This is a strange book. The story is straight forward enough: a man ruminates on his wife's demand for him to have a vasectomy, but the presentation is anything but. With the pages covered in arrangements of text, typography, diagrams, images, etc., and very often not in an obviously linear fashion, it's up to the reader to decide how to approach the material presented on each page.

I'd describe it as akin to reading a stack of pages laid on top of each other, without necessarily being able to see all the material, and the story itself is entangled in the science, philosophy, economics, etc. of the human body and the human soul, the two being inseparable in this book. It's a mixture of reading and experiencing, or perhaps learning and feeling.

It's a fascinating book, but definitely not for everyone. ( )

An overlooked contemporary experimental ... I call it a "near masterpiece." A marvelous, odd book. It is partly fictional—science-fictional, actually—but quite far from achieving novelhood. It is coherent in terms of content, theme, tone, and design but not in the sense of narrative. Rather it's a collection of brief fictive narrative elements (anywhere from one to five pages) alternated and intertwined with quotes, statistics, and historical anecdotes related to genetics, reproduction, population control/demography, racism, and eugenics. This unusual content is presented in a sophisticated design that I imagine is what a collage would look like if it were made by a DNA-obsessed android. To further complicate matters, the story elements are purportedly set in "Flatland," the world invented by Edwin A. Abbot in his book [b:Flatland A Romance of Many Dimensions|433567|Flatland A Romance of Many Dimensions|Edwin A. Abbott|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1328868256s/433567.jpg|4243538], a brief but highly inventive work that I highly recommend you make a beeline* for if you get a chance. Flatland is Abbot's attempt to invent a world that lives only in two dimensions. All the beings in Flatland are literally one or two dimensional: points, line segments, triangles, circles, quadrilaterals, and so on. The creatures in Flatland find it impossible to imagine three dimensional objects, a form we, of course, take for granted. (Although we really shouldn't...I have heard tell of a holographic theory of universe that says we are all existing on an infinite flat plane (a "brane") and three dimensionality is merely an illusion. But I digress.) Flatland is a great book, but Abbot's Flatland has very little to do with Vas. The characters do not behave in any way as if they live in a two dimensional world...other than metaphorically. It seems to me that what Tomasula has in mind is that the characters in Vas live in Flatland because we live in Flatland. Our perspective on life and society is for the most part "two dimensional." Flat, without history, pushing only forward toward "progress" without concern for the shit (i.e. environmental destruction) we are leaving in our wake. Although Vas primarily focuses on our genetic compulsions, predispositions, and prejudices, Flatland as a metaphor speaks just as readily toward our economic slavery. We are trapped in our way of life, hurtling along toward a vague environmental apocalypse.

Vas is short for "vasectomy." I did not know that before I picked this book up. The skin colored cover could have given me a hint, but no.

The brief narrative elements do feature the same main characters, Square, and a small cast of extras: his wife, Circle, mother-in-law, Mother, and his daughter Oval. This connective thread is mitigated by the lack of throughline between the sequences. Initially, they are mostly about the subtle psychological battle going on between husband and wife wherein she wants him to get the vasectomy asap but he resists out of some mixture of fear and a need for racial identity and heredity. It might be worth touching on Dawkin's [b:The Selfish Gene|61535|The Selfish Gene|Richard Dawkins|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1366758096s/61535.jpg|1746717] here. Although it's never mentioned explicitly as I recall, it's relevant as Tomasula is highlighting the genetic compulsion to pass our genes on or continue our legacy, which the act of vasectomy stymies. The desire to neuter oneself in our society might instead highlight a survival urge in a different way—the desire to increase our economic security (survival) or out of concern for our physical survival (childbirth). In an interesting way, it does put the individual's survival over the gene's survival thus adding some tension to Dawkin's theory.

The narrative snippets soon diverge from the focus on the husband/wife debate and wander off into odd territory. It would seem that the setting is the far future when humans have the ability to genetically manipulate their bodies and minds to the point of correcting all "defects" and diseases and maintain perpetual life. They become designer bodies essentially. The early sequences are quite grounded and felt like they could occur today. But as they progress, odder and more futuristic references and reflections occur such as the main character dissecting a "Cro Magnon" body in the park. He being from the dominant genetic class that appeared to have Neanderthal genes mixed in with Homo sapiens. While the scenes themselves are rather concrete, the context becomes disassociated and abstract. It's not clear, despite the main character being featured in each scene, that they are intended to be continuous. The character seems to have no history. Which makes sense if you live in Flatland. We have no history or future for that matter. Our genes may want to survive, but unfortunately in geologic terms, a compulsion toward genetic survival is a short-term strategy for a species. It doesn't account for global issues that can lead to extinction. In other words, the Ayn Randian world of selfishness is quite short-sighted if you care about future generations—even just your own (gene)ration.

The non-fictional elements of Vas reminded me of David Markson's The Last Novel in the sense of intertwining short factual, historical snippets with brief fictional bits. The difference here being these fictional interludes were much longer and the factional interludes were focused on issues of genetics and racial identity. But they are both similarly eye-opening. While reading Vas, you will be shocked by how many highly-educated figures from the past supported, and easily justified, eugenics and genocide. They quite sincerely believed that elimination of the poor, blacks, Asian, etc, was better for the evolution of the species. Cull the herd to strengthen the offspring, right? Social Darwinism is still alive and well in many political circles so Vas is quite relevant.

Although shocking at times and abstract and multi-layered, Vas is not depressing or boring. I wouldn't describe it as a "difficult" either. You do need to be focused and don't expect to toss it off. You need to be willing to read columns and jumpy text. You'll have to try multiple approaches to reading the various graphic textual layouts that interweave multiple sentences with each other in vertical strata. But rather than difficult, it's energizing and demonstrates how much potential still remains to be tapped in exploring the form of fiction.

If the book has any weakness that prevents me from calling it a masterpiece, I would say it is drive and momentum. It didn't hit me hard enough and stay with me. But I quite admire what it is.

Highly recommended.

*Beeline. Get it? ( )