The Heart Goes Last by Margaret Atwood

Published in Canada in 2015; published by Nan A. Talese on September 29, 2015

The Heart Goes Last is both playful and subversive. It is satirical and allegorical. The story it tells can’t be taken seriously, but its targeting of people who behave like sheep, sacrificing freedom for comfort, of men who find new ways to oppress women, and of corporations that place profits ahead of … well, everything … is well taken. Margaret Atwood doesn’t beat the reader over the head with lectures about morality, but the background themes are never far from the reader’s thoughts.

The economy has tanked. Stan and Charmaine are living in a car. The rich are living offshore on tax-free floating platforms. Stan’s life is tied down by “tiny threads of petty cares and small concerns.” Joining his brother Conner in the criminal underclass may be Stan’s only hope. Charmaine, who works for tips in a bar, is tempted to turn tricks until she sees an even more tempting ad for the Positron Project.

Against Conner’s advice, Stan and Charmaine join the corporate/social experiment called Consilience/Positron. The experiment involves voluntary imprisonment in exchange for full employment. In alternating months, residents of the prison (Positron) swap places with residents of the village (Consilience), but even in the village they have no freedom, in that they are cut off from the outside world. They see only the news, television shows, and movies that are chosen for them. They work at the jobs the project gives them. They own what the project allows them to own. The project demands meek obedience to its rules; disruption has harsh consequences.

Against this background, the story begins to explore the relationship between Stan and Charmaine, their inability to connect with each other and their consequent misunderstanding about who the other person is and what the other person wants. As the plot moves forward, the characters must decide whether they are loyal to each other, to themselves, or to Consilience. Another plot thread compares complex relationships between humans to simpler interactions between humans and robots (or, more precisely, sexbots). Of course, some human relationships seem robotic, which is one of the points that Atwood’s novel makes.

The Heart Goes Last combines a serious story about the breakdown of society with satirical commentaries on the cozy relationship between government and big business, the not-so-cozy relationship that is often defined by marriage, and the exploitation of the powerless by the powerful (particularly, but not exclusively, the exploitation of women by men). It also makes the point that there will always be people who are willing to give up freedom, independence, and any ability they might possess to think for themselves in exchange for comfort and security. After all, life is just easier when other people make decisions for you. Of course, for every bit of freedom you choose to relinquish, the people in control will want you to give up just a bit more. Utopia comes at a price.

The Heart Goes Last stitches together a number of novellas that Atwood previously published in what science fiction writers of the 1940s and 1950s called a “fix-up” novel. It reads well, but the fixed-up nature of the work is apparent in some of the sharp turns the novel takes. Atwood takes the story a bit over the top with all the varieties of evil she concocts, but that’s the nature of satire, and when greed is being satirized, going over the top is forgivable. Some of the humor might be a little too easy (although making fun of Elvis impersonators never gets old) and the story provokes more smiles than outright laughter. Still, this is a fun book.

RECOMMENDED

The Patriot Attack by Kyle Mills

Published by Grand Central Publishing on September 29, 2015

The Patriot Attack -- excuse me, Robert Ludlum's The Patriot Attack -- wasn't written by the long-deceased Ludlum. Despite the appearance of the name "Jason Bourne" in the cover's largest font, this isn't a Jason Bourne novel. If you don't develop unfulfilled expectations based on the publisher's questionable marketing tactics, you'll find a reasonably entertaining Covert One novel written by Kyle Mills, one of the more reliable authors in the Ludlum factory.

The premise is refreshing, in that it turns away from tired stories about Middle Eastern terrorists and focuses on a potential war between China and Japan which, if initiated by China, might require the United States to honor treaty obligations by coming to Japan's defense. The title doesn't have much to do with the story but the word "Patriot" apparently sells books so there it is.

The story begins with a mad scientist's "What have I done?" moment in Japan. The Patriot Attack then turns to the present as Jon Smith dodges bullets and crossbow bolts to recover a package. The package leads to evidence that someone in Japan is about to unleash a weapon that risks the destruction of all life on the planet. As one of the characters notes, it's the sort of doomsday weapon that should never be developed, much less unleashed.

The novel takes a sophisticated view of China's internal problems and the dilemma that the United States would face if China and Japan were at war. America is economically dependent on China, both as a manufacturer of consumer goods for American vendors and as a lender that holds a huge amount of American debt. America also has strong economic ties with Japan, not to mention a defense treaty. China arguably has an incentive to attack Japan as a means of winning the support of an increasingly restless population, although China has little incentive to take on the American military or to lose the income it receives from American businesses. On the other hand, Japan would be trounced if it started a war with China ... unless, of course, it had a convenient doomsday weapon and a madman who was willing to launch it.

Series regular Randi Russell is given a prominent role while Fred Klein is relegated to infrequent appearances (which is fine since he's the kind of wooden character who speaks without moving his lips). The story is fanciful but it is told in a credible way that builds excitement. The ending is easier and more abrupt than Ludlum himself would have delivered, but as a factory-based novel, this one isn't bad. And, to its credit, the Ludlum factory doesn't outsource labor to China.

RECOMMENDED

The History Man by Malcolm Bradbury

First published in Great Britain in 1975; published digitally by Open Road Media on May 19, 2015

I love novels that feature the kind of impossibly witty conversation that real people never have -- at least I'm not witty enough to have them and I don't know anyone who is. Maybe only the British have learned the art of witty conversation. Kingsley Amis and Malcolm Bradbury mastered the fictional witty conversation, which is one of the reasons I enjoy reading them.

The History Man is a send-up of the conspicuously unconventional, studiously modern social science academic, newly imbued with the fashionably permissive attitudes of the 1960s. Set in the 1970s, The History Man is about life as performance, "self-made actors on the social stage." To the extent that it skewers self-styled radicals who have since fallen out of fashion in academia, it retains its relevance in its skewering of academics who care more about themselves than their students.

Howard Kirk teaches sociology at a progressive college. His wife Barbara is involved in a variety of activities. The couple is well known and liked, in part because of their spontaneous willingness to open themselves to everyone they encounter (although their spontaneity is carefully stage managed). Having achieved commercial success writing about "new" sex (what's new is that people are having a lot more of it with a greater variety of partners), Howard is enjoying the bourgeois benefits that he denounces.

While condemning all forms of snobbery, Howard indulges in his own. His carefully cultivated image as a "free traveler through life" allows him to condemn colleagues who have put down roots, who are part of the establishment he seeks to destroy (but only if its destruction forms a foundation for his own success). He is also a confrontational rabble-rouser who manipulates others to assure that he can be confrontational without harming his job security. In fact, he bases his opinions not on reason or ideology, but on how much controversy the opinions will generate. Chicly radical in her own way, Barbara avoids employment by leading consciousness-raising sessions, organizing unions, and engaging in whimsical acts of community activism.

Howard and Barbara love to talk, mostly about themselves. For example, when Howard criticizes one of his friends for having gone bourgeois, Barbara smugly reminds him that "they haven't had all our disadvantages." They also love to give parties that celebrate freedom (from "economic timidity, sexual fear, and prescriptive social norms"), although the parties really celebrate Howard and Barbara's ability to give a party that others will appreciate and admire. Some of the novel's best passages consist of characters dissecting each other with scalpels made of wit, peeling away their superficial exteriors to reveal their hollow cores.

Howard's friend Henry is the novel's most likable character. As he ages, he has come to value only "attachment to other knowable people, and the gentleness of relationship." For holding beliefs that are sincere and sentimental, poor Henry is mocked by most of the other characters. Another likable character, Miss Callander, manages to see right through Howard but succumbs to his charm anyway.

The novel's most insightful moment comes when a student whose politics are markedly different from Howard's gives him a polite verbal thrashing. The reader might or might not agree with the student, but he raises a good point about the possibility of a professor's political bias affecting the perception of a student's academic efforts. Howard's response, on the other hand, is petty, vindictive, and narrow-minded -- just like Howard.

Howard wants to make his life interesting, an end he accomplishes by using deceit and guile and provocation and then stepping out of the way so he can enjoy the dramatic consequences before engaging in the academic version of gossip by discussing "interesting" problems with his analytical friends. The question in the reader's mind is whether all of Howard's disagreeable character traits will at some point backfire. I think most readers will root for that, while at the same time enjoying his roguish antics. Enjoying the witty conversations that pepper the novel, though, is the real reason to spend some time with Howard and his friends.

Appended to the Open Road volume is a 1998 essay in which Bradbury discusses the novel and the rise and fall of sociology. Since that was my undergrad major (chosen because it was easy to get good grades without actually attending classes), I enjoyed his remarks.

RECOMMENDED

Point of Balance by J.G. Jurado

Published in Spain in 2014; published in translation by Atria Books on August 11, 2015

David Evans, the top neurosurgeon at an exclusive D.C. hospital, comes home to find his daughter and her nanny missing. The kidnapper, who seems to know all there is to know about Evans, does not want ransom money. Instead, Evans is asked to engage in what might (with some understatement) be termed medically unethical behavior. The moral dilemma that Evans faces -- kill an important patient or lose his daughter -- drives the story.

Evans is a rather bland protagonist. Although he tells us the usual stories about the god delusion that plagues surgeons, Evans doesn't suffer from delusions or anything else that would give him a personality.

The bad guy, who calls himself Mr. White, is sort of a sociopathic megalomaniac, which makes him more interesting than Evans. White's study of psychology has turned manipulation of others into a scientific art. I liked that, but White's expertise as a computer hacker is trite and silly. White turns out to be working for the real bad guy, whose identity is only partially revealed. That's disappointing, as is the failure to explain the unidentified bad guy's motivation for wanting the crime to be committed.

The sister of Evans' dead wife (who once considered herself a rival for Evan's affections) is rather conveniently in a law enforcement position that puts her close to the action. J.G. Jurado tries to give the story more depth by giving the dead wife's sister unresolved feelings for Evans. The resulting interaction comes across as a melodramatic soap opera. The sister is ridiculously self-pitying when she isn't being ridiculously judgmental. Jurado's attempts to humanize Evans with saccharine memories of his wife are a little nauseating.

The plot, at least in broad terms, is a familiar one. That doesn't make the story bad, but it does call upon the writer to give it a fresh twist and to avoid following a predictable path. Jurado's efforts are moderately successful, but the story fails to realize its potential.

The plot is farfetched but that's normal enough for conspiracy thrillers. This one is marred by White's decision to give Evans an extra challenge midway through the novel that makes no sense whatsoever. It is the kind of plot complication that exists only to add more action to the story. If some rational explanation existed for the added action I would be fine with it, but this situation was so contrived that I could only shake my head.

Later in the novel, White engages in an unnecessarily risky act of violence that I could not begin to believe. White seems determined to do everything he can to screw up his assignment. A scene that has Evans in one of D.C.'s bad neighborhoods is the kind of thing that is imagined by writers who have never been in a bad neighborhood.

Medical thrillers depend upon interesting medical trivia to engage the reader's interest. I liked the "inside baseball" of neurosurgery and hospital administration. I wish there had been more of that. I also liked the zippy speed at which the story moves. The story holds a couple of mild surprises and some excitement near the end, but they do not quite overcome the novel's faults. The ending tries to be clever but it doesn't quite make sense.

NOT RECOMMENDED

Those We Left Behind by Stuart Neville

Published by Soho Crime on September 22, 2015

Two brothers, Ciaran and Thomas Devine, were prosecuted for killing the foster father with whom they lived. Ciaran, the younger brother, was convicted of beating the man to death while Thomas was convicted of acting as an accessory. At the time, Ciaran said he was protecting Thomas from ongoing abuse. The dead man's son, Daniel, never believed his father abused Thomas and has always been convinced that Thomas was the actual murderer. When Ciaran and Thomas are released from juvenile detention years later, Daniel remains obsessed with exposing what he regards as the truth.

DCI Serena Flanagan participated in the investigation at the time Ciaran and Thomas were arrested. A bit of the story is told in flashbacks as Flanagan recalls her suspicion of Ciaran's innocence and her botched attempt to persuade him to tell the truth. Most of the story, however, follows the two boys after their release, including Flanagan's suspicion that one or both of them have committed another murder. Breaking the bond between the brothers may be the only way Flanagan can get at the truth, but can she do that without placing her own life at risk?

The other key character, Probation Officer Paula Cunningham, is charged with supervising Ciaran after his release. Her role in the story is less central than Flanagan's and her character development is scant compared to Flanagan's. Having first appeared in The Final Silence, Neville is establishing Flanagan with the typical stereotypes of fictional police detectives -- her home life is troubled because she puts her work ahead of her family -- but, unlike fictional cops who are always right when everyone else thinks they're wrong, Flanagan is capable of making bad judgments. That makes her a more believable police character than most.

The most interesting feature of the plot is the question of how far Flanagan will go to get the truth from Ciaran. Is it acceptable for a police officer to question a suspect, even informally, in a way that might cause the suspect to believe that the officer wants to be intimate with him? Police deceive suspects all the time by pretending to be their friend, but at what point is a line crossed when an officer exploits the romantic or sexual feelings of a vulnerable young suspect? The exploration of that question gives the novel its moral force.

After the truth about Thomas and Ciaran is revealed, the story loses its energy. The remaining 50 or 60 pages are standard thriller fare, although the ending is intense. I appreciated the attempt to humanize Ciaran but Thomas, clearly intended as a contrast, is a shallower and less interesting character. On the whole, Those We Left Behind is not as powerful as some of Stuart Neville's Belfast novels, but it is a solid police thriller.

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