I went into this book blind, reading only the back blurb in store and pulling the trigger off vibes alone.
I think that is probably the best way to go about it – but it will be misleading. It should be. I will not spoil anything with the plot, but if you want to stop here for the same experience, please do.
Given the blurb, I figured it would be a psychological thriller, mystery, horror. “Deep underground, thirty-nine women live imprisoned in a cage. Watched over by guards, the women have no memory of how they got there, no notion of time, and only a vague recollection of their lives before. As the burn of electric light merges day into night and numberless years pass, a young girl – the fortieth prisoner – sits alone and outcast in the corner. Soon she will show herself to be the key to the others' escape and survival in the strange world that awaits them above ground."
It is actually existential philosophy through and through. It deals with absurdity, meaningless life, unanswered questions, and humanity.
(Some) Spoilers section
You want answers. It drives your whole reading experience. Why are they imprisoned? What world is this? Why are there so many cabins? Where did the guards go? Why isn't there anything else? WHAT IS THE PURPOSE TO ANY OF THIS?! Each new discovery is exhilarating. Each bit of new information makes us feel one step closer, but it ends up just as absurd as everything else we know. A gardening book?! What could it mean?! It must mean something!
Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. We will never know.
The only thing that comes with any amount of certainty is the resilience, love, and tenderness that the women of our story show. The community they build in this scary world. They cope, in ways that may even seem strange (yet, familiar). They build. They try. They love. They settle down to make it more comfortable as they die, even if we want to tell them to keep searching.
Is this what life is? Searching for ways to make sense of the absurd, plunging deeper into it? When that is draining, we make due with what we have and try to be as comfortable as possible with each other? Once that is boring we plunge on again? Once that is fatiguing we settle down again? Our minds tell us there must be a reason. Maybe the next one will figure it out. I'm too old and too tired now. I just want to hold the hand of someone.
Harpman did such a beautiful job. This work should be considered alongside Camus.
by thighpeen