asandwich

Bird Box provides a glimpse into an extremely bleak post-apocalyptic world (come to think of it, are there any other types of post-apocalyptic worlds, other than bleak? I don’t recall ever stumbling across an ’enthusiastically vivacious’ post-apocalypse. Or even a ’tentatively optimistic’ one, come to think of it...) where the downfall of humanity is ushered in by the fragility of our own limited minds. Here’s the gist: the media begins to report outbreaks of sudden insanity - the kind of insanity that ends very messily for the individuals involved and anyone remotely nearby - that appear to start in Russia but very quickly begin to spread across the globe and gain in frequency. Before long the world is plunged into total chaos, with rumours abound that the sudden case of the terminal crazies is being caused by people accidentally catching a glimpse of ‘creatures’ of some kind. The only reasonable solution seems to be to avoid any possibility of seeing outside, and thus reduce the risk of spying one of the mysterious things that will, quite literally, blow your mind. People begin to block up their windows with anything they can find and will only travel outdoors if blindfolded, hoping above all else that they don’t encounter a roaming creature whilst on their travels. It almost feels like Wyndam’s The Day of the Triffids in reverse, with enforced blindness becoming a necessity of survival in this new world.

As ideas go, it’s a fairly Lovecraftian premise, certainly - but Malerman convincingly pulls off a novel that is very much all his own; this is a great example of an author who knows exactly what he’s trying to achieve and manages to hit all the right notes to keep you turning the pages. The prose is consciously and conscientiously economical, as Malerman is very careful to never deliver more information to the reader than the characters have themselves. He fully understands that the key to creating the suspense and tension that the story relies on is in keeping us in the dark - we’re forced to share in the anguish and terror of our protagonist, Malorie, with only the descriptions of sounds beyond the house (or beyond her blindfold) for clues. At times, the experience is not only absorbing, but also rather harrowing; I found myself squirming in my seat, feeling as helpless and exposed as Malorie, on more than one occasion.

This is a novel about fearing the unknown. It’s also a novel about feeling trapped and claustrophobic in a world that still looks like ours, but feels hostile and alien, even when it’s quiet.

If you’re only happy when everything is explained and it all ties together with the obligatory Scooby-Doo ending, then you’re probably going to have more questions than answers by the final page. But, you know what? Sometimes it’s better not to know. Sometimes, leaving everything open to interpretation just makes more sense. For me, Bird Box was definitely one of those times.