This gripping dystopian debut by E.J. Babb is a haunting glimpse into a very possible, very divisive future. With an unflinching exploration into life and living, this is a must for readers of Orwell's 1984 , Huxley's Brave New World and Alderman's the Power .
The public call her a cold-blooded murderer. An executioner. A killer for hire.
Nieve Hindeman is a euthanasist.
She is one of hundreds of professionals relieving patients of their pain every day. To her, euthanasia is simply a medical solution to a medical problem.
But when Nieve starts to treat a voluntary patient - a man who is physically healthy but choosing to die - she starts to question the work she does. How can she prove that someone's desire to die is genuine? Can a patient ever be psychologically terminally ill? And is a life ever not worth saving?
E.J. Babb is a sci-fi and horror writer and runs the film and book blog, Dystopic. She is the author of These Unnatural Men, FOREGROUND and The Festivities of Morkwood. She lives by the sea in the UK with her partner and far too many rescue dogs.
This is a thoroughly gripping novel that many readers will demolish in very few sittings. Super story-telling and page-turning pacing—the narrator is a particularly clever creation, challenging the reader to sympathise even as we note her own empathic shortcomings.
No punches are pulled nor short-cuts taken in the cause of feel-good conclusions or easy ways out of the moral quandaries the story illuminates. The prose is physical and intimately so, providing a backdrop of convincing realism to carry the propellant narrative of this dystopian think piece.
‘What with so many public service vehicles being hijacked during the travel crisis, but I think they were more concerned for the protection of government property.’
A dystopian novel These Unnatural Men (TUM) was not the novel I was expecting. Many, but not all, dystopian novels I’ve read are influenced by cataclysmic events occurring during the novel itself, whereas in TUM the characters are already trapped by past circumstances, so it falls into the ‘trapped dystopia’ category in my mind. TUM was character based. I found this style refreshing and new, taking the reader out of the tried-and-tested formulas for dystopia, and what’s marvellous is that it also plays with the reader’s mind, dipping into preconceived notions of psychiatric institutes and blending them with a euthanasia focus.
Fascinating characters Nieve Hindeman is the protagonist, an up-and-coming euthanasist bent on advancing her career at Boar House and doing euthanasia the right way. She’s very much a product of the present in TUM, but a more extreme version who wants to prove her theory to hope it will change euthanasia for the better. She’s not a ‘doctor’, as the patients still get confused what to call them; I liked this link to the past. Her character was fascinating and disturbing.
And though I disliked Nieve’s cruelty, zealous approach, nosiness, and her blatant disrespect of privacy, I came to feel sorry for her at times when flashbacks were given into her past and when older characters criticised her lack of knowledge of the real world. It’s as if she was groomed to be a euthanasist and she’s as trapped as the patients are: ‘You should have applied and received your civilian money by now, but if you haven’t you can borrow some from the petty cash box.’
Author EJ Babb did expand well on the rigorous assessment process for acceptance into the euthanasia program. There is a lot of red tape preventing cases from going forward, and by the time the patient is through with all these tests, like David, they’re impatient and they just want to die.
The character Logue and his dynamic with Nieve was worth reading: ‘Logue smiled at her – a rarely seen expression on him. It made his big, droopy eyes shrink inwards as the folds on his face bunched together. He looked subhuman, almost lizard-like.’
‘His watery eyes were boarded with prominent blood vessels and his thin top lip curled inward as he spoke. “Everyone has secrets.”’
Criticism I’d like to have learnt more about what had happened in the past, what this travel crisis was, and to delve deeper into the technologies used at Boar House for the purpose of euthanasia beyond a particular drug.
David, Nieve’s case, was intentionally boring, and the point was hammered home how little of his true reasons for being at Boar House was divulged. It makes the reader wonder, is it David who’s not forthcoming or is Nieve imagining things from too much pressure? He wasn’t interesting after the beginning and the story, true to its form, was more about Nieve.
Overall TUM was a novel that kept me reading. I wanted to know what Nieve would discover to be the truth and I wanted to know what sort of character she was. Page after page we learn about the fictitious dystopian world author EJ Babb has created, and even after finishing you still feel you want to learn more.
If depressed and thinking of suicide, I wouldn't recommend this book due to its dark and disturbing content. If not, I highly recommend it. Intelligent, with strong characterisation based on core emotions and life experiences for each character. The dystopian world is conveyed not so much from described setting but the attitudes and feelings of those who occupy this imaginary world. This is Babb's principal strength.
The setting, though meant to be near future, felt more 1970s, like a Soviet Britain. This proved a positive point, as it felt as if the future society was somehow constrained, suffocated by shame, repressed anger and sanctioned violence.
The story could have been better paced midway, instead of lingering in obfuscated clues, which eventually resulted in disappointing final chapters, where the mystery was revealed through confession rather than discovery. For such an intelligent and gifted writer, I felt Babb could have found another way to reveal all, and with it a deeper realisation and emotional transformation for the central character.
This is a really, really good book. There’s a well-thought-through premise: in a world where euthanasia is common, what are the moral pitfalls, and how do you navigate through them? There’s a plot that keeps you guessing all the way through. And there’s a fascinating, flawed protagonist who’s almost as damaged as the patient she’s trying to help. Nieve is also the narrator of the story, and she speaks in “technicalese”. At first you wonder whether that’s the way the author’s written it; but no, that’s Nieve. She really is like that, and her obsessions, her gaucheness and her mistakes almost make you dislike her; but still she pulls you along with her, deeper and deeper into the mystery. Why does David want to die? Nieve needs to know. If I have a reservation it’s that in a few places there are typos that cause you to stop and check; but that’s the only one. Against that were the good pace, the highly effective descriptions, the great characterisation, and above all the absorbing plot. These Unnatural Men really is unputdownable. What a great debut!
A subtle realistic near future distopia. This story explores the psychological trauma of it's central characters, each having their own different issues. I enjoyed this, it kept me hooked in right up to the end, leaving me with issues to ponder on.
This book is gripping, I just had to keep reading to find out what was really going on! A look at the potential for "healthcare" with the grim realities included.
Sometimes when you read a book, you wonder why you haven’t heard of it before. I felt this way about These Unnatural Men. Yes, euthanasia is a dark subject, but it is the characters of the book that drive the story forward. I wouldn’t let the subject matter put you off; in fact this was the most interesting part for me, challenging my own views on the subject.
David Myre wants treatment, but it isn’t obvious why. I found myself asking whether there had to be a reason at all. Not all suffering is obvious, or explicable. Did I want there to be reason, just because I didn't like to think that somebody would want their life to end without there be being some concrete cause? And should any society allow this if there isn't a definable reason?
Nieve is his euthanasist. She seems cold and detached, but is not content to accept his case at face value. Whether this is purely to prove her theory of desistance, of which David shows no signs – or whether there is more at play, becomes clearer. It is this quest that really fuels the book.
The setting is also very plausible: it’s easy to imagine the claustrophobic atmosphere of the Boar House Relief Facility, surrounded by protestors. The terminology feels very real too. I found myself looking up the acronyms, and terms used in the book to see if any were real. I was fully immersed in this world.
So does David want treatment for a reason, and if so will Nieve discover it? No spoilers here. You need to read this to find out for yourself, but I recommend that you do.