Review: The House of the Scorpion by Nancy Farmer
The House of the Scorpion is a pretty old book. So old that I remember seeing it on the shelves of bookstores and libraries when I was in elementary school. This year, in fact, marks its 21st anniversary since publication. But for the past few weeks, I’ve had snippets of free time here and there throughout the day, and The House of the Scorpion proved to be the perfect thing to fill those odd gaps.
I need to preface this by saying that The House of the Scorpion is one of the best pieces of dystopian fiction I’ve ever read (and quite possibly one of the best books I’ve ever read, period). It’s up there with the classics like 1984 and Animal Farm, and the short stories of Ray Bradbury. I had so many thoughts and feelings after I finished The House of the Scorpion that I just had to write them down, which is a testimony to how good this book is.
The House of the Scorpion is about a boy named Matteo Alcarán. Matt is a clone of the ancient El Patrón, the supreme leader of a country called Opium, a strip of land that lies between the United States and what used to be called Mexico. Growing up on the Alcarán estate, Matt must face off against people who see him as nothing more than a monster because of how he was born. In a heavily prejudiced and violent society, Matt struggles to reclaim his humanity—until a betrayal by one of the only people Matt has ever loved forces him into the dystopian hellscape of the outside world. Fleeing from the Alcarán estate, Matt discovers unspeakable truths, meets true friends, and begins to forge his own path in the world.
This book is so, so good that I don’t think any review I can write will do it justice. Nancy Farmer has mastered the morally gray protagonist. I never thought I could genuinely hate and continuously root for a book character as much as I did for Matt. As irrational and destructive some of his actions were, I felt that I could truly understand his character and where he was coming from. After all, how can you expect a kid to not turn into a selfish psychopath when the people around him have dehumanized and abused him all his life? It’s only human, and that’s what Farmer does so well—create characters that are so painfully human. As such, I found myself becoming more and more invested in Matt’s development over the course of the book. It was immensely rewarding to see him rise above the terrible definitions the Alcaráns assigned to him and grow into a strong, intelligent person.
The worldbuilding in The House of the Scorpion is also absolutely top-tier. Nancy Farmer flawlessly combines the pressing issues of the current day—climate change, the border crisis, drugs, cloning and ethics—into a strikingly realistic dystopia. The world of this book is not extreme like that of 1984. Instead, it’s a future projection of today’s issues, and a commentary on the state of the world and humanity, which brings me to my next idea: this book’s powerful ideas about humanity and the human psyche. How do children respond differently to oppression and abuse? In the worst situations, which parts of human nature shine through? What does it really mean to be human? These questions and more are all explored in depth in The House of the Scorpion. This book made me really think about my own opinions about humanity and the advancement of technology.
Despite the masterful character and worldbuilding, the most appealing part of this book is, in my opinion, the storytelling. Nancy Farmer is a storyteller like no other. I don’t remember the last time I was so invested in and scared to continue reading a book. The sheer suspense and pacing of the story were done just perfectly. I couldn’t stop turning the page, but at the same time, I didn’t want to know what would happen next. I was genuinely terrified that Matt was going to die. Part of it was the genre of this book, and part of it was the perfectly anxiety-inducing plot progression, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so convinced that a character was going to die. Usually when I read thrillers or action novels, I’m relaxed because the protagonist’s plot armor will protect them from anything. This was not the case for The House of the Scorpion, to my genuine surprise and fright. (I’m not telling you if Matt dies or not. Muahahaha.)
Anyway, that looming sense of dread made the book’s bittersweet ending hit so much harder. I won’t tell you why it was bittersweet for me, because I think this book needs to be experienced completely authentically. I’ll just say that even though it was sad, I was ultimately really surprised and happy that Farmer gave us a somewhat happy ending. I was preparing myself for an emotionally damaging ending, like the ones in 1984 and Animal Farm, so I appreciate that Farmer ended the novel on a hopeful note. I think writing happy endings for dystopian novels is such an important thing, because the point of dystopian novels is, often, “if we don’t fix this issue in the present then a terrible thing will happen.” But giving all of these books terribly hopeless endings really doesn’t do much to inspire people to act. Seeing my favorite characters rise back up stronger and more determined than before, despite all of the awful things they endured, gave me hope for humanity.
Overall, just go read The House of the Scorpion. It’s such a good piece of writing, and a combination of all the things I love most in books: a dystopian setting, slightly twisted characters, commentary on the world, and well-done suspense. I would recommend this book for people who are looking for thought-provoking, complex ideas and who don’t mind mild violence and fear. I guarantee that if you finish it, even if you don’t like it, you will have learned something profound about the world or about yourself.