Book: Frozen
Author: Carla Tomaso
Publisher: Carma
Publishing
Back in the day, as a twitchy little dyke-in-training, there were
three pieces of celluloid noir that rocked my corn-fed world.
Surely there were much scarier
movies out there, like The Exorcist
and Wait Until Dark, but these three
clearly made the Skeeve-O-Meter in my head ping so hard it nearly broke through.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but what I
was reacting to was an innate childhood fear of blind adherence to convention,
being pushed into doing something otherwise inconceivable, and selfishly doing
something because I could, not because I should.
Let me take a minute to explain the last one
because it’s oddly relevant to this review: The H. G. Wells classic, The
Island of Doctor Moreau was written less than forty years after Darwin’s
On the Origins of Species. Throughout the story, the author examines the
qualities that separate humans from animals, and eventually comes to the
conclusion that we may not be as different as we appear. In fact, Wells
suggests that human and bestial qualities rest under the surface of all
life, and only the shell of our flesh separates the species.
Talk about grotesque variations on a theme….
While H. G. Wells might have considered it “an
exercise in youthful blasphemy,” The
Island of Doctor Moreau addresses a wide array of themes that are every bit
as relevant today as they were in 1896.
Where some of these themes, such as the necessity of laws in society,
the need for conscience in human nature, and survival of the fittest, get to
the very root of humanity, other themes get to the true nature of what happens
when humans do things because we can, and not because we should. These include:
- Identity – While identity is inherent in each human and animal, when it is intentionally damaged or forcibly removed, it will result in the evolution of societal monsters.
- Nature versus nurture – To what extent can behaviors truly be modified as the result of positive or negative nurturing?
- Science and ethics – Science can radically and profoundly change human life, but at what point does what humans can do radically outstrip our understanding of what we should do?
Carla Tomaso’s Frozen, is a psychological tilt-a-whirl full of rich clichés, lusty taboos, and jacked-up science that speaks to the very essence of those themes presented in The Island of Doctor Moreau.
Elizabeth is torn between the joy of being
free from her mother, and the yawing abyss of never having her love. But, hope
springs eternal. Believing she can raise the mother she always wanted, Elizabeth
brings the young Helen home. While the power dynamic between mother and
daughter is altered, very little changes between the two. Helen, most certainly doesn’t change in
spite of the nurturing Elizabeth offers. In many ways she’s more narcissistic, more
entitled, and more manipulative now that she has the perceived innocence of a
child and the experiences and knowledge of an adult. As Elizabeth’s life spirals further and further back into
the familiar patterns of frustration and inadequacy, Helen spirals further and
further into the worst possible version of herself.
Mostly.
By the end, one of the two women is finally
able to chew a hole through her psychoses, and realize change through the
barest hint of insight into the harsh realities of identity, nature, and
frontier ethics.
The other? Yeah, well, not so much.
Frozen is a smart-mouthed, fast-paced
tragicomedy full of literary left turns, bent anathemas, and twisted
malfeasance that defy all manner of natural order. The plot is fresh and irreverent, and full of gay and
straight societal taboos. Love is
manipulated, fidelity is fleeting, honor is inconvenient, dead bodies are
melted in vats of noxious chemicals, and cats are tortured, but not killed.
There’s also lots of shopping.
The characters of Elizabeth and Helen are well
rounded, richly conceived, and delightfully flawed at all levels. They offer a
familiar point/counterpoint, and the pendulum of power between the two swings
wildly, often at the most unexpected times. As the protagonist, Elizabeth is
dynamic in a surprisingly slow, plodding fashion, while Helen, the static,
antagonistic anti-hero, rolls through the story like a vainglorious flash
flood.
The secondary characters enter stage left;
deliver their lines on cue; and disappear until their next scene. For the most
part, they enable the flaws within each of the central characters, while also
managing to offer wonderful snippets of conventional and not-so-conventional
wisdom. Minerva, Elizabeth’s ex, floats around the periphery of the twisted
mother/daughter relationship, symbolically representing the “push me pull you”
aspects of their toxic association.
Carla Tomaso isn’t like most authors
populating the Lesbiverse, and Frozen
isn’t your stereotypical piece of lesbian fiction. This novel addresses some pretty heavy themes, all the while
poking convention, deviant behavior, and societal norms in the belly with a
souvenir spoon. I suspect that
readers looking for happy-go-lucky romances chock full of saucy sex scenes most
likely won’t find a love match with this one, but adventurous readers who love the
snap of sarcasm will have a ball with this gutsy page-turner.
Frozen was a
surprisingly delicious treat, and I’m giving it a solid 4.9 out of 6.0 on the Rainbow
Scale.
Great review, Salem. It seems that the author might also be drawing nature vs. nurture parallels for sexual orientation? This is as much a great essay topic as it is a plot for a novel. Thanks, as always, for your insights.
ReplyDeleteI loved this novel. Ms. Tomaso is a skilled, accomplished writer and this book represents years of patient, persistent re-writing until it finally emerged as this wonderfully-crafted finished product.
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