Ninni Holmqvist

Dystopian literature is not my usual thing. In fact, I generally put any and all dystopian novels gingerly back on the shelf at the bookstore no matter how appealing the cover or title is or how many recommendations I hear. Perhaps I am just practicing head in the sand avoidance, not wanting to think about how our current society could easily devolve into a society like the ones portrayed by imaginative authors in these often very disturbing worlds. So you'll know just how much I was looking show more forward to reading this particular book. And I wouldn't have read it had I not been given it to read for a committee on which I served.

But the committee obigated me to give it a fair shake (even if I waited almost to the end of my reading list for them to pick it up, choosing to read books I thought I'd enjoy more first). And I won't make you wait until the end of the review to tell you that I am incredibly grateful that this came across my desk as it did, obligating me to read this powerful, amazing, and completely worthwhile novel. It stretched my assumptions and gripped my attention. It was indeed a "Wow!" reading experience that left me thinking about it for a good long time afterwards.

Dorrit Weger is turning fifty. What this means for a childless unmarried writer is that she will have no option but to move into the Second Reserve Bank Unit for biological material. In short, the state will now feed, clothe, and entertain her. They will keep her healthy. The price for this? She must be willing to donate body parts and participate in scientific studies that benefit the "productive" members of society. There will come a time when she is asked to make a "final donation," one that costs her her life. And she has no choice but to comply with this directive no matter how horrifying it seems to her.

Once the initial disgust has worn off though, Dorrit settles into the Unit, making friends, volunteering for non-invasive studies, and even falling in love. The subtle horror of her fellow inmates being farmed for organs never quite leaves though, running through even the mundanity of daily life. People disappear with or without warning to make their final donations. Scientific studies go wrong and the subjects are left permanently damaged (but only for a brief time as they almost immediately then make their final donation).

But if the manufactured idyllic life in the Unit is a facade, the human relationships and connections between the characters are strong and real. And it is in creating these characters who struggle and philosophize and love and challenge despite their certain fate that Holmqvist has excelled. The society these characters must exist within does force the reader to examine some of the questions in our own society. Who is a productive member of society? Who makes that determination? Should we acquiese without question for the greater good of the whole? What kind of society are we creating? And what do we value above all?

The twist of fate whereby Dorrit has the means to save herself is masterful. And the path that she ultimately chooses doesn't really answer the questions that the story raises. But I don't think we're meant to find answers. We are meant to reflect on the questions. And I certainly did that. It was hard to start another book after this one because it went on percolating in my brain for so long. Not one I would ever have read on my own, I can't really explain why I think everyone should read it. But everyone should. Riveting, troubling, exquisite, and addictive, this is a book that challenges and rewards. It is simply put, a must read.

Thanks to the Other Press for sending me a copy to review even if I initially wrinkled my nose. Teach me to prejudge a book! show less

In a world that worships youth, children and productivity, this book is on target. The subject matter 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 show more and 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

In a world that worships youth, children and productivity, this book is on target. The subject matter 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 show more and 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

Review originally published on my blog, Musings of a Bookish Kitty:
http://www.literaryfeline.com/2016/12/bookish-thoughts-unit-by-ninni-holmqvist.h...


The Unit by Ninni Holmqvist, translated by Marlaine Delargy
Other Press, 2009
Fiction; 268 pgs
Source: Postal Mail Group (Borrowed)

As Holmqvist describes it in her novel, The Unit, it started as a debate by a new political party that wasn't taken too seriously. Overtime, however, the idea grew, taking on new forms and growing in popularity. Soon, show more it became a way of life. Men over sixty and women over fifty who were single, childless, and without jobs valued by society as contributing to the greater good are now considered dispensable and forced to give their bodies up for science. Sequestered in one location, they seemingly live out their final years in comfort--their every need met. There is a beautiful garden right out of a Monet painting, walkways, and shops, restaurants, and a theater. It's an indoor heaven, of sorts. Or so they want you to believe. Their every move and word is monitored. The dispensable people's purpose now is to take part in various psychological and scientific studies--and donate organs as needed.

Set in a Dystopian Sweden, The Unit asks the question what, if any, is the value of life? Who decides? Dorrit Weger has just turned 50, and reluctantly settles into life on the unit. As the novel progresses, she reflects on her life and what has led her to her this place. Growing up, she was taught to be self-reliant and to go after her dreams. She chose to write, and lived sparsely but comfortably with her beloved dog Jock. It was easy to identify with Dorrit and understand why she made the life choices she did. How was she to know the political winds would change so drastically over the course of her lifetime, earning her the label of a dispensable person? It is not something she agrees with, but has little choice other than to accept it.

Holmqvist does a great job of capturing the range of emotions and thoughts Dorrit goes through over the course of the novel. She is angry and sad, resigned, and scared. There are also moments of happiness and hope. We see the connections Dorrit makes with her friends who are in the same situations, and we go through the grief process as we have to say goodbye when they make their "final donations." The people who run the unit try to make the process as humane as possible, and yet, there is nothing humane about it. It's disturbing how easily accepted all of this is. And yet, is it all that surprising? I thought it was very telling when Dorrit is told she can know the person who is receiving organs, but the person receiving them is not told anything about the donor. Do this to save an important person's life! But obviously the donor isn't important enough to be recognized. It's a form of manipulation, to make it easier for those dispensables who have to give up their lives. There's something terribly wrong with that, as if the situation wasn't terrible enough as it was.

The Unit is more of a quiet book without any big plot twists or major climatic moments. However, it is very thought provoking. Dorrit's story is a compelling one that was hard to put down. I wanted so much for life to be different for the people deemed dispensable. I had never heard of this book before it arrived in the mail as one of my postal mail book group reads. I am glad it came my way. show less