a student in a reform school -- a Goodhouse -- where he, and other male children of violent felons, are being retrained to overcome their worst tendencies. James is the only survivor from an attack at his previous school, and he has been transferred to a new, bigger school -- and this is when we meet him.
Probably the most arresting element of the book is something technical and unusually skillful: Its use of flashback. By the time we get the story of the attack, in its entirety, it is nearly page 70. Marshall has held onto this information carefully, alluding to it, and when we get it -- it adds depth and weight to the predicament James is in. It shows us just how much he's had to endure, and it makes our empathy flare for him. The writing soars, here -- and the dialogue is folded seamlessly into the prose, making it come alive in a way that you rarely see.
Below is my favorite excerpt:
*
We expected to see boys flooding the yard below. I expected to see my friends lined up in rows but instead, the yard was dotted with men in black jackets and red balaclavas. Bodies—proctors, mostly but some students—lay unmoving on the lawn. It took us a moment to process it all. The snow at the base of the building had melted. Ash floated in the air, little black flecks like crows against a stormy sky.
“I’m not going down there,” Ian said.
“We have to,” I said. The smoke was getting heavier. It was hard to breathe even with the window open.
“Follow me.” I told him to put his feet where I did and then I was on the ledge, trying to dig my fingers into the rotten molding, usually soft enough to get a grip, but tonight, frozen and slippery. Ian kept grabbing for me and I moved away from him, afraid he’d knock me loose.
“Wait,” he said. “You’re going too fast.”
“Just do what I do,” I said.
We crept towards the corner of the building where the decorative edging had been cut to look like stone—and the pattern created a series of hand and foot holds. As we descended, we passed several open windows, one of which was broken—the safety glass bulging in its frame. A single limp and disembodied arm had been wedged through the four-inch opening.
Purifying fire. This is what the Zeros preached. We’d all read Matthew 13—the parable of the weeds. We all knew that the Zeros used this—this single biblical chapter—as the foundation of their doctrine, their justification for the use of fire. In the parable, an enemy has sown weeds among a farmer’s wheat but Jesus tells the farmer to wait. He tells him not to risk pulling out the weeds, not to risk damaging the crop. It’s only when everything has grown—when everything has been safely harvested—that the weeds must be bundled together and burned. This was, the Zeros said, the word of God. This was his truth.
*
Much happens to James over the course of this novel. He falls in love. He is a guinea pig in a clinical study. He tries to escape. The plot is quite complex, fast-paced, exciting, and well-constructed.
I wanted to also note something else... Something interesting is happening, this year, with books that are seen to be dystopian. More and more, men's novels of "dystopian" fiction are being hailed as "important" books, while women's novels are being relegated to secondary status. Clearly they are derivative, the reviews go. Clearly they are part of a genre. I think this is part of the same issue we've been grappling with for years in the writing world: sexism in the review culture, so deeply buried that it sometimes can't even be seen. Tricky stuff.
But this novel is so ceaselessly creative and inventive that it will rise above all of this.
What a book.
Brava!