The Collector by Laura Kat Young

(Titan Books, 2023)

Reviewed by John Dodds

If there were ever to be a science fictional equivalent to Ken Kesey’s great novel, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest Laura Kat Young’s The Collector fits the bill perfectly.

I can honestly say this is one of the very best science fiction/horror novels I have read for some time. And while I am always a little cautious about over-praising, in my view this novel stands on a par with classics like Orwell’s 1984 and Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange. Yes, it is that good.

Living in dystopian times as we are now, it’s not a great leap to see the plausibility of the author’s bleak future. The society in The Collector is one that does not tolerate depression, anxiety, grief, dementia and other conditions that affect individual’s so negatively. Not that we should blithely accept them, either, but at least we try to support through medical interventions, talk therapy and so on. But in this society, the approach is to erase the mind and memories, resetting it to something like a blank slate, with the idea of them becoming more productive members of society.

The main character is Lt. Dev Singh, a Collector. His job, before individuals are reset, is to interview them and collect memories, sometimes only one key memory, for the archives. The idea is to create an eternal record so that “if hopelessness and despair were someday eradicated, the memories would be given back.” He uses an old tape recorder, and the tapes are later processed, transcribed into text and saved, then the tapes themselves are destroyed.

Early in the novel, one of Dev’s subjects, kills himself in Dev’s presence by repeatedly slamming his head against a glass door, just before the Resetters arrive. We learn that others have committed suicide, too, to avoid the process of being reset, and a recent event involved a mass suicide.

Dev has a relationship of sorts with the woman who transcribes his tapes, Shay. The relationship is a tenuous one, but the pair do care for one another. Part of Shay’s role is to ensure Dev is doing his job properly, which puts an edge into their relationship and, indeed, Dev does not feel enough trust in Shay to reveal his own secrets, such as how he himself is feeling anxious and sad and that he keeps a journal of his encounters and his own thoughts and feelings, hidden in a panel in the wall of his apartment room.

Of course, The Bureau, the controlling organisation, finds out about Dev and his secrets, and he is taken to a The Sanitorium to “recover”. Amid the politeness, the hollow well-meaning words and behaviours of his captives, Dev is subjected to a range of tortures, such as being asked questions about how he is feeling, and when he does not give the answer they require he is given extreme electrical shocks. He is also isolated, given a variety of pills and invited to group meetings with fellow inmates. This is where is starts to feel rather like One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, not to mention a brutal Victorian asylum.

There is a sense of dread and potential threat from the early stages of the novel, which becomes reality in the second part. The unrelenting suspense and horror is a triumph of dark imagination, and I truly felt for, and empathised with, Dev’s plight.

It’s no great leap of imagination to see The Bureau as a version of our own institutions of church and state (government) and what could be seen as objectives of power and control, notwithstanding the positive elements that broadly support our society.

It should tell you a lot about the author and her feelings too that, in the acknowledgements, she gives the telephone contact details for the USA’s Suicide Prevention Line and the UK’s Samaritans.

I would definitely nominate The Collector for a Nebula Award.

Review from BSFA Review 23 - Download your copy here.