Week 7
Jo’s watching
Lessons in Chemistry
Bonnie Garmus’s debut novel about a 1960s woman in science has been translated into forty-two languages and has sold over six million copies.
Some background on the author: Garmus was signed by her literary agent on an incomplete manuscript, with Lessons in Chemistry published as her debut novel in 2022. It went to auction, which is where multiple publishers like a book so much they are willing to adjust their contracts to compete for it. All in all, sixteen publishers competed for the rights to Lessons in Chemistry, with Garmus eventually landing a six-figure deal. And, as if I wasn’t jealous enough, a year before publication they announced a television adaptation by Apple TV.
With less than a year between the paperback becoming available in Australia and the TV adaptation, let’s get into how they compare.
Firstly, the main characters’ dog, Six-Thirty, isn’t named after the time Elizabeth Zott (Brie Larson) met him. Rather, it’s the time he wakes her up in the morning, which has zero relevance. I understand the decision to make Six-Thirty Zott’s dog within the retelling, giving her something to enter Calvin Evans’ (Lewis Pullman) world and home with. However, the dog is integral to the story because it shows how Zott and Evans would have raised a child together. Evans’ parental instincts surface in the TV show when he looks after Harriet Sloane’s kids, but it’s not quite the same as the shared caretaking role our couple fulfilled in the novel.
In the book, Calvin is naïve to women’s struggles and perspectives, but willing to listen and change. This is shown well in the TV show; however, there is an added forgetfulness. Watching him forget TV-Sloane’s court case was heartbreaking.
The foreshadowing in the TV show is cruel…
Read more at: https://bwf.org.au/news/articles/comparing-screen-and-page-lessons-in-chemistry
Olivia’s reading
The Mountain in the Sea by Ray Nayler
This week, rather than a short story or novella, I have a full-length novel that I recently read and loved. The Mountain in the Sea primarily follows three people: Dr Ha Nguyen, a cephalopod researcher; Evrim, a humanoid artificial intelligence created by the company DIANIMA; and Altantsetseg, a Mongolian war veteran and mercenary. The trio are all on the Con Dao Archipelago, a group of islands off Vietnam that were purchased by Artificial Intelligence R&D company DIANIMA and set up as a nature reserve, with all locals resettled to the mainland. The real reason for this acquisition is an old fishermen’s tale of an octopus that uses tools: DIANIMA want to study a nonhuman intelligence to further their AI development.
Though there are a couple of B plots, they all ultimately tie back to Con Dao and the characters there. The main thrust of the story is the exploration of nonhuman intelligence, most obviously the octopus colony that seems to have developed tools, culture, and writing, but also Evrim, an android developed by DIANIMA but de facto exiled to Con Dao; the rest of the world has outlawed AI, afraid of minds other than their own. Altantsetseg serves as a sort of foil as well: she uses an outdated translator tool so that others misjudge her, showing the ways that communication can obfuscate as well as make clear.
It’s a first contact story full of fear and misunderstanding. The first message Ha interprets from the cephalopods basically means ‘stay away’. And why wouldn’t an octopus be hostile to humans when its encounters with them have been comprised of desperate fishermen and unlawful poachers? At the same time, Ha worries for the octopus colony. Once word of another nonhuman intelligence gets out, people will surely be afraid, disgusted, and curious. The fledgling culture will inevitably be destroyed or disturbed.
It’s a story with a fascinating concept at its core and a fascinating cast of characters who have only each other to interact with on an island lacking external communication. I loved this book and firmly recommend.
Callum’s listening
ODIE’s N.F.A (No Future Ambition) DEMOS EP
How do we release the art we made in our darkest moments to the world? Many of us may not have the answer; many of us prefer to hide the things we create that mean the most to us.
For ODIE, this starts with ‘Drums’, accompanied by a small verse and a tiny yet rhythmic chorus. The tempo of the soft shaking and echoes is steady as we dive with him into a sensually sad story about the loss of love and ambition, akin to the title of the demos—No Future Ambition. This dedication and sense of rawness are concreted into the second song ‘Where Do We Go?’. A back-and-forth develops alongside the supernatural muse he questions and dedicates verses to; a tidal push and pull beg for stronger direction as the EP crawls forward.
As the track breaks down and slows, we’re left in silence for a moment before heavenly humming and slight murmurs fill the air. This ambience of ‘All A Dream’ welcomes possibility, a chivalrous guitar strum beckoning ODIE’s voice to begin. The promise of tomorrow grows along his cracked and crumbling walls like vines as he explains the endless dream he has found himself in. As you listen to the verse a second time, an underlying pain weaves through each line, reconstructing this confident song into a goodbye to reality.
Guitar taps and reverb slowly guide us back out of the limbo, bringing us into ‘Utopia’, where we’re met with what feels like a lullaby chyme and humming that rises in pitch as the drums return from the first song. ‘Utopia’ feels like the promise we were teased previously—as if ODIE is bridging the gap in our connection and explaining what he has felt throughout the process. This is also the only song of the EP with a bridge that connects the two verses, with slight lyrical changes such as ‘living in a wasteland’ changing to ‘you’ve been living in a wasteland’.
Admittedly, it’s a strange ending to a solid EP; ODIE had until now only released three singles after his 2018 album Analogue. This open-ended promise to guide his listeners through a dark time, when he feels he has nothing left to try for, is a beautiful decision. He feels he can help those who are lost, even if he can’t help himself. It’ll be exciting to see where ODIE’s future ambitions take him next, as nothing but praise is coming from his fans.
Callum Ross-Rowland (he/him) is a Brisbane-based creative writing student at QUT. He was 2023 Literary Salon’s Photographer with his recent Diploma in Photo Imaging from Billy Blue (Torrens). He was recently shortlisted for Photographer of the year in the Animal and Nature category and regularly photographs for Artful Heads magazine where he captures portraits of artists from different mediums. Find him on Instagram @alrightatart.
Josephine Renee (she/her) is a 23-year-old Meanjin author majoring in creative writing at QUT. She is the Brisbane Writers Festival 2024 Youth Ambassador and a co-president of the QUT Literary Salon, as well as the 2023 recipient of the Kellie van Meurs Memorial Scholarship. She has travelled Europe for two years, spent a year and a half in North America, and recently returned from Paris. When not gaining worldbuilding inspiration, she dedicates her time to writing and illustrating. She has work published in WhyNot, ScratchThat Magazine, and Glass Magazine. Find her on Instagram @josephine_renee_official or at josephinerenee.com.
Olivia J Pryor (She/They) is a 25-year-old Meanjin based queer trans woman writer in her final year of studying creative writing at QUT. She is a lover of speculative fiction in all its forms: sci-fi; fantasy; horror; weird fiction and others, but still enjoys reading, watching, and listening to media in all genres and forms. She cares deeply about marginalised voices in the arts, particularly queer and trans women.
Logo created by Josephine Renee
Art created by Sophie Gollant
Sophie Gollant (she/her) is marked by her earnest oil paintings and photographs of earthly, isolated scenes. Sophie’s practice is steeped in metaphors and motifs that earnestly draw on her experiences of womanhood, chronic illness, and solitude.
Instagram: @soggolla