In the early 21st century,
the corporate world assumes control of a failing America under the name of a
new political party, the Conglomerates, whose platform is aimed at rewarding
the economically productive nuclear family. Thomas Nevins' dystopic debut
grasps at depicting the personal effects of a totalitarian government in
action—one peculiarly obsessed with family values, at that—but it's
ultimately captive to its own airtight premise.
Christine Salter is
considered a success of the new single-party system, as the director of genetic
development at a lab where biologically perfect children are manufactured to
benefit the state. When one of Christine's employees is pursued by the state
for deliberately allowing "problem" children to skip DNA tests, he disappears
underground, and she confronts the ramifications of her work, apparently for
the first time. Meanwhile, her mother has taken advantage of two new national
programs to sell out her retiree parents, known as "Coots," and pay the state
to remove her other daughter, Ximena. Christine's grandparents, George and
Patty Salter, are duly separated from their valuables and stranded in Arizona
in a state-provided shack with oatmeal rations and mysterious visitors at all
hours, while Ximena joins the society of Dyscards, a group of teens and rebels
who have created their own "Mole People"-style society in the New York City
subway system.
The Age Of The
Conglomerates
relies on policies, not technologies, to entrap its citizens, with the help of
basic electronic surveillance and ID bracelets. (Apparently, Social Security
numbers will outlive Social Security.) But Nevins' depiction of the corporate
takeover is simultaneously vague and totalizing in such a way that once these
heroes are wound up, there's nowhere for them to go. At the point where the
simultaneous worlds of the Cootsland camps and the Dyscards' settlements have
been fleshed out, the third piece of Nevins' puzzle—the love story that's
supposed to animate Christine into questioning her allegiance to the
Conglomerates—is forced to bear more weight than it can possibly hold,
especially when she and her paramour have exchanged little more than text
messages. A subplot about the Conglomerates' parallel efforts to digitize the
money supply and the emergence of a cash-based black market is a cheerful
anachronism, but it's fobbed off onto minor characters without really affecting
the protagonists' journeys. Intriguing but inert, The Age Of The
Conglomerates
can't be faulted for painting an overly rosy picture. Instead, it dully bears
down to grind out all hope.