The Meat (literally)
You know how
allergies in children are multiplying exponentially recently, and how some people blame
overuse of antibacterial soaps and overprotective parenting and hypoallergenic
pillows and whatever? Well, what if that problem reached epidemic proportions,
and somebody came up with a quick-fix solution—let's call it an 'intestinal
bodyguard'—an implant that could regulate your body's immune system, administer
necessary medications, and pretty much do everything but make popcorn? Sounds
pretty sweet to me, so I can see why, when marketed like this, most people in
the near-future world of Mira Grant's Parasite
jump all over themselves to get one. But
like all deals that seem too good to be true (curse you, Nigerian prince of
emails!), there's a catch. That implant
we're talking about? It's this.
 |
| What do you get when you combine this |
 |
| With this? Answer: nightmares. |
Say wuuut?
Since in Grant's
world, practically everyone has voluntarily swallowed a genetically engineered super-tapeworm
egg to take advantage of the myriad health benefits of being a gracious host,
it's kind of hard to feel bad for them when their 'guests' get riled up and the inevitable disaster begins. I won't say much about how the plot unfolds,
but let's just say that with these tapeworms, many people get a) more than they
bargained for, and b) the hard goodbye (Sin City style, if Sin City was
infested with parasites—and come to think of it, Sin City probably is!).
So the book's
sci-fi premise is a bit implausible, since I can scarcely imagine a scenario in
which even considerable health benefits could convince me to let a tapeworm play
house inside me. In fact, just the thought of that is so creepy I'm getting
phantom pains in my abdomen, and having flashbacks to Alien...
But anyway, if one
suspends one's disbelief, Grant rewards us with an often entertaining account
of how such a world could start to fall apart. I say 'entertaining' because
creepy sleepwalkers flopping around in the middle of the street or whatever is
just an awesome image, right out of a sci fi movie storyboard, and 'often'
because of some stylistic and pacing issues in the telling.
The good stuff
first: many of the developments in the story occur in or around the mega-corporation
Symbogen, and Grant gives a masterful portrayal of the way a company responsible for such a
potentially revolutionary product—to wit, the super-tapeworms—might rush both
to ram it through FDA and other testing as quickly and unsafely as possible,
and also to cover its tracks in the event someone discovers a 'situation' with
that wonder product. Plus, however unlikely a scenario it may be, it's an
intriguing one, and Grant deserves a lot of credit for exploring the
ramifications, especially on the level of institutions. The way she opens each
chapter, with quotes from interviews/written work
s of various key characters,
is an especially nice touch. |
| Executive Decision--and Steven Seagal--at their best |
And now the bad: the
protagonist Sal(ly) Mitchell is incredibly annoying. Or rather, Grant's ceaseless
description of her anxieties (legion) and the utterly uninteresting life she's
leading despite having narrowly survived a super-serious accident failed to win
me over to Sally's side as a reader. I kept hoping Grant would pull an Executive Decision-like 'airlock Steven
Seagal and save us from his on-screen charm' move and kill her off early on,
switching focus to someone cooler, but sadly, we stay with Sal.
And since this
is the first book in a planned series, I think we're stuck with her for the
future, unless of course I'm messing with you and, like in John Dies at the End, the main character does just that. Those of
you who have read/seen said gem will get what I mean!
In Sal, Grant has
crafted a character whose response to virtually everything is "I don't
want to know." Nobody likes ostriches, am I right? There's an M. Night
Shyamalan-esque 'twist' to Sal which from about 20% of the way in was
blindingly obvious to everyone, reader and characters alike, except for Sal
herself, who fought against the big reveal the way Tea Partiers fought
Obamacare. This being the only book by Grant that I've read, I can't say
whether this is a problem with Grant's writing in general, or with fleshing out
this particular character, but when giving us a window on Sal's internal
thought process, Grant falls back again and again on a two-sentence combo, some
variation of the phrase "I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer. I
wasn't sure I'd ever sleep again if I didn't
know the answer." (This particular instance is a direct quote from
about 70% of the way through, but other examples abound.)
And if Sal has a
favorite word in the recesses of her own mind, it's definitely 'uncomfortable',
which is what pretty much everything makes her. You know who I like better?
Oedipus. Sure, he did the nasty with his mom and totally murdered his dad, but
when the time came for him to face the truth, he did it (and even went the
extra mile by stabbing his own eyes out in penance!). Sal, I'm afraid, could use a little truth-facing,
eye-stabbing courage. The truth will set you free, but nobody ever promised
it'd be all about bunnies and ice cream, you whiner!
The book is also,
shall we say, deliberately paced. If you
like the Fast and Furious series, consider yourself forewarned—this book is not
that. It's more like a Koreeda Hirokazu movie, really, or, dare I say it, The Fellowship of the Ring. Nothing at
all happens of note until 40% of the way through (in Koreeda's case, usually
nothing at all happens, period! And yet some of his films are just brilliant—it's
an enigma), though it does slowly build in excitement after that (hampered
mightily, in this case, by head-in-the-sand Sal's reluctance to participate in
the story unfolding all around her). Perhaps the book suffered from being part
of a series, with Grant saving some of the good stuff for later installments?
So all in all,
Grant's Parasite is a mixed bag—an intriguing
if wildly improbable what if that is handled fairly well, though despite, not
because of, the main character and her infuriating reluctance to see the truth
and let the story get on with itself.
The Math
Baseline assessment: 6/10
Bonuses: +1 for the concepts of Symbogen and for the Banks
interviews heading each chapter, +1 for a bizarre and fascinating premise
Penalties: -1 for Sal and her mantra "I don't want to
know", -1 for Koreeda pace without Koreeda magic touch
Nerd coefficient: 6/10 "Still enjoyable, but the flaws
(I'm thinking of you, Sal!) are hard to ignore"
See
why a 6 actually means Parasite is better
than most books I've read!
