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A review by essjay
Absolution by Jeff VanderMeer
5.0
TL;DR: Holy mother of fuck, this book was amazing.
~~~
You are 10, and giving the rabbits water before school when you discover one of the does eating a newborn. You run screaming into the house, then successfully block this memory for 35 years, until reading Jeff VanderMeer's Absolution.
You are in the library, reading this very ARC while waiting for your children to finish their activity. Your partner sits next to you, quietly reading a philosophy book. They look up as you cackle loudly at something you've just read, and say "OHHHH, so you do this in public, too?" and you both laugh, but much quieter.
You ask your partner "hey, do you remember that time when we were first dating, when we drove down that dirt road near Alaska's house to get high, make out, and watch the stars on the hood of Velouria?" (your car at the time was named Velouria) They nod and smile, remembering that it was a nice night. Their smile is slowly replaced with horror as they remember the next part of the night. "What the fuck was the deal with those frogs?" they ask. "Where did they even come from, I really thought we would never be able to get out of there." You say "that's exactly how this book makes me feel." They recoil slightly and ask why you'd want to read that. "Because the stargazing and making out was awesome and more than makes up for the creeping dread of suddenly being surrounded by hundreds of frogs." "I can still hear them," they say, shaking their head, "that shit was biblical."
You are listening to a different book while on the treadmill. Half an hour later, you realize you'll have to re-listen to all of it bc you were thinking about Gnitnuah Eht the entire time. You wish you had requested an audio review copy. You are glad you did not request an audio review copy. You know you would have walked your legs right off while listening.
You are 16 and you make the mistake of leaving the windows down on The Flintstone Mobile while at a Summer bonfire at the pond. You are unaware it is a mistake until well after midnight on your way home when every moth in the world pours out of your windows and moonroof. You manage to hold in your screams. When you tell this story the following day, you add "I guess they've replenished their numbers from The Incident last year." No one asks about The Incident. When you think of this story 29 years later, you say to yourself "much like the bunnies" and wonder if the moths from The Incident or that night on the highway were wearing cameras. Would you even want to see that footage? No. No. No. A million fucking times, no.
You are 30 and you move across the country with your family. You wake up one day and feel hurt and betrayed that no one warned you of the existence of house centipedes. You begin wearing shoes inside (though ofc not the SAME shoes you leave the house in, you are not entirely a heathen) after four five six seven eight house centipedes die a horrible death between your toes. Hast thou considered the centipede? Not until now. You sit on your porch, smoking and warily eyeing the sago palms in the planters, which you also find highly concerning. You move before they eject the army of facehuggers that are surely gestating inside them.
You text your mother, asking if she remembers a train derailing when you were a child and bringing home several boxes of grapefruit. "Was that my first pomelo?" you ask. "Probably," she says. "But it was a semi, trains don't carry fruit." That doesn't sound right, but you don't know enough about trains to dispute it. You wonder why you've had a vivid image of a fucked up train in your head associated with giant citrus for more than 30 years.
You only read a few chapters of Absolution at a time. It makes your head feel light and your stomach hurt. You dream of sago palms giving birth to a flood of fast-moving echinoderms and skinks with more than the recommended number of tails.
You whisper "what the fuck" to yourself repeatedly. "what the fuck what the fuck what the fuuuuuuuuck."
Behold the field in which you grow your fucks. It lies barren and empty bc Lowry has stolen them all.
🎶Ba, ba-da-da, ba-ba-ba-da, foreign entity🎶
Your partner is writing a song with a gnitnuah little melody that you will forever associate with this book. You mention this to them, "what the fuck," they say, annoyed at having been reminded of the fucking frogs again. "I had just started to forget!"
Oh look, your fucks have returned.
Police they say/Your mother too/A fish from ocean blue/Above your head tonight
(Your manta ray is all right)
You have never been to Area X.
You have always been in Area X.
~~~
You are 10, and giving the rabbits water before school when you discover one of the does eating a newborn. You run screaming into the house, then successfully block this memory for 35 years, until reading Jeff VanderMeer's Absolution.
You are in the library, reading this very ARC while waiting for your children to finish their activity. Your partner sits next to you, quietly reading a philosophy book. They look up as you cackle loudly at something you've just read, and say "OHHHH, so you do this in public, too?" and you both laugh, but much quieter.
You ask your partner "hey, do you remember that time when we were first dating, when we drove down that dirt road near Alaska's house to get high, make out, and watch the stars on the hood of Velouria?" (your car at the time was named Velouria) They nod and smile, remembering that it was a nice night. Their smile is slowly replaced with horror as they remember the next part of the night. "What the fuck was the deal with those frogs?" they ask. "Where did they even come from, I really thought we would never be able to get out of there." You say "that's exactly how this book makes me feel." They recoil slightly and ask why you'd want to read that. "Because the stargazing and making out was awesome and more than makes up for the creeping dread of suddenly being surrounded by hundreds of frogs." "I can still hear them," they say, shaking their head, "that shit was biblical."
You are listening to a different book while on the treadmill. Half an hour later, you realize you'll have to re-listen to all of it bc you were thinking about Gnitnuah Eht the entire time. You wish you had requested an audio review copy. You are glad you did not request an audio review copy. You know you would have walked your legs right off while listening.
You are 16 and you make the mistake of leaving the windows down on The Flintstone Mobile while at a Summer bonfire at the pond. You are unaware it is a mistake until well after midnight on your way home when every moth in the world pours out of your windows and moonroof. You manage to hold in your screams. When you tell this story the following day, you add "I guess they've replenished their numbers from The Incident last year." No one asks about The Incident. When you think of this story 29 years later, you say to yourself "much like the bunnies" and wonder if the moths from The Incident or that night on the highway were wearing cameras. Would you even want to see that footage? No. No. No. A million fucking times, no.
You are 30 and you move across the country with your family. You wake up one day and feel hurt and betrayed that no one warned you of the existence of house centipedes. You begin wearing shoes inside (though ofc not the SAME shoes you leave the house in, you are not entirely a heathen) after four five six seven eight house centipedes die a horrible death between your toes. Hast thou considered the centipede? Not until now. You sit on your porch, smoking and warily eyeing the sago palms in the planters, which you also find highly concerning. You move before they eject the army of facehuggers that are surely gestating inside them.
You text your mother, asking if she remembers a train derailing when you were a child and bringing home several boxes of grapefruit. "Was that my first pomelo?" you ask. "Probably," she says. "But it was a semi, trains don't carry fruit." That doesn't sound right, but you don't know enough about trains to dispute it. You wonder why you've had a vivid image of a fucked up train in your head associated with giant citrus for more than 30 years.
You only read a few chapters of Absolution at a time. It makes your head feel light and your stomach hurt. You dream of sago palms giving birth to a flood of fast-moving echinoderms and skinks with more than the recommended number of tails.
You whisper "what the fuck" to yourself repeatedly. "what the fuck what the fuck what the fuuuuuuuuck."
Behold the field in which you grow your fucks. It lies barren and empty bc Lowry has stolen them all.
🎶Ba, ba-da-da, ba-ba-ba-da, foreign entity🎶
Your partner is writing a song with a gnitnuah little melody that you will forever associate with this book. You mention this to them, "what the fuck," they say, annoyed at having been reminded of the fucking frogs again. "I had just started to forget!"
Oh look, your fucks have returned.
Police they say/Your mother too/A fish from ocean blue/Above your head tonight
(Your manta ray is all right)
You have never been to Area X.
You have always been in Area X.