When I find out an author has written almost as many books in his life as I’ve read in mine, I start to doubt the quality of his work – how can someone turn themselves into a one-man prose factory without compromising the integrity of their product? Then again, in the case of talent, the opposite is often true. Producing extraordinary written works comes as naturally to some authors as breathing. After reading Watchers, I’m firmly convinced that Koontz falls into the latter category.
One of the first things you notice about Koontz (and I have no reason to suspect that his other novels are any different in this respect) is that he is very good at simulating introspection. And while this can be slightly ridiculous at times (in one case a 71-year-old man, swimming in a pitch-black ocean, trying to avoid being caught by the police or drowning, contemplates the ethical problems posed by modern genetic science), it makes character development and backstory rollout one and the same process; the reader gets to put things in perspective as the character moves the story forward. I know a lot of authors do this, but it’s never jumped out at me before the way that it did in Watchers simply because Koontz’s characters do so much introspection.
But anyway, on with the story. Watchers is about a couple of escaped, genetically modified lab experiments – one a super-intelligent, amicable golden retriever, the other a super-intelligent, super-violent monster with a penchant for tearing people’s eyes out. Then there’s Travis, previously of Delta Force, now depressed and directionless, who has lost everyone he’s ever cared about – and Nora, a timid and reclusive 30-year-old who, following the death of her cruel and miserable aunt, is struggling to recover from years of emotional abuse. The monster (known as The Outsider) is hunting the dog, which it wishes to murder, while the NSA attempts to track them both down before the number of collaterally exenterated Orange County citizens can no longer realistically be hidden from the press. Meanwhile, a supernaturally gifted hitman looking to retire decides that the missing golden retriever would make a rather nice golden handshake, if he could only find the dog and someone to sell it to.
Koontz effortlessly straddles the border between literature and Pablum. His characters are fully fleshed out; we know how they look, what their problems are, what they want out of life – but every single one of them, from surfers to strippers, talks with an identical linguistic insipidity. It’s not that the author couldn’t write more idiosyncratic dialogue if he wanted to. Whether he realizes it or not, he’s just playing it safe. By having his characters speak in the verbal equivalent of elevator music, they become accessible to the lowest common denominator as Dick and Jane Everymans whose skin the reader can pull on for a quick 500-page romp around Koontz’s otherwise stunningly realised world. While I am almost positive that this anodyne human characterization is instrumental to Koontz's position as one of the Universe's best-selling authors, in the case of Watchers it also serves to keep the reader firmly fascinated by the uniquely written golden retriever. No doubt drawn from Koontz’s experiences with his own dog Trixie, the descriptions of the animal are pitch-perfect and endearing, and will resonate with dog lovers immediately.
Watchers is a story of hope and compassion, about looking out for one another. It’s also a not-so-subtle warning against shutting off from the world, refusing to face life’s uncomfortable truths and – in the style of Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle – about science taking little or no responsibility for its creations.
But at its most basic and lighthearted, it is a celebration of the most amazing cross-species connection that mankind has achieved: canine companionship.
No comments:
Post a Comment