*Side Note* Just for
the record, I am endlessly frustrated that bookstores always try to jump on
whatever bandwagon comes their way—by that I mean, do they really think just
because people enjoyed one book that they want to read a hundred other books about
the same exact thing? Can’t a girl just browse through a bunch of different themes
and pick for herself? Next we’ll have a bunch of bondage-sex-books following up
this Fifty Shades of Grey nonsense.
In any case, the one
good thing about the theme-selling-overkill is that sometimes it reveals other
books of the same type that are even better than the one getting all the
attention. Case in point: Lauren DeStefano’s Wither, the first book of the Chemical Garden Trilogy.
This book, though not exactly “post-apocalyptic” in its
truest sense, takes a look at a world falling prey to a disease that robs the
world of youth. As the back cover explains “In the not-too-distant future,
genetic engineering has turned every newborn into a ticking time bomb: Males
die at age twenty-five, and females die at age twenty. While scientists seek a
miracle antidote, young girls are routinely kidnapped and sold as polygamous
brides to bear more children.”
Though the writing was nothing particularly special, I found
the story compelling. This book, like many of the young adult books I enjoy and
find worth reading, exacerbates human flaws. It take the things that are wrong
with our world and puts them under intense fictional pressure—by showing the
reader the worst-case scenario, the book reveals the problems with the current
scenario. The premise of the book—the genetic engineering of a previous
generation leading to the destruction of future ones—is very current (though
maybe not completely original—viruses decimating the population are nothing new—zombies
anyone?). While we, today, have concerns that our actions pertaining to social
security, the environment, and science could lead to issues for those who come
later, this book actually shows us a world where future generations are screwed
over by specific actions of their predecessors. Because of their experiments,
the older members of this world lead long, healthy lives completely devoid of
illness. Meanwhile their children, and their children’s children, die long
before their time of a painful, wasting, and terrifying sickness.
Furthermore, this sickness brings up interesting questions
about the way in which we covet youth and constantly try to recapture it. In Wither, this concept is turned on its
head—reminding the reader that growing old is, in fact, the privilege. When the
only thing a person will ever know is youth, it’s not the blessing most forty-something
women think it is, it’s a curse.
DeStefano comments on our world further, tackling the issue
of young pregnancy and motherhood. In a world with TV shows like Teen Mom or 16
& Pregnant, and role models like Miley Cyrus, who’s already married and
talking about having kids at 19, we almost seem to be reverting back to a
previous time. DeStefano, especially through the character Cecily, examines the
complications of children having sex and bearing children. In a world where
young people are forced to have kids, it becomes all the more clear why it may
not be wise for them to choose to—playing house isn’t all it’s cracked up to
be, especially post-apocalypse.
Last, but not least, DeStefano makes perhaps the subtlest and
most important commentary with the main character, Rhine. Rhine’s captivity and
her attempt to seduce her way out of it reveals to the reader the confusion
that comes along with romantically using someone—especially at a young age
where you’re just figuring out what love is. It can be easy to assume that
natural chemistry and that stereotypical “love-at-first-sight” kind of love are
the only ones that matter—but as Rhine discovers, pretending to love someone
and having them give you their love can be almost as intoxicating as the real
thing. Contrary to popular belief, DeStefano points about the ability to learn to love someone, even in arranged marriages.
Rhine of all people should not love her captor, Linden, but she often finds
herself falling for her own ruse—wanting to stay with him and love him like he
wants her to.
On a higher level, Rhine shows us the importance of remembering
not to simply accept things as they are—even if they are incredibly pleasant.
Even if your life is perfect and always has been (maybe even especially in this
case) you have to see things not only from your own, sheltered perspective. It
is important to at least try to consider how your lifestyle choices may affect
others. Wither reminds the reader
that no matter how unpleasant, you have to overturn the rock of complacency—you
can’t just make bad things go away by not thinking about them. Even Rhine, who
knows what it’s like living in the harsh outside world, is almost seduced by
the glamor and ease of her new life—even though she knows it’s just an
illusion! But she reminds us we can’t stay that way, no matter how tempting. Our
world is full of problems (Maybe not as bad as Wither’s millions of orphans, decimating diseases, and child
slavery…oh wait, I guess we have all of that now too…). And we could probably
solve those problems if the majority of people didn’t just consciously or
subconsciously ignore them.
So, this book is worth reading, and I'll be keeping it on my bookshelf at least until I get a chance to read the rest of the Trilogy (though I may box it after that). Depending
on your reading level it may be worth rereading—it is a little slower going
because it lacks action. But I encourage especially readers of The Hunger Games
to read this book—though it lacks Katniss’s fast paced fight for life, it makes
up for it with Rhine’s determination to preserve her sanity and figure out what
matters in a life constantly shadowed by the eventuality of death.
(P.S. If you haven't already, check out my review of The Hunger Games)
(P.S. If you haven't already, check out my review of The Hunger Games)
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