The Cost of Immortality:

A book review by Evelyn Huang

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab follows Adeline LaRue after she makes a deal with the darkness to escape her current life. However, by doing so, she accidentally gains immortality at the cost of being forgotten. For three hundred years, the only being that can remember her is Luc, the darkness, who visits her annually to ask for her soul. Then, her frozen life begins to flow again once she meets Henry, a bookseller who somehow remembers her. Important note: this review will include spoilers! I tried my best to keep them to a minimum.

Before reading, I had never heard of this book, but once I began to carry it around, many people recognized it and told me it was on their reading list. This, of course, set my expectations high, but I was unfortunately disappointed. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue was beautifully written and deeply personal, but it wasn’t the book I wanted it to be. Schwab’s writing style is brilliant, with descriptions and imagery that allow the setting to come to life. At the same time, it felt like there was too much said about too little. The concept and main conflict in this book are intriguing and unique, but the execution made the story feel drawn out. Even though it wasn’t perfect, I still enjoyed certain pieces of the novel. One of my favorite aspects was the casual inclusion of LGBTQIA+ characters and elements. Schwab normalizes this theme by making it very present in her novel but still recognizes their struggles. While representation for this group is incredibly important, it would have been nice to see more diversity outside of sexuality. Despite living three hundred years, Addie only explores places in Europe and the United States, and all of the languages that she can speak are European. Additionally, one of the recurring themes was that “ideas are wilder than memories” (210). Addie constantly appears as a muse in art throughout history, which is her only way of being not quite forgotten yet still not truly remembered. This concept was unique and interesting yet quite bittersweet because “it is sad, of course, to forget. But it is a lonely thing, to be forgotten” (77). Even though she isn’t truly forgotten, she can never build connections with people who can’t remember her. 

Despite being nearly four hundred and fifty pages, there was very little plot and character development in this novel. Schwab writes many instances of foreshadowing, but the story was so drawn out that by the time the foreshadowing became relevant, I had already forgotten it happened at all. Furthermore, I desperately wanted a Luc-centric chapter in this novel or, at the very least, more on the relationship between Addie and Luc. Over half of the book was building up and alluding to the idea that Addie and Luc shared a romantic relationship, yet when it was finally discussed, it was simplified to a mere page and a half (and an extra chapter to describe their break up). I was so curious about this topic, and the lack of information on it left me uninterested in the main plot as I was too preoccupied with questions about them. 

As the story progressed, I found myself growing more fond of Luc. Addie constantly accuses Luc of being unable to love, but how are we, as the readers, expected to simply believe this? The lack of a Luc-centric chapter leaves much of his personality up for interpretation. Just as Addie says that he cannot love, Luc just as adamantly states that he can, that he does love Addie. Because I do like Luc better than Addie, I want to believe he can love. Henry, too, is a character that could have been explored more. He did have a good number of chapters dedicated to his backstory, but I wanted to know more about the current Henry, the one who struggles with his mental health but still tries to love his friends who have no choice but to love him back. His character development was so surface level that it often felt like his only character traits were being able to remember Addie and having an unstable mental state. There is definitely more to him, but it’s what we’re told by Schwab rather than shown with Henry’s actions. 

Furthermore, I just didn’t really love Addie as a character in general. She’s selfish, stubborn, and hypocritical. She criticizes Luc for being unable to love, yet it appears that she cannot either. Certainly, she did live a hard life, but that doesn’t invalidate the experiences of the other characters. Despite living for three hundred years, Addie feels like she has little to no character development at all. Luc says that she “has changed more than [she] thinks,” but it didn’t really feel that way (409). Just like her physical appearance, it seems that most of her mindset and personality remained the same as well. Addie has always been willing to hurt others or potentially put others in a difficult position if it meant the betterment of her own. Additionally, she just barely matured for the amount of time she lived. For someone who has lived 300 years, why is she unable to tell if she loves Henry? Even if she could tell, did she truly love Henry for himself or simply because he was the only one who could remember her? She wasn’t entirely static the entire story, but it didn’t feel as though she was centuries old. 

The beginning of the story was interesting, but the more I kept reading, the less I wanted to continue. Each chapter was short, but because there were constant switches between the time periods, it was hard to grasp what little plot there was. The book would have been more enjoyable if it were condensed to about half its size. There were many ideas that were repeated, almost pointlessly so. I understand that Addie lived for three centuries; I didn’t need to be reminded of it every chapter. It was also frustrating to see that the middle was unbearably drawn out, yet the end was incredibly rushed. Perhaps this was done purposefully to show that life can move slowly when you wish for it to be quick but speed up in the moments that you want to freeze. However, I despised the way this book ended. It was likely the most logical ending with what we know about the characters’ personalities, but that made it fairly predictable and, thus, less impactful. Furthermore, I personally have an extreme dislike for ambiguous, open endings.

Despite my harsh criticisms, I would say this book was a decent read. I would not actively recommend it to anyone, but if I knew someone who prefers novels with slow burn, purple prose, and open endings, I would definitely suggest this title. Again, it was beautifully written and contained important themes and messages, such as the addition of LGBTQIA+ characters and recovering from drug abuse. It also emphasized the importance of living in the moment rather than drowning in the past, like Addie, or dreading the future, like Henry. I can see why some people would love this novel with their entire hearts, but I just wasn’t one of them. 

The Wasp Factory: A dark study of human identity

By Jay Scully

 To many people, modern life is steeped in isolation. As people, we are desperate for a connection, and many feel that they are deprived of it. The Wasp Factory, Iain Banks’ debut novel, is told from the perspective of Frank Claudehame, a sixteen year old boy living on a Scottish island. Apart from his crippled and obsessive-compulsive father, he is the sole ruler of his world, a role he relishes. 

When the story begins, the state has no official record of Frank’s existence, so he is free to spend his days as he wishes. He uses this freedom to engage in violent and fetishistic rituals, by which he assures himself of his power. He is entirely isolated from the outside world. Not only does he not legally exist, but his occasional trips into Porteneil, the small village connected to the island by a land bridge, are marred by his reputation. The people of the town fear him, not because of his violent misanthropy, but because of his brother. His older brother, Eric, was once a bright and sensitive boy who wished to become a doctor. This dream was shattered after suffering a breakdown following his discovery of maggots in the brain of an infant with acalvaria he was caring for. Following his breakdown, he took to force feeding the kids of the town fistfuls of worms, as well as lighting dogs on fire before eating them. Frank is totally divorced from human connection, but he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t rely on relationships to assure himself of his value; he achieves self-conception via his shamanistic rituals. 

He is desperate to feel powerful. While less sophisticated sociopaths may simply torture and kill animals for the fun of it, Frank has a pragmatic reason, at least in the context of his warped worldview. He keeps track of his island with his “Sacrifice Poles”. He routinely kills and decapitates animals, and keeps their heads in his “Head Bag”. He does this so he can skewer them on the Sacrifice Poles. The carrion attracts birds, which will startle and fly away if someone approaches the island, thereby alerting Frank. He built a complex mythology around himself, all for the purpose of justifying his desire to kill. One of his favorite pastimes is dam building. He regularly builds a dam, constructs a miniature town, and blows up the dam with one of his homemade pipe bombs. He derives a deep, almost spiritual satisfaction from watching his actions lead to mass destruction of a world he has complete control over. He engages in these childlike games of pretend because, since they operate on rules he created, he has utter control. Frank also derives pleasure from the ability to control water. He tells of how he came to realize that you cannot stop water from flowing, so you must gently corral it to flow where and how you like. This process is deeply important to him. 

At the beginning of of Chapter Three, he states:

“My two greatest enemies are women and the sea.”

He resents the ocean because he cannot control it; it represents the limitless power of nature, fully beyond mortal ken. Like many violent, narcissistic men, he resents women as well. 

Frank reveals to the reader that he had killed three people by the time he was ten years old. Throughout the events of the book, he never expresses any desire to kill anyone else, and describes it as “a phase I was going through.”

Frank is obsessed with control. He needs some way to predict and adapt to the events of his life before he is caught off guard. He accomplishes this through The Wasp Factory. In the loft of his room, up the ladder his crippled father could never climb, is his impenetrable sanctum. Here lies The Factory, the titular mechanism he uses to predict things, so he need not fear the unknown. At the center of The Factory is a huge clock face. Frank sets a wasp free on the face, and watches as it selects a number. Each number on the clock is a door which leads to a ritual death. He believes that whether the wasp burns, is eaten by a spider, drowns in Frank’s urine, or meets any number of other ends will tell him something about what’s to come. He acknowledges that The Factory is fickle; it rarely gives a straight answer.

The Wasp Factory is a study of identity and how human beings attempt to compensate for their perceived losses. Despite its nuanced and thoughtful take on these topics, the book was released to wide controversy. Because of its stark, sometimes borderline comical depiction of violence, some have regarded it as morally corrupt. The Irish Times called it “a work of unparalleled depravity”, and this sentiment still exists to this day. In 1997, The Independent included The Wasp Factory on its list of the top 100 books of the twentieth century, but conversation around the book, especially on the internet, still mostly consists of arguments of the book’s moral faculty. 

Those who haven't read the book themselves, or did so with little thought, are often quick to judge it as nothing more than a swift, childish spat of violence, meant to entertain the brainless masses. Specifically, some have indicated that they believe the book to appeal to the short attention spans and juvenile interests of the very young. As with many boundary pushing pieces of art, juvenoia influences an instinct to deem the book somehow degenerate. As the book forces you to come to terms with, things change. In 2013, following Iain Banks’ announcement that he had been diagnosed with cancer and did not have long to live, The Irish Times published a new article; a retrospective, of sorts. It views Banks’ work very positively, emphasizing the humanistic empathy present in all his work, no matter the bleakness of the subject matter.  In reality, The Wasp Factory is a remarkably thoughtful and profound character study concerning a figure who is, though exaggerated to horrific extremes, emblematic of the insecurities and fears of so many living in the modern world.

Grecia's Grave Dilemma

by Maitreya Kelly 

As Grecia took her first step into the school building something felt wrong. While she walked unsteadily through the empty halls something nagged at the back of her mind. Once seated, awaiting the teacher’s arrival in first period, everything felt misplaced. And then, as if someone had slapped her across the face, it came to her. Weren’t there supposed to be other people? 

     It was the first day of school after a long and unfortunate summer break. She thought that coming here, back to where her friends are, back to the welcoming arms of conformity and forced citizenship, would stop the pain of the summer. She thought it could silence the waking nightmares of the car crash, of her eyes slowly closing as her mother sobbed above her. At this moment, though, Grecia doubted coming back to school would be nearly as rewarding as she once had. 

     Somehow Grecia had entered the school, walked around, and took a seat without even noticing that there was no one else here. Was it the wrong date? Was she far too early? But there was something else she hadn’t noticed earlier, or something that hadn’t been there before. Whispering. 

     The voices were as soft and light as down feathers; incoherent as printed words through ice. But she knew they weren’t her mind playing tricks on her just as she knew her glasses rested before her eyes. 

     Grecia pulled herself out of her seat. She followed the voices, ears twitching, catching the faintest sound. She traced the noise, quiet as falling snow, down the corridor into the main office where she could see two shadows. 

     They weren’t regular shadows on the wall or the floor, these shadows stood straight and tall in the center of the room with nothing casting them. Ghosts. 

     Grecia had been seeing ghosts since her accident. She didn’t remember details; the rest of the summer after her accident had been a vivid blur, but she knew ghosts when she saw them. She also knew that when one spotted a ghost, the best thing to do is to leave as quickly and quietly as possible. 

     She had just turned to run when another ghost shot across her vision. Then another, then another, until there was a whole swarm in the hallway. They didn’t seem to see Grecia, though. They were passing, all with an intended destination, all rushing into classrooms. A flock of whispers accompanied their glide-like movement.

     They must be students. Something horrible must have happened for the teachers and the students to have died. 

     Grecia slipped through the crowd unnoticed. She made her way quietly to wait in the classroom again for her teacher. 

*******************

Grecia’s mother, Matilda, held the flowers tightly in her hand, her knuckles white. The grave was new, though the weather had already taken upon itself to pound it down like the other lumps of rock around it. Though, still starkly visible on the cold surface lay carved a word, blurred to Matilda’s eyes by hot, blinding tears: Grecia.

The Werewolf 

by Landon Lutinski

On the last day of October,

the 31st to be exact!

The spookiest night of the year

That brings a truckload of fear

When you get all dressed up

You know that's what's up

When you go out that night

Make sure to bring a light

Better watch out

Cause without a doubt

You better not fall asleep

Cause if you do

You'll be counting dead sheep

So when you go up to a house

And say trick or treat

I'll say that's a big old feat

In case you didn't know

I'm searching for meat

I'll take the candy

And you won't have any

Then I'll walk through the night

Right through the shadows

And I'll howl at the moonlight

Happy Halloween

Sweet screams