OBIR: Occasional Biased and Ignorant Reviews reflecting this reader’s opinion.
Girlfriend on Mars – by Deborah Willis
Publisher: Hamish Hamilton Penguin Random House, Canada, 2023.
Cover art: by Richard Ljoenes & akinbostanci /Getty Images
Premise:
Would you willingly be a contestant in a reality TV show where the winners are contractually obligated to be the first human beings to land on Mars?
Review:
I have a confession to make. Normally, I would avoid reading a novel like this one. Why? Because I prefer concept-driven fiction to character-driven fiction.
Wait a mo, you might say. Isn’t the premise a terrific concept for a science fiction novel? Indeed, and more on that later, but it’s important to note the bulk of this novel is about two stoners growing pot in Vancouver back when pot was still illegal. Essentially, Amber Kivinen and Kevin Watkins are professional losers trapped in a boring, purposeless life filled with mundane tasks and problems. An “everyman” couple, so to speak. Presumably the reader is supposed to identify with them.
I don’t care if their love life sucks. I don’t care if they feel betrayed by life. These aren’t the sort of everyday problems I want to read about. I’m more interested in what’s inside a derelict alien spacecraft. I want to know what secrets Martian ruins hold. To me those are exciting, pulse-pounding conundrums. Not whether the heroine overcomes her acne trauma or not.
But, as luck would have it, I quickly became interested in both characters and their eventual fate for reasons peculiar to myself.
Amber was an Olympian gymnast contender at a very young age, but a rotator cup rip ended that promise overnight. Instant failure. I identify with that type of shattering, life-altering failure because of something I witnessed years ago.
I was watching a live Winter Olympics broadcast of one skier after another pushing off at the beginning of some sort of cross-country race (I know nothing about sports). A sturdy young woman, representing France or Norway or some such, pushed off with several powerful strokes of her piston-like legs, her face aglow with absolute determination and ferocious focus. This was the culmination of years of training and honing both her physique and skills. If ever anyone personified gung-ho dedication and devotion to a specific purpose, she was the one. This was her moment. This was going to be her triumph. She believed it with every core of her being. It was plain to see.
But then her right ski slipped on the icy slope as she pushed off with all her strength and she fell sideways to the ground, lying motionless as if poleaxed. Commentators expressed worry she was hurt, but then switched attention to the next contestant and ignored the fallen one. I never did find out anything about her subsequent to the fall.
I knew why she wasn’t moving. She was in shock. In a couple of seconds the unkind fates had ripped away her years of dedication and purpose and reduced her reality to total failure. I felt her pain, her mental anguish. It just wasn’t fair. But, yeah, that’s life.
Point is that long ago event rendered me vulnerable to Amber’s agony over the fates ruining her path to glory. It instantly anchored me and my curiosity to her efforts to overcome the remnants of that psychological blow, if only because I knew her fictional disaster and its negative influence on her character was not at all far-fetched. I understood, thanks to what I had witnessed long, long ago, that it was a genuine phenomenon in the real world.
To digress, I guess I am something of a typical Canadian, in that I always identify with the victim, with the loser, rather than, say, the ruthless hero blasting away the evil wolverine or whatever. In some cultures, there’s a ridiculous amount of emphasis placed on being a “winner.” Believe me, there are infinitely more losers than winners. In the real world striving to be a winner is like playing the odds at a casino. Better to lower one’s expectations and concentrate on being a survivor. That’s the proper, most realistic and most Canadian response to life’s struggle.
And now, digressing further, I would argue that the best fiction isn’t about winners. Take H.G. Wells’ classic “The War of the Worlds.” I like it so much I reread it on average once a year. None of the human characters are winners, the best they can hope to be are survivors stumbling from one catastrophic defeat to the next. The “miraculous” ending is a strapped-on anticlimax to present a lecture of hope that we can learn from our mistakes. Fat chance of that, actually.
Point is it’s the stubborn refusal to give up, despite growing evidence failure is the only option, which fascinates. If the hero serenely overcomes adversity with easy victory after easy victory that quickly becomes dull and boring, not to mention too artificial a fictional concept to be believable. Life isn’t like that. Why should fiction?
No, losers are the key characters in fiction. That they wind up winners is merely a device to allow the readers to feel good about what they just read. Fact is it is the frequent battle to recover from failure that keeps them reading. Success is merely icing on the cake to smooth the readers’ re-entry into mundane reality, or so goes my theory.
And what about Amber’s boyfriend Kevin? He doesn’t lead a very exciting life. Can’t even muster up the courage to leave the building. He just grows pot, depends on customers coming to him, and orders takeout. Not a very ambitious sort. What’s to like? What’s to identify with?
In my case, quite a bit. We have a lot in common. For one thing, he loves movies, is in the habit of studying movies, collecting movies, dreams of selling movie scripts. For another, he knows the perils of being an unpublished author. One of his pieces of advice: “Do not ever offer to read an unpublished writer’s work. It’s dangerous and unsafe and could result in spending your precious time on this planet reading pleonasms like It’s dangerous and unsafe.” I get it.
I especially get his outrage that in the modern world “Everyone’s a fucking writer these days, furiously composing emails, text, posts… to ‘share’ and ‘connect’… activating our violent fears. I will not add to the information apocalypse, this dystopia of never-ending content… I’m doing myself and the world by staying silent. I’m not sharing, not connecting—not writing—and that is my rebellion. I have withdrawn my labour.”
As if anybody cares… But of course, I haven’t given up writing. I write constantly. However, I share Kevin’s frustration over how meaningless written communication has become. It’s as if the result of writing, the finished manuscript, is no longer important. What counts is the act of writing as a form of social-contact interaction as opposed to genuine communication. Not “the medium is the message” but rather “the message has become the medium.” All of this encouraged and promoted by the powers that be to give people the illusion they are being productive and creative when in fact they are merely contributing to a blare of white noise in lieu of original thought. The nightmare of too much freedom of expression. A new form of slavery.
Now you’re thinking, wait a moment, aren’t you overthinking this? Making mountains out of molehills? Aren’t you thinking too much? Exactly. It’s what Amber and Kevin and I have in common. We think too much. We habitually second guess our second guesses. To the point of being imposter syndrome addicts. People like us don’t need bad things to happen to drive us into a descending spiral of despair. Our imagination alone is enough to drive us crazy. Along the lines of “I know what you said but what did you really mean?” and then answering the question in multiple different ways, each one more negative than the last.
I used to suffer off and on from extreme depression. But I grew out of it. My recent skin cancer operation I regard as a blamed nuisance and nothing more. I’m used to things going wrong. Par for the course. Take it for granted. My focus these days is stuff I like and enjoy. Nevertheless, I vividly remember what it’s like to be depressed. What it’s like to rationalize failure and adversity as something one deserves. Consequently, I find it easy to identify with both Amber and Kevin, losers who think like losers.
So, what’s in it for you? Why would you read this book? Preferring character-driven fiction is a good start. This is in-depth character study to an extraordinary degree. Amber and Kevin interpret and analyse and obsess over everything they see, hear, do and think. In terms of exploring the significance of everything, as if reality is actually a kaleidoscope of alternative realities, the famous Kurasawa film “Rashomon” is dead simple in comparison. (Just showing off my Kevin-like love of movies.) If you enjoy exploring the rationality and irrationality of the human mind, this is a fiercely addictive book. It grows on you, or rather envelops you. The more you read, the more you want to read.
The physical infrastructure makes it easy not to bog down in the minutiae under examination. The book consists of a series of short chapters alternating the two characters’ points of view. In effect presenting forced breaks where you contemplate the several significant ideas just presented to you before plunging into the next short chapter refreshingly different and at odds with the one before. I find this a remarkable technique for maintaining a fast pace amidst a plethora of detail. Well worth emulating if you are a writer.
But what about the straightforward science fiction elements? What about the Mars mission? You know, the exciting premise?
Deborah throws in just enough factual content to make the mission plausible. But she doesn’t waste time with info dumps and elaborate over-explanation. This isn’t a “how to” exploration of the nuts and bolts of carrying out a Mars mission. That’s been done to death. This is more an examination of the implications of a Mars Mission and what it really says and reveals about us. Again, emphasis on our nature rather than a clean and shiny vision of super-duper technology.
The mission, such as it is, is funded by an idiosyncratic billionaire to illustrate his vision of the future of humanity. Two intrepid explorers are to be sent on a one-way trip to Mars where they will live for the rest of their lives dependent on the capabilities of their lander, whatever local resources they discover and can exploit, and resupply missions sent from Earth whenever budget restraints permit. Sound familiar? This mission is a thing. It exists. Whether it will ever happen remains to be seen.
Aha, a satire then. A spoof of what Elon Musk is up to. Yes and no. Whatever the actual realities of the technology involved, it’s fair to say hype and public relations have played a major role in promoting Musk’s Mars program. I, too, am haunted by the eerie joy of contemplating humans setting foot on the red planet. Literally a dream come true, were it ever to happen. The program propaganda makes it look easy. Would that it were easy.
Some of the sparse Mars detail Deborah provides stresses how alien an environment Mars actually is, how hostile an environment. We actually know very little as yet. Yet in what we do know there are hints of subtleties and nuances which may in fact make the vision of colonies on Mars unsustainable and inevitably fatal. It may well be true that we, as a species, cannot adapt to any environment away from the Earth. This is the first book I’ve read which offers a convincing case we are doomed if we go offworld no matter where, pending further research to determine the truth of the myriad problems likely to arise. There may be solutions. Then again, maybe not. A sobering book.
That is the import of the Mars mission as presented in this book. Any satirical aspect I think is focused on the reality TV program where Amber slogs her way to being voted one of the winners. At no point does she expect to win. She’s applied to participate simply to prove to herself and Kevin she’s capable of accomplishing something, however far she gets. That each week the public votes someone else out of the program and she gets to carry on is a bit of a shock. Kevin is increasingly nonplused as well. Certainly renders their relationship more complex and difficult as time goes on. Leads to a fascinating cascade of rationalizations on both their parts. Often quite amusing. Often sad.
Years ago, Ed Wood, Jr., of “Plan Nine from Outer Space” fame, wrote a “how to” book titled “Hollywood Rat Race” in which he warned young starlets of the perils and pitfalls of attempting to become a movie star. Written in his inimitable style, it includes chapter headings like “Thrills and Spills,” “How to Live in Hollywood without Money,” “Nudie Cuties,” “Sex—Hollywood and You,” “How to Make a Cheap Picture and Fail,” and, most ominously, “Hate.” Oddly enough, much of his advice is sound. This is because the theme of his book is that Hollywood exploits everyone, not just starlets, for the sake of profit and treats people is commodities to be exploited and discarded as expedient. Making a deal in Hollywood is like making a deal with the devil. Long term consequences may far outweigh temporary advantage. His final warning? “Believe it or not, your life is more real than the Hollywood scene.”
Well, the theme of Girlfriend on Mars” is how everyone, literally everyone, is exploited and manipulated by all media, especially social media, for profit. We are not the customers. The corporations and governments which buy the social data mined by Tik Tok and Facebook and X and all the rest are the beneficiaries and customers, not mere mortals like us. We exist for them, and not vice versa.
The focus of the book, however, is on how people, i.e. the two main characters, cope with and rise above the exploitation to establish at least an illusion of self-determination, self respect, and self-worth in the face of daily, hourly, continuous evidence to the contrary. This is the modern conundrum we all face. Never mind making history or becoming enormously (temporarily) popular, can we at least survive? Can we? For how long? Is it worth the effort? Shouldn’t it be?
CONCLUSION:
Alas, judging from certain comments I’ve seen online, some readers interpret this book as a mass of ordinary thoughts by ordinary characters coupled with a bit of satire of reality TV and an add-on space mission premise that doesn’t deliver much of interest. They miss the point. It’s all about a “bread and circuses” reality in which losers are led to believe they’re winners in order to keep them docile enough to shear on a regular basis.
In fact “Girlfriend on Mars” is a science fiction dystopia in the finest tradition of science fiction dystopias. It’s really a commentary on today, on what we think we are, what we’re not, and how the powers that be take full advantage of our willful ignorance to control and manipulate us to serve their goals. This is nothing new, but the hyper-advanced technology of today has given the powerbrokers, the elites, phenomenally powerful tools to work with. No need for conspiracy theories. Old-fashioned reality explains everything. It’s just the sophistication of the tools which is different.
Despite this Amber and Kevin are determined to fight these ubiquitous social pressures to feel confident and secure in themselves if at all possible. Frankly, this is about the best anyone can hope for. In that sense, this dystopia is fundamentally positive and upbeat at heart.
I’m impressed. This is an intellectually challenging book that makes you rethink darn near everything you think you know about society today. I’m not surprised it made the Giller Prize longlist. It is perceptive, disturbing, revelatory, and important; overall an excellent work of fiction that is not at all fictional but rather a harbinger of needful truths.
Find it at: < Girlfriend on Mars >
