The Forest of Hands and Teeth (Carrie Ryan) Chapters 9-17

‘It has been weeks since we have seen each other, months since we have spent time together as friends the way we used to before my mother became Unconsecrated.’  The term “Unconsecrated” as it is used to indicate the zombies is always capitalized and is almost never varied from in alternative terms.  It seems to be overused a little gratuitously, as if we, along with the author, never tire of how wonderfully clever it is.  I imagine a deep-voiced announcer intoning “Unconsecrated!” each time with great drama and a touch of reverb.  The above could have been, “…before I lost my mother” or “…before my mother changed over” or “…before my mother became one with the Forest.”  I get that the idea is that these people view the zombies in quasi-religious terms; I’m just getting a little jaded on this one.

The situation that our villagers have lived with all their lives is ultimately rather ludicrous.  The zombies have been clawing at the protective fence for generations and have never found their way through.  As our current story unfolds, the breakthrough finally happens.  ‘…we simply stand and stare.  Unable to fully comprehend what is happening.’  They’ve been dreading it all their lives, drilled for it, taken all kinds of precautions over it, but still can’t imagine it.  ‘That such a thing would occur must have been inevitable and yet none of us ever believed it would happen.’  Is Carrie Ryan, our author, trying to tell us how we might feel if and when the American Political/Economic System collapses?  I’m finding it hard to believe that this story is that deep, that allegorical.  But it wouldn’t surprise me if an English teacher, having the class read this as an assignment, would expect the students to buy into that interpretation…

Or how about this: ‘ ”Don’t you see?  Everything has changed,” I say. “Jacob’s parents may not have even survived.  Nothing will be the same.”  She moves her hand from my cheek to cover my mouth.  “I don’t want to hear such things,” she says, her voice even and serious.  “Don’t you see that believing the village is gone means that everyone we have ever known is dead?  I won’t give up that easily on them.  And neither should you.” ’ Is this primacy of what one Chooses to Believe over Reality, irrational as it is, a commentary on the psychological mechanisms that lead to reactionary religious belief?  Again, I have a hard time giving our author that much credit.

For one thing, she herself seems to accept that it is perfectly understandable that “Love” (depicted here as the idolization of a potential mate, perhaps the advanced stages of a “crush”) should occupy a rational person’s mind more than the dire survival challenges that our main characters are facing.   Mary’s obsession with Travis in the face of real peril qualifies as a severe neurosis – but the author seems to be showing us that not only is this normal; it is noble.  The love letter prose – ‘It feels as if my heart is about to explode . . . as I wonder if I have ruined any chance for Travis and me to be together because I didn’t wait for him until the end.  Because I chose to Bind myself to Harry. Because I gave up on Travis.  On Love.’ – positively reeks of middle school puppy love sentiment.   This, when she might well be wondering where her next meal is coming from.

So, am I enjoying this book?  Actually, on some levels, yes!  The storyline, plot, action sequences and several other elements are strong enough to make up for the weaknesses, strangely enough.  There’s even this:  ‘Jed turns to me.  “That’s where I was the day that mother was . . . infected.  I was out on the paths, checking supplies, making sure the fences still held.  That’s why I couldn’t return before she . . . turned.” ’ He avoided saying, “Became Unconsecrated”!  Twice!






Next Week: Chapters 18-25

Week 4:  Chapters 26-36