There is a
scene very near the beginning of D.G. Compton’s 1993 Nomansland that directly informs the reader what kind of novel will
unfold thereafter. A woman, who is being
pressured by government not to publish a controversial research paper, receives
a visit from a secret service agent. The
woman and the agent settle down nicely in the living room for tea, and amiable
banter ensues. But things suddenly go…
cheesy. The agent whips out a knife and
slices the cat’s throat. Blood stains
the sofa as a word of warning what will happen should the woman decide to
publish her paper. Such literary tricks in
existence for ages, I thought perhaps writers might try to move beyond… I guess not.
Nomansland is the story of Dr. Harriet Ryder-Kahn,
a prestigious researcher working on the MERS problem; humankind is no longer
able to conceive male children. No cure
in sight, male embryos are rejected upon conception. Only forty years having elapsed since MERS
first hit, the generation in power remain elderly men—and they are bent on
keeping power until their time is over.
Dr. Ryder-Kahn having made a major breakthrough in discovering the root
cause of the syndrome, it’s her research that is causing the cat-killing
reaction. But getting her research into
the public’s eye is her life’s work—and humanity’s if no male is ever born
again.
With such
a plot setup, it’s only possible that one of two explanations will close the
book: 1) men are preventing Ryder-Kahn
from making her research public, or 2) a woman, or group of women, are behind
the scenes playing their own power game.
I will not spoil the book, but suffice to say neither option is a
prelude to the most complex or profound conclusion; men are egomaniacs who want
nothing but power, or women are also egomaniacs who want nothing but power the
only two morals possible.
And
Compton does not disappoint. Nomansland moving forward one
excruciatingly obvious step at a time, even the most amateur of genre readers
will know well in advance what’s coming down the pipe. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop,
for some cutting insight into humanity to reveal itself via a clever plot
twist. But it never came. One obvious
trick after another was rolled out as the story headed to Vanillaville.
Compton a
practiced stylist, his vanilla at least flows edgily and progressively. Back cover copy states the book is a thriller,
and while I would add the word ‘subdued’, it remains true that Compton pays
nice attention to detail, hones his prose, and, unlike the scenes which move
the plot, produces realistic characters.
While I think Graham Greene remains a better writer, Compton’s overall
style is at least similar.
In the
end, Nomansland is not among
Compton’s best work. His skills as a
stylist are evident, but the story simply does not have the same level of
sophistication. If Compton was aiming
for a shot in the arm to feminism, he ended up shooting himself in the foot—in
terms of a subtle, profound narrative that examines or exposes some truth about
mankind the overwhelming majority are not already aware of. From the extortion cat-killing scene to the
barn door climax, I have trouble recommending the book—for as average as it
is. James Patrick Kelly’s “Men Are Trouble” and "Last Judgement", two
stories set in a similar male-less setting, are both higher quality works.
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