I didn't love this book. The art is pretty, um. (inter)stellar. But there is so much going on and it's all very narratively rushed and allegorically heavy, and so many of the relationships are mired in the symbolic. In the end the characters don't have much personality and the story itself, while trying so hard to be of contemporary conciliatory importance, is pretty predictable. It's like someone is pushing a plate under our (collective readers) nose with requisite "peas and carrots", and feeling good about themselves for doing it because they're helping us eat our vegetables. But the vegetables aren't fresh or free-range and they're freezer burned and have lost quite a few of their nutrients.
What is Thompson's overall message in this epic book that takes its hat off pretty bizarrely to Moby Dick (see chapter 101 "they had dumplings too; small but substantial..." Oh, and the whales.)? Is it striving, perhaps, for some kind of vague "feminist" or "humanist" or "chickenist" message? I'm not sure, but maybe I will have some epiphanies as I write this review?
The book opens in a little spaceship called a "tug." A giant, ridiculously ripped, bearded, tattooed and a-shirt wearing blue-collar white guy is teaching his Disney-pretty, smart, talented, feisty daughter Violet how to fly the space tug. And she is our protagonist. "Space Dumplins" does have a hero who is a girl. Yay! But over-all there isn't too much feminist stuff happening, not too much out of the ordinary in terms of representation. Violet is main-stream-comic-book attractive. She's the heroine not because she is a girl, but despite that fact. (Because she can 'keep up' with the boys.) She has two sidekicks. One's a chicken and the other is, well, a chicken? The definitely-a-chicken chicken is one of the more compelling characters because of the humor (an adorabe, brooding neurotic chicken) but I can't quite make sense of the message there. He's an angsty writer who is terrified of taking risks and ends up being dragged along on an adventure that scares him a lot. Okay. Is this a kind of 'How to make friends and influence people' for chickens? "Risk your life and be brave while also being anxious enough to provide comic relief?"
Overall the book seems to be trying to forge a kind of narrative peace-treaty between folks in a class system that manufactures deep divisions. The divisions in the book of course mirror those in contemporary not-outer-space western human habitats, but without much complexity and without offering true resolution. The story kind of putters to the finish line not very convincingly tying up all loose ends. Tensions are resolved in ways that aren't believable within the world of the story.
The final message of "Space Dumplins?" Is it: "If you work hard enough and risk your life in order to try to make ends meet (while other people live in luxury and barely have to lift a finger), you can find a way to scrape by even if you are (and continue to be) suffering from poverty in a daily way and economically victimized by the system you are in." Or is it: "Giant working-class-Disney-greek-god-muscular male lumberjacks and androgynous-trope-ically-villainous-wealthier-male-manufacturers can all get along if the right kind of catastrophe brings them together because really aren't we all human? [except for the chickens etc]. [But they are anthropomorphized humanistic chickens].
Don't we all, in the end, ultimately care about each others experiences and quality of life? Um, no. (We just elected Trump, remember? The Batman villain who vows to make America Gotham City again.)
Now that I've inarticulately said some things about the book, I want to mention something that I find a bit disturbing. Well, one of the GR reviewers expressed frustration with the sexism in Thompson's representation of girls and his failure to represent racially diverse human characters. And her point makes a lot of sense. But several people commented (or a few people commented several times) in a flurry of defensiveness, saying that it's good the sexism is in there, because that helps people get ready for 'the real world.' Huh? Nope! That's not how it works. At all. Certainly not when the stuff is happening without being addressed or called into question within the scope of the narrative. And anyway, that's like saying we should all be kicked as much as possible starting as young as possible to get us used to the fact that life is hard. And those who stand to have the hardest time in the world because of institutionalized racism, sexism, etc, should get kicked even more as kids to prepare them. If you think that's a good way to "prepare" kids for "life", EEK!
Problematic messages in books about class and race and gender seep into the narrative consciousness of the kids who read them. And kids who rarely or never see themselves or their social scenarios represented in books are also very much affected and harmed by that absence of representation. So yeah, it's really important for kid's book authors to be considerate and thoughtful about this kind of stuff and not just reiterate harmful messages. (It's not easy to do. To truly step out of pervasive and harmful narratives, so thank you Thompson for a book with a cool protagonist.)
Okay, not sure if I've made any bit of sense, but those are my thoughts for the moment.