Spoiler laden book review...
--
Cold Skin creates a wonderful, palpable atmosphere. From the moment the
protagonist sets foot on the island, a feeling of cold and oppressing
humidity sets it, penetrating the flesh. The image in my mind is of an
inhospitable, barren landscape. I imagine the island devoid of colour -
the only breach in the monotonous grey being the shards of broken glass
mounted as armour in the walls of the lighthouse.
The discovery of the abandoned cottage and the first encounter with
Gruner, the lighthouse keeper, serve to increase the sense foreboding.
At this point, I was expecting a slow unfolding mystery, but was instead
was plunged into a nightmare. The sense of dread turns to horror when
evening falls on the island and our protagonist is lucky to survive an
almost overwhelming attack.
One reviewer compared the novel to HG Wells, presumably recalling the
subterranean, monstrous Morlocks of The Time Machine. The comparison
that came to my mind is Lovecraft and the aquatic horrors of the Cthulu
mythology. The monsters of Lovecraft are, however, the minions of an
ancient and god of indescribable evil and power - their motivation being
the dominion of the world and the enslavement of mankind's very soul.
The monsters of Cold Skin, the Sitauca, struck me more as a force of
nature. Their attacks on the island comparable to that of a violent
storm. At first the attacks seemed to be impersonal, as if they were
african army ants consuming everything in their path.
Although we never have the motivation of the attacks clearly explained,
the mere idea that these creatures could even motivation is part of the
exploration of one of the themes of the novel. One of the themes is an
allegory of war and the dehumanisation of the enemy I'm still trying to
work out why the author chose to set the book in post World War I. At
first I was thinking the novel drew parallels to the Great War. The move
I think about it though, I see stronger parallels to colonial histories
- in particular I am reminded of Australia's & North America's history
of invasion. English settlers in Australia declare the country to be
Terra nullius - empty land; uninhabited territory - the aborigines not
considered sufficiently advanced to claim a stake on the land.
The flip-side of the theme of dehumanisation is empathy for "the other".
The introduction of "the mascot", Aneris, is the first step in taking
the novel beyond that of a survival tale. Through her, the protagonist
and the reader begin to empathise with the Sitauca, at first in the way
that one might sympathise with a slave, or even a pet. The sympathy
deepens as the protagonist meets and befriends the children. This leads
to a temporary truce which is eventually spoiled by Gruner's incapacity
of dealing with the Sitauca as anything other than an enemy.
Despite Gruner's demise, our protagonist despairs of making peace and
effectively becomes Gruner; the arrival of the replacement weatherman
closing the circle. This part of the novel was the most unsatisfying for
me. With a truce so tantalisingly close, couldn't the Sitauca have
distinguished between the motivations of the two men or, at the least,
be given a chance to? Wasn't the protagonist's relationship with Aneris
substantially different from that of Gruner's? Was it also inevitable
that he would beat her?
The protagonist's sexual relationship with Aneris is a key element of
the plot and certainly the most disturbing. I'm wondering what the
author is trying to achieve here. One part relates back to the theme of
humanising and dehumanising the enemy. This starts with seeing Aneris as
an object of sympathy - and later as an object of passion, affection and
even what is described as love. Another part is certainly to horrify
the reader. The emotions it provokes, for me at least, were ones of
shock and disgust at the men's behaviour. In part it is a reaction to
the ideal of zoophilia. In part it is revulsion at the men's
exploitation of this poor creature. This view is deliberately muddied by
the protagonist though: we are led to believe that Aneris is a willing,
or at least an indifferent, participant in these trysts. And the
protagonist claims growing feelings for her.
Another aspect of the men's relationship with Aneris is that their
absolute dominance of her - both physically and sexually - gives them a
power over the Sitauca in a way that their closely fought battles don't.
Again I'm reminded of colonists and that sexual relationships between
them and native slaves was far from unknown. This perspective may, in
part, explain how the protagonist could be violent towards Aneris
despite, or even because, of his feelings for her. This gives him a way
to vent his impotence at the enemy and express anger at himself for his
growing sympathy towards both Aneris and the Sitauca.
Two final aspects of the book remain unclear in my mind. They may be
related. One is a repeated reference to the Frazer's study of religion
and mythology "The Golden Bough". I haven't read it, so can't comment,
although it was recommended to be just last week. The second aspect was
the ending and final conversation with the new arrival. The protagonist
describes the island as being a choice and that the new man could leave
by walking across the water. Another reviewer commented that "Inner
exiles are selfmade, thus the worst". Something for more thought...
