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A review by chrissie_whitley
Hum by Helen Phillips
4.0
May Webb's journey starts with a facial procedure performed by a hum — a highly capable android — that promises barely perceptible results, just enough to fool facial recognition software used to verify identity, access services, and track whereabouts through closed-circuit television systems. Though reluctant, May agrees to the procedure because she desperately needs the cash. The promise of a large payout, after losing her job (ironically, training A.I.), makes this necessary for her and her small family. Plus, she likes the idea of "tricking" the cameras.
With the headiness that follows the payout, May decides to treat her family to an outing at the Botanical Gardens — an amusement park-style getaway promising nature and tranquility in the middle of the city. Riding the cashflow high and the nostalgia of her own childhood, May insists they leave their electronic devices behind: no phones for her and her husband, and no wrist devices for her two children.
The escape proves idyllic, at least at first. The kids are happy, playing in the grass, splashing in a nearby waterfall, and picking and eating real strawberries. But the tranquility shatters when May and her husband wake from a nap to find the children, ages 6 and 8, missing. In a frantic search, May faces the stark reality that, had the kids been wearing their wrist devices, they would've been easily locatable. Desperate, she enlists the help of a hum, who uses her permission to track the children through CCTV footage.
What follows is a sharp, frenetic exploration of how technology helps and hinders us. It's easy to criticize May's parenting — her choices, her inner voice. And it's doubly interesting to do so while looking at the near future, rather than through the typically critical lens of looking back.
May's desire to get back to nature and then book's focus on our consumerism-driven society, makes for an interesting mix in that we are constantly examining a want versus a need. This aspect reminded me a lot of when the pandemic hit and it was a marvel at how separate but connected we could manage to be — where that helped and where that hindered us as a whole. And then the resultant "touch grass" cultural movement: at once a command and a critique, often simpler to romanticize than to implement. Phillips maintains this balance on a knife's edge, with a subtle critique of how much easier it is to lean on a "back in my day" mindset than to take a harder look at one's actions and impact now, especially when examining society's technological shifts.
With the headiness that follows the payout, May decides to treat her family to an outing at the Botanical Gardens — an amusement park-style getaway promising nature and tranquility in the middle of the city. Riding the cashflow high and the nostalgia of her own childhood, May insists they leave their electronic devices behind: no phones for her and her husband, and no wrist devices for her two children.
The escape proves idyllic, at least at first. The kids are happy, playing in the grass, splashing in a nearby waterfall, and picking and eating real strawberries. But the tranquility shatters when May and her husband wake from a nap to find the children, ages 6 and 8, missing. In a frantic search, May faces the stark reality that, had the kids been wearing their wrist devices, they would've been easily locatable. Desperate, she enlists the help of a hum, who uses her permission to track the children through CCTV footage.
What follows is a sharp, frenetic exploration of how technology helps and hinders us. It's easy to criticize May's parenting — her choices, her inner voice. And it's doubly interesting to do so while looking at the near future, rather than through the typically critical lens of looking back.
May's desire to get back to nature and then book's focus on our consumerism-driven society, makes for an interesting mix in that we are constantly examining a want versus a need. This aspect reminded me a lot of when the pandemic hit and it was a marvel at how separate but connected we could manage to be — where that helped and where that hindered us as a whole. And then the resultant "touch grass" cultural movement: at once a command and a critique, often simpler to romanticize than to implement. Phillips maintains this balance on a knife's edge, with a subtle critique of how much easier it is to lean on a "back in my day" mindset than to take a harder look at one's actions and impact now, especially when examining society's technological shifts.