Dave Freedman spins an utterly gripping tale, weaving science and thriller in the manner of Jurassic Park and Jaws.
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As a dramatic introduction to the story waiting in the wings, this is an utter misstep, emblematic of several subsequent amateur gaffes in this debut novel.
Still, readers who persist past this awkward introduction and overlook intermittent wince-worthy sentences will find an earnest Michael Crichton-style thriller that respects science and its audience's intellect, while delivering a modest number of chills.
Six scientists -- Phil, Jason, Lisa, Darryl, Craig and Monique -- aboard a well-equipped research vessel, funded by a dot-com millionaire named Harry Ackerman, are conducting commercial investigations into the deep-sea lives of various species of manta rays. Several anomalies lead them to believe that a new type of ray has begun to emerge. And the giant unprecedented beastie soon proves itself to be a master predator. So far, so bad, for life in the sea. But when this critter exhibits the ability to fly and breathe air, humanity itself is threatened. As the mutant rays colonize a state park along California's coast, gobbling bears, deer and the occasional jogger, our team finds its mission changing from documentation to defensive survival.
Freedman introduces his protagonists economically, sketching them in bold bright colors that substitute for depth. Ackerman is capitalism personified, in both its good and bad aspects. Jason, the leader of the scientists, is an anal perfectionist loner. Darryl is a mystical Afro-Amerindian "former ROTC member," his wife, Monique, a supportive helpmeet yearning to start a family. Craig is Darryl's best buddy. Lisa is career-motivated but caring. Whiny, insecure Phil, who looks at first to be an obvious "redshirt" -- the guy fated to die early, as in the old Star Trek episodes -- proves to have facets of both selfishness and selflessness. Relations among the cast involve a lot of nickname usage -- "Hoss," "Soccer Mom," "Big Dog" -- while a budding love affair between Jason and Lisa provides the requisite romance. Jumps in point-of-view among the characters -- sometimes disconcertingly between adjacent paragraphs -- frustrate our identification with any single hero.
The intelligent mantas also let us into their thought process, and Freedman generally manages to avoid the trap of anthropomorphism, providing insights into the environmental pressures the critters face and their natural urges.
In fact, Freedman's portrayal of the scientific process and of natural forces is the best thing about this book. In a day and age when "intelligent design" is touted as a respectable credo, a piece of pop entertainment that takes the time to uphold Darwin's thesis in readable fashion is to be heartily endorsed, even if the book speeds up evolution to a ridiculous rate.
Freedman's prose is serviceable, and he has a knack for using common objects to make the uncanny believable. For instance: "The closed mouth [of the ray] was the size of a snow shovel, with horns like stumpy soda cans sticking out on either side." But now and then his reach exceeds his grasp. Darryl is "the size of a professional athlete." Now is that a jockey, a golfer, a bowler or a quarterback?
The climax of Freedman's book is small-scale: one manta ray against six humans. Although he speculates on larger scenarios, he resolutely avoids depicting the global implications of his monsters, as John Wyndham did in The Day of the Triffids (1951), or even as Alfred Hitchcock did in "The Birds" (1963). Too bad.
For boldness of global scope, Freedman might have emulated an episode of "The Simpsons" in which humanity is deposed from its throne atop all creation and driven into an aquatic niche by vengeful, super-intelligent dolphins led by "King Snorky." In that one vignette, Freedman's entire thesis and plot are encapsulated with unforgettable humor. And you got to see Homer sock a bottlenose in the snout.
Reviewed by Paul Di Filippo
Copyright 2006, The Washington Post. All Rights Reserved.
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