Foz Meadows's Reviews > Wither

** spoiler alert ** Wither is beautifully written, richly characterised and utterly compelling. From the first page, DeStefano's writing style pulled me in. She has the gift of being able to write poetically without turning her prose either purple or turgid, utilising some truly beautiful turns of phrase. The plot never lags, but nor does it race: rather, the reader is pulled along almost without realising it. I read the whole thing in essentially one sitting, having purchased it this afternoon; the experience has left me very eager for the next volume, and, indeed, to see what other stories DeStefano will eventually produce.

The central premise of Wither hinges on two facts: firstly, that a genetically induced virus now causes all women to die at age twenty and all men at age twenty-five; and secondly, that after a devastating third world war, the only continent left on Earth is North America. Taken baldly, these devices are the weakest part of the book. The reasons behind these things are never particularly explained - the war more than the virus - but though this is the sort of omission that usually irritates me, in this instance, it doesn't particularly matter. The age of death is a convention, but such an enthralling one in terms of the emotional execution that the practicality of how or why very swiftly ceases to matter: this is not a hard SF novel, where answering such questions is the point, but rather a poignant, gripping look at the consequences produced by such a calamitous scenario. Perhaps more importantly, however, the rest of the social aspects of the novel ring true: the Gatherers stealing girls to be wives for rich men, the daily operations of a decayed America, the workhouse culture of orphanages and the despair of a first-world country simultaneously railing against and defeated by its own mortality. As for the non-existence of other continents; this I was less happy about, but it's such a small part of the overall story (and in any case, my suspicions are that it might not be quite as true as everyone thinks) that I was willing to let it slide.

The horrific circumstances under which Rhine and her fellow sister wives, Cecily and Jenna, come to live with Linden and his monstrous father, Housemaster Vaughn, are where the story starts. Rhine is a wonderful narrator, and one I found to be completely believable. Her strength is internal, rather than being expressed physically. As she plots her freedom, the concessions she makes to earn Lindon's trust are always balanced by fears of complacency; that her long game to break free might be devolving into Stockholme syndrome. The air of luxurious captivity underwritten with menace that dominates her home life is perfectly rendered, as are the personalities of Cecily - thirteen, thrilled to be a wife, desperate to be a mother - and Jenna - bitter, watchful and compassionate, having already accepted the inevitability of her own death. Rhine herself is definitely established as a fantastic heroine. Her compassion and consideration for others are selfless and natural; she doesn't moralise and talk constantly about the right thing to do, and the narrative doesn't try and overplay her goodness by having the other characters constantly compliment her for it. When the staff help her at crucial moments, it's not because they're repaying any specific debts of kindness - she hasn't saved them from beatings or made any such grandiose heroic gestures, such things having been unnecessary - but because she is polite, and kind, and puts on no airs, which is a stark contrast to Jenna's diffidence and Cecily's constant demands. Her longing to return home and thoughts of Rowan, her twin brother, are never over-romanticised. She knows the kind of world she's going back to; that the world will still be broken. What she wants is for her and Gabriel, her servant-slash-love-interest, to be free.

Something I really appreciated about Wither was the timespan: the fact that the story takes place over nearly a whole year. The development of her relationship with Gabriel felt natural under those circumstances, as did the budding friendships with Cecily and Jenna. Most importantly, though, it lent an important depth and gravity to the circumstances surrounding Rhine's captivity. Over such a long period of time, we can understand why she fell into routines, why the few external outings were so important, why escape was so hard and why it was so necessary to wait, to be politic, to bide her time and find a way out. Her one hasty decision had real consequences, while her frustrations at being kept in a gilded cage - as well as the cage itself - were always well-illustrated.

A final point on Cecily, who ends up pregnant at thirteen and is the only willing wife. Her character is disturbing, because her youth makes us appreciate the gravity of the situation, but it is also, given the context, deeply realistic. DeStefano does an exquisite job of painting a girl at the junction of child- and womanhood, wanting so badly to be worthy of a pampered life whose perils she barely understands, then deepening in maturity as she slowly begins to understand the reality of the situation. Across the board, the characterisation is excellent; Vaughn, despite his evils, is no straw man, but rather a cold, calculating scientist for whom the ends justify the means, yet one who is still allowed moments of genuine fondness when talking about his son. Lindon is hopelessly naive, as well as being sheltered; the fact that Rhine can be compassionate towards him while still pitying him is very neatly done. Jenna, Rose, Gabriel, Deirdre: everyone feels like a real, whole person, possessed of their own motives, wishes and fears.

Wither is a skillfully crafted book, and one I highly recommend.