Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir

Published by Ballantine Books on May 4, 2021

I enjoyed the story told in Project Hail Mary. I would have enjoyed it more if not for sentences like “The force you feel in a centrifuge is inverse to the square of the radius.” Unfortunately, rules of science appear with exhausting regularity.

Andy Weir apparently decided he stumbled upon a successful formula with The Martian. In Project Hail Mary, he doubles down. Weir’s protagonist in The Martian famously decides to “science the shit out of” each problem he encounters. In Project Hail Mary, Weir’s protagonist scienced the shit out my patience. Weir rarely makes it through two pages before he finds some new principle of science that he absolutely must explain to the reader. Few of the principles do anything to advance the plot. Many of them are only marginally relevant to the story, meaning they could have been excised from the text without harming the plot, producing a much tighter story. Thanks to all the pauses to explain science, Project Hail Mary takes about 500 pages to tell a 200-page story.

Science lectures are not good science fiction. Explanations have their place, judiciously used. The reader needs to be served enough science to provide a context for what’s happening and why. But the science shouldn’t get in the way of moving the story forward. The giants who originated hard science fiction knew that. Isaac Asimov knew that. Arthur C. Clarke knew that. Robert Heinlein knew that. Most of their contemporaries knew that. Andy Weir doesn’t get it. Science lectures are not science fiction. Full stop.

Remove the incessant science lectures, including every sentence that follows “Hang on, let me do the math,” and what remains is a reasonably interesting plot. The sun is slowly dimming, a phenomenon that will lead to a new Ice Age in another few decades. The dimming is caused by an alien organism that the protagonist, Ryland Grace, dubs an astrophage. Grace discovers the organism after he’s drafted to join a science team that is focused on saving the Earth. Grace teaches junior high school science but he wrote a widely-ridiculed dissertation explaining that alien life forms might not require water to evolve or survive. He responded to the ridicule by abandoning his studies and taking a junior high teaching job, which makes him a bit of a weenie. We learn, if fact, that Grace is risk-averse to the point of cowardice. But he’s found the perfect job because lecturing a captive audience about science is what he does best.

The story begins with Grace waking up from a coma suffering from a selective memory loss. He doesn’t remember that he’s on a spaceship. He doesn’t know its mission. As time passes, he recovers his memories in linear fashion, from oldest to newest, which allows Weir to tell Grace’s backstory through Grace’s recovered memory while the story in the present moves forward. Weir offers a contrived explanation at the end for the memory loss and its slow recovery, although he doesn’t explain why the memories are so conveniently recovered in order from the earliest to the most recent.

Grace eventually figures out that he’s on his way to a star that stopped dimming. Great minds decided that the star might reveal an antidote to the astrophage. The odds that he can find the antidote are slim, which explains the novel’s title.

When Grace’s ship arrives in the right neighborhood, he encounters an alien who is on a similar mission. Grace calls the alien Rocky. This happy encounter gives Grace a fresh audience for his science lectures.

The story has a few credibility problems. Grace is a general-purpose scientist who seems to be adept at physics and math but is valued for his knowledge of cellular biology, which allows him to understand the workings of the mitochondria found within the astrophage. Since he wrote his doctoral thesis on a relevant subject, it makes sense that the project manager in charge of saving the Earth would consult him. But the decision to turn a junior high teacher into the manager’s personal science advisor — she even has him testing the glove that will be used to grasp small objects during extra-vehicular activity — seems unlikely. Her decision to draft him as an administrator when he has no particular management experience also struck me as implausible. Weir concocts a reason for turning him into an astronaut that depends on an unlikely coincidence. I’ll cut Weir some slack for all that because Grace is the protagonist and he needs to be immersed in all phases of the project for the story to work. However, science fiction is all about the willingness to suspend disbelief. Weir tested my capacity to do so.

The ease with which Grace and Rocky learn each other’s languages is impossible to believe. Words that signify numbers and computation are easy to translate, as is the periodic table if the two species both understand it. Nouns or verbs that can be demonstrated might be easy to approximate, but it isn’t easy to grasp abstract concepts like “pretty” and “friend” without a common language. Grace and Rocky manage to achieve complete fluency in weeks when linguists would need years.

And then there’s Rocky’s personality. He shares Grace’s sarcastic sense of humor. He shares Grace’s general attitude about most things. Considering that Rocky is an alien, there doesn’t seem to be much about him that’s alien. He’s like a mirror image of Grace, apart from his resemblance to a spider and his need to breathe ammonia.

Setting aside the novel’s flaws, the plot is engaging. Grace has an opportunity to grow by overcoming his cowardice and selfish nature. The ending is much better than I expected it to be. Whittle down the science lectures, keep the meaningful content, and this would be a decent novel. As it stands, Project Hail Mary too often made my eyes glaze over. Young science geeks who feel validated when novels reinforce their belief that “scientists are really smart” might view the book differently.

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