Woo-hoo guest blogger here! I read a lot of books, and especially a lot of sci-fi and fantasy, and then I have a lot of thoughts about them.  Which I am excited to share with the world via this exciting gig of periodic guest-blogging!

I recently chose The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi for my sci-fi book club. Trying to pronounce or spell that last name would ordinarily be enough to put me off the book, but it was hailed as one of the top 20 sci-fi books of 2010 and I’ll read anything with a post-apocalyptic feel.  It was also nominated for the Hugo award and won the Nebula and Compton Crook Awards.

First, let me describe it:  In a post-apocalyptic world, all crops are genetically modified and sterile. They have taken over the planet and done away with bio-diversity in foodstuffs.  “Calorie Men”, belonging to giant gene-modification corporations, roam the world looking for seedbanks with new genes to hack and use to create genetically modified crops that resist “blister-rust” for a short time and feed the world; at a cost to the world, obviously.  In Thailand, the government has stubbornly held on to its independence from the Calorie Men and periodically fresh fruit or some other unspeakable luxury is publically available.  Clearly, a gene-ripper and a seed bank are hidden away somewhere in the Thai Kingdom, and the calorie men must have them both!  In addition, since the worldwide collapse, there is no generally available electricity, there is very little trade between countries, and energy is stored by means of human effort preserved in tightly wound “kink springs” that are used to power things like guns and fans.  Oh, and there are dirigibles.
DOESN’T THAT SOUND AWESOME!??

Sadly, it’s not. Bacigalupi’s language creation and bleak vision of a future ruled by genetic modification could almost be channeling William Gibson in the 80s.  But where Neuromancer changed literature and language and ushered in the era of cyber-punk, The Windup Girl is simply not good enough to create that kind of lasting impression.  Four out of four women who have both read this book and talked to me about it agree the beginning is just boring.  And although it gets less boring, the storytelling never crosses the line into compelling.

There are few likeable characters in the book.   Even Hock Seng, an old Chinese man with a painful past and a laudable goal to always have a back-up plan, is not particularly likeable.  The “windup girl” Emiko, about whom the book is ostensibly written, appears for the first time on page 34, but believe me, it feels like you’ve been reading forever by that point.   And honestly, she’s not particularly likeable either.  Like most of the book, a windup girl is conceptually interesting but Emiko herself is not. The book features government officials, calorie men, factory workers, whores, immigrants, and soldiers; of them all I found a woman soldier named Kanya with divided loyalties and the hidden gene-ripper to be the most compelling characters.  And you see the gene-ripper approximately twice in 350 pages.

Even if you can look past the storytelling and embrace the ideas, the book has one unforgiveable aspect.  Emiko, the windup girl, is a Japanese invention trained to servility and left behind by her former master because it’s cheaper to buy a new wind-up in Japan than it is to transport Emiko home.  Her very existence is illegal in Thailand.  So, of course, she is working as a prostitute in a dirty bar where the owner requires her to perform degrading acts with customers in exchange for keeping her hidden and fed.  This plot device is neither particularly creative nor particularly problematic.  The writing is unnecessarily graphic.  Alone, that would be forgiveable, although still in poor taste.  But in addition to dwelling on Emiko’s degradation and sexual assaults in unnecessary detail, Mr. Bacigalupi has written poor Emiko so that, although she is sentient and feels pain, no matter how much she is abused and humiliated before a crowd, if you also touch her body correctly she will come, even during a sexual assault.  What an awesome sociopath rape fantasy!

I am not morally opposed to the use of sexual assault or violence or any other tools in storytelling (although I don’t appreciate it gratuitously).  But here, it is completely unnecessary and even illogical.  As a storytelling tool, the abuse eventually forces Emiko to act against her servile nature.  (Although the book is barely about Emiko, the title is not completely misleading because she is used as a catalyst for change.) However, the explicit (loving?) detail to the sexual aspects of the abuse and degradation combined with the completely unnecessary and illogical fact that Emiko is forced to orgasm during the abuse transforms these scenes from a plot device to a creepy non-functioning male fantasy; no matter how inept or cruel, ANY man (or woman) can make this windup climax!  The person performing the sexual abuse acts on Emiko, for the male customers, is another woman.  This adds to the lascivious nature of the scenes by including the ever-popular non-lesbian-women performing sex acts together for male attention and pleasure. (In fact, the abuser, another prostitute, ALSO orgasms during these performances! Women are so easy to get off! They love humiliation and hate other women! This is great for men!) This is not an example of alternative sexuality.  It’s not BDSM with willing partners who get off on pain and power.  Instead, it reinforces the rape-culture mythos that victims “like it” or “want it” or “ask for it”.  Emiko quite truthfully does “like it”; her body, which she controls in every other way, forces her to “enjoy it”.  Honestly, based on the descriptions of what they do to her and how it feels to her, I don’t even know what it means that she orgasms.  But there is an unmistakable aura of forgiveness and acceptance for acts, no matter how horrible, that end in “pleasure”.  And that is unforgiveable.

I’m glad I read the book because I like to have an opinion about the sci-fi everyone’s talking about.  And I’ve enjoyed trying to utilize words like “gene-ripping” in my everyday life.  But I really can’t say I think it’s a good book, or that I liked it, or that I would recommend it.

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