(Published by Scribner)
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Gerard Donovan’s second novel continues his themes of exploring complex human issues. In it, a family are torn apart because of grief, poverty and dependence on prescription drugs. The first part – ‘Sunless’ – is actually the second part of the book and is told by Sunless, the son. He is involved in drug trials at Pharmalak, a large pharmaceutical company. In literary terms, Pharmalak is a cross between the dystopian complex in JG Ballard’s Super Cannes and the asylum in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Here, Sunless visits Dr Fargoon, the trial overseer, on a regular basis. At first, we don’t know why he goes there or what it all means but it becomes increasingly obvious that he is mentally ill. But do the drugs cause this? Or is he on the drugs because he was ill to begin with? The first section is surreal and steeped in Sunless’ paranoia, which Donovan captures brilliantly.
It’s not until the second part of the book entitled ‘Salt’ that we find out what’s going on. Without going into the plot too much as it would give the book away, a second son (Salt) is born, who dies at birth. This plunges the whole family into a collective downward spiral. After the child’s death, his mother is depressed and can only get through the day on a cocktail of drugs. His father becomes ill, and with not enough health insurance, signs himself and his son up for drug trails with Pharmalak. He does this on the condition that the family will always be looked after and that his wife will have enough drugs to alleviate her depression.
Although this part of the story is told by Salt, the dead baby, it’s more likely another aspect of Sunless’ personality. His declining mental state is brought about by a combination of parental neglect and taking his mother’s prescription drugs. Events in the first section of the book begin to make more sense as more and more is revealed about what happens to Sunless’ family.
The book has many parallels with Donovan’s critically acclaimed debut Schopenhaur’s Telescope. His characters are deliberately anonymous so that rather than entering the reader’s consciousness as specific people with individual traits – they become the everyman. They’re still highly memorable but Donovan avoids getting get bogged down in detail. Like Schopenhaur’s Telescope, the setting is very contained – the action only takes place at Pharmalak, in the house or at a lake – and this magnifies the claustrophobia of the situation. In a speech at the start, Sunless says: “I am Sunless. I am a dead man. I have a father and a mother. I never met them” and is never more reminiscent of the unnamed baker/teacher in Schopenhaur’s Telescope.
What Doctor Salt has in abundance that its predecessor lacks, is humour. There are several funny scenes in the book but this apocalyptic view of people enslaved by prescription drugs is never far away. There are plenty of biblical references and allusions to the ‘End Times’; Sunless is even convinced that Angels have stolen his baby brother. Donovan adds to this paranoid sense by adding conspiracy theories and the current ‘war on terror’ fears into the equation. Sunless says: “The terrorists are coming. That’s what they want you to think. How about nothing is happening. Just the government. Them. Keep the terrorists alive and kicking on every news programme, that’s the way you get to do your government searches.”
No doubt the big drug companies won’t like this book – especially not when Donovan gets into the cynical marketing of drugs, one of the most frightening elements of the book. At a Pharmalak conference, a delegate looks to a time when “There’s the Avon Lady, the Tupperware party, now get ready for the Ritalin coffee group, the Elevax bookclub.” At the same conference, a new marketing project is introduced involving the use of fairytales (as they’re out of copyright) to target children through advertising. They cite Jack and the Beanstalk and claim that Jack could have ‘Pervasive Development Disorder, ADD, Oppositional Defiant Disorder and Conduct Disorder’ because he disobeyed his mother and went up the beanstalk. Pharmalak think it will work because “everyone trusts a fairytale”.
In terms of form, Donovan has again taken risks, but there is still the same clinical sense in his style that keeps the reader slightly at arms length. This sparseness may be due to the fact that he began his literary career as a poet. I like the way he writes, but I think it is an acquired taste. Fundamentally, it’s a very brave book that has a lot of relevant if controversial things to say. It is complex, funny and has a depressing message of drug companies peddling ‘a pill for every mood’.
The DJ 
Also by Gerard Donovan
Schopenhauer’s Telescope
