Andy Weir’s first novel, The Martian, has gotten a lot of attention lately, mostly because it’s nerve-wrackingly realistic. It’s about a man living in an environment that’s trying to kill him every second of his existence. And that’s on the good days, when his own mistakes don’t make things worse.
It’s very well-written, and it’s not a fluffy, easy read. It shows what a human would have to do to survive on the surface of Mars for years, when his air and food were only meant to last months. There’s a lot of math involved.
I saw a few eyes glaze over at that last sentence, but you have to trust me; if you’re not a math person you’ll still enjoy the book because Weir explains everything so clearly, even the complex chemistry. Plus his main character is likeable, interesting, and pretty hilarious. It’s worth getting through some of the trickier sections.
(Seriously you guys: lots of math.)
Originally self-published in 2012 and then released by Crown Publishing this past February, The Martian takes place in the very near future; astronauts have made it as far as Mars, have even visited there several times, but humanity isn’t comfortable there yet. Space suits are less bulky, equipment a little more advanced, but everyone is still one suit-puncture away from an ugly death. Or rather, from a supposed ugly death, which is what happens to Mark Watney.
When the astronauts have to quickly abort the mission in an emergency, Mark is carried away by the storm, with a piece of debris that half impales him and destroys his bio-monitor. His teammates can’t find him, and when the signal from his suit stops they think he’s dead. So they leave. Mark is (fortunately?) still alive, but now totally alone on Mars.
This is where the author shines best: the personal log Mark writes. He talks to himself, has imaginary conversations with his friends, and throws profanity all over the place, mostly at the planet for repeatedly trying to kill him.
(It’s probably a good time to mention that this isn’t a young adult book. I’ve been reading a lot of YA titles lately, so it’s kind of refreshing to see the F-bomb sprinkled all over the place.)
Mark is an optimist, a scientist, and a smartass (not necessarily in that order.) His humor is what gets the reader through the trickier spots. He’ll be in the middle of explaining exactly how he’s going to rig the land rover to cover fifteen times the distance it was built for, and then follow it up with some smartmouth comment about how he’s an astronaut and a scientist who has to resort to duct tape, explosions, and blunt objects to get anything done.
I used a sophisticated method to remove sections of plastic (hammer), then carefully removed the solid foam insulation (hammer again.)
He’s also trying not to go out of his mind, because there are still a lot of hours spent sitting around when you’re the only one on the planet. Luckily his former teammates accidentally left behind things to read and watch: Agatha Christie novels and reruns of 1970’s television.
After that, Mark will be describing for the log the process of bypassing the water reclaimers, and then go off on a tangent about The Dukes of Hazard (“…why doesn’t Rosco just go to the Duke farm and arrest them when they’re not in the car?”)
I never found it cheesy or silly, I always thought it was kind of endearing; Mark makes fun of every one of the shows, but they’re his lifelines to humanity, and obsessing over weird plot points keeps him sane.
Mark ends up being one of the most likeable main characters I’ve read recently. He’s not perfect, but he’s well aware of it. His biggest flaw is probably impatience, and he’ll beat himself up over a lot of his mistakes. But then he’ll get over it. He doesn’t waste time in pity parties, but he’s too much of a clown to ever take himself very seriously. And he never gives up hope of making it back to Earth, even when there really isn’t any hope left.
The book gets dark. There’s a contingency plan for survival that’s mentioned at one point, and it startled me. It made perfect sense, it would absolutely work, and you’d never want to use it. Ever. I mean ever.
But the humor always pops back in, because the author is aware of how much science and math is involved in the story. Andy Weir is a self-proclaimed space nerd, and this book is exhaustively well-researched. And halfway through any realistic look at technology and schematics and math, Mark will break in with some off-hand comment.
Also, I’ll lose half a liter of water per day to breathing until the humidity in the Hab reaches its maximum and water starts condensing on every surface. Then I’ll be licking the walls. Yay.
I was describing the book to my Mom, about how he has to rig things together, try to make plants grow, build new shelters, and fix things with rocks. She said it sounded a lot like Swiss Family Robinson, and she’s exactly right. It’s Swiss Family Robinson in space: fewer tree houses, more vacuum.
You don’t have to understand all of the science involved. (I certainly didn’t. I got a lot of it, but not everything.) And certainly anyone who enjoys detailed schematics and chemistry will enjoy the plausibility of everything in the book.
Even if you don’t, though, the near-misses and humor will hook you in, along with Mark’s strange kind of optimism.
Things aren’t as bad as they seem.
I’m still fucked, mind you. Just not as deeply.