Book Review: Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood

It's hard to pin down Margaret Atwood as a writer. She's an accomplished poet, novelist, short story writer, essayist, and inventor. Though certain ideas and stylistic elements repeat (but aren't repetitive), the subject matter and direction of the writing is expansive. You never know if you'll be picking up science fiction, fantasy, mystery, economics, literary criticism, character study, semi-autobiographical fiction, or something else entirely. What you think is real is often an invention and the fantastic elements are often based in reality. All of this is why I find myself repeatedly drawn to the work of Margaret Atwood.

Oryx and Crake is a science fiction novel based in actual science. Atwood herself prefers "speculative fiction," because this story could happen. To read the acknowledgments page at the very end is to see a wide range of influences from behavioral biology to gene splicing, sociology to zoology, not to mention the expansive range of literary, historical, and musical references. Do not be mistaken: Atwood invents her own science fiction universe. These are her rules and hers alone. Her method in this mode, if you will, is to research everything she needs to on a wide range of subjects. She'll borrow and transform the elements she needs from all the fields without ignoring the rules or inherent contradictions in the research excluded from the book. The result is an eerily realistic view of what the near future could be.

The protagonist is Snowman, full name Abominable Snowman, formerly Jimmy, a man who has become a prophet for a new species of humanoids called Crakers. The Crakers worship the work of Crake--their creator, Jimmy's best friend--and Oryx--Jimmy's lover. By the time the novel starts, Snowman is living like a hermit on the beach. Oryx and Crake are dead and Snowman is starving to death. The Crakers absorb Snowman's fabricated creation myth like young children. They do not question Snowman because they are incapable of questioning him.

The novel is told through flashbacks of Jimmy's life--distinction intentional--starting in his childhood at a research compound. Atwood aptly balances the two narratives without trivializing the importance of either timeline. Snowman's story is not just a framing device for Jimmy's. His story cannot be told without key elements of Jimmy's life, and Jimmy's story hinges on Snowman's interpretation of his prior life. It's a tricky balance that works well.

In this near future of Jimmy's childhood, genetic engineering is all the rage. Society is split into isolated research compounds and the pleeblands--the land of the normal people. The pleeblands are filthy, disease-ridden, over-populated areas full of crime and danger completely eradicated from the research compounds. In the compounds, fantastic new creatures and medications are made. Jimmy, for example, is gifted a pet rakunk--half racoon, half skunk. The smell has been eliminated, the claws trimmed, and the temperament balanced to be the ideal house pet.

Creatures like the rakunk are side projects. The main goal is the creation of food and medicine. Pigoons--part pig, part human--are designed to grow spare human parts on while continually regenerating. They are huge, vicious creatures always being improved on. The extra organs are easily extracted and transplanted thanks to the human stem cells without damage to the pigoon.

Not everyone is happy with the evolution of society. An outskirt group--God's Gardeners--are constantly in the background, though we learn nothing other than their opposition to animal testing and genetic research. People try to escape the compounds or sell information, though all are caught by the CorpSeCorps, the elite security guard network of the compounds.

If this review seems like a lot of plot detail, it is. The novel is expansive. I've merely introduced the building blocks that Atwood uses to craft this fine narrative.

Stylistically, there is an odd detachment to Snowman and Jimmy's narratives. Since Snowman has been isolated from human society, possibly the only human left, he no longer feels any connection to his former life. He almost views himself like a parasite, existing only by attaching to others--his pet rakunk, Crake, his lovers, and Oryx. If he's not discussing those few characters, he's not really present in the narrative. The major conflicts of the novel are almost always relayed, but not witnessed, by Jimmy/Snowman. You can read all about the woman who killed a CorpSeCorps guard with a biological weapon, but Jimmy never saw it; Snowman will tell you all about the lifestyle of the Crakers, but he chooses to live outside of their society. There is almost a sense of mystery built into the narrative technique. You want to know more about Snowman/Jimmy, but the answers you want are always lurking in the shadows.

The novel plays out like an interesting mix of Surfacing, The Handmaid's Tale, and Moral Disorder. We don't know what we can really believe about Snowman/Jimmy's story, as he doesn't even know what to believe. There isn't any surprising revelation like Surfacing, but the protagonist is similarly detached from his expected reality. The speculative fiction angle shares some narrative devices similar to The Handmaid's Tale, including the existence of an elaborate network of prostitution outside of the heavily guarded and regulated safe compounds. There are also the others--the activists--considered criminals worthy of death sentences for fighting against some of the more questionable aspects of society. Yet, like her latest collection of short fiction Moral Disorder, the work is effortless. The writing is fluid, with the bare minimum of punctuation but no lack of stylish flourishes. All the Atwood trademarks--invention of terminology, significance in character/place names, matter of fact reveals of gut-wrenching emotional content--are there, just smoothly connected.

I cannot recommend this novel strongly enough. I believe it may be Atwood's best novel yet. It is so smart, funny, and brutal where necessary that I can't stop thinking about it. It haunts me. There is one reveal that is handled so plainly I was left shaking. Where other writers would stretch out an emotional climax, Atwood lets the subject itself bare the weight. Her writing is merely the vessel for a strong story filled with unique characters. That has always been Atwood's strength.