Theory of Bastards

by Audrey Schulman

Francine decided to share her MacArthur award with the Foundation so that she could study a group of remarkable animals, gentle and intelligent – the perfect creatures to certify her astonishing theory of reproduction, a revolutionary concept that has already changed genetic testing and unmasked public figures and past presidents.

As Francine learns more about her fascinating subjects, we slowly discover that she has access to the most advanced technology: “bodyware,” the lifelike devices that have replaced cellphones, computers, watches, television—most every means of communication. This near-future world is utterly dependent on these little understood mechanisms and implants.

And so when the terrible, dry winds sweep out of the abandoned places in America, silencing all devices, Francine and the man she has grown to love make a decision that will determine if they’ll face a premature ending or, maybe, find a chance to start life over.

This superb literary novel can’t be characterized as dystopian or science fiction. Audrey Schulman has written an absorbing, recognizable story, a book that is humane, generous and surprising. Readers will shiver as they keep turning the pages.

Genres: Fiction, Science Fiction, Dystopia, Book Club, Animals, Speculative Fiction, Audiobook

416 pages, ebook

First published April 24, 2018

About the author

Audrey Schulman is the author of three previous novels: Swimming With Jonah, The Cage, and A House Named Brazil. Her work has been translated into eleven languages. Born in Montreal, Schulman now lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Reviews

[Emily May · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a strange, strange book. I can't imagine I will succeed in recommending it to anyone once I've described what it is about - and maybe that's for the best - but I just found this story so unbelievably fascinating. I'm not even totally sure why.

Theory of Bastards is about an award-winning evolutionary biologist, Francine Burke, who takes on a new research project studying the sexual behaviour of bonobos. Eventually ecological disaster strikes and the story evolves into a survival tale. But I'm not gonna lie: the study of the apes and their behaviour is a major focus of the plot. There are many chapters concerned almost solely with detailing monkey behaviour.

This is where I'm a little confused myself because I don't know how to explain why this is so interesting. But it was SO interesting to me. Maybe it is because of all the ways Frankie's narrative links the bonobos' behaviour back to her own experiences, and to human nature. Her own personal struggles with relationships and sex, due to her endometriosis, are gradually revealed and run alongside the study of the bonobos' sex and relationship habits.

Frankie's endometriosis, and the severe pain it brings, has been a defining experience for her ever since puberty. I realized while reading this book that - even though endometriosis is a common disorder among women - I have never read a book that has so openly and honestly explored it. In fact, I can't recall reading a book that has even mentioned it. It is interesting and often moving to see how her many misdiagnoses and unpleasant experiences with endometriosis have affected her theorizing on sex, sexuality and infidelity.

That being said, I also think the bonobos were just rather fascinating in themselves. I loved reading about their behaviour, their interactions with each other and the scientists, the sign language they learned, and how readily they cooperated with each other. Frankie's research attempts to understand why the female bonobos seem to choose sexual partners at random - instead of being selective and finding the best mate from an evolutionary perspective - and I must say, I was so intrigued by this mystery myself!

I think this is just a really interesting, well-researched, and unusual story. I wouldn't recommend it for those seeking a survival story (though, essentially, it is one), but maybe those who love books that explore all the nuances of behaviour and relationships would be as fascinated by Theory of Bastards as I was.

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[Josh · Rating 4 out of 5]

Part tech-fi, part social study, Theory of Bastards is wholly entertaining. But it's not due to a fast paced plot or nasty piece of technology threatening to end the world. No, the beauty in this book lies with its literary qualities, perfect prose, and complex characters; bonobo and human alike.

Frankie is a scientist, wooed by The Foundation to study bonobos. She's recovering from a life long battle with endometriosis which has crippled her personal life, yet allowed her to focus her energy in the field of science. Becoming a live-in resident of The Foundation whilst undertaking her study, Frankie learns much about the mating, playful qualities, and hierarchy in the group of bonobos. Gradually she earns their trust through a series of experiments in learning, along with co-worker Stotts, a former solider.

As the characters depths unfold so does the omnipresent threat of danger. There's a dark side to the story waiting to shatter Frankie's enjoyable existence within the confines of The Foundation's secure walls.

Theory of Bastards has elements of futuristic tech-fi embedded into the story which adds depth and gives it a unique place among other books I've read this year. The tech angle works really well and the author does a great job at conveying its practical Altered Carbon-like uses (advertising built into lenses direct on the eyes for instance); it flows into the study of bonobos to form a unique and unsuspecting combination.

My rating: 4/5 stars. I would've given Theory of Bastards 5 stars if it weren't for the somewhat abrupt ending. I can see why the story finished where it did, however, as a reader I thought the story deserved closure.

[Tatiana · Rating 4 out of 5]

When I say I always look for books that are unusual, Theory of Bastards is the kind of novel I mean.

I came across this one while perusing various sci-fi award nominees and winners for the year. Somehow Theory of Bastards landed on the short list of Philip K. Dick award, even though I feel this book has a very tenuous connection to science fiction as we traditionally understand it.

If I try to summarize it, it is basically about survival after a technological apocalypse. It's not exactly a fresh concept, but what is unusual is the POV this event is described from.

Francine Burke is an evolutionary biologist. She is recruited to study mating behavior of bonobos, apes known for their peaceful and extremely promiscuous life style. Francine is a special kind of scientist, completely zeroed in on her subject. To me, she read as a person on a spectrum, but it also can be that her ability to focus on what is the most important to her comes from her long-time struggle with chronic pain caused by endometriosis. In any case, as the novel is told from her POV, we only see what interests her - bonobos and their behavior. Ecological and technological challenges of her time are mentioned only in passing. So when reality comes to the front - a dust storm hits the foundation where she works, and all technology goes haywire, it's a bit of a shock. Frankie and her research partner have to figure out how not only to survive themselves, but help their bonobo family too.

I never thought that I would enjoy a 400-page novel that was 75% about apes, but bonobos are super fascinating! Their personalities, their behavior and social structure, their humanity - one can't help but wonder what humans have lost in the evolution, and question if it would be too bad to go back to the primitive basics.

There a many, many things I loved about this novel - exploration of Francine's pain and treatment of it by medical establishment, her hyper-awareness of and clinical approach to viewing attraction, her theories and scientific research methodology and just general curiosity. There is even a romance - slow, and both logical and primal.

Not all the threads come together as neatly as I like them to, but it was another unputdownable reading experience.

P.S. Have no idea how this cover is relevant to anything in this novel. Just makes you think this is some kind of trashy, angsty, depressing romance.

[Allison Hurd · Rating 3 out of 5]

So, I read this because I saw the author speak, during which she said her interest is in "charismatic megafauna," which sounded great to me and not just as a band name. She herself was a sort of charismatic megafauna, telling very funny, insightful, human stories with lots of interesting analogies to other mammals.

This was good. I see why it won the PKD Award. It reads sort of like the Station Eleven, except the focus is right after the collapse.

CONTENT WARNING: adultery, chronic illness, some body horror, loss of child

Normally I do a "good" and a "bad" section in my reviews, but I'm so conflicted about everything, I'm just going to highlight a few points.

-Very clinical. A substantial portion of this book is thinking about the implications of science, not just the theorizing and testing, but the study, the practice and the lifestyle. I haven't read many books that adhere this strongly to academia.

-Lots of real moments. Ornery intellects, people living with immense chronic pain (yay for spreading awareness about endometriosis!), good folks trying just to have quiet, happy lives and of course bonobos bonoboing about in all their bonoboan glory.

-The weaving of stories. I liked seeing how Frankie came to be, and the progression in her insight into the human condition and how much closer we are to animals than we like to pretend.

-NO QUOTATIONS. This drove me up a wall! I switched to audiobook because all the dialogue is without quotation marks and is "he said," and "she said" without much ornamentation. It was very jarring in print. The audiobook was enjoyable but also somewhat jarring because she didn't take the character's tones into account.

-Bindis? There's a computer implant device and other tech that we sort of touch on but not really. They're glowing dots on the forehead and everyone calls them Bindis. I...yeah. I'm just going to leave that there.

-The end. Gah. I was SOOOO happy thinking this thing wasn't gonna happen and then it did and sort of dulled my shine.

Like I said, very conflicted. I didn't really like it, but it was compulsively readable. I thought it was well done but I don't know what it did, really. There was a lot of human insight and soooo much assumed. I would recommend it, but not without some reservation, and I would absolutely read more by this author. So, I guess 3 stars? 3.5 rounded down because when I ask myself "what did I really like" nothing besides the bonobos and authorial respect spring to mind.

[Cindy Burnett (Thoughts from a Page) · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 stars

First, this book is unique and hard to describe, but I loved every minute of it. Second, I am truly baffled by the cover which bears little relation to the story; book covers that do not properly depict what is inside the book are a huge pet peeve of mine. Theory of Bastards is set in the near future when resources are scarce and technology controls virtually everything. Schulman’s prose is crisp, compelling, and lyrical, and she crafts characters who are complex, thoughtful, and clever. Her depiction of the future is chilling and unforgiving. I do not want to spoil anything about the book by saying much about the plot, but I loved the book and finished it in less than two days. Highly recommended!

[Jill · Rating 5 out of 5]

Closing the last page of Theory of Bastards is almost like arriving back home after being immersed in another culture for days or weeks. It’s that bittersweet. I hardly know how to do justice to it.

Imagine taking Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel, combining it with We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves by Karen Joy Fowler and Falling to Earth by Kate Southwood, and then blending it into its own unique and riveting narrative that explores the inner lives of its characters. That only scratches at the surface of what Theory of Bastards is all about.

It’s about Frankie Burke, an evolutionary psychologist in her 30s who has lived with the debilitating effects of stage four endometriosis, which have stunted her relationships with others and caused her to understand pain at its most intimate levels. Upon arriving at The Foundation—a zoo-like research institute—Frankie is coupled with Stotts, a laconic, capable, and very married military veteran who is studying primates’ tool usage. He is asked to assist Frankie on her research into the bonobos, testing her theory that women cheat on men because those offspring that are the result of extramarital affairs end up with evolutionary advantages.

It’s about the blurring of the difference between humans and other higher forms of animal life. The bonobos are peaceful species, headed by an alpha female and armed with the intelligence of an average four-year-old. Each of the bonobos is differentiated and ultimately, they come alive as much as Frankie and Stotts do.

It’s about the dangers of overreliance on technology. Theory of Bastards has a seamless dystopian under-story. Each person is implanted with an advanced form of the web, called The Quark, which can be accessed through a forehead device called Bindi. It is not a stretch to figure out that the technological future and the rich and unknown past will end up clashing.

But mostly, it’s about how love thrives across and within the animal kingdom, which includes human animals. Audrey Schulman writes, “Civilization is based upon a charade, such careful theater. Each of us buttoning up our costumes, hiding our fur, living in carefully sculpted sets, while we pretend we’ve never pooped or had coitus. The illusion broken each time we tighten into death or squeeze a baby out our ho-ha or fall in love.” Surely, this will be one of my best books of 2018.

[Gerhard · Rating 5 out of 5]

This has to be one of the weirdest covers of any recipient to date of the Philip K. Dick Award. Audrey Schulman’s 2019 winner has a black-and-white front-cover picture of a woman (with cat-like green eyes) looking seductively, or protectively, over the shoulder of a man.

Only when I was well into the book and began to understand the ramifications of Frankie Burke’s research did the cover kind of begin to make sense. Frankie’s specialisation is understanding how we select our sexual partners.

In other words, how evolution has primed certain biological triggers that kick into action whenever sex is involved. When we meet someone for the first time, and the immediate reaction is a racing heart, what exactly has happened to us from (a) a bodily perspective and (b) a social-conditioning point of view? This is a potential minefield, of course:

She learned the average heterosexual man reported having seven sexual partners in his lifetime.
For a heterosexual woman, that average was four.
The researchers of these studies generally reported these two numbers without commentary, didn’t discuss the inescapable problem in logic. Who exactly were all these hetero men having sex with if it wasn’t women?

Schulman concludes:

Logically there were only three possible reasons for the numerical difference between the men’s and women’s answers, that gap between seven and four:
These hetero men were having sex with each other.
The vast majority of them were going to prostitutes (and the prostitutes weren’t getting asked by academic researchers to fill out questionnaires concerning their lifetime number of partners. Of course if this were true, it would mean no gender gap in the average number of sexual partners, but only that the distribution curve for women was highly skewed.)
One or both genders were out-and-out lying and the entire culture nodding yes to this lie …

Examining such preconceptions results in Frankie honing in on the notion of infidelity, an understandable taboo in conventional society, which is predicated on the nuclear family as its stable building block. But infidelity performs a vital evolutionary function:

For a woman, reproductive instincts during ovulation were evolution’s final exam. Any mistakes at that point could wipe her genetics right off the chalkboard. An increased desire for the lover when ovulating strongly suggested there was a benefit in having the lover’s baby rather than the husband’s—that conceiving a bastard helped in the long run.

That sounds pretty bleak … And certainly Schulman does not shy away from the inevitable clash between evolutionary and social theory, especially where it intersects with political correctness.

I’ve realised I’ve said nothing so far as to what this book is about … Frankie Burke, winner of a MacArthur grant, accepts a research position at the Foundation in the Midwestern US to study bonobos, the monkey species most closely affiliated to humans.

Peaceful, and governed by an alpha female (in this instance we have the gloriously rendered Mama in charge of the Foundation troop), bonobos are also polyamorous. This means they have sex (loudly and enthusiastically) at the drop of a hat, with anyone at hand. Frankie is confronted by

… the wide variety of acts and positions, homosexual and hetero, the twosomes, the threesomes, the sheer creativity, oral sex, a hand job and what primatologists called penis-fencing. An imaginative juvenile began to hump the leg of an otherwise-occupied adult.
Dwarf hairy humans engaged in an orgy.

Frankie also has endometriosis, a crippling uterine disorder that has required extensive corrective surgery over the years. It has also proven very costly, which is why she finds herself at a bit of a dead end at the Foundation. Despite the acclaim her work has received to date, her medical bills have been mounting.

The disease has also had a major impact on Frankie’s life: From the way she interacts with people, to how she perceives pain and social discomfort, Schulman does an incredible job of bringing Frankie to three-dimensional life.

She also suggests that Frankie’s physical trials and tribulations has had an evolutionary impact in the form of increasing her brain’s capacity to focus on synthesising information. That is, she is able to look beyond the physical limitations of her body to the intellectual puzzle at hand. (Stephen Hawking springs to mind.)

By now you’re probably wondering why this is labelled as a science fiction novel. The SF elements are pretty much part of the background. The Internet is called Quark, to which everyone connects to by means of Lenses. Climate change has resulted in sweeping dust storms across the US.

Frankie’s guide at the Foundation is David Stott, an affable Midwesterner (with the sort of chiselled good looks that evolution seems to favour, but which leaves Frankie cold.) David Stott’s own research focus is Stone Age tools, and in particular how prehumans learned to knap flint – a task that he attempts to teach to the bonobos.

A good chunk of the novel is spent detailing Frankie’s journey in getting to know, and interact with, the troop, with Stott’s assistance. This may seem uninteresting from a narrative angle, but Schulman’s characterisation is so deft that the reader is spellbound. Critically, while at no point does she anthropomorphise the bonobos, she subtly and hauntingly conveys their close ties with humanity.

Then a dust storm strikes. The Quark goes down, as does the automated systems that keep the Foundation up and running. Stranded, with no contact to the outside world, the entire facility is soon faced with a dwindling food supply for its research subjects.

I wish I could say more about the plot, but I don’t want to give away any surprises. I think the ending is likely to be pretty divisive among readers, especially as it is the kind of ‘non’ ending beloved by literary novels in particular.

However, I see it as a particular encapsulation of a moment in time: A heart-breaking glimpse of a world on the cusp of change that, for a brief instant, achieves the kind of perfection that it has only dreamt of.

[Dawn F · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was one incredibly tense story, with a fantastic, long build-up. Shifting between the main character Frankie’s research and observations into the reproduction rites of bonobo apes and her own medical history and battle with both endometriosis and the health care system, everything is told so matter-of-factly and clinically that I was lulled into a strange sense of security, the hum-drum and repetition of life inside the fascility with these intelligent animals carrying me along so easily that it took a while for the foreboding and the ominous feeling lurking in the corners to register, barely realizing the horror of the situation that’s building before I was knee deep in it and unable to get out.

It’s hard to say much without spoiling but the last third of the book was gut-wrenching and I lay awake most of the night reading because I just could not put it down. I had to know what happened. It’s in no way a comfortable, or comforting book, but it is deeply fascinating and I’m in awe of the author’s ability to so assuredly lead the story where it should go without sentimentality or fear of judgment. One of the best and most interesting novels I’ve read, though I can understand if this is not for everyone.

Also what on earth is up with that cover, it makes it look like a cheap Harlequin romance which could not be further from the truth!

[Figgy]

Gotta love it when a book opens with a quote from (I'm guessing) The Subtle Knife...
(Maybe it's from The Amber Spyglass?)

"But sometimes a tool may have other uses that you don't know. Sometimes in doing what you intend, you also do what the knife intends, without knowing." - PHILIP PULLMAN

[Marjorie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Francine (Frankie) is finally able to live her life the way she’d like to. Up until now, her life has been full of pain due to an undiagnosed disease but now she’s pain free. She’s well known for her scientific discovery, “The Theory of Bastards”, and has been given a grant to study bonobos. When a dust storm is expected and mandatory evacuation is imposed, she makes a decision to stay and care for the bonobos, along with the man she loves.

This was an unexpected joy of a book. It takes place in a futuristic world, full of human computer implants and driverless cars. The story jumps back and forth from Frankie’s life when she struggles with her pain and present day. I would have given it five stars except for the fact that there were parts of the book that I felt dragged a bit, especially when Frankie first comes to the Foundation to start work with the bonobos. The slow parts are not completely without merit, though, as they include real-life studies of the bonobos that I found to be quite interesting.

The story really picks up when the dust storm hits. I hadn’t realized up until that point how much I had grown to care about each of the bonobos and Frankie. The last quarter of the book was very suspenseful and I clung to every word. There’s quite a lesson on the dangers of a society so dependent on technology.

Ms. Schulman has given us a well-written book with true heart. It’s a very original look at humanity and mankind’s relationship to the animal world. Recommended.

This book was given to me by the publisher in return for an honest review.

[Silvana · Rating 4 out of 5]

Excellent, unusual, well-researched writing, with less than desirable ending and plot choice.

[Gabi · Rating 4 out of 5]

To get it out of the way: the cover is simply horrible! Yes, it has some justification along the way, but it evokes the feeling of dealing with a tacky, angsty romance novel. I would not have picked it up, hadn’t it won the PKD award. The cover would successfully have driven me away.

Okay, that’s done. Back to the story itself. It is about a scientist having endomitriosis who channelled her energy into socialbiology of sexual attraction to distract herself from her own suffering. She accepts a research post with a group of Bonobos at a primate center. The story is told in flashbacks to her own past, developing disability and failing relationships alternating with her present where she has to come to terms with open up herself to get the trust of her primate group and her human assistant. The social biology and the human/ape interactions where so fascinating and so well researched/told that I was completely sucked in the novel. The author managed to make me bite my nails while I was seeing through the eyes of the scientist. A feast for any reader with a soul for science and a real treasure for those who want more out of SF than space opera.
Past and present melt together changing the scientist herself while she is concentrating on her subjects. A beautiful coming to terms with oneself through caring for others.

In the second half of the book the tone changes. What was created in the first half has to be put to the test and Schulman does this creating heartwrenching anxiety. Again I was right in the middle of it all, fearing the outcome.

What would have been a wonderful 5-star read, unfortunately got a rather lame finish in the last few chapters. The end does the book no justice. It feels like the author suddenly became aware that the story has to end and put some rather sudden twists and decisions there that didn’t feel earned. So therefore 1 star deduction to this otherwise highly fascinating and different SF story.

[Betsy Robinson · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a page-turner. Very moving. But I'm not sure I can parse the title or the theme. Except I grok it: ultimately it's about what life and home are, and they don't equate to your species or the walls around you or the technology you use.

This book was recommended to me by my lifelong friend who is now a Professor of Human Genetics and a Research Scientist for Reproductive Sciences. She is the perfect person to talk to about this book, so that's what I will do.

[Stephanie · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read this book because David Plotz of the Political Gabfest recommended it, and we have very similar book tastes. He said it reminded him of and was as good as Station Eleven, but I'd say it was even better.

The first half of the novel, which I read over three days, focuses on the backstory of the protagonist, Frankie, and her current life studying bonobos in a laboratory setting. Frankie is recovering from endometriosis, which we learn about (immeasurable pain and nobody taking it seriously because it's lady-pain). We also learn a lot about bonobos (the pro-bonobo, anti-chimp lobby won this round). One feels that Schulman spent years studying both and very occasionally the novel seems like a dissertation on these subjects, but the author kept me hooked by moving the plot forward just enough—cranky Frankie is gradually falling in love oh and also there's an apocalypse on the horizon. So that's the first half: medicine, science, and stuff brewing the background.

And then the second half explodes. I read it in one sitting, annoying my husband, who kept trying to talk to me and kept getting shooshed. The apocalypse arrives locally in the form of a dust storm, which coincides with some sort of global tech disaster. Unlike Frankie, who has stapled garbage bags over her telly to avoid watching the news, we saw this coming. Trapped in the research center with assorted apes are Frankie, her love interest Stotts, and a few other human minders. Food and water become scarce, and we've been informed that chimps are a lot less charming than bonobos: GO!

As I charged through the novel, I admired the flexibility of Schulman's writing. She writes beautifully, with literary flair, but also where needed with a thriller-writer's staccato. The plot races forward but she somehow manages to develop all the primary characters, including the bonobos. Almost without realizing it, we've gotten to know and love individual bonobos in the first half, so we are extremely invested in them by the second half. As they are imperiled, we are frantically flipping pages to see what happens next. While I love novels and find joy and sorrow in them, I am very rarely moved to tears—but I cried several times reading this part of the novel. I cried over what was happening to the characters, but also over simple descriptions of Frankie's internal emotional state. The ending was abrupt but satisfying, like a sigh let out after holding your breath for too long.

It may take me longer to figure out how the various themes of the novel tie together. First, there's the actual Theory of Bastards from the title, which indeed is part of the plot—having to do with cheating females and their resulting "bastard" offspring. Frankie is interested both human and primate infidelity from a personal and scientific viewpoint. The "theory" described here is an actual real-life scientific concept, but I'm a little fuzzier on how it connects to the tech-pocalypse and aftermath. I'm also unsure of the purpose endometriosis has, thematically. Schulman spends so much time on this, as much time as she spends on the bonobos and more than she spends imagining future tech, but why? She has things to say about evolution, and things to say about pain, and things to say about technology, but I'm not entirely sure how they connect. If anyone else has thoughts on that, please share!

[Cherisa B · Rating 3 out of 5]

In the near future, implants become a thing and life is heavily dependent on technology. Hackers, however, have created self-learning computer viruses and there's no staying ahead of them. In this society, we meet a scientist, Frankie Bellows, who has lived with the deep pain of endometriosis since puberty. She has just won a MacArthur and chooses as her next project to observe and theorize at a primate research center on the sexuality of female desire among bonobos and how it affects reproduction and evolution. Her assistant at the center, Stotts, has his own project on theories of how humans might have developed the ability to use tools.

Her journey through diagnosis and treatment (in retrospect, we meet her just as she is recovering from surgery that has vastly improved her wellbeing), wends through the minimization of women's pain. We see her acclimation to the bonobos, which are matriarchal animals, and acceptance into their group. Weaker is her relations with other humans but we see her rapprochement with her assistant. All pretty interesting.

The foundation gets evacuated for a huge dust storm, which has become a usual and deadly event in the area, though she remains behind with the "essential worker" caretakers. Here the story takes a weird turn and somewhat goes off the rails. Schulman decides to warn us of heavy dependence on vulnerable technology. An unexpected twist, but a good read.

3 1/2 stars.

[Sally Ember · Rating 2 out of 5]

Audrey Schulman has crafted a somewhat unique novel of the near-future, with post-apocalyptic events, implanted tech, human-animal interactions, and a lot of science facts mixed in with a surprising amount of seemingly irrelevant information about the protagonist's previous research (based on OTHER actual experiments done by real people who supposedly bear no resemblance to this character... so, why?). I wanted to like this book, and it was strangely compelling.

However... Some spoilers, here...

The ending was TERRIBLE. In fact, I would go so far as to say a few chapters are entirely MISSING. Edited out? Never written? Forgotten to include? Awful choices made, there.

There was entirely too much information about the protagonist's former and current physical conditions (which were unnecessarily graphically depicted and disturbing; trigger warning for any woman who has menstrual problems) and personal history, most of which was completely irrelevant to this storyline. Maybe these bits were included in a FAILED attempt to establish Frankie's motivations, attitudes, beliefs, emotional state, physical realities? Whose idea was including all that, I wonder?

Ms. Schulman or a very close associate must suffer from the same physical condition as our anti-heroine, Frankie, in order to have produced such specific and copious details of every part of it. Way too much medical information for a fiction book NOT revolving around that condition, though. More bad choices and poor editing, IMO.

Schulman asks readers to believe/buy into Frankie's transformation--from a neutral, observing, experienced researcher (MacArthur Fellowship grant recipient) to an almost ordinary human who interacts with her Bonobo primate subjects as if she were one of them--all of this occurring after only a few months, with the most drastic changes' occurred over the last week or so of this novel. Nope. Not buying it. Yes, "desperate times call for desperate measures," but...

We're also supposed to believe that the entire tech underpinning of the globe could fail all in one moment and NO ONE WOULD COME TO TELL or HELP THEM. Really? I don't think so. They're in MISSOURI (where I happen to live now and grew up), not the middle of some jungle or desert. There is a terrible dust storm and somehow that coincides/causes complete collapse of EVERYTHING? Not likely.

Finally, and worst of all, her assistant/helper/underling/partner, Stotts, supposedly becomes almost catatonic and mechanical because of not knowing what has happened to his wife and child during these collapses (they're in England), but, also, simultaneously heroic, romantic, and fully engaged with the Bonobos as much as she is, quite suddenly "going native," and displaying more equally incredible changes, all in this post-apocalyptic week or so. Since Stotts was in the military, he has experience, skills and training (vaguely presented), and is also a primate researcher who has been at it longer than Frankie. So, he should "know better," right?

I realize catastrophes and challenges change people. I know extreme circumstances, like war or natural disasters (or tech failures that cause other disasters), make people "trench mates," inspire unlikely and out-of-character behaviors and sexual liaisons, and can reduce even the most stable amongst us all the way into cannibalism or psychosis (talking to volleyballs, anyone?). But, that kind of alteration of someone's basic nature (someone who is not already pathological, that is) takes weeks, months, YEARS; not days!

Therefore, the ending really rotted. Seemed thrown together, cobbled and edited poorly. Left a lot out, put in weird additions (Why a dog? Why "Kon Tiki"? Why marauding and murderous chimps, for only about 5 minutes? Why the murder at all?), and, worst of all, left too many unanswered questions and DIDN'T END THE STORY properly.

Worst mistake an author can make--unless this is part of a series, which it does not seem to be--is to NEGLECT the plot. There was no "falling action," really, and there were also no denouement, no resolutions, and not enough answers.

So, what was the POINT of all this? Really?

Amazingly, I did finish it, but barely, and angrily (NO POINT!). That is the only reason this poorly edited and written book gets 2 stars instead of 1.

The details, scientific accuracies and information that went into writing this book are admirable and I did enjoy learning about Bonobos and other primates. But, unless you are a VERY BIG FAN of them, or suffer from similar menstrual disorders as Frankie, you won't like this book at all. I promise.

It could have been so much better.

[switterbug (Betsey) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Imagine the near future—maybe 40 years from now. Technology has advanced to skin implants and and special eye lenses to access the Internet. Printers print out 3-D “food,”—paper loaded with nutrients and fed to mostly animals. “Poly-roaches” are viruses that can entirely shut down digital networks. Climate change effects are now extreme; there are terrible floods and also raging dust storms that cause serious respiratory illnesses, like debilitating asthma.

Into this world steps Frankie Burke, a recent MacArthur grant winner. She’s decided to move from Manhattan to Missouri and study the bonobos at the Foundation to carry on her work in evolutionary theories. Bonobos are gentle primates who won’t hurt humans and have exuberant sex before mealtimes to mitigate aggression and competition. The leader is an alpha-female. These creatures, with the intelligence of four-year-olds, are the closest animals to early humans.

Frankie is healing from surgery, and is hoping for a full recovery. Most of her life was spent in pain and suffering from a disease which is revealed at its own narrative pace. That is how Schulman tenders her story—measured disclosures and progression. Frankie is at the bonobo enclosure daily, studying their interactions, eating habits, sexual behaviors, and mating rituals. She selected an assistant there almost at random; because of her reputation, she could have had her pick. But she chose a quiet ex-military researcher with a buzz cut and startling blue eyes, named David Stotts, or just Stotts.

Frankie and Stotts possess separate dispositions, but he was strong and concise and he assisted her to walk, to fall safely to the ground, and instinctively she knew they would be honest toward each other. “I don’t like praise…Don’t give me any,” Frankie says to him early on. “Stotts would stand out in a crowd, like a fox in a group of Pekingnese. Alert, coiled and capable.”

The locus of the book is Frankie--her healing, her life entire, which informs what and how she studies. While Frankie’s background is laid bare, Stotts is mostly an enigma, who we primarily see through Frankie’s eyes. As the narrative progresses, her professional relationship with Stotts evolves, shot with occasional and subtle playfulness. Her post-surgical status allows her to eat foods that were previously forbidden, and Stotts is amused at her taste for mayonnaise, chocolate, and meat—all rolled together and popped in her mouth!

The bonobos bind Frankie and Stotts in shared devotion of a species, these chimp-like primates, with names like Sweetie, Tooch, Mama, Goliath. The interactions swing from casual to fraught, depending on various factors, such as Frankie’s demands and Stotts’ attentiveness, consistently impressive. His daughter suffers from serious asthma, and has left with his wife for London for treatment. In the meantime, Frankie is trying to win over the bonobos, so that she can spend more time in their enclosure interacting and proving her theory. One thing intriguing she discovered—for all their exhibitionist sex, there are times when they also have “secret sex.”

The latter part of the book is when the dystopian elements appear to take over, reminding me of other novels in its class, such as GOLD FAME CITRUS, by Claire Vaye Watkins, and GODS WITHOUT MEN, by Hari Kunzru. The tone and atmosphere, especially, were reminiscent of STATION ELEVEN, by Emily St John Mandel. The events that coalesce into a force of nature may have been conventional, but Schulman doesn’t get lazy and rely on the easy literary heritage of others to deploy her plot and themes. The irony of Frankie’s disease and surgery plays a poignant role, and her relationship with her past, with the bonobos, and with Stotts is nuanced and credible.

Schulman’s quixotic tale of the sex lives of bonobos and the theory of ovulating women is commanding, confident, and heartbreaking. The enduring power of love is evoked within the immediacy of harrowing crises. In fact, the presence of the bonobos, who are more than mere players in this novel, illuminate most brilliantly and tenderly one clear question: what it is to be human. That is the pinnacle of potent literature and the sublime power of Schulman’s storytelling.

[Spencer Orey · Rating 5 out of 5]

It's rare for me to find it compelling when a novel engages with a slice of scientific research. This one posed real questions about the science through prose and story. It was fantastic.

I almost gave up on this book a few times. To me, the main character comes off as a real jerk but believably so. We get a very close focus on her struggles with debilitating illness, her struggle to find a place in academia and pursue research, and her relationships. That part was okay and I'm sure definitely appeals more to other readers than me. Luckily, the book is also full of bonobo characters, and they're each a highlight.

Without spoiling much, I'll say that there's an amazing twist that shakes up the book. The twist made me reconsider the first half of the book and re-engage with the subject matter all over again. I loved it.

Super side note: I bought this as a recommended from Marek, who works at Primrose Hill Books in London. He asked me tell him what I've been reading lately and what I've been writing and then pulled this off the shelf for me. It was a real treat! If you get to go to London, check out the shop and ask for a recommendation.

[Jemppu · Rating 3 out of 5]

This could've used some charm and/or wit to liven up the veterinary record keeping. Rather drab and monotonous narration throughout.

Plus point still, for being intellectually inclined, rather than leaning the other way, towards empty dramatization.

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Reading updates.

[Anna · Rating 4 out of 5]

Set in a near future of communication implants and accelerating climate breakdown, Theory of Bastards is concerned not with technology but science. The plot follows Dr. Francine Burk, an academic in the field of evolutionary psychology; specifically how humans choose their reproductive partners. She brings her grant money to a primate centre and begins studying the sexual habits of their bonobo troop. I found the bonobos the most compelling characters in the novel, as they are Frankie's focus and thus described in fascinated detail. Schulman provides an appendix to assure the reader that all bonobo behaviour in the novel is based on actual research. Thus it isn't really extrapolation as you'd expect from sci-fi so much as transposition of actual findings into an imaginary future. I also appreciated the fact that Frankie's research was constantly and reductively misrepresented when reported in the media.

About halfway through, the narrative shifts significantly as the outside world impinges upon Frankie and the bonobos. The first half is certainly interesting, as well as notable for its vivid depiction of Frankie's severe endometriosis. Yet I found the second half much more tense and compelling, as the situation destabilised. While the relationships between humans weren't particularly memorable, the dynamics between humans and bonobos were excellent. I found the theory of the title a little underwhelming, as I'm wary of attempts to explain the vast diversity of behaviour around human sexuality and reproduction purely in terms of evolution. I enjoyed Theory of Bastards very much as a novel about humans forming social bonds with bonobos, though.

[Jacqie · Rating 2 out of 5]

This one wasn't for me.

The basic plot of the book is that Frankie, an evolutionary psychologist (sociologist?) has won a grant to study a troop of bonobos and in particular their mating habits. While she's studying them, an apocalypse occurs and she and one of her fellow scientists end up taking the troop out of the facility in which they've been housed and across the countryside in order to survive.

The point of the book, on the other hand, seems to be for the author to tell us about a lot of past psych/sociological experiments, but to claim that Frankie had done these experiments instead. This was weird for me. I knew about all (I think) of these studies, which have been done anywhere from the 60's to the 90's, but we're in the future in this book (everyone has contact lenses with which they connect to an internet web) and Frankie is seen as a groundbreaking researcher. It seems like the author was fascinated by these studies in mate selection ( that's what Frankie is studying with the bonobos) and wanted to share them with the world. And they are interesting, true. They are also part of a field called evolutionary psychology which has been found somewhat problematic in its insistence on mate selection determining so very much of human behavior as humans instinctively try to find the mate that will be the best for them evolution-wise; which mate helps them perpetuate their genes the best. When it comes right down to it, you can make an evolutionary argument for any behavior if you look hard enough for it, but then you could be getting into reaching a conclusion before truly testing your theory and you could be suffering from confirmation bias. Anyway, this particular school of thought is not universally loved by the scientific community.

Frankie's field of study is somewhat problematic. She herself was problematic for me, too. As a scientist, for one. Example: she decides (despite having drones with cameras at her disposal) that she really needs to see all of the bonobos' enclosure so she won't miss any matings. Despite being repeatedly warned about being unsupervised with these potentially dangerous wild animals, she goes and enters their enclosure without telling anyone. This is hugely irresponsible and dangerous, but it's also bad behavioral science. Anyone who does research can tell you that if subjects know they are being observed, they act differently. And it's not like Frankie is trying to hide from the bonobos. She goes right into the middle of the enclosure and amuses them with her sad attempts at climbing. So her research into mate selection should frankly be invalidated right there, since the bonobos know that she's watching them.

Next, Frankie is recovering from stage 4 endometriosis. I've never had this disease, so I can't speak to the accuracy of the book. But Frankie, once she knows her condition (it's gone undiagnosed forever because she thought that the level of pain she was in was normal) refuses to accept medical advice. She's told that a hysterectomy is her best chance at a cure. (This aligns with current treatment, to the best of my knowledge). Frankie, at the age of 21 or so, is incensed that a doctor would tell her to have a hysterectomy at her age and threatens to get him fired if he mentions the idea again. She doesn't especially seem to want children, but does very much want the option. She goes on for about another 10 years, feeling worse and worse, trying stopgaps that don't end up helping, loses weight, can't focus on her work. In the end, she has the hysterectomy and is recovering from this procedure at the beginning of the book. Frankie hates doctors and feels like she knows better than they do, but honestly, they gave her the right advice even if she didn't want to hear it. For ten years she suffered, getting angrier and angrier at her doctors but not doing the thing that would actually help her. Nor does she seem especially interested in children, which I'd think would be the main reason not to want a hysterectomy. This trait continues in Frankie. She doesn't listen to her fellow researchers who tell her how to behave around the bonobos and puts herself in danger because of it. I was never too impressed with Frankie's judgement, or the judgement that she passed on almost all other people.

So, because I couldn't attach to the main character and I couldn't get into her way of looking at the world, the book didn't work for me. The author has extensive footnotes about Frankie's supposed research, but I'm not sure that she understood the context of that research.

[Lukasz · Rating 5 out of 5]

Theory of Bastards is a weird book. But also a brilliant one. It focuses on Francine Burke, a superstar of the biological research, fascinated by whimsical mating habits of different species (finches, humans, primates). She accepts a position in a facility studying primates, including pansexual Bonobos. Frankie finds their promiscuous mating behavior fascinating from the evolutionary point of view. When everyone has sex with everyone how can females be sure if their offspring gets the best genes?

The narrative, divided between Frankie’s current research at the Foundation and glimpses from her past, focuses on the science behind our choices of sexual partners. Don’t worry, it never turns into a boring collection of data. Schulman weaves the research seamlessly into the narrative making the novel unputdownable.

Frankie is cold and distanced, focused on collecting data and proving her new theory that women cheat on men because titular bastards have evolutionary advantages. She tries to approach Bonobos as subjects, not as living and feeling creatures. Not an easy task when you work with such a colorful group of characters. As we get glimpses of Frankie’s past, her struggles with the debilitating pain caused by endometriosis, and her strained and unhealthy relationships it gets easier to relate to her and understand her caustic demeanor. It’s rare to see this particular ailment pictured in speculative fiction and even rarer to see it done so well.

Theory of Bastards starts and develops slowly until it reaches an unexpected post-apocalyptic turn. When the technology fails, Frankie, her assistant and a group of Bonobos will have to fight for survival. Following scenes show, rather realistically, struggles of people suddenly disconnected from their networked lives. I like small scale narratives and Schulman’s choice to follow a small group of primates (two people and Bonobos) resulted in an intimate and engaging story about instincts, reason, and emotions appearing in the face of the unknown.

I loved Theory of Bastards. It’s almost perfect. I’m not sure if it will appeal to fans of edge-of-your-seat-style narratives, but it should engage readers who enjoy a literary blend of academic research, evolutional psychology, and philosophy. It offers a brilliant mix of ecological and speculative fiction and proves that a skilled writer can turn the scientific study of human and bonobo sexual preferences into thrilling fiction.

[Cheryl]

I thought that I was reading this for a group or buddy read, but after I got a ways in and had questions&criticisms, I couldn't find the discussion. So... I still q&c. Only some of them are answered in the negative reviews. The negative reviews, especially the one by Sally Ember, convince me to DNF atm, but I will pick it up again if any of my groups or GR buddies do choose it.

Meanwhile, I'm using the author's bibliography. Yes, any book by Frans de Waal is worth reading and I'll add The Ape and the Sushi Master: Reflections of a Primatologist to my lists. Bonobo Handshake: A Memoir of Love and Adventure in the Congo, The Chimps of Fauna Sanctuary: A True Story of Resilience and Recovery, Woman: An Intimate Geography, The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World, A Mind of Her Own: The Evolutionary Psychology of Women, and Mean Little Deaf Queer: A Memoir are books that I'll be considering. Some of the other the author lists I have read already.

[Bryan · Rating 5 out of 5]

I couldn’t put this book down: 416 pages, and I finished it in 4 days. It’s a story of illness, of scientific discovery, of animal behaviour, and of the apocalypse, and yet it’s also something more. Every character is exquisite, every sentence is carefully crafted, and every idea has been deeply researched. The lead figure, Frankie, is somehow both an everywoman for us all, and also heroic beyond belief. “Theory of Bastards” is a superb and extraordinary novel.

[Rachel · Rating 5 out of 5]

Phenomenal. Lit fic with elements of near-future sci-fi, cli-fi, dystopia, social science, and biology---it's hard to really describe. An acclaimed researcher who has struggled with a lifetime of chronic pain comes to a facility to study the mating habits of bonobo apes. There are so many layers to this book: chronic pain and the ways medicine can fail people who have it, the drive to procreate, the biology of attraction, the possibilities and limits of technology, the future of the planet, evolution, love, friendship, connection. It completely absorbed and moved me. I never wanted to put it down. Favorite book of the year so far.

[Andy Lillich · Rating 5 out of 5]

I must confess that I LOVED Schulman's Ten Weeks in December - and was delighted to hear she had a new novel out. To me, she is a Master of her own unique style of inventing what feel to me like wholly original stories that intertwine disparate plots that detail moments in the lives of wholly unique - yet believable characters, stories that are also filled with scrupulously researched factual material - some of it scientific, some of it speculative. I especially share her love of the subject of human/primate research - how we tend to study our closest biological relatives in order to better understand ourselves. She invents wonderful back-stories for her complex characters and manages to create primate characters every bit as unique and fascinating as their human counterparts. Like some of the other readers who have weighed in here - I could NOT out this one down. Especially when the plot does an unexpected flip that turns the characters' relationships completely around. I, too, read it in four days.

If any of this appeals to you, fellow reader: do NOT miss this one!

[Blair]

(Abandoned at 33%.) Theory of Bastards is a peculiar, even confounding, novel. The blurb doesn't provide an adequate summary of the plot; the title seems disconnected from the story, the cover even more so; it is occasionally very sharp but has long stretches of dull, dry text that eventually made me give up altogether.

There are multiple plotlines: Frankie's study of the bonobos; her relationship with Stotts; her experience of endometriosis; the inescapable influence of bodywear. They haven't yet cohered, and the first two (which I'm least interested in) are dominating the book, while the fourth (which I'm most interested in) is mostly incidental. I've skipped ahead and read bits of a few later chapters, and it's still the same. There's some interesting stuff here but it's too uneven and monotonous to hold my attention.

Advance review copy received from Edelweiss.

[Megan Aruta · Rating 5 out of 5]

Rarely have I read a book that made me look at ethics, technology, animals, and communication with such a discerning eye. The dystopian underpinnings of Theory of Bastards presents itself subtly as we enter the book and kicks up significantly about halfway through as disaster strikes the Foundation. Schulman excels in this genre and makes her readers ask hard questions about not-far-away future possibilities and the extreme pros and cons of technology and medical advancements. We also face the results of the way humans are living now, which is growing increasingly important in our current political climate.

FULL REVIEW HERE: http://meganprokott.com/theory-of-bas...

[Jessica Mae Stover]

To the publisher: CHANGE THE COVER! This is a serious, science-based scifi novel and you know this would not be the cover if it were written by an author who happened to be a man. Notes: At page 100 and digging this so far. https://bookshop.org/a/55447/97816094... The opening has a tension reminiscent of what was delicious about the beginning of Jurassic Park. A mystery around some creatures, a scientist arriving to find it all out, a staffer who urges human respect for the dangers of their power and cleverness... (but with better science, feminism, and set in the future).

[Nerdette Podcast · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is about a lot of things: evolutionary theory, our reliance on tech, bonobo monkeys, endometriosis, home, touch, breath, life. But all you really need to know is that it is phenomenal.