The Children's Hospital by Chris Adrian

To be honest, I picked this book primarily because the day I started reading it, John asked me to pick a book. I know it's a bit hefty, and especially after having finished it, I recognize that there's a lot here to wade through. I think that the reading experience will be equal parts rewarding and frustrating. There will inevitably be times when you can't put it down, and times where you can't seem to pick it back up. That said, if you start this book, and get to a point where you care about the characters, do whatever you can to finish it. I think you'll be glad that you did.

Spoilers ahead folks, read at your own peril.

A few weeks ago I watched David Lynch's Eraserhead for the first time. I'm generally not much of a Lynch fan, and watching his first film did absolutely nothing to change my opinion. If anything I find myself even more of the opinion that he does things just to do them, and people call him a genius for it. But I digress. The one positive I can pull from the film is what he does with tone. With setting, and lighting, and dialogue (or lack thereof), and especially sound, he imposes a sheer dread throughout every last second of that movie. While any discernible message or coherence is generally lost on me, I couldn't help but be impressed with how disconcerted I felt just watching it. At any rate, that's the best way for me to articulate the way I felt reading this book. That same constant sense of dread that permeates nearly every moment. I suppose that's a given; in a story about the apocalypse you're bound to see some terrible things happen. But it's not just the dissonance that comes from being thrust into a world of the dead. Dread abounds everywhere; In the assorted grisly afflictions some of these children are struggling to live with (seriously, when you read about Harlequin Fetus, I dare you not to google it...good lord); in the characters, whether it's their own personal guilt brought to light, the way they interact with one another, the struggle to find love or intimacy or just normalcy in a situation of which they have barely any control, the lack of trust you have as a reader for nearly every character other than Jemma; and particularly, in those moments when the recording angel narrates his story, or we catch glimpses of the terrifying hero who was Calvin, and you find yourself wondering "whose side God is really on?" This is a book and a story that wash over you in a way that requires an emotional response. There are characters you hate and characters you want to love and characters that scare the shit out of you. Ishmael in particular never settled with me, and the validation I may have felt for never trusting him was overpowered pretty effectively by how terrifying he becomes. I felt betrayed by Vivian when she abandons everyone to answer the ultimate question. A question which, incidentally, remained unclear through the end of the book, perhaps intentionally. And isn't it just heartbreaking to see what becomes of Rob, him perhaps more than anyone deserving a little dignity, and having so little? Though I never cried for any of them I did dream myself into their hospital on three separate occasions, so I guess that's something.

I'll admit that while I couldn't make my way through the first 4/5's of the book fast enough, the last bit slowed me down. That last leg of the story, where the botch is tearing through the adult population, and no one seems to trust Jemma (because they've all just "gotten over" her performing nearly 700 miracles...um...what a bunch of dicks?) is frustrating and tedious. Still, once you get over that hump, and Jemma's alone in the hospital with infantile Rob and terrifying Ishmael and unrecognizable Pickie, it's clear the tedium was necessary. It's not as though the characters don't find it frustrating and tedious to watch idly as their peers all drift away into ash with no explanation, so close to some kind of ending. And Jemma's final moments on the roof, as she struggles through her final trial, then herself drifts away, are remarkable, and sad, and very, very final. As she, now herself some kind of apparition, watches the children make their way into the new world, it seems appropriate that we stay next to her. If the new world isn't for her, then it's not for us either.

I loved the mash-up of reality and surreality: the descriptions of life as an angel, or the pliability of the new hospital. In particular, Jemma's miraculous awakening to her power is one of the best extended sequences I've read in a long time. It's exhausting just to read. The slow renaissance of the Replicating Mist throughout the book is well constructed and considered, and never seems fantastical, though it inevitably is. I suppose that once you've established a world where, yes, God exists, and yes, he's flooded the world again, and yes, your hospital is your vessel to the new, perfect world, you open up a bag of tricks that is essentially bottomless.

I often wondered if this book would mean more if I had a stronger sense of biblical history. I'm sure it would, and that's a little frustrating. Still, as best as I can tell, the theology remains some what ambiguous to the end. I suppose angels are Christian, and it seems clear that it's a monotheistic system, but other than that it's not entirely clear. And it's better that way. This is a fresh start, where all the old rules or ideas or dogmas are being thrown clear of the new path. It's up to children now to figure it out, and that seems right to me. Or at least more interesting.

So yes, I thoroughly enjoyed The Children's Hospital. It's a vast story that changes directions over and over. When the end finally arrives, it defies expectations, and inexplicably meets them. Mostly, it's a book you have to feel and not consider.