Borne – A Dazzling & Puzzling Dystopian Fiction

Borne is the latest novel (published April 2017) from acclaimed New Weird author Jeff VanderMeer. As in Area X: The Southern Reach Trilogy (Annihilation, Authority, Acceptance), VanderMeer’s central concept in Borne is quite bizarre and totally unbelievable on the surface. But good thing about the writer’s works is that he doesn’t only use sci-fi platform to try and predict the future or perceive real-world problems through metaphorical or allegorical lens. At the crux of his discursive and unpredictable narrative course, there often lies a very humane story that’s equal parts profound and touching. With Borne, VanderMeer once again plunges into environmental themes and creates a weird yet immersive world, full of tantalizing details.

The novel is set in an unnamed city in a post-apocalyptic world. The city is the victim of a prolonged environmental catastrophe.  It’s inhabited by survivalists, known as scavengers, and myriad of cast-off, experimental bio-tech creatures, created by a mysterious and domineering corporate simply called ‘The Company’. Twenty eight year old, brown-skinned Rachel is our protagonist and narrator. She lives with her partner Wick in the Balcony Cliffs, an abandoned apartment complex which the couples have turned into their stronghold. Wick is a scientist who once worked for the Company and he uses fragments of biotech to make ends meet; the biotech includes memory ‘beetles’ which can either remove or supplement memories, diagnostic worms, and minnows which all brings a sort of drunkenness. Rachel is an experienced scavenger who is adept at setting traps, and finding food plus bio-tech supplies.

The most threatening factor of the city is Mord, a giant despotic bear that’s produced by the Company. It also has the ability to fly. Nevertheless, when the bear slumbers, Rachel precariously scavenges from the shaggy fur of Mord. It often provides treasure trove of bio-tech supplies. During one of these salvaging missions, Rachel finds a small, strange beacon-like pod, entangled deep in the hairy mass, which she describes as, “looked like a hybrid of squid and sea anemone………strobed emerald green across the purple every half minute or so”. She doesn’t know what it is: organic or company’s creation. Rachel brings it back to Balcony Cliffs, but refuses to allow Wick to take apart the ‘thing’.

A woodcut of Mord, the giant flying bear, created by Theo Ellsworth.

The city is also home to tribe of murderous, biologically-altered children, led by a mysterious woman, hailed as The Magician. It’s unclear whether she’s from the company or an emigrant, but she’s using bio-tech enhanced powers and gathering human force to defeat Mord. Rachel names the small ‘thing’ as Borne and wonders about it’s gradual growth, which still appears to be a plant. Soon, Borne begins to move, and to Rachel’s dismay, starts to speak. She begins teaching Borne and protects the creature as if it’s her own child, whenever Wick proposes to take it apart by insinuating that it might be a ‘weapon’. Although, Borne doesn’t remotely resemble a human child, Rachel starts to anthropomorphize the creature, by calling it a ‘he’, and assigns personality traits.  And, Borne grows exponentially, both in terms of size and intelligence. What started as a fist-sized ball now sprawls over the room and can use its flexible exterior to change shape and form. Rachel instills the sense of right and wrong to Borne and believes it’s as innocent as a child. But sudden drop in the local population of lizards, spiders, and other little living things besides themselves, proves Rachel otherwise. She later finds out that she can’t truly control Borne’s nature, but rejects Wick’s idea that her surrogate child might be a threat to their lives. Borne also sees itself as a person, loves Rachel like a mother, and tries its best to hide the malevolent side. As Rachel & Wick’s conflicted relationship with Borne reaches a threshold point, war for power begins to brew between Mord, its bear-like minions known as ‘Mord Proxies’, and the Magician (the Magician character and the destroyed world reminded me of anime master Miyazaki’s thought-provoking feature Princess Mononoke).

The best thing about VanderMeer’s prose in Borne is how he establishes the relationship between individual and the place. Oft we could read vivid details about the unnamed, ravaged city through Rachel’s sense of smell (there’s recurring reference to scent of ocean or pungent smell of bio-tech tidal pools) and acute perception. Nevertheless, the characters aren’t domineered by the texture of the strange wilderness. They actually stand out despite the bewildering setting. VanderMeer’s works repeatedly pay hefty tribute to nature’s resilient quality and suggests the interconnectedness of nature and whole human experience. He hints at how our humane quality (or morality) depends on the way we treat nature and other organisms. Mord, The Company, and the strange bio-techs could stand-in as the allegory for climate change and our rejection of nature’s inter-connectivity. But Borne doesn’t only stay as clever metaphor for tangible real-world problems, but also carries a deeply emotional tale at its heart.  Rachel’s relationship with Borne strikes a fine balance between the ultimate futility of anthropomorphizing all living organisms and the necessity to de-centralize human experience; to not see everything in human terms and also be mindful of how limitless and complex the world could be. Through Rachel’s narration or limited perspective, VanderMeer examines how we project personality onto animals, and yet not truly understand the creature’s unique beauty and importance.  

The Courtyard of Dead Astronauts by Kayla Harren

Perhaps the frustrating thing about the writer’s works is this limited perspective. His stories are strange and inexplicable, in a Lovecraftian sense. And, when all is said and done, the details still remain obscure although there’s a leftover feeling of having experienced something beautiful and strange. It may be akin to waking up from vivid dream and contemplating the slow dissipation of surrealistic mind-images. Moreover, VanderMeer often plays with readers’ preconceptions. He writes all the stock characters and big action set-pieces we come to expect from post-apocalyptic atmosphere. But the dynamics between the characters and outcome of battles largely deviates from our expectations (we initially compare Borne to E.T. but its much more complex than the stranded alien being). On a basic level, Borne could be read as a story chronicling the struggles and dilemmas of parenthood. Despite the fundamental weirdness in Rachel’s maternal feeling, the readers are thoroughly immersed in her palpable sense of love towards Borne. Like every ‘normal’ parent, she is elated to watch her surrogate child grow up, while at the same time trying to hold on to ‘him’; she wants to remain close to Borne, while also teaches ‘him’ to be independent. In spite of the interesting final twists, thrilling actions, and highly imaginative writing of bio-tech riddled atmosphere, what truly makes Borne a dazzling read is the profound ways Jeff Vandermeer uses the setting to get to the emotional truths. In the end, to the author’s credit, Borne (336 pages) doesn’t come off as a fantastical tale of flying, giant bears and talking tentacle monster; it’s actually a piercing tale of love, trust, sacrifice, and humanity’s undetachable relationship with the natural world.