Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood
The second book in my journey through new award winning authors. Based on the name, I expected a strange journey. Atwood delivered, but not in the sense I was expecting. My intention is to recreate my experience reading the book with the start of this review. If you find it confusing, or that you are not enjoying it, skip to the next header where I explain myself in a more normal book review format
The OC Experience
I have long been intrigued by Atwood. My wife’s maid of honor moved to Juneau, AK. I have been there twice. Early in our first trip we took the Mt Roberts Tramway as a kick off for a hike in the craggy mountains that surround Juneau. I was struck by the birds on that hike. My late friend Mr Dahhk characterized common birds with nicknames. Pigeons were “skymice” while seagulls were "skyrats" - there were plenty of both around while we were roomates at the Academy. In Juneau, bald eagles are the skyrats, and huge ravens are the skymice. Alaska puts the “everything is bigger in Texas” claim to shame. Debbie, my wife’s maid of honor, is an unapologetic member of the blue tribe. She sent my wife a copy of the Handmaid’s Tale many years ago. Occasionally I “steal” an intriguing book and read it before my wife does. Hearing snippets of its feminist-dystopian future, I have long considered reading it and been intrigued by Atwood.
The Twitter thread that lead me to review SF award winning books alerted me that Atwood is a SF author (not some feminist author who delved into a future dystopia, as I had surmised). Further intrigued, I decided to include Atwood in my list of new authors to try out. I read Windup Girl first, as it was the only novel I found to have won all three awards. Oryx and Crake was second. | It took me a bit to move past my initial surprise that both of these new (to me) SF authors are building dystopias – I thought the phenomena was limited to Young Adult authors. Hmm, not sure this is long enough to create a visceral experience, but you may be wondering what all this has to do with the experience of reading Oryx and Crake? |
My OC Review
A big part of what I enjoy about SF/Fantasy reading is the escapism. I am used to being transported to a wondrous new world where protagonists follow a journey of exploration - solving problems that I can relate to. Heading to destinations I am eager to experience. Authors I love that have done this for me include: CJ Cherryh, Robert Jordan, George RR Martin, Larry Niven, Alastair Reynolds, even Tom Clancy. That is not a good description of my Oryx and Crake (OC) experience. We start in an unfamiliar world with a despondent anti-hero, who has lost all hope. After some painful meandering through details, the idea slowly, painstakingly crystallizes – our journey will be one of discovering, through flashbacks, how we come to this forlorn, forsaken place. Ouch.
I came into my reading experience mildly concerned that Atwood would bring a feminist bias that would distract me. I find her bias to be cynical and roughly equal in its abuse of shallow masculine or feminine stereotypes. I did find her approach painful, however; it took me about a third of the book to realize how to interpret its journey. The approach reminded me of trying to listen to my wife tell me a story where she starts with many seemingly unrelated details, before she gives me the main topic to tie it together with. Personally, I quickly run out of slots in my brain to hold these facts separately.
Ok, so you may be in for a slog to start with. I suspect this is intentional, Atwood wants you to feel the dystopia. Not all of us really want that. I was also disappointed that Oryx and Crake, with their unusual names, did not turn out to be mind-expanding alien experiences. I am stubborn however, so once I was introduced to these primary characters, I started to enjoy Atwood’s vision. I am mostly through the second book of three, and it rarely evolves into escapism. I do find the depth of characterization to be satisfying; that I care about the characters; and their journeys to be interesting. This is enough for me to finish the trilogy, and be happy I did. The backwards telling and hopeless destination are, for me, rocks that weigh down my journey through her fascinating vision.
I came into my reading experience mildly concerned that Atwood would bring a feminist bias that would distract me. I find her bias to be cynical and roughly equal in its abuse of shallow masculine or feminine stereotypes. I did find her approach painful, however; it took me about a third of the book to realize how to interpret its journey. The approach reminded me of trying to listen to my wife tell me a story where she starts with many seemingly unrelated details, before she gives me the main topic to tie it together with. Personally, I quickly run out of slots in my brain to hold these facts separately.
Ok, so you may be in for a slog to start with. I suspect this is intentional, Atwood wants you to feel the dystopia. Not all of us really want that. I was also disappointed that Oryx and Crake, with their unusual names, did not turn out to be mind-expanding alien experiences. I am stubborn however, so once I was introduced to these primary characters, I started to enjoy Atwood’s vision. I am mostly through the second book of three, and it rarely evolves into escapism. I do find the depth of characterization to be satisfying; that I care about the characters; and their journeys to be interesting. This is enough for me to finish the trilogy, and be happy I did. The backwards telling and hopeless destination are, for me, rocks that weigh down my journey through her fascinating vision.
Cheating by Sniping my Competitor’s Reviews
(caution: contains mild spoilers from the web)
goodreads: “Oryx and Crake is at once an unforgettable love story and a compelling vision of the future. Snowman, known as Jimmy before mankind was overwhelmed by a plague, is struggling to survive in a world where he may be the last human, and mourning the loss of his best friend, Crake, and the beautiful and elusive Oryx…”
My take: Oversold, but basically true. Read enough from these reviews and you may lessen the painful rock-carrying experience that Atwood designed for you. Her vision may be compelling, but I don’t find it as solid as Cherryh, Niven, or Reynolds. Though my physical sciences (vice life sciences) background undoubtedly biases me in this respect.
New York Times: “...Snowman mutters and shuffles along in his blighted surroundings like a character in a Beckett play, and we brace ourselves for episodes of harrowing retrospection. First, though, a surprise. Out of the blue a curious band of children appears on the shore and comes to stand by him. But they are too innocent, too blank, to be normal human children. As far as we can tell, they are utterly without wiles; they require explanations for the simplest found objects -- a hubcap, a bottle, a computer mouse. ''These are things from before,'' Snowman tells them. ¶ Before. Atwood now begins her flashbacks, pacing them to alternate with the slow progress of the present-day narrative... ”
“Atwood's scenario gains great power and relevance from our current scientific preoccupation with bioengineering, cloning, tissue regeneration and agricultural hybrids, and she strikes a note of warning as unambiguous as Mary Shelley's in ‘Frankenstein’.''
My take: Excellent review, but significantly spoils the plot. The critic, Sven Birkerts, points out that the grand climax (the cause of the dystopia) is undermotivated. We are never given sufficient explanation for why, although how becomes quite clear. He is also fixated on SF as not quite capable of becoming “Literature.”
Guardian: “From the very beginning of this novel, you feel that you are setting out on a journey masterminded by a sure and energetic guide. The starting place is a point some way into the future, where a character called Snowman is contemplating the devastated landscape around him and his own situation as probably the last human left on earth. Woven through Snowman's struggles to survive among genetic mutations and in the face of gradual starvation is the tale of his past as a naive young man called Jimmy. Jimmy watches as the world hurtles towards a catastrophe… ¶ Although the structure sounds complicated, the novel never loses its forward momentum...”
“...the main features of Jimmy's world are based on the gradual exaggeration of some of the most dismal current trends in western society - internet pornography, gated communities, genetic modification. Atwood certainly has a lot of fun imagining the havoc that might be wreaked on the gene pool if scientists were constrained by nothing except the profit motive…”
“...She is rightly celebrated for her explorations of the female point of view, but here she manages to write convincingly from the point of view of a man - and a man, what's more, brought up in an emotionally stunted environment…”
My take: Yikes! Natasha Walter, the Guardian critic, had a quite different experience starting this book. Despite her strongly positive kickoff, she compares it poorly to Handmaid’s Tale; perhaps some disappointment in the lack of feminist angst leaks through? I think her take on the limitations of Atwood’s simplistic extrapolations are right on the mark, however. She doesn’t spoil the plot as thoroughly as Sven, but she reveals plenty. I do agree with her impression of Atwood’s efforts to create deep characters – Oryx and Crake do not get the same full treatment our protagonist does.
My take: Oversold, but basically true. Read enough from these reviews and you may lessen the painful rock-carrying experience that Atwood designed for you. Her vision may be compelling, but I don’t find it as solid as Cherryh, Niven, or Reynolds. Though my physical sciences (vice life sciences) background undoubtedly biases me in this respect.
New York Times: “...Snowman mutters and shuffles along in his blighted surroundings like a character in a Beckett play, and we brace ourselves for episodes of harrowing retrospection. First, though, a surprise. Out of the blue a curious band of children appears on the shore and comes to stand by him. But they are too innocent, too blank, to be normal human children. As far as we can tell, they are utterly without wiles; they require explanations for the simplest found objects -- a hubcap, a bottle, a computer mouse. ''These are things from before,'' Snowman tells them. ¶ Before. Atwood now begins her flashbacks, pacing them to alternate with the slow progress of the present-day narrative... ”
“Atwood's scenario gains great power and relevance from our current scientific preoccupation with bioengineering, cloning, tissue regeneration and agricultural hybrids, and she strikes a note of warning as unambiguous as Mary Shelley's in ‘Frankenstein’.''
My take: Excellent review, but significantly spoils the plot. The critic, Sven Birkerts, points out that the grand climax (the cause of the dystopia) is undermotivated. We are never given sufficient explanation for why, although how becomes quite clear. He is also fixated on SF as not quite capable of becoming “Literature.”
Guardian: “From the very beginning of this novel, you feel that you are setting out on a journey masterminded by a sure and energetic guide. The starting place is a point some way into the future, where a character called Snowman is contemplating the devastated landscape around him and his own situation as probably the last human left on earth. Woven through Snowman's struggles to survive among genetic mutations and in the face of gradual starvation is the tale of his past as a naive young man called Jimmy. Jimmy watches as the world hurtles towards a catastrophe… ¶ Although the structure sounds complicated, the novel never loses its forward momentum...”
“...the main features of Jimmy's world are based on the gradual exaggeration of some of the most dismal current trends in western society - internet pornography, gated communities, genetic modification. Atwood certainly has a lot of fun imagining the havoc that might be wreaked on the gene pool if scientists were constrained by nothing except the profit motive…”
“...She is rightly celebrated for her explorations of the female point of view, but here she manages to write convincingly from the point of view of a man - and a man, what's more, brought up in an emotionally stunted environment…”
My take: Yikes! Natasha Walter, the Guardian critic, had a quite different experience starting this book. Despite her strongly positive kickoff, she compares it poorly to Handmaid’s Tale; perhaps some disappointment in the lack of feminist angst leaks through? I think her take on the limitations of Atwood’s simplistic extrapolations are right on the mark, however. She doesn’t spoil the plot as thoroughly as Sven, but she reveals plenty. I do agree with her impression of Atwood’s efforts to create deep characters – Oryx and Crake do not get the same full treatment our protagonist does.