2024 in Review

The Plague Dogs by Richard Adams

I was attracted to this book because I’ve been a fan of Watership Down, which is likely Adams’ most famous work due to its animated movie adaption. Plague Dogs also has a (from what I’ve heard) disturbing animated movie version. I decided to read the book first. While some listings might say it is a children’s book because it has animal characters, there is hardcore imagery, and it has deep themes.

The novel is a critique of science and how the pursuit of science, often through capitalism, lends itself toward animal cruelty. Adams’ is very tongue in cheek with his criticism. The Animal Research: Scientific and Experimental division is abbreviated to A.R.S.E. The scientists do incredibly cruel things to rabbits, monkeys, and of course, dogs. Two dogs escape from the facility and flee into the English countryside. They’re hunted at first because they murder sheep for food, and then they’re hunted because, according to media sensationalism, they could be carrying the bubonic plague from the lab.

I’ve always been more of a cat person than a dog person, but this book strongly illustrates the undying loyalty that dogs have for people. They truly can be man’s best friend. At one point, Richard Adams calls upon Wordsworth’s poem, Fidelity, which is also about the undying loyalty of a dog. I enjoyed going beyond the novel to read that text as well and make the thematic connections between the two. While aspects of this novel are heartbreaking, they are also uplifting and show the beauty that can exist when humans treat animals with love and respect.

Bad Cree by Jessica Johns

I found this novel in the horror section of the bookstore. I’m not much of a horror movie person, but I am engrossed in how horror comes across on the page. The themes have to hit hard in a book to scare the reader, and the “monster” has to show what is monstrous about the world. “Bad Cree” does this excellently with its Wheetigo that feeds off the generational trauma and grief of a family. Grief isolates people, and isolated people are perfect victims for monsters.

The plot follows Mackenzie, who has guilt and shame revolving around the death of her sister, Sabrina. These complex feelings around death and family are intensified by the previous death of her grandmother to the point where Mackenzie has moved away from home to escape her emotions. Emotions don’t work like that, and the horror calls her home. I read this novel quickly as its tension gripped me, but what stuck out the most was the family dynamic. Cousins and aunts give Mackenzie strength to confront her own emotions and the Wheetigo itself.

The ice-hearted spirit goes by different names in different indigenous cultures, such as Wendigo, Windigo, and Wheetigo. It is by far my favorite monster across horror media because it is a profound cautionary tale. “Bad Cree” warns against self-isolation and guilt, and it promotes vulnerability and communication to fight family trauma.

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

When it comes to dark books, this one also has its witty moments. In general, I enjoyed it much more than No Longer Human by Dazai, another semi-autobiographical novel that deals with themes of suicide that I read this year. This is primarily because Esther, the narrator, is more sympathetic of a character and the American setting and culture is more familiar to me than Japan. Esther is also an English major, which made her somewhat relatable.

This novel made me glad that psychology, therapy, and the world have changed for the better when it comes to their approaches to mental illness and depression. Being depressed is still stigmatized to a degree, but I think the world is moving in the right direction. The scenes of self harm in the book are quite hard to read, but a lot of Esther’s depression and suicide ideation are understandable to anyone who has experienced those feelings before: “I could see day after day glaring ahead of me like a white, broad, infinitely desolate avenue.” (pg. 128)

The ambiguity of the ending is highly intriguing. Though Esther lives and there is the implication that she will leave the mental hospital, she recognizes the underlying fear and anxiety that the metaphorical “bell jar” can come back and dominate her life at any point in the future. Depression and suicide ideation aren’t just solved once. They are continuous obstacles.

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

I should’ve read this one sooner considering how much I love dystopian speculative fiction. George Orwell’s “Nineteen-Eighty-Four” has had a grip on me ever since I first read it, and I’ve taught it in my AP Literature course for two consecutive years at this point. I enjoyed “Brave New World” not because it is similar, but because it is different.

This book firmly felt like a mirror to own our world. Some critics may say it was “prophetic” for Huxley to write in the 1930s. I could be inclined to agree, though, I also wonder if human nature was as base then as it is now. It doesn’t seem possible because their technology was different, but the human heart may lend itself toward this state.

Describing this ‘utopian’/’dystopian’ world, The Controller says, “Seven and a half hours of mild, unexhausting labour, and then the soma ration and games and unrestricted copulation and the feelies. What more can they ask for?” (Pg. 224) With soma being a drug that makes citizens sleep and emotionlessly high, feelies taking the place of TikTok and games, and unrestricted copulation being equivalent to dating apps, our world is strikingly similar. This utopia has perfected happiness, but to an outsider, a man they call the “Savage,” happiness is horrible and depraved. He asserts, “I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.” (Pg. 240)

This book comes off as a social critique more than a political one like 1984, and it motivated me to quit watching YouTube because algorithms and procured “happiness” are designed to keep us emotionless and inhuman.