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Book Review: What's Left Of Me
Mar. 15th, 2013 09:54 pmI am finally getting around to reviewing Kat Zhang’s What’s Left Of Me, which I first read several months ago, and which I think might be relevant to the interests of several people reading this journal.
In an alternate dystopian America (no! don’t run away yet!), everybody is born with two separate consciousnesses, or souls, living in one body. As they grow up, one soul is supposed to assert himself or herself, while the other fades away; exceptions are designated as “hybrids” and considered threats to society. While Addie, the dominant soul in one body, interacts with the world, Eva, the narrator, is forced to hide her existence for their mutual safety. She still communicates with her “twin,” often acting as a calming and steadying presence when Addie becomes overly emotional, but she has no control over their body and nobody else is supposed to know that she is even there until the intervention of both fellow hybrids and government officials force her out into the open.
Kat Zhang has introduced a fully believable premise and world (there is some exposition in the narration, but it doesn’t crowd out the story). Some of the genre tropes and themes are familiar: the government is corrupt and lying, those who are different are oppressed, there’s an underground resistance movement (of course). But while those in power interfere with hybrids’ lives in ways that might be predictable to some, that doesn’t make the implications any less sad or terrifying.
The writing is beautifully evocative in places and the supporting characters are distinctive, but where this story truly shines is in Eva’s slow recovery of her own personhood, and especially in her relationship with Addie, which is, refreshingly, not an antagonistic one, nor is either of them ever demonized. This is not a Jekyll-and-Hyde story of two personalities struggling for dominance . While Eva yearns to move and speak after three years of silence and immobility, she never wants to replace Addie or force their body to do anything that Addie doesn’t want to do. The two girls sometimes argue, or have conflicting interests, but through it all, their relationship remains functional and ultimately loving. They are sisters, with everything that this implies: the support and affection and loyalty and compromise and occasional bitter squabbles. They just have the added awkwardness of living in the same body, bearing separate but equally difficult existential burdens, and – unlike most siblings – never getting a chance to escape each other’s company. They are the only constants in each other’s lives, for better or for worse. This is a take on body-sharing that I haven’t seen very often in fiction. Their relationship is depicted with enough complexity and emotional honesty to make this a truly memorable read.
(An additional note: If you have had traumatic experiences with the psych industry, especially if you are neuroatypical and/or identify as multiple, then some of the events in this story may be triggering. The same may be true if you’ve had painful coming-out experiences with family members. I personally think that Eva’s self-assertion is worth the rough road that she takes to get there, but you should consider yourselves warned. Otherwise, read on.)
In an alternate dystopian America (no! don’t run away yet!), everybody is born with two separate consciousnesses, or souls, living in one body. As they grow up, one soul is supposed to assert himself or herself, while the other fades away; exceptions are designated as “hybrids” and considered threats to society. While Addie, the dominant soul in one body, interacts with the world, Eva, the narrator, is forced to hide her existence for their mutual safety. She still communicates with her “twin,” often acting as a calming and steadying presence when Addie becomes overly emotional, but she has no control over their body and nobody else is supposed to know that she is even there until the intervention of both fellow hybrids and government officials force her out into the open.
Kat Zhang has introduced a fully believable premise and world (there is some exposition in the narration, but it doesn’t crowd out the story). Some of the genre tropes and themes are familiar: the government is corrupt and lying, those who are different are oppressed, there’s an underground resistance movement (of course). But while those in power interfere with hybrids’ lives in ways that might be predictable to some, that doesn’t make the implications any less sad or terrifying.
The writing is beautifully evocative in places and the supporting characters are distinctive, but where this story truly shines is in Eva’s slow recovery of her own personhood, and especially in her relationship with Addie, which is, refreshingly, not an antagonistic one, nor is either of them ever demonized. This is not a Jekyll-and-Hyde story of two personalities struggling for dominance . While Eva yearns to move and speak after three years of silence and immobility, she never wants to replace Addie or force their body to do anything that Addie doesn’t want to do. The two girls sometimes argue, or have conflicting interests, but through it all, their relationship remains functional and ultimately loving. They are sisters, with everything that this implies: the support and affection and loyalty and compromise and occasional bitter squabbles. They just have the added awkwardness of living in the same body, bearing separate but equally difficult existential burdens, and – unlike most siblings – never getting a chance to escape each other’s company. They are the only constants in each other’s lives, for better or for worse. This is a take on body-sharing that I haven’t seen very often in fiction. Their relationship is depicted with enough complexity and emotional honesty to make this a truly memorable read.
(An additional note: If you have had traumatic experiences with the psych industry, especially if you are neuroatypical and/or identify as multiple, then some of the events in this story may be triggering. The same may be true if you’ve had painful coming-out experiences with family members. I personally think that Eva’s self-assertion is worth the rough road that she takes to get there, but you should consider yourselves warned. Otherwise, read on.)
