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A review by motherofallbats
Consumed by David Cronenberg
4.0
*3.5 stars*
This story is extremely on-brand for David Cronenberg. Seriously, this is the Cronenbergiest Cronenberg that ever Cronenberged. Body horror? Check. Philosophical musings on violence and the relationship between man and machine? Check. Copious amounts of sex presented in such an unsexy way that I may actually be medically sterile from having read them? Check. If you're a fan of his films and can watch, say, Dead Ringers and Crash and have an artistic appreciation for them (this story reminds me specifically of the latter in large portions, only with one improbable fetish swapped out for a couple of others), this is definitely worth a read.
I will say, Cronenberg isn't a natural prose writer. He consistently overdescribes the physical attributes of a scene in a really flat and clunky way, which seems like a habit from setting up the background of a screenplay. His narration also gets too far up its own butt being philosophical and preachy (I would say take a shot every time the narration specifically calls a character a consumer, but actually don't do that because you'll die of alcohol poisoning by chapter 3). This is a very visually entrenched story, with much of the plot elements hanging on photography and video, and I'm perplexed as to why he wrote this as a novel when it seems so organically suited for film. As of last year I heard some rumblings that he may do a film adaptation of this, and I really hope he does because I strongly suspect the story will work better in that medium.
This story is extremely on-brand for David Cronenberg. Seriously, this is the Cronenbergiest Cronenberg that ever Cronenberged. Body horror? Check. Philosophical musings on violence and the relationship between man and machine? Check. Copious amounts of sex presented in such an unsexy way that I may actually be medically sterile from having read them? Check. If you're a fan of his films and can watch, say, Dead Ringers and Crash and have an artistic appreciation for them (this story reminds me specifically of the latter in large portions, only with one improbable fetish swapped out for a couple of others), this is definitely worth a read.
I will say, Cronenberg isn't a natural prose writer. He consistently overdescribes the physical attributes of a scene in a really flat and clunky way, which seems like a habit from setting up the background of a screenplay. His narration also gets too far up its own butt being philosophical and preachy (I would say take a shot every time the narration specifically calls a character a consumer, but actually don't do that because you'll die of alcohol poisoning by chapter 3). This is a very visually entrenched story, with much of the plot elements hanging on photography and video, and I'm perplexed as to why he wrote this as a novel when it seems so organically suited for film. As of last year I heard some rumblings that he may do a film adaptation of this, and I really hope he does because I strongly suspect the story will work better in that medium.