The Martian by Andy Weir is the type of book that should make one feel smarter after reading. Yet strangely enough, I only felt depressingly dumber. Throughout the course of this book, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander over my own chances if I were in the midst of similar circumstances. If I woke up stranded on Mars, with a metal pole sticking through me, with a space suit low on oxygen, I would probably be throwing up my hands, sighing regretfully, “well… life was fun.” Of course, I’d first recite the pledge of allegiance, pray my last prayers, and, if I had time, maybe deliver my eulogy to vast space. (I wouldn’t go down without dignity, mind you.) But that would be immediately followed by my abrupt bleh (death) as I collapse to the martian floor in a display of drama accurate to the adjusted gravity for Mars. On the other end of the spectrum, however, there’s Mark Watney who rebuilt a space system, created water by repurposing complex machines, and traveled 3200km across an unsurvivable Martian wilderness. It’s rather emasculating to be honest.
During my read of this book, I couldn’t help but ponder NASA’s massive budget to bring Watney back. Naturally, this brings up the inherent moral question of What is a human worth to save? Being how it was at the time that I read mostly at night, I fell asleep mid-page and fell face first on top of the book. This sudden spasm of sleep prompted my dreams to such philosophical depths that I almost shook hands with the abyss. (Just like that famous quote, “And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee. And if thou try to shake hands with the abyss, it will come quite close to shaking hands with thee.” — Nietzsche) When I woke up, I concluded $37.63. That’s how much a human life is worth. According to logic. By this standard, NASA was far over-budget. But I won’t judge, they were doing it for the morale of the world.
After brushing up a little on the history of Andy Weir, it was an interesting discovery to find that he wasn’t a full-time writer. Instead, he was just a genius in the field of science who decided to write a book. This is understandable due to the sheer mountain of complicated science that he piled up on every page, so much that I wonder how in the world that would be fun to write at times. Naturally — my mind is weird — I thought of how much frustration people like that might provoke in psychiatrists. Illustration: The science buff sits on the comfy patient chair, sweating with the weight of a million chemistry equations balanced on his brows. After a look-over of his patient, the psychiatrist forces a stiff smile, monotoning, “Tell me your feelings.” The science buff holds his head, “Can I really? You sure?” More hesitant now, but still resolute, the psychiatrist affirms, “Yes, tell me everything.” The science buff: “If you say so… You see, my feelings can only be explained by an imbalance of CO2 in my blood and maybe a premature dawn of the wrong hormonal tide. You see, every time I blink, a little bit of my spinal fluid drains from my back to my toes by a process formerly called FFFGGJUFHJ. Now we call it F for short. But it’s happening to me, and it affects my cognitive functioning and my ability to comprehend capitalism because of the resulting arm-hair shedding and this weighs on my overall mood like…..” The psychiatrist quits the next day.
On a little more serious note, in conclusion, The Martian was a thoroughly entertaining, unapologetically intelligent, and relentless ride of a read. It had suspense, humor, science, a strong plot with a strong finish, as well as great, dynamic characters. Its themes were universal and relatable despite its science fiction backdrop, arriving at a very feel-good perspective of humanity’s connective worth and focusing on the common good in all of us. The impressive length of man’s survival instincts has long been a celebrated trope, and Weir takes this to new heights (literally and figuratively). Though, the fact remains… I would’ve just wasted my last breaths reciting Kumbaya or playing a speed round of chess with my tap-dancing space monkey, Arnold.
Content Guide: There was a good deal of language (probably a few dozen F-words, as well as a smattering of milder words) and a few crass comments. Other than that, it was pretty clean.