In a society where self-preservation is as much an art as a science, Norah and Arthur are learning how to co-exist in their new little world.
Though they hardly know each other, everything seems to be going perfectly—from the home they're building together to the ring on Norah's finger.
But survival in this world is a tricky thing, the air is thicker every day and illness creeps fast through the body. And the earth is becoming increasingly hostile to live in. Fortunately, Easton Grove is here for that in the form of a perfect little bundle to take home and harvest. You can live for as long as you keep it—or her—close.
Composite Creatures by Caroline Hardaker is a thought-provoking dystopian debut which continuously questions what it truly means to be alive in a dying world.
Over the years Earth has essentially become toxic, the soil and air has become contaminated, many species of wildlife and plants have become extinct, and sickness reigns through the human race cutting their lifespan far too short. Yet a beacon of hope emerges in the form of a medical institution called Eastern Grove, scientists cannot yet promise a cure, but they have found a way to prolong life. The only drawback is what will it cost?
The novel begins with our main protagonist Norah meeting a writer called Art, in a restaurant in London, on a seemingly ordinary awkward first date. As we slowly meander through Norah’s day to day life, things progress and we quickly learn that their relationship is far from a normal one. I think it’s fair to begin by saying if you’re expecting a fast paced read with plenty of shocking turn of events, then you’ll be sorely disappointed. Composite Creatures simply isn’t that kind of novel, however it is a remarkable window into the human psyche.
“In the bedroom mirror I looked like me and not like me. A dream version of me. All grown up now. I pressed a cold glass of water against my neck to cool the red petals of anxiety blooming up my throat.”
Through Hardaker’s first person narration we get an intimate look into Norah’s relationship with Art, her connection to Eastern Grove and their growing involvement in her life, we also witness her strained friendship with Eleanor, Rosie and Aubrey and how Nut, a mysterious creature akin to a cat, impacts her life. We learn of her childhood, and through her poignant memories of the times spent with her mother we envisage the world before it became toxic, of all the animals which roamed free but no longer exist. Her mother was a being of the past raising a child of a future where the very air was killing her breath by breath, and I appreciated Hardaker showing the toll that takes on both parties. There were moments where I felt perhaps the plot stalled too much, particularly during the middle section where Norah falls into a repetitive routine, nonetheless despite this I was always compelled to read on. Norah often appears fairly detached from people and the world at large, she’s never quite sure who loves her or even sure who she loves. She’s a character we can sympathise with, a character who I felt for, because she’s clearly vulnerable, lonely and extremely insecure.
“My idea of the natural world was a fairytale, based on the storybooks I read at school or the stretching cats in Mum’s paintings. She captured wild things amidst the slow tide of extinction. She looked over her shoulder as the planet moved forward.”
Hardaker’s prose is pensive, melancholic and lyrical. Each chapter swept me along on Norah’s journey, her growing need to connect with Art and her anxiety and dependency towards the creature Nut kept me turning the page, I found the mystery made it very hard for me to put the book down. I was particularly drawn to Hardaker’s exploration of ethics. Eastern Grove may boast of their success at prolonging life but it is only accessible to the wealthy, and their methods are more than questionable. Even those who can afford treatment soon realise the consequences of putting their lives in the hands of a corporation. In essence Eastern Grove is a corrupt institution playing God, and also exploiting lives to gain money and prestige. The way the novel reflects upon these subjects fascinated me, like many who live in Britain I have come to rely upon our NHS healthcare, but what if that became privatised, what if suddenly life-saving treatments were no longer affordable?
Although I haven’t read the book Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, I have watched the film adaptation and I have to say that this book reminded me a lot of it. I feel they both share the uncomfortable themes of an institution deciding who lives and who dies, of your life never being in your control, of loving something or someone, watching them grow and then losing them. Of a life becoming something to be harvested rather than lived.
Composite Creatures is an engaging psychological read with an unsettling atmosphere. This isn’t my usual kind of read, but by the end I fully appreciated Hardaker‘s cleverly written novel where even the title reflects upon so much. We are all creatures made up of many parts, but which of those parts make us human?
“One day bleeds into the next, and though the tide washes in and out, it’s the same sea. You’ve plugged your toes in the sand. This beach isn’t going anywhere.”
ARC provided by Caroline Lambe at AngryRobot. Thank you for the copy! All quotes used are taken from an e-ARC and are subject to change upon publication.
Composite Creatures is released on April 13th but you can preorder it now!
Thank you so much to Angry Robot Books (Caroline, Gemma, and Sam are good eggs!) for having me on the book tour for Composite Creatures, an exciting new book that releases on 04/13/21! This is a low-key science fiction novel that is also a meditation on the future of healthcare ethics, growing up, growing older, and prioritizing what matters most
The Plot & Story: I honestly believe that the less you know going in about this book, the better. Health in the UK is going drastically downhill in the future as the air itself causes cancer, the animals are all extinct, healthy life expectancy is pathetic… and the NHS is handing the reins over to a private company. Enter an elitist group called Easton Grove, that promises health and happiness to those who can afford it, and pass all the tests.
What exactly is this little bundle that Easton Grove offer?
Hardaker makes us wait, and wait, and wait, and wait, and wait……and wait for it. Most of the reveal happens towards the end of the book so I definitely recommend this one for the patient readers. In the meantime we get a lovely meditation on life, losing one’s parents, falling out from our old friends, and co-existing with our chosen company. This one takes a good hard look at life’s hardships. The question becomes – is it worth holding out so long for the answers? It took until the very last page but I think so.
The characters: I also think that the less you know about the characters, the better. Norah and Arthur seem like a good pair, except it again takes a very long time for the book to reveal how they got together. I liked Norah a lot and really, really hated Arthur until almost the end. I think Hardaker did that on purpose though, she waited until page 400 out of 400 to make me forgive him, in that she also showed Norah as a “Composite Creature”
What does that even mean? Well – read it to find out
The World: Think of a slightly futuristic, overly polluted London with toxic soil, a sky with no birds, and a generally gray atmosphere. The book creates gorgeous reminisces of the past through artwork and Norah’s memories of her mother. I will give Hardaker endless Kudoes for the imagery in the book. Hardaker is a published poet and I think that shows in her debut novel quite a bit.
Miscellaneous: One other cool thing I noticed is that RJ Barker (you know I always rave about The Bone Ships) blurbed the book, so that’s awesome.
The only thing that I really didn’t like was that Hardaker made us wait, for EVERYTHING. She would mention a name, or a conflict, or a story, and give us absolutely no background until much later in the book. Luke and Aubrey were good examples of this – I spent half of the book feeling like I missed something, but eventually I realized that we would eventually learn what’s going on. I didn’t feel like these smaller reveals were necessarily worth waiting for though, which is where I docked the 1.5 stars. I would have liked an occasional “bone” from the author.
Overall: Definitely recommend for fans of twisty, meditative books, mysteries, speculative fiction, sci-fi, and strong character builds.
Wow, talk about a round house to the head and a solid punch to the gut. Everything is dying in this book and the main character is clinging to one of the things that makes humans humans, compassion, and no one around her gets it. This story is like if David Cronenberg wrote and directed an episode of the Twilight Zone. There's not much action but as the story unfolds there's this rising sense of wrongness and I felt massively unsettled. I kinda had an idea if where things were going a little earlier than the final reveal but I don't think it was meant as a GOTCHA type thing, it was more like another deposit in the "oh shit this is creepy" account and then let's get on with things. I loved the writing and thought the author had a very unique and interesting way of describing things and putting things like feelings and sensations and other abstract concepts into words. I see she has written poetry before this and it definitely shows as the unique writing is one of the main reasons the narrator is so compelling and the story is so engrossing.
Another absolutely fantastic Angry Robot release and I want to thank them, Netgalley, and Caroline Hardaker for the opportunity to read this.
Kokia keista, keista, keista knyga. Jau perskaityt anotaciją užteko, kad suprasčiau jog bus keistenybių, bet kad atmosfera bus tokia nejauki ir taip klampiai įtraukianti, kartais net gąsdinanti – nesitikėjau. Ir tas žodis „klampi“ čia labai tinka. Skaitydama nuolat jaučiausi apraizgyta kažkokio neaiškumo, baimės, nemalonumo. Susukta į nežinomybės ir tamsos kokoną. Ir nors žodžiai visi paminėti nėra malonūs, bet man patinka tokios provokuojančios ir netikėtus jausmus iššaukiančios knygos.
Ateitis. Gal ir nelabai tolima. Pasaulis ir gyvoji gamta absoliučiai nyksta – pamatyti vabaliuką ar paukštį yra lygu stebuklui. Gamyklos sintetiną ir gamina maistą, mėsą, žuvį, augalus. Žmonija privalo sukti galvas kaip išlikti. Čia turtingiesiems gelbėja „Easton grove“ organizacija. Pasirašius krūva sutarčių ir popierių jie tave saugo, reguliuoja tavo gyvenimą taip, kad jis būtų kuo geresnis, kruopščiai tikrina sveikatą ir gydo sudėtingiausias ligas. Jai priklauso ir Nora su Artūru. Pora vieną kitą suradusi organizacijos dėka, nuolat jai atraportuojanti viską apie savo gyvenimą. Nora nėra tikra ar jaučiasi laiminga, tačiau jos gyvenimą praskaidrina „Easton grove“ dovana – mažas, keistas padarėlis, kurį pora turės auginti, tačiau jokiu būdu prie jo prisirišti negalima. Nora padarėliui suteikia vardą, pradeda jį jaukintis ir nori nenori, prisirišimo taisyklė tuoj bus pažeista. O tai turės baisių pasėkmių...
Ir ši knyga nėra vien įvykiai ir atsitikimai. Čia tiek daug gilaus Noros mąstymo apie pasaulį, jo dabarties suvokimą, savo pasirinkimų kvestionavimą, meilę ir kas ji išvis yra. Keliama labai daug klausimų kas yra gyvybė, žmogiškasis ryšys, kur yra laimės ribos ar bent jos pradžia. Labai tamsus reikalas, jei skaitai įsijautęs ir tuos klausimus pats sau keli. Romanas parašytas labai gražia kalba ir labai gražiai išverstas – buvo daug sakinių ir palyginimų, kur tiesiog galvojau kaip gražiai, paprastai, bet kaip taikliai sudėliotos mintys!
Tačiau šiurpas skaitant kratė. Labai nejaukus pasakojimas. Ir gal net nejaukus savo grasinančiu realumu, apie ką vis susimąstai skaitydamas. Pati skaitymo emocija primena žiūrėtą filmą „Motina“. Knyga tikrai nėra lengvas vakaro skaitinys. Susikaupti ir pergyventi dalykus kartu su Nora reikia, nes tik taip pavyks perprasti visą istorijos klampynę.
I read an ARC of COMPOSITE CREATURES in order to blurb it and so my blurb will be with the other blurbs in blurb-town.
What I will say here is that Hardaker has managed to write an intimate and utterly *real* story about relationships strained by a fallen world; and how scientific advancements designed to make life better serve to stress these human bonds. The dystopian and horror elements of this story are delicately woven into the margins as to make them feel so much more ominous, weighty, and ever present.
The writing is tremendous and Hardaker is in control the whole way. A book that refuses to be just one thing, while cohering beautifully, it is a quintessential Angry Robot novel.
What I wanted all along was to bury myself deep where it’s warm and never come out. I won, they didn’t.
Melancholy and compelling, Caroline Hardaker has captured the narrow wistfulness of self-inflicted isolation. As we draw ourselves away from the world, tuck ourselves into the warmth of our four encroaching walls, it becomes harder and harder to connect with anything and anyone that exists outside ourselves. We chain our doors, check the locks, and keep ourselves in as much as we keep others out. While this is not a book about pandemics, or plagues, or even about quarantines, it nevertheless manages to invoke a sense of catharsis in relation to current events.
Hardaker takes us to a future where the apocalypse never fully arrived. Humanity mostly kept up, albeit with sacrifices. Small details reveal the cracks: natural animals are largely extinct, the sky is lilac with pollution. People die young if they lack the funds to pay for healthcare. Yet, these facts are presented in a manner that is nonchalant, normalized. It’s not about the world at large; instead, it’s about Norah’s tiny, internal universe. It’s about her thoughts, her fears, and her own inability to connect.
Easton Grove matches Art and Norah together based on genetic compatibility. Together, they’ll share the key to longevity: a small bundle of silky grey fur who they name Nut. Even as Norah’s ability to reach out to her old friends degrades, she finds solace in Nut’s deep blue eyes and unconditional love. Her peaked, translucent ears, the way she curls up on the couch in Norah’s lap, her tiny little paws – to Norah, that’s what love is.
Certainly, she loves Art too. At least, she tells herself she does. They find a rhythm together, cohabiting but rarely connecting in meaningful ways. When Art proposes, Norah knows she should be excited, ready to shout it out to the world. Instead, she finds herself hiding the engagement ring as though it’s shameful. It’s a piece of herself that she doesn’t yet recognize as “her,” maybe even a piece of herself that doesn’t belong.
As Norah descends deeper and deeper into the internal passageways of her own soul, she grows further estranged from Art. They both try to bridge the gap in their own ways with Christmas gifts or dinners at special places, but Art finds himself seeking absolution in his writing. When he looks at Nut, he is certain he hears his own voice echoing back at him until he can hardly tell where he ends and Nut begins.
The author’s past experience as a poet shines through in her lush, intimate prose. This is a book made up of emotions. It is a peek inside a soul, told honestly and authentically. There is neither action nor adventure, but there is loneliness, isolation, creeping sadness, and a silent, fragile horror. From the first page, Norah’s thoughts had me captured. During 2020, my own world compressed to four walls and a pit in my stomach that kept me from connecting with others even when I knew it would be best to reach out. Norah, however, finds herself caught in a different sort of trap that is of her own making.
Norah’s world compresses down as she avoids her friends’ calls and texts. She becomes avoidant on every front, pouring all of her energy into Nut. Even when she does go out for drinks or speaks on the phone with the people she used to care for, she finds she has nothing to say. The patterns they used to exist in were destroyed the day she joined Easton Grove’s ovum organi program. The day she and Art met brought Nut out from her box.
Norah’s struggles feel incredibly honest. She is a deeply flawed person; most of her unhappiness is brought on by her own choices. Yet, it’s hard to imagine any other path for her. She builds up walls out of a desire for self preservation. A cozy, metaphorical den where she can curl up into a ball. Just her – and Nut. Though, really, is there a difference between the two? In Norah’s mind, Nut often seems to be an extension of her own identity rather than a truly separate being.
She’s driven to care for and protect Nut. Yet, when push comes to shove and it’s time for Nut to be cracked open… she falls back into herself once more. Fundamentally, Norah will do whatever she must to protect the idea of her own goodness, her own rightness. She’s wrapped herself up too tightly and committed too deeply to the path she’s on to change course. And if that means sacrificing her own morality, twisting it into an unrecognizable mass of excuses and justifications, then perhaps that’s the path she’ll have to take.
Many thanks to Angry Robot for providing this review copy. Composite Creatures will be released on April 13th.
this could have been an incredible throat-punch of a novella. There's just so much padding around the good stuff! Nothing about Luke or Aubrey made any difference, or made me see Norah any differently. Even Norah's painter mom didn't have an impact on the narrative. The early motif of birds and bird wings just kind of fizzles out. Cut this down to 130 pages or so, hone in on making Art MAKE SENSE as a co-protagonist/antagonist and as a character in general, bring home the horror of what Nut is there for... it would have been killer.
Especially with the vague idea of corporations and health care using/building up the nuclear family unit as this terrible insular bubble of selfishness and immoral selective loyalty where you can only survive by coughing up money and in order to keep each other alive. Ugh. About 75 pages of this were so thrilling and gripping and the rest was just fluff that I sped through as fast as possible.
The nitty-gritty: A peculiar, melancholy but ultimately uplifting futuristic story, beautifully written.
Composite Creatures is a strange, heartbreaking story that completely took me by surprise. I want to make sure my review is spoiler free, because this is one of those books where you should discover its secrets for yourself. And in fact, it wasn’t until the three-quarter mark that I finally figured out what was going on. But the mysteries are what compelled me to keep reading, so do be aware that this is the type of story that you will probably need patience for. And trust me, it’s worth the effort.
The story takes place in a dismal future where an incurable cancer-like disease called the greying is killing a big portion of the population. Due to climate change and years of humankind poisoning the land and oceans with plastic and toxic chemicals, animals and insects have all died out. Even worse, healthcare is very hard to come by and out of reach for most people. But a company called Easton Grove offers hope—if you can afford it. Only those with enough money can apply to join the exclusive club, but after a series of rigorous physical and mental evaluations, those who are accepted will have access to the best healthcare and can expect long and happy lives.
Norah is a thirty-one year old woman whose mother left her a windfall after she died, allowing Norah the means and opportunity to apply to Easton Grove. She’s been “paired” with a writer named Arthur, and their contract requires that they move in together in order to start their new lives of privilege. As Norah and Arthur awkwardly get to know one another, they prepare the attic space of their new home for a very special arrival. It isn’t long before Nut is delivered to the house in a small box, complete with food and instructions for her care.
Norah immediately bonds with the small, cat-like creature, but Arthur warns her that Nut isn’t supposed to learn or develop a personality. In fact, Norah wasn’t even supposed to name the creature. Despite the rules, Norah can’t deny the protective instinct she feels towards Nut. At first, Norah and Art are careful to do everything that Easton Grove tells them to do with Nut, but when Nut falls ill one day and Easton Grove must step in to help her, everything changes. Norah begins to question everything she’s been told and imagine a different future—one that only includes Norah and Nut.
I hesitate to give too many comparisons for fear of spoilers, but I will say that I got some Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? vibes, mostly because this is a world without natural animals. There is one lovely moment where Norah thinks she sees a frog in her garden that immediately took me back to that book, and I loved that the author didn’t ever explain what Norah had seen, but let the reader interpret it in their own way. Also, Nut reminded me of Borne from Jeff VanderMeer’s book of the same name, an alien-like creature who is much more complex than it appears. There are other spoilery comparisons in other reviews that I’ve read, so I’m not going to mention them here, but once you read the book those comparisons are pretty obvious.
Don’t expect any hand holding in this story, as Hardaker jumps right in with no explanation at all as to what’s going on. I actually love stories like this where I have to do a little mental work to figure things out. There are several tantalizing mysteries in Composite Creatures: what’s up with Easton Grove, exactly? Why are Norah and Arthur living together but they barely know each other? And what the heck is Nut and why did she come to live with them? The author slowly reveals each secret in a completely organic way, and a feeling of unease builds as we learn the true nature of Easton Grove and how Nut is connected to it. And being an animal lover, of course I adored Nut and I loved seeing the relationship bloom between her and Norah, who for all intents and purposes is Nut’s mother. I imagined Nut as a cross between a cat and a squirrel, although as she grows (and she gets very big!) it’s hard to compare her to either one of those animals. Norah is a sort of sad character who doesn’t seem to have much to live for, but once Nut enters her life, you can see her personality blossom. There are so many things about Nut that I’d love to discuss, but I can’t due to spoilers!
The author includes flashbacks into Norah’s childhood and her relationship with her beloved mother, an artist who taught Norah how to paint and opened her eyes to the joys of the natural world—but only through stories as the natural world has all but disappeared. These added a wonderful poignancy to the story and gave it an extra emotional layer. Her mother is old enough to remember a time when birds filled the skies, and she used to collect discarded feathers and kept them as souvenirs. To Norah, these feathers were magical and represented something that Norah will never get to experience in her own lifetime.
Norah also has a group of friends who fall by the wayside as soon as she moves in with Arthur, and we get a few uncomfortable scenes when Norah tries to reconnect with them. One of the themes that Hardaker addresses is the societal gulf between the rich and the not so rich, and the fact that those without the money to save themselves are most likely going to die of a disease because they can’t afford healthcare. Norah’s friends are part of this group, and Norah is horrified to watch them struggle with things that she no longer has to worry about.
Norah herself is such an interesting character, and I ended up really relating to her. She appears to be unmotivated, working at a boring job and being overshadowed by Arthur’s writing career. But Nut awakens something in her that gives meaning to her life, and even though things don’t go the way you expect them to, Norah ends the story much stronger and a bit happier—or at least more accepting—than she started.
The last few chapters—when Hardaker finally reveals her secrets—were such a punch to the gut, that even days after I’ve finished the book, I can still feel a lump in my throat when I think about Nut and Norah. Caroline Hardaker has taken some familiar ideas and science fiction tropes, but twisted them into something raw and unique. This is one story I won’t be able to get out of my head any time soon.
Big thanks to the publisher for providing a review copy.
I don’t think I have the appropriate words for how I feel after turning the final page on this book. The melancholy atmosphere and underlying feel of something more lurking at the periphery kept tugging at my senses as I read. This is the idea of a dystopian novel that has not fully reached the weighty cataclysmic height we see in movies and most novels. The air is polluted, animals are gone, and life expectancy is depressingly short all while the healthcare system dances along the shady line of unethical and immoral. Seems like the slow decline of modern-day life if we play the compare game.
The true depth lies in the main character, Norah. Her self-views, relationship with Art and her connection and self-isolation surrounding Nut (a furry and medically made creature) weave a unique look into the complex psyche of her character. The MC’s dance with the cold press of seclusion, diving deeper into her own fragile mindscape and not being able to find, or even want to find, the connections that she once had with others, was expressively and poetically penned. Even though this novel does not have the apocalyptic pandemic going on it still prevails with a haunting and realistic presence of loneliness and almost delusional self-preservation. I think there are a lot of readers who will be able to identify with Norah due to her emotional and flawed state. I personally, took a bit to adjust to her. Some of her thoughts, emotions and decisions didn’t sit with me but they did grow on me a bit by the end.
If you’re looking for a fast-paced read, this is not that type of dystopian novel. This is a slow building plot that surrounds the choices and thought process of Norah. This is a foray into her day to day struggles bordering on the mundane, with often no overly riveting plot points to grasp onto. The expressive and talented prose wraps around secretive and partially provided eerie elements that leave you guessing and wanting more. Wanting more I did. From the creature, Nut, to the background of how this existence came to be, I itched to know more. The author holds a lot of this back though. I am still trying to figure out if I am impressed with the genius of it or amusingly frustrated at the whole idea. Either way it kept me reading for more and invested until the end.
This is by far the most unique novel I have read in the dystopian genre. I’m typically not one for a structure like this but the writing style was beautifully engaging and full of feeling. I am honestly still in full debate over my own feelings on this novel. While I debate I want to thank Angry Robot and Caroline Hardaker for the opportunity to read and review this advanced copy in exchange for an honest review. True rating 3.5/5.
Was lucky enough to read an ARC of this for a blurb and loved it. Gorgeous poetic writing, creepy concepts, and a steady, masterful ability to drip-feed you dread with every turn of the page.
Synopsis: In a society where self-preservation is as much an art as a science, Norah and Arthur are learning how to co-exist in their new little world. Though they hardly know each other, everything seems to be going perfectly – from the home they’re building together to the ring on Norah’s finger. But survival in this world is a tricky thing, the air is thicker every day and illness creeps fast through the body. And the earth is becoming increasingly hostile to live in. Fortunately, Easton Grove is here for that in the form of a perfect little bundle to take home and harvest. You can live for as long as you keep it – or her – close.
Review: Composite Creatures is such a hard novel for me to rate, as it is one of the most peculiar books that I’ve ever read. I’m glad that I slept before I wrote this review and gave myself time to process it. I was pulled in right away with the melancholic prose. Caroline Hardaker is brilliant beyond words and this slow process of revelation melted my brain a little bit. It was a mental workout to unravel what was happening in this novel. That’s not a bad thing, as I like a read that challenges me.
The first half the novel was filled with description and a puzzling build of the state of Norah’s world. There’s a shortage of fresh air, animals have died off, the health system is crumbling and expensive when you can get treatment, diseases are running rampant, and life spans have shortened greatly. The second half of the novel was filled with more dialogue and advancement of the plot.
This novel was gut wrenching; watching Norah balance her natural maternal instinct vs what Easton Grove’s guidelines are when it comes to Nut was tough. I would have found myself in the same predicament. Composite Creatures will leave you with a sense of dysphoria long after you finish it. It’s a creepy and masterful observation of the potential destruction and tragedy caused by humans, furthered by privatized healthcare associations. I can’t go into the plot or into what Nut actually is without ruining the book experience for other people. Just know that this dystopian novel is a slow-building examination of Norah’s life in a society on the verge of collapse; it’s a call for fulfillment in a brutal world that doesn’t nurture, it manufactures. Softness is weakness in this life, everything is carefully calculated and nothing is provided without a cost.
Angry Robot always has the most unique books and this is no different. Composite Creatures will have people thinking about this read ages after they’ve read it. I have no doubt that this book will land itself in the hearts of many; its poignant, smart prose and chilling atmosphere will leave you disoriented long after you’ve finished. Thank you again to Angry Robot and Caroline Hardaker for the opportunity to read this and take part in the blog tour.
p.151 — Creepy, dread-inducing, but mostly head-scratching & too boring to finish. Didn’t care about the narrator and was starting to wish her ill. The world is rotting but I couldn’t see how the Grove or the stupid pet they get had anything to do with it. I care so little I don’t even want to skip to the end. Even that seems a waste of more time. I ran out of patience for this plodding, teasing and seemingly empty allegory. Or social satire? Or absurdist drama? Or existential nightmare? Wtf, I don’t care.
Early on it is hinted that the humans aren’t actually fully flesh & bone, but that’s dropped and doesn’t show up again. Or was it just poetic descriptions? No idea. That was distracting for a while but then I just forgot about it.
The narrator is a neurotic & damaged woman who is hiding a past life from her current husband who she seems to have married for advantage—which in this world seems to mean self-preservation/-ishness augmented by some odd health care system they’re both members of. She is insecure, anxious & seemingly emotionally defective. I got tired of having to be along for her deceptions & anxieties. She’s a fraud and what she’s after I don’t know.
The pace is glacial and the author withholds anything that would keep me interested, or want to care what happens to this couple. I don’t. I hope their pet ends up eating them…
Q. What's the scariest thing to a British person? A. The slow disintegration of the NHS! [ba dum-tish]
Composite Creatures is concerned about the NHS, and about pollution and plastic and birds dying off, but it isn't particularly coherent. The worldbuilding manages to feel simultaneously over-explained (there is a long bit of exposition right at the end in which, Poirot-like, our narrator Norah explains everything that has just happened) and under-baked. There are occasional flashes of loveliness in the prose but as a whole, for me the story doesn't quite work.
Here's another joke: If you want a compelling dystopian healthcare-adjacent horror story, you can check out pretty much any article in the HSJ! Heyo!! [cries in "vulture capitalists are ruining our healthcare system and there's fuckall we can do about it"]
The problems with Composite Creatures fall into two major categories. First, Norah, the main character, and second, part of the thematics. I'll start with the latter, because it's a shorter explanation.
A lot of this narrative seems to be a critique of the UK's National Health Service, with multiple mentions of how it "used" to work, and how in the book's world it became privatized, etc. and so on. I'm sure this might resonate more with someone who's from the area, but it all rang largely hollow to my uncultured, American sensibilities. As a result, it became hard to engage with those parts of the story in anything but a superficial level. The other major problem with this book makes it hard to engage with much of the story at all.
Simply put, Norah is an awful character to have to be stuck with (and whose head we have to be stuck in) for an entire book. It takes nearly 250 pages for her to feel at all like a real person--and even then, we're told all of this information about her, rather than shown. She's so lifeless and bland for most of the narrative, that somewhere around the 40-page mark, she and Art (her fiance) are having people over, and Norah says something about looking forward to seeing her friends. I had to actually stop and ask, nearly out loud, "Wait, you have friends?" Because, up until this point (and really, for quite awhile afterward), it seems like Norah has barely interacted with another human being in her entire life. It feels like she was raised in a cult, and Art was the first other person she was introduced to; virtually everything she says and does is so stilted and awkward, that I just can't reconcile that she used to be a relatively normal person. Even after the 11th-hour "fleshing out" of her character.
Okay, so the main character is a train wreck--what about the plot? Well...for most of the book, there isn't one. Norah and Art are both members of "Easton Grove," which is one of the private companies that took over the NHS. For most of the story, it seems like this organization doesn't really do anything for its members aside from charging them exorbitant fees, and controlling every aspect of their personal lives. Even the mysterious ovum organi creatures that they dole out to high-ranking members don't seem to amount to much, until near the end of the story.
And that's another problem: Nothing in Composite Creatures amounts to much until the very end, and even then, it's less, "oh my god," and more, "that's it?" The ultimate revelation of what the ovum organi are for makes sense, but it's hardly momentous. It's even worse, because Hardaker introduces a clear Chekhov's Gun fairly early on, taking great pains to mention the ominous outbuildings on the Easton Grove grounds, and then to keep bringing it up every so often. About how nobody knows what happens inside them, and how they're clearly in disrepair, and all this buildup...yeah, don't expect that to ever pay off, or even be addressed. Actually, I'd nearly forgotten about them until I was typing up this review, and looked at my notes.
So yeah, between the excruciating amounts of padding, awful narrator, telling instead of showing, and the above-mentioned buildup with no payoff, I think I just talked myself into dropping this review another star. Composite Creatures is as dull and lifeless as the Earth in the future it portrays, and it's nowhere near as profound as it imagines itself to be.
Composite creatures tells the tale of a future, where Earth has gone toxic and wildlife is extinct. We follow the story of Norah as she learns what is means to survive in this world. I really enjoyed the storytelling style - it really lets us take a look into the main character's mind. This gives the story some unexpected nuances. The furry bundle of joy, that the Grove gives to Norah, is our greatest mystery, as Norah herself is not sure what she has signed up for, and we're on the road of discovery with her. The way the author embedded so many important topics and the way she addresses it all, is lovely, and it's something else I really like about the the book.
I recommend the book, if the description catches your eye - you (most probably) won't be disappointed.
*Thanks to NetGalley and Angry Robot for providing me with an ARC of this title in exchange for an honest review.*
I do a lot of freelance proofreading for a variety of publishers but I rarely list those on Goodreads because I consider them to be work rather than reading, and also if I were to list them all I might be less favourable towards some titles which would be wholly unprofessional of me. Suffice to say, I've decided to only list books which I believe I would have sought out and enjoyed independently of 'work'.
Preamble over, "Composite Creatures" is thought-provoking and well-written, reminding me of "Never Let Me Go" by Kazuo Ishiguro in both the story and the manner of telling (not an exact match, but they share certain attributes). It's one of those books where you consider how you might behave if you were one of the main characters, and it creates some interesting dynamics because of that. Similar to Ishiguro, I felt it quite 'domestic' at times. The nature of the 'reveal' is clear quite soon into the book, and there's a lot of inner thought and relationship musing which is rather mundane. This isn't necessarily a weakness, because the universality of that allows you to buy into these characters. Considering the main male character is a writer, I felt much more in tune with his way of thinking, but I could see how others might bond with Norah, the central female protagonist, and be equally drawn into her tale. I was also glad that the tone remained the same throughout and it didn't take off into some ridiculous adventure story.
I won't say anything about the plot because I rarely do in these reviews. I'm not sure spoilers would apply, as the subject matter is obvious throughout, but it's generally best to keep things back for the reader. Ultimately, any book which raises questions about our lives and our appreciation of it are worthy of comment, and so I'm happy to break my 'no review of work books' guide to myself on this occasion.
Iš tiesų, knyga sudomino mane vien iš viršelio. Pasiėmiau ją iš bibliotekos pernelyg daug nenagrinėdama. Perskaičiau nugarėlę - pasirodė paslaptinga ir įdomu. Tačiau tikrai nesitikėjau TOKIOS istorijos.
Ši knyga - labai neįprastas, dar negirdėtas ir nenagrinėtas fantastinis variantas. Siužeto negaliu palyginti su jokia kita knyga. Ji tikrai yra išskirtinė. Ne tik savo siužetu, bet ir teksto pateikimu, meninėmis priemonėmis tekste, patys sakiniai taip gražiai sudėlioti...
Rašytoja iki pat paskutinio puslapio neatskleidžia paslapties, kuri sukasi visoje knygoje, todėl skaitytojas viso skaitymo metu gali pasijausti kiek pasimetęs. Vis numetama kažkokių metaforų, palyginimų, ištraukų iš ankstesnių pagrindinės veikėjos laikų, tačiau apie ką eina kalba galiausiai sudedi tik pačioje pabaigoje.
Pati knyga tikrai buvo įdomi, įtraukianti. Patiko tai, kad įtraukta ekologijos tema ir tai, kaip patys naikiname save supantį pasaulį.
Patiko, kad paliesta pasiaukojimo tema: ko gali žmogus atsisakyti vardan ilgesnio gyvenimo ir kas yra svarbiau: ilgas bet liūdnas gyvenimas, ar trumpas bet su tave supančia laime.
Savanaudiškumo ir išlikimo klausimas: ar esi pasiruošęs būti smerkiamas už tai, jog nori gyventi? Ir kaip greitai gali priprasti gyventi kito sąskaita?
Composite Creatures is one of those books that slowly draws you in and keeps you hooked, wanting to find out more. There’s a real sense of tension and unease which works it’s way around all of the events, even those that may seem mundane from the outset. As a reader we are kept very much in the dark, for example the match between Norah and Arthur seems to be orchestrated by a shadowy company and the creature that they ‘adopt’ is never fully described. The world seems to be very different from the one we inhabit now – there are no birds and the land seems to be toxic but we are not told a lot of the precise details or backstory. The suspense kept me reading and I was really excited for any piece of information that was given to me at the beginning, but I did find it a little frustrating later on, when I was so far through the book with no real answers.
Some things are fully explained thankfully, but it comes as a bit of an info-dump towards the very end of the book. As we get answers there is suddenly an influx of plot-holes as you start to think the plot through with new eyes. As we find out what Nut is it seems very odd that she is initially described like a cat – why does she have fur and a tail for example? When we learn that the soil seems toxic and the farmers who work on it die early it seems jarring that we see our main character gardening or going outside without putting on some kind of protection from the elements. The idea of someone ‘greying’ is also never explained - it seems to be a deterioration that happens overnight but that is all we are told about it. I would have loved a little more world-building, even though I understand why Norah’s secrets are kept held tightly by the author it would have been nice to find out what happened to the planet and nature around her at least and perhaps would have prevented the book from becoming frustrating.
Norah isn’t a very likeable main character; she is jealous and obsessive with no real drive or ambition. This again takes a confusing turn when we learn what is actually going on in her life later on and the choices she has made. The writing style in her narrative is really well constructed though and the book kept me hooked throughout.
Overall, Composite Creatures is an engaging read, I just wish a few of its secrets were revealed to the reader a little sooner (if at all!). Thank you to NetGalley & Angry Robot for the chance to read the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Sunkiai, bet kartu įtraukiančiai skaityta knyga. Keistas derinys, bet tiksliai taip ir jaučiausi. Sunkiai sekėsi įsilieti į pagrindinės veikėjos mintis, suprasti jos jausmus. Bet vis norėjosi sugrįžti prie pasakojimo viliantis, kad viskas kažkaip susitvarkys, išsipins Noros pasakojimo voratinkliai.
Kūrinio atmosfera sunki, pateikianti vieną pasaulio, kuriame gal visai greitai gyvensime, veidų. Nuo tokios perspektyvos, kuri aprašoma, norisi bėgti kuo toliau... Nora paskendusi savyje, nežinia ko iš tikrųjų norinti. Jos vyras - dar mįslingesnis. Jau ir taip įdomus komplektas. Bet tai dar ne viskas! Ši pora dalyvauja sveikatos programoje, žadančioje ilgą ir sveiką gyvenimą. To kaina matuojama ne tik pinigais.
Knyga išlaiko įtampą, atsakymų iškart neserviruoja, stebina vos pagalvoji, kad numatai jos eigą. Sunku ir paaiškinti, kodėl ji negula į geriausiųjų lentyną. Galbūt jos tamsa per sunki.
I thought this was terrifically well done -- keeps you guessing without being overly coy about it, and authentically moving in its emotions. Heartily recommended, particularly to fans of Atwood and Lessing.
As much as I wish I would like every book I read, and I'm sure every author wishes everyone would like their book, sometimes an author, at least a book, and a reader don't connect. That would be the case for me and Composite Creatures by Caroline Hardaker. The earth is toxic. Air, soil, water. The years of pumping pollution have taken their toll. Humanity is still learning to deal with this new world. But traditional social behavior is even harder to shake. But the government can help with that.
Norah meets Aaron at a restaurant for a first date. We watch Norah go through her day and peek into her life and get a sense of what she's thinking along the way. Norah and Aaron get to know each other as they plan their lives together. Everything looks good until an unusual creature is delivered to them.
And I didn't care.
A sci-fi/fantasy novel with a strong emphasis on environmental conditions? Toss in some strange creatures? This should be right up my alley. And the first couple of chapters, establishing the world and the characters, were really wonderful. But as it went along I struggled to find a reason to keep going. I found it meandering and dull.
I don't mind heady, thought-provoking fiction. I prefer it. But I need a reason to get into it. Usually that's a character or characters that I can identify with or sympathize with. I didn't get that here. We follow Norah and I don't care much , and while I might find Aaron really interesting, we don't get to know him very well despite his being a major character in the book.
This is just not for me.
Looking for a good book? Composite Creatures by Caroline Hardaker is a slow, thoughtful dystopian fantasy with some rather dull characters.
I received a digital copy of this book from the publisher, through Netgalley, in exchange for an honest review.
Well, now, this is a Marmite book... and I’m a fan of Marmite.
It seems that the very things which put some people off, appealed to me: slow, creepy, cryptic, dystopian.
The writing style is deliberately languid, with a building sense of dread. They’re not in the least bit similar but the only other book I’ve read that’s created that stinging-nettle sensation of anguish was “Affinity” by Sarah Waters. “Composite Creatures” isn’t a horror story, per se, but finishing it was both disorientating and a relief.
Consider me very excited to see what Caroline Hardaker publishes next.
tokia neiprastesne knyga, bet gal visai ir idomu. nors ir priskirta prie fantastinio zanro, bet tokia realiai fantastine :) patiko, kad tik gale viskas isaiskejo, apie ka cia tiksliai pasakojama.
I would like to thank Angry Robot Books for inviting me to join this book tour. Opinions expressed in this review are completely my own.
Composite Creatures by Caroline Hardaker is a unique and peculiar dystopian novel. I am honestly still not sure what I felt about this novel. This is one of those books where patience is needed because you have to figure things out. However, the revelations at the end made it worth reading.
In this futuristic world, living on Earth was a challenge because it was slowly dying. Most of living creatures, especially animals, died because of environmental changes and pollution. The life expectancy was also shortened because of incurable diseases which killed lots of people. To preserved life, a health company named Easton Grove aimed to offer the best healthcare to ensure a long, happy life for a great amount of money. Joining the program wasn't easy: a series of physical and mental examinations were given before a person became a delegate. Norah was lucky enough to pass the tests. As a result, she was paired with a writer named Arthur. Together, they started a life as a couple, and everything was sailing smoothly until a very special creature was delivered to them.
Just like I said, I didn't fully grasp what was happening until the very end where everything just clicked into place. The story just started without any explanations or details about the situation. It felt liked a big puzzle that you need to piece together without seeing the picture as a whole. The novel was a great mystery where unanswered questions kept on piling up. Told through Norah's POV, understanding her childhood, relationships, emotions, as well as her actions and decisions was quite easy. There were times when the story felt slow for some scenes where just about Norah's routines. Lastly, the novel tackles some thought-provoking ideologies that I won't mention for it might spoil the fun of reading this.
The only issue that I had was how the explanations and revelations took too long. That was why I mentioned earlier that reading this novel required patience.
Overall, Composite Creatures has a strange yet intriguing premise. Readers who love to read something eccentric should give this novel a try.
This is a very strange book, but strange in the sense of mind-bending speculative fiction about a dystopian future, executed with great skill and, most of all, respect for the reader’s intelligence. In an era when all too many novels spoon-feed information, practically hammering the reader’s attention, Caroline Hardaker builds her world, characters, and mysteries layer by intricate, subtle layer. She invites us into a world that is grim but recognizable, one in which pollution and habitat destruction have resulted in the loss of most animals city dwellers might see, including pets. Governmental institutions are slowly being replaced by private ones, notably Easton Grove, and the author doesn’t tell us upfront what it does. Norah, the viewpoint character, has signed up with Easton Grove and has been matched with Arthur, a notable novelist. She’s understandably nervous about their first date in a bizarre courtship by corporate decree, but all goes well, they set up housekeeping together, and soon a cardboard box arrives. Inside is a creature that sounds awfully like a cat. A pet! I thought. They’ve gone through this rigorous process and qualified to parent a pet!
Little did I know that the strangeness was just beginning. As Norah becomes increasingly obsessed with “Nut,” as she has named the creature, Arthur grapples with crippling writer’s block and their network of friends gradually disappears. Then Nut’s fur falls out, Easton Grove increases its surveillance, and Arthur sports a new tooth, wrenched from Nut’s jaw.
In places, Composite Creatures wanders over the border into horror, but I don’t think it belongs properly to that genre. It’s edgy, complex, layered dystopian science fiction, with the emphasis on the inner lives of the people caught up in the Kafka-esque world. It isn’t an easy read or a pleasant one, but is nonetheless rewarding. Norah and Arthur are so much like ordinary people, and we are all vulnerable to the intense seductions and pressures they succumb to.
I picked up Composite Creatures on a whim at a used bookstore—partly for the cover, but also because of its ambiguous, allusive description and the fact that it’s published by Angry Robot, a small press known for sharp, inventive sci‑fi. The description wasn’t screaming science fiction, but oh gosh, you guys. This thing!
Hardaker thrives on withholding information, so we’re pulled into the story with only the barest sense of what’s happening. If you prefer novels that lay everything out up front, this might not be for you. But for me? Totally my jam.
We’re introduced to a world ravaged by climate change, where most animal species have vanished and where the majority of people face a slow, inevitable death from “the greying”—a form of incurable cancer born of polluted air and dwindling resources.
Norah and Arthur, strangers to one another, want desperately to live longer, healthier lives. Enter Easton Grove, an elite and painfully expensive health system that pairs them based on genetic compatibility, hoping their partnership will blossom into a press‑worthy love story. That compatibility matters: it grants them the right to receive an ovum organi to raise together.
And what is an ovum organi? Think of it as a genetic replica of both partners, beginning as a strange, pet‑like ball of fur that—if cared for properly—develops into something far more familiar over time.
I won’t say more, because the book’s power lies in its slow reveal. But I will say this: Composite Creatures deserves your attention. I wasn’t expecting it to punch me in the gut, and oh boy did it ever!
A quote on the back calls it “wistful” and “wonderfully strange.” It’s that, and so much more. It sneaks up on you, claws out, and leaves a mark you won’t shake off. Come for the weird little furball, stay for the existential sucker punch.
If your're in the market for a cuddly and cosy piece of dystopian science fiction, this may well be up your street. Alas, it wasn't up mine. I do acknowledge though that it has a quirkiness to be admired. There's a slow reveal as to the nature of the dystopia we find the narrator, Norah, and new partner, Arthur, in. Not far in, and we learn that animals are a thing of the past. A little later, that various new illnesses are common, and that, interestingly, the NHS has been privatised. Norah and Art subscribe to the medical company, Easton Grove, who have mysteriously matched them together as partners. The reader's interest is triggered as to why they have been matched, and then selected to receive a small furry creature, they name Nut. Many such dystopian novels pose riddles upon which no light is shed until very late in the piece, or are simply left for the reader to decide on, but Hardaker understates her carefully created conundrums, and prefers to divert attention with the mundanities of the couple's life. As a result, rather than a dark atmosphere, Hardaker creates a sense of normality, all withy a very neat order to it. Certain aspects of the premise are cleverly conjured up, notably the demise of the NHS as the population gets sicker, but the cuddly pet I found of amusement rather than alarm.