Book Review: Solo/Down
Solo/Down is both a dream-like and plain-spoken novella written by Lauryn Allison Lewis and published by The Chicago Center of Literature and Photography, characterized by different points of views of what one might call a dysfunctional family. In a not-so-distant future, plants no longer grow because of acid rains, poisoned soil, and insects evolved to thrive in this new environment. The story is set in a government facility built to house two scientists, Amse and Jin, working to breed new strains of plants that are resilient in this new landscape, though these scientists are not permitted to leave the facility or interact with any other human beings. Amse, normally the driven, devoted scientist decides one day to bare a child and Jin, her sentimental partner, artificially inseminates her--before Amse, acting unusually careless, becomes the victim of a lab explosion that alters the DNA of her unborn twins. When she finally bears Marx, a boy with insect-like qualities and paranormal psychic strength, and Astrid, a girl with delicate, flowery features with the power to make plants survive and grow, a transcendental entity appears, known as Solo, to protect Astrid as the family discovers that their benefactors are closer then they thought.
This novella is poignant with several different points of view and voices which paint a picture of not-only this world, but the dysfunction of a family suffering Amse's professional ambivalence and Marx's murderous, predatory behavior. Leaping from first-person to third of almost all of the points of views of all the characters, we are privy to the quiet tension of this unusual family, much like their watchers are. Lewis uses each way the characters see to expand the facility the story is set in and paint a darker, but occasionally nostalgic picture, of the world outside that the facility's inhabitants were never permitted to see again. She invites us into their not-so-private lives and their minds, ranging between affectionate Jin, uncaring Amse, innocent Astrid, psychopathic Marx, and the burdened, protective Solo as their world crumbles around them. Furthermore, Lewis's poetic style of writing and metaphor keeps the audience engaged to compel to keep turning the page of this short but enticing story from the first to the last page.
Though the points of view are very effective, they can't capture everything and we're at a loss of why the world is the way it is, though maybe for the better. It isn't important that we know why we don't know the state of the outside world as much as we know the state of the family inside the facility. Lewis increases the drama by inviting different phenomena into their laboratory home, including the unusual characteristics of the children and the transcendental, easily misunderstood arrival of Solo, who only appears to Astrid. Though Solo acts as a god-like force to prevent destruction, we're given the opportunity to get to know and have some basic human understanding of him early on so his powerful whims don't seem as if they're a Deus Ex Machina, but rather more like the spirit of a watchful grandfather with a favorite grandchild. Though his presence is strange phenomena unto himself, it narrows the purpose of this story into one valuable point: Astrid, characterizing her as the protagonist as the story progresses from her birth to her childhood while she endures the strife of her brother, her loveless mother, and the world she was born into that wishes only to make use of her.
I had the opportunity to study with Lewis while in college and I can honestly say that I'm honored to have watched her grow as an author. Hearing her dream-like narratives about plants coming to life in her flower shop when we studied together to the extraordinary evolution of people becoming plants in this powerful, honest portrayal that makes a very subtle commentary on the future of the modern American family only helps to inspire both me and the rest of our peers to grow into our own authorship and I'm very thankful for having the opportunity to review this work while reminiscing on our undergraduate years.
The Riahi Rating: ★★★★☆ 4/5 stars. Though I loved the story, the points of view, and the context that the story is written in, the use of bold or capitalized font doesn't seem necessary for Lewis to portray her point clearly and distracts me from the writing itself, as well as the graphic advisory preceding the story itself. Despite that, I'm still satisfied giving it a near-perfect score.