The Southern Reach Trilogy: Series Review

I just finished reading the whole Southern Reach Trilogy by Jeff Vandermeer. I decided to read the whole trilogy before writing this, in part because I am participating in a read along on Jason Fuhrman's channel. Regardless of my reasons, I think reading the trilogy in this way helps shape my perspective for the whole story and especially each entry in the series. I will cover each entry on its own and also talk about how my thinking has changed as I continued on into the later entries.

Annihilation (No Spoilers)

Premise

The first entry is an incredibly interesting story in its own right, given the format that it takes. It is presented as a journal written by a woman who has been selected for an expedition into a place called Area X. This location is a mysterious place that has appeared from seemingly nowhere, and now an institution known as the Southern Reach is tasked with trying to understand it. The woman, known as the biologist, is now part of the twelfth expedition, entirely made up of women, hoping to uncover the secrets of the place.

Character and Story Format

While there are mysterious elements and secrets that are sought to be explained, the focus is primarily on the character of the biologist and the atmosphere of Area X. It explores who she is and her relationship with both her husband and the environment that Area X makes up. And this is an important factor to take into account when reading this story. It is a very character centric story.

Vandermeer makes use of the journal format to catch the reader off-guard in particular ways, namely how the information is relayed to the reader. This has multiple effects in that it goes beyond the order of delivery. The strongest effect is the reminder that the information is not necessarily the most accurate. The character has control over the information and can choose to omit anything she desires, or perhaps even add information.

There is also the question of why she includes certain sections in the journal.

And this helps highlight one of the more important aspects of the biologist's nature. There is a certain complexity at her center that I find to be fascinating. She is fairly aspy, or autism coded, which I rather related to—and this is shown through her connection to Area X and to her husband. What I love is that the journal format says something about her simply by being there. Namely, why is she including these details in the journal at all? It's nuances like this that stand out to me.

The Horror and the Atmosphere

The horror presented in this entry definitely leans toward the Lovecraftian end of the spectrum. There are so many strange elements to Area X that create this oppressive and disturbing atmosphere, and you feel so immersed that it threatens to override the character aspect that I talked about. Indeed, I am sure other readers might think the characters pale in comparison. The tower, the crawler, the wailing beast. Eesh.

Part of what makes the atmosphere so effective is that it comes from many sources. Namely, Area X and the questions it asks are only one half. The Southern Reach is also quickly shown to have questions attached to it, and the story has the potential to go in almost any direction.

Add to all of this, the unreliable nature of the story format, and we are left with a terrible sense of something being off.

Ending

The ending of the story simply left me frothing at the mouth for more. I honestly did not think the story was truly completed, at least not yet. In retrospect, the story does feel more complete, however, and by thinking it over now, the ideas and the feelings in their own right are so stark from the outset that I think it is sufficient. And this is partly what I meant about reading the series as a whole before writing any of my reviews.

Conclusion

Annihilation is a short but stark read about things that aren't right. I think it captures exactly what it sets out to do, combining character with a very strange environment and atmosphere that I don't think I will forget any time soon. I will give this entry an 8/10.

Authority (No Spoilers)

Premise

Authority is where the story takes a very strange turn. We are met by a completely different character, someone who finds himself in a very different environment, different for both the reader and the character. This is an immediate sign that the story is going to be very experimental, in its own way, and that it won't appeal to any average reader. What we are treated to is a very odd story that twists upon the entry that came before, but still maintains a level of consistency that is interesting to think on.

Character

This entry of the story is written in the third person. While the last entry was written in the first person, given that it was a journal entry, this is a more conventional story that has less of the uncertainty. Even still, given that the character is a kind of fish out of water, in a way, we never really get the impression that this character (Control) knows something that the reader does not.

Alongside the fact that this book is much longer than the first entry, Control seems to get much more development. His relationship with his grandfather and his mother are front and center, basically establishing his place in the story but also who he is as a person. There are some very interesting dynamics with his mother that show that his place in Authority is just an extension of his dynamic with his mother throughout his whole life.

Overall, I think the character elements are incredibly important to the entry. The series as a whole is very character focused, and one of the central elements of the entry is not just Control's character, but the relationships that are set up in this story.

Intrigue

There is a certain level of intrigue going on at the Southern Reach as Control steps in to take . . . control of the institution. Various characters—Grace, Whitby, Hsu, and some other guy I can't remember the name of—are introduced and they provide a level of mystery and conflict within the institution itself.

On top of this, Control does show a level of competence at this, at least insofar as he is getting a picture of the landscape in the beginning and trying to understand what he can do with each of the people there.

At the same time, I did not like how the story resolved itself in this context. Many of the threads were dropped. However, I am not saying that the story needed to have more intrigue in it. In fact, I'm thinking that the story ought to have less. The way this entry was written, it set up certain expectations for how the entry was going to go—and when it did not follow through, it left me disappointed.

I don't think the story is seriously disappointing in the context of the whole series, but I still have to consider how the story developed in the moment. Vandermeer should have set up the entry in a way that leaned less into the intrigue elements and more into its other elements.

Atmosphere

Speaking of other elements, this leads me to the next part, which might even be one of the more controversial in the entry and the series as a whole. It is one of the better aspects of this entry for me, however. The atmosphere is a very strange, yet interesting, continuation from the first entry. Annihilation was defined by creeping uncertainty and the feeling that something is just off. At the same time, Authority is also characterized by these factors, though from a completely different angle.

It is very strange. Authority is about bureaucracy, about just how incompetent and inefficient the Southern Reach has become, and for some reason, you get the same feeling that you do when you are with the biologist in Area X. Something is off. Part of this is because the Southern Reach itself was part of the creep factor in the first book, with the shady business that it was engaging in. (This is also a good example of increasing a reader's knowledge of a topic, while keeping their understanding at a distance). Part of it might also be the psychology of the main character. While this book is not in the first person, it is still third person limited, so his perceptions of events have a strong impact that filters the story through a lens.

One problem somewhat related to this is the way in which the Reach contrasts between this entry and the previous one. It seems more ominous in the first entry, while in this one, the whole butt of the joke is the Reach itself, namely with characters like the Voice. Speaking of the Voice . . .

Humor

There is also a strange kind of sense of humor in this story. I don't really remember it being in the first one, so it kind of caught me off guard. In retrospect, this kind of makes sense, as it continues into the third entry, but I still remember wondering what was going on in these parts of the story. Quite simply, I did not understand whether any of it was supposed to be humor in the first place.

I think the humor should have been cut. Even incompetent, the Reach can be ominous, if there is no weird humor about it.

Ending

The ending was quite disappointing for me, when I read it. Basically, I did not think the ending was built up to in any natural manner. It simply came out of nowhere, and it kind of reminded me of a lot of Stephen King's endings. I think The Stand is one example—though, to be sure, King's ending is infinitely worse. The comparison is also in terms of structure, rather than quality alone. Imagine setting up a chess board with the pieces all moved and ready to enter into the end game. Checkmate is upon him! And then someone slaps the board away . . . on the assumption that this is the actual climax of the game.

Wut?

The story could have been about incompetence in the face of an encroaching threat, but was that what we got? Not really.

There was also a tonal shift once the climax hits the reader. It did not really fit with the rest of the story, and that left it feeling odd and out of place. I was not engaged at all. The beginning was slower and felt like a descent into madness, while the end read more like a thriller. I think that speaks for itself.

Another critique of the ending was the seeming outcome for the characters overall, but I also admitted at the time that the third entry might compensate for this. I'll save that for later.

Conclusion

Overall, I thought the entry was a big meh, though it had some elements that were later compelling once the whole context of the series was taken into account. The shift in focus worked for me; the character was compelling; the intrigue was quite messy; the atmosphere was effective and also interesting in its application . . . to a point; and the climax and ending were by far the worst things about it. At the beginning, I thought I would prefer it over Annihilation, but that was ultimately not the case. Unfortunately, how a story comes together in the end is probably the most important part of any narrative. I think I will give it a 3/10.

Acceptance (No Spoilers)

Premise

Acceptance is the final entry to the Southern Reach Trilogy, where it brings together the two previous entries and simultaneously expands the scope of the story. We are treated to multiple storylines that take place in the far past, the near past, and also in the present—and there are also multiple ways in which the perspectives are conveyed to the reader, which adds to the variety and the flavor of the stories.

Perspective

Consistent with what I just mentioned, there were parts of the story where the narrative was written in the first person perspective, similar to how it was used in the first entry, which I liked. It was an interesting break and diversion from what was the main story. Not only that, but I found that this was one of the main elements that made me rethink the structure of the overall series. I mentioned before that I thought the series was essentially one big book, and that I think that it should be taken together as a whole.

At the same time, rethinking the structure doesn't really make me want to reevaluate the second entry. While some of the elements there do become better, it doesn't really change the fact that the climax and ending of the story was so lackluster. Even if it is part of a larger novel, novels still need to have internal structure to it; this is especially the case for longer stories.

There is also an example of the second person perspective in the story, and the character in question is also a very interesting choice, given how they were written in the previous entries. This sounds like a recipe for disaster. I haven't read many examples of this, and this is for obvious reasons. At the same time, I thought it worked in this entry quite well. The character was relatable enough for it to work, and I don't imagine the choice would have been right for any of the other characters. It would have especially not worked for characters who were controversial or vicious in nature. While the character in question had the potential for those things, we see an entirely new side of the character here.

Characters

This entry is multi-POV, unlike the two previous ones. It introduces the psychologist, the lighthouse keeper, and ghostbird into the story as perspectives, and this helps shake up the story and is one of the key ways in which the scope of the story is expanded. Best of all, I think most of the introductions are interesting in their own right and were needed in their own way.

The psychologist was enigmatic and threatening in the prior entries, so now that we are inside her head, she seems a whole lot more human. And given the whole timeline, her inclusion alongside many other characters in the story was incredibly satisfying. This kind of storytelling kind of reminds me of Watchmen, in a way, and I now feel inspired to add this kind of structure to one of my own books.

The lighthouse keeper is probably the most stunning inclusion, as he seems to be the most important character involved when it comes to understanding Area X. He is at the center of everything—and even some of the more esoteric aspects—are tied to his history. It also provides important context for the other characters, though I won't mention the specifics.

Finally, there is ghostbird, which I will admit seems to be the least important addition to the story. I wonder how relevant she really is to the story as a perspective. I think the ending might be the only reason she became one, as the other characters are easily sufficient to capture the story as it is written. And if she is needed, I think one of the established characters could have been put aside as a character perspective and replaced by ghostbird.

Unfortunately, I do have to mention that the way that the story concluded kind of wrapped up the characters in ways that I did not really appreciate. I do like how the psychologist was tied into the story. An exception. Control was an afterthought, which might have been the point—yet I think execution is more complicated than making the execution itself an afterthought. Ghostbird and Grace were just confusing. And the lighthouse keeper, for all he was, just flopped in the end. This is obviously disappointing, due to his immense importance to almost everything else.

I can't believe I'm about to say this, but this feels more like fun tidbits of information thrown out for fans who want to eat up added context. Think of the Silmarillion or Fire and Blood. The appendices in Lord of the Rings or Bakker's Second Apocalypse. Or perhaps a collection of short stories. Was any of this actually necessary?

Atmosphere

The atmosphere, in retrospect, is kind of disappointing. Overall, I felt like the final entry had lost some of the unsettling nature that the older entries had. This was not the case in every respect. The part where the cast finds the biologist is at least one exception. The prose is also well done. But exceptions aren't good enough.

I think at least one fairly representative example of this problem would be the so-called "tower." We barely get any of the feeling that the first entry had when the element shows up in the story again. And I don't mean the crawler. The "tower" was way more interesting to me than the crawler, while reading the first entry. In a way, the entry cares more about the characters and the character based "explanations," than capturing the atmosphere that had been set up. The lighthouse keeper being a former preacher "explains" things, yet doesn't do anything with it—and we already understood this explanation anyway.

Even when I liked the characters in question—the lighthouse keeper and the psychologist—I still don't think back on their stories with any memories regarding the atmosphere. And this is somewhat ironic with the lighthouse keeper, given the events that actually happened. But the strangeness that came in at the end was too abstract to really mean anything. I didn't feel it. I was expecting something thematically relevant to reveal itself, but it was strangely just the plot arbitrarily tying itself up, which I didn't need to see.

I think the problem ultimately comes down to focus (how the feeling of the story was balanced with the other elements), and the themes that feed into the atmosphere. Both of the prior entries had the focus on both the atmosphere and the character, and they were in perfect balance—yes, even with the second entry, ignoring the ending. For this final entry, I did not get that impression at all. The character elements are great to a point, but the atmosphere felt pretty lacking, and the character that is the story itself was lost.

Ending

I

The first part of the ending discussion will have to be about balance in stories like this, where the draw of the story is the underlying threat of the unknown. There are mysteries, and then there is the atmosphere. The latter depends on the very existence of the former. As such, resolving the mysteries will destroy the overall feeling of the story.

How do you resolve these stories, then? Perhaps there is no good resolution. Most of the time, these stories fail catastrophically, because they lean too hard in one way or the other. Some are worse than the others, and no one is ever satisfied.

But I have my own opinions.

On one end, we have American Horror Story, where the first two seasons explained way too much by the end. The stories begin with so many creepy, unexplained things. The atmosphere alone is so compelling. Until . . . the ending comes. Everything is essentially explained, and nothing feels as it had before. None of the elements have the power that they had.

On the other end, we have Lost. The story does not explain enough. There are so many questions asked, and so many expectations built up, that it becomes obvious that nothing will end up explained. This is obviously not satisfying. The other problem with Lost is that it also loses its atmosphere, which is why the ending is so loathed, but that is beyond the scope of this post, here.

At least one ending was satisfying to me, though I'll readily admit that it was not satisfying to everyone. And the series that I am thinking of is The Second Apocalypse, by R. Scott Bakker. The story, especially as it proceeds into its latter half, is probably one of the most disturbing and abstruse that I have read. There is so much mystery and latent horror baked into it, and I think it balances these elements to absolute perfection. Not only are there soul crushing reveals in the end, but the story loses none of the impact it once had. Much of this is because of the themes coming through, but what matters here is that the reveals don't explain everything. In fact, they ask questions in their own right. More importantly, they don't reduce the mysteries to the banal.

And this helps highlight a distinction that is relevant to this discussion. There are two kinds of answers to mysteries that stories can provide. One answer does what I mentioned above. It reduces the mysteries to mere banalities, e.g. regular forces in the world doing regular things. It stops being threatening. The other answer does the opposite. It ties the explanation to added assumptions (other questions), and consequently it maintains the uncertainty and uneasiness that made the story compelling in the first place. I think a better ending will rely on the second kind of answer more so than the first.

II

All of this rambling is basically a prologue for what I have to say about the ending of this final entry, and the whole series, as a result. Is the ending of Acceptance closer to American Horror Story, or closer to Lost? It certainly wasn't a Bakker ending.

The short answer is Lost.

The ending of the series doesn't really explain all that much. I know that some defenders of the series say that the story is more about the characters than the mysteries (they are right), but I don't think this is good enough for me. While I like much of what was done with the characters, I thought more attention should have been put on the atmosphere and the associated mysteries.

We learn nothing other than basic filler, like why the writing has the tone it does and the vague origins of Area X, though those questions were already explicitly entertained in the previous entries as if the answers were obvious. In other words, they weren't subversions or even reveals at all. I think the story would have worked much better if Vandermeer had provided the second kind of answer, where additional questions were asked and the latent horror was maintained.

III

An addendum would be a point about themes. While there are themes touched upon through the characters and other factors, I don't think there are any strong themes coming through that truly touch upon the atmosphere of Area X and the mysteries associated. Even if Vandermeer had provided the kind of explanation that I mentioned, they still don't have any thematic relevance attached. In the case of Bakker, while his answers ask questions in turn, and maintain the latent horror of his series, they also tie into important themes in the story. The answers provide some kind of thematic conclusion, if nothing else.

I'm not sure how this works with Acceptance. The origins of Area X wouldn't tie into any of the themes, anyway. One major theme is the environment and how Area X impinges on humanity, just as we impinge on the natural world. In that context, it doesn't matter where Area X comes from, whether it be gods or aliens or something else. Not unless these differing explanations have some sort of exploration in turn.

I guess "terroir" is worth mentioning, but that doesn't really negate anything that I mentioned. It may be that Area X is a unique confluence of factors. And? It's not sufficient. If their investigation of Area X was undermined by the concept of terroir, then that would be interesting—but that was not what happened. Vandermeer simply didn't engage with any thematically relevant explanations at all.

IV

I don't think we should underestimate the sheer importance of themes in stories like this.

Bakker's Consult does not have clear origins, yet we do understand that their underlying philosophy is materialism. They treat life as mere machines that can be constructed, they are the hedonic treadmill driven to the extreme, and they care about nothing but their fear of eternal suffering. This theme of materialism explains basically everything they do throughout the entire series. Not only this, but this kind of thematic logic helps develop and reveal all of the different factions over the course of the story.

"Where lies the strangling fruit—" Who cares? It's just mad ramblings.

What was Area X, other than a slapdash collection of creepy ideas?

V

The very ending of the book, namely the final events/scenes, made no sense to me. They just felt like events that were happening, rather than anything conclusive, even on a character level. In terms of plot, character, theme, everything—it felt like the story just stopped. Vandermeer seemed to realize that the story had to finish eventually, and so he ended it.

I was not seriously disappointed when I finished the story, but I was not excited either. Okay.

But in retrospect, I've kind of soured. My comment about whether any of the character work was necessary is downstream of this. I don't think the third entry really did enough with the story to really justify continuing the narrative. There were good ideas in both Authority and Acceptance. I liked the shift to the Southern Reach in Authority; I liked the narrative expansion in Acceptance. But their implementation had problems. I don't think the ideas really justified two whole books, and the ending essentially confirms all of this. What is the point of adding more to the story, if it only feels like fan indulgence rather than a completion of a narrative?

I'm nervous about Absolution.

Conclusion

I won't lie, this review of the final entry did not go the way I was expecting at all. I was thinking that the evaluation would be much more positive than it actually was. While I enjoyed the character foundations and I enjoyed the style and structure, these things either led nowhere or were more of interest to the writer in me, respectively.

More importantly, I was left thinking that the atmosphere, the themes, and the ending were incredibly lacking. And this is the ending of the whole series. The mysteries weren't acknowledged at all, so I am disappointed even as I don't expect all (or even most) of the answers to be provided. This is especially bad, as no thematic conclusions were drawn, either. Worse, the atmosphere was kind of lost in spite of this, which left almost nothing to be desired.

In fact, if this is what he had coming, Vandermeer should have stopped after Annihilation. I think I will give this entry a 3/10.