Broken Monsters, by Lauren Beukes

Broken MonstersThe other day we got this huge pile of YA and children’s fantasy books in at my library, and I told my coworker that I expected her to take home at least half of them, because that kind of book is totally her thing. Then I said, hey, speaking of things that are totally your thing, I am reading this amazing book right now that you would absolutely hate! That book? Broken Monsters.

If you’ve ever read Lauren Beukes before, you will understand. She does not do cute, fun, adorable stories with magic and/or dragons; her books are far more bleak and gory and weird, and this one is no exception.

We start right off in this novel with the gory; there’s a detective and a dead body, or more accurately half of a dead human body attached to half of a dead deer body. That’s… great… so as a palate cleanser we meet another one of our protagonists, a thirty-something dude in the midst of finding himself and his muse and whatever. He is soon to become the bane of our detective’s existence when he decides to become the “journalist” who reveals everything about this dead kid case.

Then we meet a guy who’s made a career out of looting abandoned houses, of which there are many in Detroit, and after that the detective’s daughter, who gets caught up in an extremely effed-up internet “prank” that leads me to preemptively take the internet away from my hypothetical children until they’re 30. Then we finally meet the guy who turns out to be the killer, whose chapters are all supremely creepy but fascinating in their own special way.

All of the protagonists’ stories connect to each other in some way, which is my favorite thing, with people and places intersecting in foreboding ways until the end where Beukes just throws everyone into an abandoned plant and lets the batshit crazy flow, kind of literally. That’s the weird part, where this strange magical-realism conceit that’s been brewing throughout the novel becomes way less realistic and way more scary as what.

Adding to the creepy factor is the fact that the book is set in Detroit and focuses a lot on the idea of abandoned buildings and neighborhoods and the strange fascination that people have with the city and its deterioration or rebuilding, depending on the person. It’s hard to tell if Detroit is creepy on its own or if it’s creepy because people really really want it to be. I like it.

I was completely entranced by this book, alternately worried about certain characters and whether they would be okay after doing not-terribly-smart things (spoiler: not everyone is okay) and really curious to see how all of this insanity could possibly come together at the end. I wasn’t the biggest fan of the ending, which is just too weird for the tone of the rest of the book, but it was definitely exciting. I continue to fangirl for Lauren Beukes, and am glad there’s still some backlist of hers I haven’t gotten to yet so that I can go find it and devour it when I am in a mood for a book that is nothing like any other book.

Recommendation: For lovers of the strange and anyone with an affinity for Detroit.

Rating: 9/10

Station Eleven, by Emily St. John Mandel

Station ElevenI have been hearing so many good things about this book lately, well deserved good things, but back when I picked it out of the advance copy lineup all I knew was that it had a neat cover and was written by Emily St. John Mandel, who, like Jo Walton, I should have started reading ages ago. And I think that’s a pretty good way to go into the book, because it is so hard to describe the book well and I think whatever you hear about what the book is about is necessarily not going to be the whole story. All you really need to know going in is that it’s not going to be a page-turner, but if you’re in the mood for something you can sit and savor and that will make you think about life, this is just the ticket.

But if you need to know more, I’m happy to oblige. Station Eleven fits primarily in that genre called post-apocalyptic that I know gives people hissy fits, but in a world where literally can mean figuratively I think that’s not the worst name we could have for a book that takes place after a big, world-changing event. In this case, the world-changing event is a flu that takes out something like 90 percent of the world’s population along with all of the important services like electricity, water, gas, and the Internet. How does anyone survive??

But of course people do, as people have always done, and the primary story line we follow is that of Kirsten Raymonde, a member of the Traveling Symphony, whose slogan is “Because survival is insufficient.” The Symphony, still going twenty years after the flu, puts on Shakespeare’s plays and performs concerts for various settlements on a circuit in the northern Michigan area, and those settlements seem generally glad to see them until the Symphony rolls in to a town where they dropped off two members a couple years back. The members are nowhere to be found, no one wants to talk about it, and things are generally creeptastic in the area. When the Symphony leaves, they decide to wander off their usual circuit to see if they can’t find their friends and maybe explore some new territory, but of course it’s not as easy as that.

Meanwhile, we get to know some other people who are all connected through this one fellow called Arthur we meet at the beginning of the book (Kirsten was in a play with him). We meet Arthur’s ex-wife Miranda and learn about her relationship with him and his relationship with fame, we meet a paparazzo turned entertainment journalist turned paramedic called Jeevan who once documented Arthur and later worked to save his life, and we meet Clark, Arthur’s old friend who just manages to avoid the flu and who lives in probably the nicest settlement in northern Michigan.

I love the way the stories interconnect at different points, allowing you to learn about these people and their lives before and after the flu in little pieces spread throughout all the narratives. I also like that although Mandel connects all these characters together through Arthur, none are close enough in relationship or location for it to feel contrived that they’ve survived this flu.

I appreciate that although this story falls into that post-apocalyptic category, it seems so much more realistic — it’s twenty years later, so the characters are past any looting, panicking, killing stage that might have happened, and no one crazy person has stepped in to realize his utopian vision or whatever. Instead it’s just regular people living out a pioneer life with a few minor altercations here and there but generally just trying to live, or in the case of the Traveling Symphony, trying to increase awesome. I can only hope our future post-apocalyptic world is as nice as this one.

Recommendation: For people who are tired of plot-driven apocalypses and those who want to know that everything’s going to be okay, ish.

Rating: 9/10