Adapted from my review on the TRP blog. I feel slightly strange reviewing a novel by one of my Two Ravens Press stablemates, but here goes…
Senseless by Stona Fitch is a literary thriller originally released in the U.S. just days after the September 11th terrorist attacks. The main character is Eliott Gast, an American economist taken hostage by an anti-globalization terrorist group, who are intent on removing Eliott’s senses one by one. Elliot spends forty days being questioned and tortured by his captors – footage of his ordeal broadcast live on the internet to another group of captives: the vast audience glued to their computer screens.
The cover quotes for Senseless are impressive, including this one from J.M. Coetzee:
‘Startling in conception and disturbing in what it says about our times.’
Senseless is a slim little disturbing work of genius. It’s not often that a novel will make me mutter the words “Jesus Christ!” but Senseless did engender that response on several occasions. However, reading Senseless wasn’t just a visceral experience – the book had my mental muscles flaming too. It forced me to ask so many questions of the text, of the world, of myself.
To begin with I was hopeful for Eliott, optimistically expecting a counter-terrorist operative like Jack Bauer from 24 to sweep in and save the day, but as I read on there was a feeling of inevitability in the writing that led me to think that Eliott had to experience his ordeal, almost like the text was a modern parable, or even a dark fairytale.
I kept asking myself how Eliott could choose to live, when he knew that hideous torture lay ahead. Hope? Defiance, more like. Eliott lives for each day, and if his captors want him dead, they’ll have to kill him, otherwise he’ll keep on keeping on. Shortly after I finished reading Senseless, I saw in the news that Ingrid Betancourt had been freed after spending six years as a terrorist hostage. She was a high-value hostage, just as in the novel Eliott is a high-value hostage. This placing a price on people according to how much joy/success/money you can bleed from them plays into another aspect of globalization: consumerism. Eliott is a possession of the terrorist group, and they consume him, bit by bit, without thinking of the consequences for him – they’re only concerned with their own pleasure and success. In his life Eliott too has been a thoughtless consumer: he is an epicure and has spent years consuming whatever has taken his fancy, including ortolans.
Wikipedia quotes The Connoisseur’s Series, The Global Gourmet and says of the ortolan bunting:
The eating of the ortolan has ethical eating groups baying for blood. First, it is caught with a net in the forest. Taken alive, its eyes are poked out and the bird is put in a small cage. It’s then force-fed oats, millet and figs until it has swollen to four times its normal size. Then the bird is drowned alive in fine cognac. Then, it’s roasted whole, in an oven at high heat, for six to eight minutes. Once it reaches the table, a napkin is placed over the eater’s head. The technique of eating the ortolan is to put the whole bird into the mouth, with only the beak protruding. Here sadism mingles with masochism. The first taste as you crunch on the bird is the brandied flesh and fat. Then, the bitterness of the guts follow and finally, as the tiny, delicate bones are being chewed on, they will lacerate the diner’s gums, with the salty taste of the bleeding gums mingling with the richness of the fat and the bitterness of the organs. Chewing the ortolan takes approximately 15 minutes.
The consumption of the ortolan seems symbolic of the terrorists’ consumption of Eliott: he is placed in a room as white as any linen napkin, and the faces of his torturers are hidden from him. Eliott is offered up as a delicacy to the watching masses that happily pay a fortune to continue consuming his ordeal.
The only thing I disliked about the novel was the characterisation of the female terrorist, which seemed a little clichéd to me. I also spotted the twist in the ending almost from the first chapter, but perhaps the reader was meant to comprehend what Eliott in his desperation could not.
Senseless says a lot of things about cruelty, voyeurism, about the age of reality TV and about terrorism, but clearly it is not an easy novel. The torture was painful to read and had my stomach in knots, but throughout it all there was a sense that a parable was being laid out for us to ponder, and in that there was a certain safety. There is nothing unpleasant in the writing style, which is impressive: intricately detailed but gripping. It is the subject matter that will rattle you, or not. If you’re squeamish or haunted by distressing scenes in books and films, forget it. For me, however, Senseless is an example of excellent, thought-provoking, difficult fiction. I’ve already recommended it to Alex Pheby…
Two Ravens Press, 160 pages, ISBN-13: 978-1906120313. £8.99
I don’t think I could read this, Lisa, it sounds too graphic for me but maybe I’m being a coward. But I wonder (in a general way, not particularly for this book) where does a book that intends to condemn voyeurism cross the line and become voyeuristic itself? (does this book condemn it? does it make the link between voyeurism and Reality TV? )
I suppose a similar question could be asked about novels covering sex/pornography and violence but voyeurism seems like a more recent evolution whereas the others have always been there.
Lots of questions, maybe I should go and read it for myself.
Yes, I think if your gut instinct says this really isn’t for you, then listen to it.
That’s a good question about voyeurism that could be asked of a lot of fiction, non-fiction (including maybe true-life crime/serial killer histories), C.S.I even. I don’t know the answer. I’m also hesitant to say that Senseless condemns voyeurism. I think it’s interested in exploring it. Maybe the gripped reader of Senseless (like me) is somehow completing an idea that the novel wants to look at.
When I finished the book I was asking myself why I had kept on reading, and trying to figure out what made the book such a compelling read. Well, for one I was empathising with Eliott, and trying to fathom how I would behave in his situation. Same for the terrorists. Would I ever believe something so much that I’d allow a person to suffer, for what I saw as the greater good? Thirdly, the audience. I can’t imagine I would watch footage of a real person being tortured (the internet is full of hideous videos and I’ve always avoided them) but to begin with when Eliott was just incarcerated in an apartment (without being touched), and the outside world’s news was full of it, I might well have clicked on to see how he was faring. Big Brother type curiosity?
But then, what is it about the human mind that is drawn to death/pain? There is obviously some appeal. Thinking of the success of websites like Rotten, where users can look at gruesome pictures of corpses, or even the massive following of slasher movies. Maybe it’s because we all know we’re going to die, and although we might hope it’s peaceful and painless, what if it’s not?
The first two lines of Senseless are:
Suspense in Senseless also arises through the reader waiting for Eliott to escape, and waiting to see what the terrorists come up with next, or if they’ll relent. As the parable element kicks in you’re thinking, thinking, thinking about what it all means.
(CONTAINS SPOILERS)
An interesting thing is that the terrorists have some compassion. They give him medical aid after hurting him (partly because they don’t want him to become infected and die) and it seems they don’t necessarily want to torture Eliott for the sake of it, but rather because it’s good business sense. They get massive media exposure and the money flows in with every new act. Also, because they have advertised a product and they don’t want to disappoint their customers. Their ideology is a bit woolly to Eliott and it does seem to be secondary to the financial motivation.
This is the longest comment ever, I’m sure, but I want to end by saying that I don’t think it is always a bad thing for readers to be shocked/shaken up. I think stepping out of your comfort zone every now and again is useful, even necessary. Living in an insulated bubble is maybe not that great for us as human beings?
Off out now but will check in here later.
“I think stepping out of your comfort zone every now and again is useful, even necessary. Living in an insulated bubble is maybe not that great for us as human beings?”
I suppose, though, for some it might not be so stepping out of a comfort zone than for others. A lot of people “consume” horror and very violent thriller writing with absolute relish, whereas for me, in order to read something so horrifically disturbing I would need to know it was worth it in terms of the ideas and ways it was making me think. That’s slightly what i am struggling with with this review and with the others I was reading on Amazon. It is obviously a riveting and compelling book from what I read of it. But I am finding it hard to get a sense from the reviews of what it is really saying/is all about.
Mary’s question is an interesting one. Reminds me of Mark Kermode’s review of the film “Funny Games” the gist of which I think was that he objected to the use extreme violence to say to the audience “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Well you shouldn’t be.” Presumably that only talks to some of the audience anyway. And how can the film itself not be guilty of the same crime?
It certainly seems an extreme form to criticise reality television. That the internet is being used and in very unpleasant ways is certainly true. But what does the book tell us further about this? What does the extremity add to the ideas as it were?
This is not a criticism btw. Just a very honest response from a reader who already has nightmares over things on the news and has to try and dampen the imagination sometimes. If it is all for a purpose then that is different – but I wonder what this purpose might be and whether you can explain more of this at all.
I hate speaking for an author, as I can’t know his intentions or purpose. Also don’t want to give away too many spoilers about the novel’s plot and various discourses. Probably already done too much of that!
Simply put, for me the book is an interesting story and an interesting collection of ideas. I don’t think that just because it is telling a difficult/graphic story it has to have some moral or intellectual high ground, or singular viewpoint that it’s trying to hammer home.
It’s up to the reader to think and decide what it’s saying. The book doesn’t spoon-feed. One of the reasons I liked the book so much was because it had me thinking about all sorts of issues, and looking up things I previously knew nothing about. It took me out of my bubble.
Perhaps the parable element comes from the fact that some of the terrorists see it a bit like that. Eliott’s fate is a story illustrating a point for them (something like greedy consumer is consumed, or American economist becomes cash cow for persons he’s impoverished. The reader will decide on that) The irony being that these anti-globalization terrorists are very motivated by money.
The book was written right at the birth of reality television, before eight seasons of Big Brother presumably, so maybe it was incorporating something that has since become very commonplace, perhaps normalised. But having said that, I’m not sure how important ‘reality TV’ itself is to the novel. I suppose the desensitisation of watchers/viewers is an age old idea, ever since the times of good old hangings in the town square, let alone the fun that could be had in watching the punishment of those who had committed treason…
And it’s not simply a case of knocking reality TV. I suspect it’s looking at the line between fiction and non-fiction. The nature of reality itself maybe? What is real? If you can see it, is it real? If you can see it in your mind, is it real?
I think the idea of people watching things on the television or the internet can be interesting, as sometimes even when they know it’s real, there can be a disconnect.
You say you have nightmares after watching the news, Rosy, but a lot of people can watch horrific news reports (or disturbing internet videos) whilst eating their supper and then enjoy a restful sleep. I find that fascinating.
(As your friend though, Rosy, this one would probably give you a month’s worth of nightmares, so the friend in me wonders if the ideas would be worth it for you!
Thanks for commenting though )
Thinking about it further, sounds like the reality tv thing was something I was taking too literally.
I don’t know if this is way off the mark but I can see that a set of ideas about how a consumer culture makes everything open to being consumed including the consumer themselves, that thoughts/feelings/experiences become sellable, that people/countries turn a blind eye to the suffering caused in the name of money. That principles often come second to financial gain.
I can kind of see how all that would work. It does sound a powerful book.
Still not sure I have the stomach for it though.
“consumer culture makes everything open to being consumed including the consumer themselves…”
That’s a good way of putting it. And principles coming second to financial gain seems very relevant in the world right now (but then, hasn’t it always seemed like that? Kirsty??!).
It is a powerful book. But yes, Rosy, step away from the Senseless…
(I bet you end up reading the first few pages in a bookshop!)
A completely off-the-wall comment here … just an observation, really.
There’s literally nothing new under the sun, is there? Pain and suffering as a spectator sport is as old as humanity, I suspect.
Today we have TV and the internet: the Romans had their circuses …
I’m not sure I’d have the stomach or the inclination to read this book either, Lisa … but I can sort of understand the compulsion to keep reading.
Obviously this is definitely not one for me. Just the review was making me tense and I started gagging at the excerpt about the ortolan. I can see how the book would raise a lot of questions, which would be good, but it would take a huge amount of bravery to read it. I wonder if the author felt they had changed in the process of writing it? To imagine all that stuff would have to leave an impact, wouldn’t it?
You’re right, Moira, now that you say it. I was thinking of our obsession with celebrities and the voyeurism involved in watching their marriages disintegrate or their descent into drug-hell which feels new to me but it’s probably just a new version on an old theme.
But to raise another point, there’s a lot of talk about ‘raising awareness’ of issues, of ‘making you think’ but does that have any value if it doesn’t make you act? Sometimes I think the media, TV, newspapers and books seem to think that ‘being aware’ suffices but in reality it’s only useful as a first step towards action, isn’t it?
There’s also the contradictory messages from the media. For instance, “raising awareness” of eating disorders and frowning upon celebs who appear to have them, such as Ashlee Simpson, the Olsen twins, etc. Yet mocking other celebs(always women, never men) who are overweight and calling normal sized people such as Kate Winslet and Renee Zellwiger “fat”.
“I started gagging at the excerpt about the ortolan.” Jackie, me too. And agree about the weight issue.
“there’s a lot of talk about ‘raising awareness’ of issues, of ‘making you think’ but does that have any value if it doesn’t make you act”
That is a good point. But I suppose *without* awareness though, it’s almost impossible to act, so awareness is preferable to ignorance? At least awareness leads to a potential for action? Also, I would rather be informed and thinking, than ignorant and thoughtless. Even about something like ortolans. As horrible as that knowledge is, I am glad I have it. Generally it’s when people don’t know, that they don’t care. Making people aware (and care) is important for say, the survival of protected species like the ortolan bunting, no? Helps people to make more informed choices as a voter and a consumer.
I keep thinking a book which makes me read up on globalisation, consumerism, capital punishment (!) and animal welfare is a good thing for me.
Moira, “Pain and suffering as a spectator sport is as old as humanity, I suspect.” Yes, there is that dark side to human nature, and maybe it’s uncomfortable to think about, but a book like this has me questioning why that side of us exists at all. Still turning over that one in my mind.
Absolutely, Jackie. I sometimes wonder if it’s a way of occupying the moral high ground but the real aim is to sell more papers.
But we’ve wandered a bit from the book review…
Oh no, wander away. Really interesting, this stuff (to me anyway!)
“I suppose the desensitisation of watchers/viewers is an age old idea, ever since the times of good old hangings in the town square, let alone the fun that could be had in watching the punishment of those who had committed treason…”
I think its also about bonding and identification among those that view the spectacle. I don’t think its an accident that violence as a spectacle has been a virtually ubiquitous glue holding societies together, particularly in times of change or danger. The communal enjoyment of pain was seen as a moral obligation by the Romans (some of them anyway) – it reminded them to be grateful how far removed they were from the pain that the barbarians had to suffer daily.
It’s not something unusual in modern western cultures either – you could argue that it’s the same violence, sublimated and ritualised, that underpins most spectator sports – and that doesn’t even take into account boxing, wrestling, bloodsports, bullfighting and the other non-sublimated violent spectacles.
Voyeurism is, after all, an extension of very useful social traits: sympathy, empathy and interest. What is worrying is how these traits are twisted and the extent to which they are used to isolate us from the people around us rather than bring us together esp. post 9/11.
BTW, lest anyone think I’m advocating public torture, I only approve of the sublimated and ritualised type of violence… unless it’s in fiction, in which case the gloves are off!
I did get some book tokens for my birthday in the end, so I’ll order Senseless when it becomes available through shops.
I suppose the desensitisation of watchers/viewers is an age old idea, ever since the times of good old hangings in the town square…
Which reminds me of a quote in something I read recently. It’s from the diary entry of a British soldier the night after he’d seen a large number of his fellow countrymen gathered to watch the entertainment provided by the public executions:
‘How transient seems this life when one sees a man so quickly part with it: a few moments and the animated body has separated from that spirit which has gone to appear before its maker, and yet to look at the crowd, how little they feel or seem to understand the awful awful change taking place before their eyes.’
The interesting thing is that some of the people being executed were men he himself had tortured. Which just goes to show how complex we humans and our emotions are.
It’s from – ahem – The Last Mughal, The Fall of a Dynasty, Delhi, 1857 by William Dalrymple. A better non-fiction you will struggle to read this year.
Alex, that’s fascinating what you say about bonding and identification. Makes sense. Sports is an interesting point too. I’d be very interested to hear what you make of Senseless, when it is available in stores.
I particularly liked this line, Alex:
“Voyeurism is, after all, an extension of very useful social traits: sympathy, empathy and interest.” Well put. I’d never thought about it like that before.
Gosh, Sam, that is some quote. Very powerful, and amazing that such thinking could go hand in hand with torture. What is that? The compartmentalisation of ideas/philosophy on the one hand, and everyday work or ‘necessary’ tasks on the other? Crikey.
You’ve convinced me on The Last Mughal. I shall seek it out. We’re also pondering the idea of an India Week, although usually our theme weeks are cobbled out of things we happen to be reading at the time, so we just lump them together. But a few of us are reading India-related books, so watch this space. . .(although if it does go ahead it probably won’t be until after the summer as we bookfoxes are pretty much all knackered right now).
It’s a great quote isn’t it? Bagsy having it as the epigraph to my novel!
Perfect epigraph material. Off to ponder it now (she says, knowing that she’ll forget the wording in three seconds).
Interesting review. It sounds like an uncomfortable read, but I may look it out. By the way, I can recommend the Dalrymple too. Excellent book. One of his best.
Wonderful review… now off to tie myself up in knots about the issue of stepping out of comfort zones versus self-preservation… hmm.
Thanks for commenting, IvoD and Emily. If you see Senseless in a store or library, maybe have a read of the first few pages. Give you an idea of the writing style, which I thought was brilliant.
Emily, that age old debate, eh. Self-preservation is important, I agree. But nice to risk our equanimity now and again! Keeps us on our toes.
IvoD, the Dalrymple is now in my VL notepad.
This discussion feels particularly relevant right now because I went to see The Dark Knight yesterday and emerged from the theatre pale green and shaking, but somehow… uplifted, I suppose. There was something exhilarating about that film, as dark and violent as it was – probably a combination of the outstanding acting and effects and the constant challenges to the comfortable ideas we hold about heroes and villains – but I could never watch any of the Saw films, and Kill Bill was revolting rather than cool for me. In the same way, I enjoy watching Dexter, but reading Nikki French or Jonathan Kellerman (both of whom write about psychopathic murders) feels uncomfortable and voyeuristic for me; particularly French, who tends to indulge in almost loving descriptions of (frequently sexually charged) violence against women. I suppose the difference is in the degree of explicit violence, and how much the reader or viewer is supposed to identify with the victim. I particularly feel with French’s novels that the violence and gore go far beyond any reasonable impact they might have on the plot. I am tempted to find a copy of Senseless to see how I react to it, although it sounds like a really uncomfortable read.
I’m rambling, I know. It’s very hard to explain what I’m trying to say, but maybe you understand it better than I do!
Kirsty, really interesting to hear your thoughts, as I’m going to see that film soon, and I watch Dexter (but not familiar with the work of the authors you mention).
“I suppose the difference is in the degree of explicit violence, and how much the reader or viewer is supposed to identify with the victim”
In Dexter the victims are always violent criminals, so I guess we’re not supposed to identify with them much. I suspected Dexter was a dark commentary on the legal doling out of the death penalty. Killing as part of a cold and supposedly fair, dispassionate system, but a system that is also about vengeance.
I’ll let you know what I make of The Dark Knight.
Lisa, you might actually enjoy Jonathan Kellerman – I have to admit my real discomfort with his work set in after I read about a dozen of them in the space of three weeks after finishing my MPhil. I think I did him rather a disservice by classifying him with French (who is a fine writer – or writers, this is a collaboration by Nicci Gerard with her husband – but not to my taste). Kellerman’s books are more intimate than something like Dexter, so they make you much more uncomfortable, but as a former psychiatrist he knows exactly what he is writing about when he creates his murderers. I suppose what makes me feel queasy there is the fact that the victims are just that, victims who haven’t done anything wrong, and who tend to have a personal connection with their killer. Just like in real life.
Do let me know what you make of The Dark Knight. I went to see it essentially on a whim and was completely bowled over.
Lisa, completely agree about being kept on one’s toes…just a matter of timing it correctly, I think, so shall add this book to my list and await such a time
I had to put aside We Need To Talk About Kevin simply because I’d started to read it at the wrong time in my life, but I know I’ll go back to it. As usual, plenty of food for thought in your review.
Ooh, I loved We Need To Talk About Kevin! Be interested to hear your thoughts when you do go back to it. And any time you’re feeling ready for Senseless, I’ll happily send it to you…
Friend of VL Doug Johnstone has just reviewed Senseless for The List here: (Five stars!)
http://www.list.co.uk/article/10535-stona-fitch-senseless/
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