From Publishers Weekly
A virtuosic but gimmicky fantasy, Jackson's first novel imagines an alternate present where chemical fallout has made Siamese twins a vocal, politically active subculture. Nora Olney, 28, is a torso-conjoined bohemian "twofer" in San Francisco whose twin, Blanche, has been comatose for 15 years. At ease in neither twofer culture nor the single world, and accustomed to controlling her and Blanche's body fully, Nora decides to have "doctor-assisted individuality surgery," appealing to the shadowy Unity Foundation for surgical help—even though its legal status is uncertain at best, and it will mean Blanche's death. Arriving in London and threading through the thicket of misdirection that the foundation uses for cover, Nora's reality warps: inanimate objects talk; she throws things unintentionally. As she moves closer to the surgery, Nora must contemplate the possibility that Blanche is trying to communicate with her. Jackson—author of a short story collection; a "work" (titled
Skin) composed solely of tattoos on the bodies of willing participants; and the hypertext novel
Patchwork Girl—gives equal time to the twins' eccentric upbringing in Too Bad, Nev., and the (often humorous) ephemera that Nora collects for her scrapbook, "The Siamese Reference Manual." Jackson's prose is nothing short of dazzling, but it's still not enough to give real tension to her oddball plot.
(July 3) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
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Jackson's reputation has been built on experimental fiction, including the hypertext
Patchwork Girl. But here, in what is being billed as her first novel, she reveals herself to be adept with traditional narrative as well, although the story itself is far from typical. In an alternate-universe version of America, conjoined twins have become relatively commonplace, probably due to radioactive fallout (although twofer activists claim that history has covered up the fact that many prominent people were conjoined, including Copernicus and Mark Twain). We experience this world through Nora, who ridicules the twofer subculture (which includes its own hilarious grammar--
theirstory instead of
history; tyou instead of
you, etc.) and desperately wants to be free of her sleeping twin, Blanche. The intricate structure and ebullient wordplay of the novel really begin to pay off when Nora and Blanche head to London in search of a doctor who will remove (and, in doing so, kill) Blanche, just as it becomes clear Blanche may not be sleeping. A clever and surprisingly moving exploration of identity and connectedness,
Half Life should broaden Jackson's readership.
John GreenCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
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