This is a very good, but very dark and disquieting science fiction novel by Effinger. I suspect some of the most introspective and uncomfortable sections were somewhat autobiographical. There are some scenes of (dark) humor, but ultimately it's kind of hopelessly Dystopian, albeit from an unreliable narrator. It features Sandor Courane, a ubiquitous character for Effinger in the spirit of Michael Moorcock's Jerry Cornelius. He fails as an athlete, as a science fiction writer, and as a factory drudge before being sent to a distant planet for rehabilitation and a fresh start. It's one of those books that'll make you think but bring you down.
A bittersweet and unique take on an escape-from-prison novel -- somewhere between Papillon, Handling the Undead (John Ajvide Lindqvist) and nearly every SF novel about a renegade computer-driven oligarchy. The narrative is rather straightforward and simple: US schlub, Sandy Courane, is offered 3 occupations to ingratiate himself as a stand-up citizen of Earth. He fails at becoming a European basketball player, a Science Fiction novelist (his first novel, Space Spy, gets remaindered before it even hits the shelves), and lastly, a screwman on an assembly line in Tokyo. Instead of the computer-hive, TECT, rehabilitating him on Earth, he is sent off to a distant planet, Planet D, where there is a lone mansion on the red plains where other human failures try to eek out a new existence. Is it a prison? A rehab center? A social experiment? A viral lab? Only problem is that once on the planet, a virus infects each inhabitant with a slow and brutal form of forgetfulness. Where does it come from? The random fishfruit plants, the alien soils, the creatures that they farm, one in which resembles an obese rhino reveling in mud and its own viscous waste? The possibilities are confounding and downright bleak.
Rarely have I read a book so hauntingly detailed about Alzheimers -- characters come and go in an exposed narrative that is rooted against timeline -- one moment a plan is in place to conquer TECT, and the other moment, lost in nebulous thoughts and forgetting what your real name even is. Also, it's a fine 'ensemble' piece with humor and heart, and while it does suffer from copious conversations with the computer TECT, a wiseass in their own right, Effinger has created a novel that transcends its gimmicks. Did I feel cheated by the ending? A bit, yes, but this novel will stick with you if you let it. It's funny at times, downright human & haunting & hopeless.
Effinger wrote like some East coast Orwell, a tender-hearted Malzberg. Coupled with a wry sense of humor, he deserves to be remembered as one of the heroes of US New Wave.
This one was a major surprise given the playful tone of "What Entropy Means to Me," the only other book by Effinger I have read. "Wolves," though not without humor, is a very grave, somber novel, steeped in pathos and a sense of futility in a way science fiction writing rarely is. Sure it's depressing, and I don't know why people act like that is a bad thing. I am more depressed than anyone else I know and I demand the books I read be depressed, too.