Annihilation

When the first trailers for the film adaptation of Annihilation began to spread, I made a decision, after doing a bit of research, to see the movie first before reading the book. The book sounded like a very unique animal, which the film would divert greatly from, and it seemed like I would be able to enjoy the movie better if I did not know what it should be. Now that I have experienced both, I don't think I had anything to worry about. While they are technically the same story, they take very different paths, though both are enjoyable in their own ways. What the movie rather magically manages to do - aside from attaching a more standard, consumable story structure to VanderMeer's novel - is capture that same existential horror that defines the book, but in a way that's appropriate for the screen. The movie has a hybrid bear monster who's roar is the sound of its last victim's dying scream. The book has living words written on the wall of an endless tower, words that become fresher the further you go down as you chase the author to the bottom.

I loved this book for reasons I did not entirely expect. I did not expect the narrator - the nameless biologist - to be so accessible and relatable. Annihilation is the story of a woman who joins a team of volunteers, a group of women, that make up the twelfth expedition into Area X. In her journals, she reveals the ways Area X is profoundly inexplicable and undefinable and how it unravels her team. She also reveals her own connection to Area X - her husband was part of the eleventh expedition. Though looking back, its hard to say what one has to do with the the other. The narrator even says later that she didn't go to Area X for her husband, or to chase him. But she is seeking something, and what she finds is a place that both defies and complements who she is as a scientist and a person. A place where she can get lost, body and soul.

Perhaps VanderMeer's biologist may seem aloof and unsettling to some. But I couldn't help but feel that she sounded a lot like...well, me. Self-contained and introverted, the narrator is not a shy or awkward person, she just isn't the type to lose herself in other people, but rather things that she can study. It feeds conflict between her and her husband, and likely between her and her teammates. Though some of that is just circumstance. VanderMeer leaves plenty of room for coincidence and mystery. That is the defining characteristic of this so-called New Weird genre - it combines the features of science fiction and horror with the open-ended nature of magical realism. Nothing is explained. The origins or nature of Area X is never tied up into a neat little bow, and not does ask you to speculate on the matter. It merely asks you when faced with that infinite landscape would you keep trying to fight it? Or would you just let go?

The scenery is not quite as lush as I expected, for that I recommend watching the movie. But I didn't mind terribly because it was a feature of being in this particular woman's head, a woman who is often terrifyingly focused and observant but largely as it pertains to herself and what she finds interesting. Beauty is not something that crosses her mind. VanderMeer's writing is sophisticated and challenging - the pages are dense with text, and if you're like me and struggle with big blocks of words, you might find yourself mentally wandering away. But I think the exercise was good for me, and as the movie challenged people's expectations of a Predator-but-with-ladies style action film, this book may challenge you to think beyond the parameters of science fiction, of sympathetic characters, and of what you might consider a happy ending.