Artemis by Andy Weir: A review

Reading this book reminded me of an old story (possibly apocryphal) about Aaron Copland. It was said that, when told that Copland had written a new piece of music, a critic said, "What's he calling it this time?" Well, this time Andy Weir is calling it Artemis but it is basically The Martian just reset on the Moon.

I read The Martian a couple of years ago and really, really enjoyed it. Especially the science stuff. Even when I didn't understand it, it was fascinating. And then there was the personality of Mark Watney, the astronaut trapped on Mars. His wisecracking smartass never-say-die schtick seemed just right for the situation.

Now, imagine Mark Watney transferred to the Moon and changed to a Saudi woman who has lived in the one lunar city, Artemis, since she was six years old and was brought there by her father, a welder. She was trained by her father to be a welder and displayed a real talent for the craft, but she was a rebel and grew up to pursue a minimalist job as a "porter," basically a UPS delivery person. But her main work and main source of income is as a smuggler. Oh, and, to the shame of her devout Muslim father, she also has the reputation of being the town slut who has sex with lots and lots of men, although there is entirely zero evidence of that in this narrative.

Her name is Jasmine Bashar, but she is Jazz to her friends and there seem to be a lot of those. Moreover, the authorities in Artemis display a curiously benevolent attitude toward her and her activities. This is essentially a small town where everybody knows everybody and people look out for each other. There are no guns allowed and everyone lives in one of the five residential bubbles named after early astronauts - Armstrong, Bean, Conrad, Aldrin, and Shepard. Jazz lives in Conrad, in the poorest section. Yes, classes exist even on the Moon, it seems.

The whole plot of the tale involves a caper that starts out as a profit-making (and highly illegal) venture for Jazz. She's hired by one of the rich guys in town to do a spot of sabotage, but midway through, it turns into a venture to save Artemis itself from being taken over by the Brazilian mob(!). It's too complicated to explain.

I left out the part about how Artemis was a Kenyan project and it is still run by Kenyans and Jazz has a Kenyan pen pal who she has been interacting with for years and who helps her with her smuggling operation. Although run by Kenyans, the culture of Artemis is definitely American and early 21st century American at that. (The time frame of the novel is never explained, unless it was in one of those sections of the book where my eyes glazed over.)

The story is told by Jazz, in the same manner - the very same manner! - that The Martian was narrated by Mark. In other words, she makes everything a joke. But when everything is comic relief, one needs some relief from the comedy and one doesn't get it here. Life is just a goofy caper and the humor is heavy-handed and forced.

At one point, about two-thirds of the way through the book, I found myself sort of getting interested in the plot. There was a conversation between Jazz and the administrator of Artemis, in which the administrator is explaining how economies evolve:

“It’s all part of the life-cycle of an economy. First it’s lawless capitalism until that starts to impede growth. Next comes regulation, law enforcement, and taxes. After that: public benefits and entitlements. Then, finally, overexpenditure and collapse.”

Hmm, that's interesting, I thought, but then Jazz came back with her sarcasm and my burgeoning interest deflated.

In addition to the one-note narrative, there is a LOT of welding going on in this book. If you are a big welding fan, you might enjoy that. I skimmed through those sections as fast as I could.

My impression is that Andy Weir is very good with the science stuff, including the welding. All of that is lovingly explained. He's not good with character development. It seems he has one protagonist and he's sticking with him/her. The ancillary characters are flat as pancakes - no development at all. In addition, this plot was really muddled and didn't make a lot of sense to me. I was really glad to turn that last page.

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

Search This Blog