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Nekropolis
by Maureen McHugh
(HarperCollins Eos, $14.95, paperback, 272 pages, 1 November 2002;
ISBN: 0380791234.)
In Maureen McHugh's imagined future, a fundamentalist theocracy
has sealed off Morocco from the rest of the world. The Nekropolis is
where the poor live, a densely packed environment from which there is
virtually no way out, especially for women. One possible avenue of escape
is to be jessed: to undergo a medical intervention that turns you into
a slave by neurologically binding you to your owner.
Nekropolis is the story of one such woman, Hariba. In the wealthy
household where she is indentured, she meets another slave, the seductive
Akhmim. He is a harni, a genetically engineered humanoid species. In
the Muslim society of McHugh's novel, harni are even lower on the social
ladder than women, referred to as "it," regardless of their gender.
McHugh's novel unfolds delicately, reflecting the naive fragility of
its protagonist. The novel begins with Hariba. Despair and loneliness
drive her to break the taboos that bind her, propel her into a life
of crime and exile. Before returning to Hariba in the final chapter,
McHugh shifts the narrative to the people close to Hariba, those whose
lives are violently disrupted because of her personal rebellion.
Nekropolis offers no pat answers to the questions it raises.
Are Hariba's actions justified? Did she balance her responsibilities,
to her community and to herself? Are we slaves to our cultural upbringing?
Is escape possible? Or even desirable?
Nekropolis is a haunting meditation on desire, escape, identity,
and transformation. It's imbued with profound empathy -- portraying
the successive narrators with equal integrity and depth -- and is all
the more moving because it takes unexpected paths, never resorting to
the obvious. McHugh's creation resonates long after the last page is
turned.

Originally published, in slightly different form,
in The Montreal Gazette, Saturday, 12 January 2002.
Claude Lalumière's Fantastic Fiction
is a series of
capsule reviews first published in the Saturday Books
section of The Montreal Gazette.
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