storyorc's reviews
644 reviews

Tickles all the high concept neurons of classic sci-fi but with characters who emote like real people too. Very evident that Chiang has a lasting interest in real-world science and it's such a treat to get a taste of some fascinating higher-level theories via such lively stories.

Leech is a gothic tale, featuring howling winter winds, a decrepit old mansion and a rotting noble family inside for our physician protagonist, "the Institute", to treat. As a secret, parasitic hivemind of doctors rather than a single person, the Institute makes for a fresh point of view for the genre. They are driven to untangle the mystery of what killed their predecessor (also part of their hivemind) by extreme curiosity, have little regard for personal safety, and can access expertise from their vast network of bodies at any time - a perfect Holmesian detective, until the situation begins to challenge those advantages.

Both setting and characters enjoyed depth and nuance. The noble son and his wife show their wounds as well as their cruelties, and their land has beautiful ice-monsters as well as lethal storms. It also supports a dwindling native culture of people who lived in caves, sported tails, and worshipped dog gods fallen from the sky. The baron's mute house boy, Emil, is one such descendant and a welcome, though mysterious, bright spot amidst all the rot.

It's a shame the focus drifts away from the Institute as the story unfolds. It leaves in its place a solid gothic mystery and tale of rebellion but these didn't quite fill the hole for me, since exploring such an unusual, morally-grey narrator was my main point of fascination. Learning that the author is a medical student frames the criticisms of the Institute in an interesting way, however; there is much to critisize. The book also continues to explore identity, just

less the Institute's and more its hosts.

Some lines will ring especially true to queer readers.

Recommended for fans of: classical gothic literature, Mexican Gothic, Pathologic (the game), Sherlock Holmes (specifically if you read the books because of the BBC show, not because this is like the BBC show but because if you were a big enough fan of the show to read the books, odds are you're in gay tumblr crowd that would also be into the identity exploration in the second half)

I feel like the author was strongly suggesting not only to cut yourself off from your family tree, but that every society should erase its own history and try to start fresh too. But, knowing we won't, he instead paints us a picture of the build-up of the past in the Buendía house in Macondo. 

Generous helpings of surreal phenomena keep things unpredictable and enchanting despite the page length, imbuing even daily occurrences like fighting ants or embroidering with a gravity that echoes through generations. The distant, light-hearted style of narration and delightful turns of phrase are the honey that makes the medicine go down. 

The overall impression, however, is realistic enough to provoke existential dread. The Buendías do not collapse in a linear tale of corruption and lethargy. Treasures buried by one member may come in clutch for a descendant, a son might coast by on the prestige of his family name, and people are happy more often than wretched - or, if not happy, then at least getting on with their lives. 

Just when you are relaxing into a moment of joy or peace in the story, the narrator tosses in a remark about how this person is doomed or this course of action will bring ruin. Sometimes, it is misleading, but not consistently enough to discount. The ground is always shifting. The sense of hands closing around a character's neck often makes this book quite the page-turner, even when the neck belongs to a very (VERY) flawed person. In uncanny mimicry of actual family, the story cultivates empathy and even loyalty for awful characters simply by showing, from birth and before, why and how they came to be.

There's also something very uncomfortable yet relatable about how this huge, sprawling family who live and die on top of each other in this house perpetually stumble into self-absorption and fail to understand one another. They get close, then drift or fall short again, then try again. Very human.

Life in Macondo is relentless and defies not only narrative catharsis but even cause and effect. The Buendía family history is one that refuses to be reduced to a simple warning against modernity or selfishness to read and pat yourself on the back and then forget. It sticks in the throat.