Ninni Holmqvist

In a world that worships youth, children and productivity, this book is on target. The subject is different from Never Let Me Go — The only similarity is that humans are used for parts. As an over-fifty woman with no children and great love for my pets, I identified heavily with Dorrit. She expressed many things that I've felt about society and my role in it. We women over 50 become invisible unless we yell and scream. But when we yell and scream, we're told that it is inappropriate and show more desperate. Our lack of youth and lack of children invalidates us and breaks our will.

It's unsurprising that I found myself sobbing many times during the story. Heck, I'm crying now. show less

Shortly after her 50th birthday, Dorrit Wenger packs a suitcase of her most prized possessions, gets into a van, and checks into the Second Reserve Bank Unit. There, she and many other single childless women over 50 and single childless men over 60 are given comfortable apartments, free food at lovely restaurants, access to recreational facilities at no cost, and the opportunity to be a family to one another. The catch? Dorrit and the other “dispensables” at the unit must participate in show more medical experiments and donate their organs to people who have children or who have jobs that make a contribution to the betterment of society. Within a few years, each resident will make a final, fatal donation.

One of my favorite aspects of The Unit was how well Holmqvist expresses the pleasures and pain involved in living alone. For example, when Dorrit explained how she felt about leaving her dog behind, she expressed perfectly how one comes to rely on a pet for regular doses of affection when that pet is your only day-to-day companion. The creators of the Unit would probably say that this affection doesn’t count and that Dorrit will be happier once she starts spending more time with other people. And the truth is, that Dorrit is happy to be surrounded by friends and to find a lover, but that doesn’t mean her previous life was miserable. Any sort of life is a mix of pleasure and pain.

Holmqvist also raises significant questions about what it means to make a contribution to society—to be needed. Is parenthood or a service job the only proper contribution? Many of the people in the Unit are artists and writers. When residents make donations, they are often told about the recipients (”a nurse with four children” or “a carpenter with three children and six grandchildren”). The implication is that the dispensible are giving their lives for people who matter, but who decides what does matter? Don’t all lives matter? Today, we may not take the organs of people we deem unimportant, but do we devalue the lives of certain people in less obvious ways?

The Unit has everything that I look for in a dystopian novel. It asks tough questions and causes me to reflect on the values I see expressed in the society around me. It’s a story that will stick with me.

See my complete review at my blog. show less

(Swedish)
Enhet is set in a dystopian present-day Sweden. In order to fulfill one's usefulness to the State, childless adults are brought to the Unit (Enhet) - at age 50 for women and 60 for men. It is a decision that was reached democratically, though creepingly enough for Dorrit Weger never to have had children herself. Raised to be independent, she suddenly finds herself at 50, without dependents to make her useful, and being brought to the Unit. Life there is comparatively comfortable, show more with everything at their beck and call - food, theater, gym facilities, spa, monthly welcome parties, and more - not to mention deep friendships that form amongst the residents. But there's a dark side to their presence there - their purpose is to be guinea pigs and organ donors (leading to the inevitable slutdonation - final donation -) for those who really need it.

This book examines issues such as just how far is one's duty to the greater good? Is individual choice selfish? If a decision - right or wrong - is arrived at democratically, should it still be carried out? Which is preferable - a life alone with choice or a life with close, though by design relatively short-lived, friendships?

This book creeps up on you. It took a bit to get drawn into it, to see the first part for what it was and not just lots of naive, sometimes exhaustively so, listing of great things about the Unit (though with a constant underlying pall). By the end it has raised interesting ethical questions living uncomfortably in a very, very grey zone. show less

A breathtaking peek at a near-future dystopia in which those who are single and childless are considered unnecessary. This book really struck a cord with me as we live in a very procreation-centered society.

We follow the protagonist as she enters "the unit," where she is placed under constant observation and endures testing (she is a human guinea pig). Holmqvist's prose is stark and striking. I especially loved the protagonist's flashbacks to her dog and how much she missed him.

I've read show more other comments that discuss the ending. While I certainly think the ending gives the reader a feeling of hopelessness, I also think it parallels the society depicted in the story. If Dorrit had escaped, then what? She is still, either directly or indirectly, subject to the merciless machinations of the capitalist (socialist?) dystopia in which she lives. There are many echoes of the inevitable in this story--the inevitability of death, the inevitability to effect change. We are all cogs on the train, and some of us are more necessary than others. It IS quite a hopeless and depressing thought, yes, but also very realistic. show less