Review: Relic

I like to watch people dig their own graves.

Not literally, of course, just literarily—that is, I like books where the main characters have to fend off a catastrophe of their own creation.

At first glance, monster horror might not seem like the best candidate for this type of tale. After all, if the main plot revolves around simply killing or escaping from a monster, what character development is really necessarily, beyond "developing" the knowledge of how to survive? Jurassic Park would beg to differ. Crichton's most famous novel is a masterwork of the genre in many ways—world-building not the least of them—but especially because the story is never just about the dinosaurs. It's about human folly, hubris, and the humbling power of Nature. The protagonists create the object of their own destruction, make their situation far worse through their persistent arrogance, and—finally—must learn some valuable lessons if they are going to survive. In short, they dig their own graves.

But this review isn't about Jurassic Park. It's about Relic, the sci-fi/horror novel by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, published just five short years after Crichton's. Now, Relic isn't just some small-fry knockoff. It was was a New York Times bestseller. It was published by Tor, one of the preeminent fantasy imprints. Its cover even sports this glowing review from Booklist: "Far above Crichton's Jurassic Park." This later is the reason I began my review with mention of Jurassic Park. Also because I heartily disagree.

Character development. It's something Jurassic Park has in spades, something that elevates Crichton's novel above the level of mere entertainment into a true classic, one that makes us ask questions about the world we live in and the assumptions we live by every day. Relic, on the other hand, has character development in... spoonfuls. Maybe. Closer to a teaspoon than a tablespoon, if we're getting picky. Let me explain.

The Ian Malcolm that walks into Jurassic Park isn't the same Ian Malcolm who walks out. Nor is the Alan Grant or the Ellie Sattler. Hell, even the annoying kids grow up a little. But the Margo Green that walks into Relic is pretty much the same Margo Green who walks out. Sure, she's a little more certain about her career choices. Dr. Frock is a little more prepared to write his next book. Smithback is a little bit richer. But ultimately, they're not really much different than they were before the story began.

And hey, I don't mean to malign Relic or its best-selling status. It's an entertaining book, it really is. Though I had some problems with the POV shifts and the generally distant, quasi-cinematic narrative voice, the action itself was really good. There was high tension and fantastic visuals. I could see it making a great blockbuster movie.

But, at the end of the day, there was nothing for me to really sink my teeth into. The characters felt flat and one-dimensional. Defeating the monster Mbwun didn't really take much effort besides putting together the puzzle pieces as outlined by DNA analysis and anthropological journals. Yes, he was a scary monster. But was he the embodiment of all our heroes' worst tendencies, come to life? Absolutely not.

And he couldn't have been, because our heroes didn't really have any worst tendencies, unless you count some relatively petty materialism on the parts of Smithback and Kawakita. The division between protagonists and antagonists was pretty black and white, too—the authors helpfully explained to us that protagonists all warmed to each other pretty quickly, while the antagonists seemed immediately and inexplicably revulsed by the "good guys." I mean seriously, what professional in their damn mind would put thousands of lives at risk over a petty (and seemingly unfounded) grudge? I wish we'd seen some drastic and misunderstood act that would have thrown the reputations of our protagonists into doubt, rather than having all their warnings rejected for no other reason than "the guy in charge is an a**hole."

Ultimately, our protagonists got in trouble because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They worked their way out of trouble by getting into the right place at the right time—and doing a little old-fashioned detective work.

There's nothing terribly wrong with this sort of plot. With a frightening enough monster and an action-packed plot, it would have kept me reading even if I hadn't had to finish it for class. But ultimately, I don't think it'll stick with me. I won't think back on it years from now, like I continue to do with Jurassic Park. I won't discuss its thematic implications or talk about the characters' choices as if they were real people.

I could nitpick other elements of the book and its world-building (like why the Callisto Effect seems to take such a backseat in the final plot resolution after seemingly being introduced as The Important Theory of the story, or why a creature adapted specifically to rely on an herbivorous diet would develop such vicious predatory features on the "off-chance" its chosen food source was unavailable) but ultimately, these questions don't bother me nearly as much as the flatness of the characters. I feel I've learned an invaluable lesson from this book, though perhaps not the one the authors intended me to take away: character development, character development, character development.


Citation: Preston, Douglas and Lincoln Child. Relic. Tor, 1995.