Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith

PrideandPrejudiceandZombiesCover

After a long hiatus, I return to my happy hunting grounds of reading. I think I finally got over my nothing-sounds-good-for-reading hump, so I’m back to reviewing, at least temporarily. I have the awesome Pride and Prejudice and Zombies to thank for my return, that and two very lovely Borders birthday gift cards.

A huge fan of Jane Austen’s original, I both looked forward to and dreaded reading this quirky version. Grahame-Smith keeps Austen’s text and adds his own scenes and dialogue to it, so that the Bennet girls are still looking for (or avoiding) husbands, but have the added advantage of years of Chinese martial arts to lure men and and eradicate zombies. The amended premise is that 50 years before the start of the novel, a pestilence entered England (it’s never entirely clear whether the epidemic is world-wide), causing people to die and become brain-eating zombies. Anyone bitten or scratched by a zombie then deteriorates into one themselves, while hoping their loved ones will take pity on them via decapitation before the transformation takes full effect. The Bennet girls were taken to China twice by their father to be taught martial arts, in order to become some of the best zombie assassins in the nation. The younger girls are still boy-crazy, silly things, and the elder two, Jane and Elizabeth, still have the boys chasing after them. Mr. Darcy, too, is a great master of the Japanese martial arts, and another great zombie killer (Mr. Bingley stays his same bumbling, lovable self).

The martial arts addition does make Elizabeth even more serious than she was in Austen’s version, with her threatening to decapitate anyone who acts against her family, and also performing self-mutilation when she finds she is wrong about Darcy. To an extent it’s funny, but I think Grahame-Smith took things a bit too far on that end. Another characterization I wonder about is Jane, who is taught the deadly arts, but still manages to keep her same sweet innocence. I suppose it’s possible, but with Lizzie’s crazy-serious-deadliness, I wonder how true to form it is. The same goes for the two youngest Bennets, who, even after years of strict training, won’t listen to their elder sisters’ admonitions about the men of the regiment (who are, of course, there to destroy zombies).

Bennet characterizations aside, Grahame-Smith does well with seamlessly weaving in his own B-story line to the main plot. The novel is kept mostly in tact, with only the addition of a few zombie attacks (and one dear friend who turns into a zombie herself). For that, I am grateful. The zombie additions are deliciously hilarious and adventurous, adding action to a sometimes slow-paced story, but the heart of the book stays the same, and that’s what made it so great in the first place. In fact, the additions just prove how great the original is. Silly as the zombies are, the original story shines through, proving that love will endure, even with the undead wreaking havoc.

Rating: 8.5 out of 10 stars

Blindness by Jose Saramago

blindnessMy latest read, by Nobel-laureate and Portuguese author José Saramago, follows a small group of people trapped in an unnamed country stricken by a white blindness. This blindness affects everyone’s sight apart from the wife of an ophthalmologist—who was one of the first afflicted with the disease. The blindness comes without warning and is passed on through the slightest of contact. The first of the stricken are placed in an old mental hospital in hopes of containing the disease. Those interned in the hospital must learn to fend for themselves as they are left alone in an unknown place without any amenities apart from beds and erratically delivered meals.

At first, the wife keeps her sight secret from everyone but her husband (she pretended to be blind so as to follow her husband when he was interned), but those around her slowly begin to realize that she is different, and so come to depend on her leadership and strength. After many deaths, too much time spent in horrible living conditions, and a hostile takeover by a blind man with a gun and a legally blind second-in-command, the wife decides to free herself and the others in the hospital. They are finally liberated, only to find the whole country turned blind, with everyone wandering around in search of food and places to sleep (the blind cannot find their ways home), the world completely changed.

If you want a book about the gritty horrors that accompany an apocalyptic event, Blindness can provide you with the needed details—this is not a book for the weak of stomach. Enmeshed with the stories of the blind internees are the particulars of bathrooms overrun by those who cannot see, a lack of water to wash anything, and the horrid deaths of several characters (some at the hands of the soldiers who guard the hospital), along with the reality of little food, of which an even lesser portion is fresh, and little sleep.

Members of the National Federation of the Blind (NFB) criticized the novel for its negative portrayal of the blind, but as the seeing wife points out in the story, it is those on the outside who are the animals—those who can still see. The blind are locked inside without extra linens or even a spade to bury their dead. Not to mention, they have no one to help them learn how to live without sight. Thus, I do not side with the NFB on this issue. I believe Saramago made a valid point in his portrayal of everyone. Any life-changing event will cause humans to revert, to forget their civilized roots. Like any apocalyptic story, it becomes a case of survival of the fittest.

Though rather heavy-handed with the allegory (definitely the weakest part of the novel), Saramago uses the novel to point out what needs seeing—that most of us are blind or refuse to see the truth of the world around us—and he’s fairly effective in his approach. After being shown the horrors the blind encounter, one cannot help but take a look at life and wonder how to change it.

One of my favorite stylistic preferences of Saramago’s is his use of descriptives rather than names for the characters (the doctor’s wife, the boy with the squint, the man with the black eye-patch, etc.). For one, it seems to me to be more poetic, but it also hearkens back to the days when the last name was a descriptive (Miller, Brown, Fisher, et al), which is a great reminder that the world has reverted. Along with that, the descriptives put the reader into the mind of the seeing woman (she is the only one who can see squints, eye glasses, and eye-patches), which focuses the narrative; it would have seemed scattered otherwise, as the narrative tends to jump around.

Another preference of Saramago’s is to use long sentences (some an entire page in length), and commas to divide the dialogue rather than paragraphs or quotation marks—like the blind people, the reader has to concentrate to find out who is speaking. The world of the characters is chaotic, and the author’s style fits well.

Overall, I enjoyed the novel. It reads quickly despite the odd style, the characters are engaging, and the action moves at a good pace, although the last third slowed down a little much. Thought-provoking but not too dense, it’s a good read.

Rating: 7 out of 10 stars