Book Review: “The Body Harvest” by Michael J. Seidlinger
Yuck!
Some 12 years ago, Brandon (son of David) Cronenberg released a film called Antiviral. The film’s premise involved a corporation that gave illnesses from celebrities to their devout fans. That’s right. People would pay to get sick from a disease that, say, Taylor Swift had — all to be closer to their idol, feeling every ounce of ache, pain, and chill that said idol had been stricken with. Well, Michael J. Seidlinger mines a similar premise in his new book, The Body Harvest. The story revolves around a young man named Will — who was fired from his Fortune 500 job for committing fraud, narrowly avoiding jail time in the process — and Olivia — a woman who was beaten by her parents and first boyfriend, all for wanting to pursue her dreams of being an artist. Will and Olivia live together, though their relationship is hardly romantic, though sexual. Their goal is to chase after viruses and get sick on them, as though getting sick were along the lines of a drug high. Then weird things start to happen: they come across an online community of similar people, and then, for no real reason, a stranger named Zaff breaks into their apartment to show them how their illness addiction is really a power play.
From there, the novel turns pro — at least in terms of getting weird. I’m told that I’m an intelligent person, and I would agree that I am to some extent. Still, I’m not as bright as the author of this book because I could not, for any reason, fathom what happens in the last half of The Body Harvest. It’s probably a good thing I can’t, so I don’t risk spoiling any part of this short read that will take less than three hours. All I can say about this work as a whole is that this is a work of transgressive horror. Still, there’s hardly any horror unless you count the exchange of various bodily fluids Will and Olivia share (not those kinds of fluids, you sick puppy!) to make themselves ill. This is one guh-ross book, and there were times when I was reading this when I threw up a little bit in my mouth. To that end, The Body Harvest is a little bit like a slasher flick: it’s the type of work university professors might study, but it’s also one that might not get critical acclaim at the same time. I shouldn’t be churlish, however, because Michale J. Seidlinger is an author who has garnered some level of critical acclaim. I read The Body Harvest on my Kindle, and three percent of the front of the book was taken up by blurbs from fellow authors or review publications for his previous book, Anybody Home? I haven’t read that book, but it turns out that it was partly inspired by the film Funny Games. I’m sensing a pattern emerging here, don’t you?
In any case, I don’t know what to make of The Body Harvest. I wanted to like it because I usually enjoy transgressive fiction. (However, my parents only shake their heads at me and wonder how their son could stomach such weird fiction.) I’ve finally found such a book that I couldn’t enjoy. The main problem is that it devolves into absolute nonsense once it finishes grossing you out. Again, maybe I wasn’t smart enough for this book — however, it may also be that this book isn’t all that great, either. After all, a true masterpiece teaches you how to read it, while The Body Harvest is just awash in sheer abasement. It keeps the reader at arm’s length and employs various techniques — such as the gross-out — to do so. I don’t know why this is so because The Body Harvest could have had something to say about COVID-19 and the role of anti-vaxxers during the pandemic. But no. The whole thing plays like a terrible acid trip. I must wonder if illicit substance use is crucial for understanding this book.
And so I must conclude something that my parents usually conclude when they encounter a book review written by yours truly that’s strange: this one wasn’t for me! I don’t know who this book is for. It has a very bitter, tart edge to it, so a loner or someone relegated to the outskirts of mainstream society might find solace in it. Maybe you have to be some masochist to enjoy this. I don’t know. All I know is that The Body Harvest is disturbing for the sake of being disturbing and should be given as wide a berth as possible by those who enjoy the pleasures of reading. Nothing here is worth spending the scant hours it takes to read it (those are nearly three hours I’ll never get back) and all it will do is make you feel bad about yourself for having read it. A few other words could be said about reading this book, but I can try: Hack! Spit! Blech! Barf! Those are just a few sounds that will emit from your mouth as you give this one a go. Don’t say you weren’t warned: The Body Harvest is best avoided at all costs.
Michael J. Seidlinger’s The Body Harvest will be published by CLASH Books on July 23, 2024.
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