The House of the Scorpion by Nancy Farmer

This book made me cringe. And cry. And laugh. And want to scream. And that, to me, is the sign of an excellent book. Farmer’s frighteningly possible imaginary story is an incredible creation. From the setting of Opium/Dreamland to the concept of mindless “eejits,” Farmer has done an excellent job of taking science to an entirely new eye-opening, bone-chilling level. I am always hesitant to read science fiction because I feel more inclined to read books that I find particularly relevant to my own life. However, after reading The House of the Scorpion, I have a newly found appreciation for the genre. Like Orwell’s 1984, Farmer’s novel forces us to face the things we are most afraid of—and makes them very realistic. Given the current state of science in our society it is not unlikely that cloning could become a part the world as we know it. All the issues Farmer broaches—cloning, illegal drug empires, dictatorships, exaggerated versions of Communism, and brain washing—make for an incredibly dense and intense novel. To top it off, she gives us a main character with a less-than-desirable identity who is going through the pains of puberty while trying to save his own life!
From the second I opened the book to the last sentence, I found myself cheering for Matt. He is an incredibly realistic teenage boy. He is simultaneously trying to find his identity, build his self-esteem, and attempt a romantic relationship, all while undermining and admiring authority figures. He is the ultimate underdog in the story and it is for that reason that he is so likeable. Not only did Farmer draw me in with the rapidly paced plot, but her vivid descriptions of the smells and sights of Opium and the treatment of the “eejits” elicited an unpleasant visceral reaction that erupted from my gut.
“The evil smell made Matt’s eyes water, and he could barely focus on the dense yellow sludge on the bottom…he threw himself off the horse and sucked desperately at the inhaler. His lungs filled with liquid. A terror of drowning swept over him, and he tried to crawl away from the trough. His fingers dug into the rotting fish-slimed oil” (172).

I really enjoyed this book because it made me think. It made me question the role of government and the issues surrounding cloning and drug wars. Is cloning moral? What is the goal of stem-cell research? Should the government play a role in science? To what extent?
It also helped me to realize that the issues teenagers deal with—dating, relationships, identity, culture, appearance, belonging, family, work, play, and so on, are completely timeless and have and will continue to affect teenagers in any era. She also does a wonderful job of showing the reader how Matt grows throughout the story. She does this explicitly by labeling the sections “Youth”, “Middle Age”, “Old Age”, “Age 14” and “La Vida Nueva,” but she also does this implicitly by slightly altering his language and endowing him with more mature thought processes as the story unfolds. At one point towards the end of the novel, Matt has begun to realize the possibility of escape. One such inner monologue follows:
“Matt felt light-headed. This meant that every single night the Keepers turned into zombies. This meant the factory was left unguarded. The power plant that electrified the fence was left unguarded. A big sign flashing FREEDOM lit up in Matt’s mind” (309).

I also appreciated the mixture of English and Spanish phrases and the incorporation of Mexican folklore into the text. This was also an excellent way to demonstrate the timelessness of cultural beliefs, language and lore.
If Farmer’s novel can intrigue an unwilling reader, I have no doubt it will be a perspective-altering read for anyone interested enough to dive into this novel.