Devolution: A Firsthand Account of the Rainier Sasquatch Massacre

“TONY: […] Levittown was exclusive; Greenloop is inclusive. Levittown wanted to divide people. Greenloop wants to unite them. Levittown wanted to separate humans from the natural world. Greenloop wants to reintroduce them.

RYSSDAL: But most people can’t afford to live in this type of community.”

Brooks uses an allusion to the real-world Levittown to provide a reference point for imagining Greenloop. By contrasting the two communities, Tony can sell Greenloop as a corrective for its predecessor’s social mistakes. However, radio show host Ryssdal raises an important point that betrays the inaccessibility of Tony’s eco-sustainable vision. The lack of affordability suggests that comfortable sustainability, while ideal, is still a privilege, which highlights one of Greenloop’s central flaws.

“But really, everything about her was hard, the way she moved, the way she talked. She kept staring at me, watching me peck at her dessert. Everyone else was looking at me. It felt kind of weird, like how I reacted to her tulumba somehow had this deeper meaning.”

Kate’s thoughts hint at Greenloop’s social dynamics. Mostar’s “hard” personality makes Kate feel self-conscious, which is heightened when she observes Mostar “staring” at her, as if eager to see her reaction to the dish she made. This contrasts with the collective behavior of the other residents, which is “looking,” as if gauging Kate’s reaction to the dessert and to Mostar. This implies the “deeper meaning” that Kate is hinting at: The neighbors minimize their association with Mostar, making her the odd person out in their community.

“That’s something else I have to get used to, being together 24/7. I don’t want to say it was okay before, but at least back then, our old routine gave us space. He’d be sleeping when I went to work and still up when I went to bed. In between we had, what, a couple hours together if extra work or phone calls didn’t keep me occupied. Yes, weekends were tougher, when he wouldn’t want to go out with my friends or would disappear down to Intelligentsia for a half-day coffee. I never realized how much it upset me, or, maybe I did, but the tension, the resentment, it always diffused first thing Monday morning.

It’s not diffusing anymore. We’re trapped together all the time.”

Kate identifies the challenge that Greenloop poses to her strained relationship with Dan. Whereas their urban lives granted them the convenience of escape from one another, Greenloop forces them into constant proximity, raising the stakes of their residency. The longer they stay there, the more they’ll recognize the need to confront their emotional issues with each other and either renew their relationship or break apart.

“‘They,’ Tony repeated with just the barest hesitance, ‘the experts, the…emergency services. Those in charge. They’ve thought about Rainier, and planned and trained for this exact moment.’

‘They better for the taxes we pay,’ said Reinhardt, and it got a laugh from the room. Tony joined in with, ‘Exactly, they get paid to think about these situations so we don’t have to.’”

This exchange exposes Tony’s passive leadership approach and the collective denial that drives many Greenloop residents to support him. Tony’s unsteady diction signals his lack of confidence. He offers no plan of action other than to wait for outside help because he’s improvising his advice on the spot. Reinhardt’s supportive quip and Tony’s favorable reaction validate his inaction, giving him the confidence to state his position in more direct terms.

“Those poor bastards didn’t want a rural life. They expected an urban life in a rural setting. They tried to adapt their environment instead of adapting to it. And I really can sympathize. Who doesn’t want to break from the herd? I get why you’d want to keep the comforts of city life while leaving the city behind. Crowds, crime, filth, noise. Even in the burbs. So many rules, neighbors all up in your business. It’s kind of a catch-22, especially in the United States, a society that values freedom, when society, by nature, forces you to compromise that freedom. I get how the hyper-connectivity of Greenloop gave the illusion of zero compromise.

But that’s all it was, an illusion.”

Schell critiques the Greenloop customer base for allowing themselves to believe in the appealing yet illusory dream of a zero-compromise life. Brooks elevates this invective to the level of social critique by examining the circumstances that give rise to this kind of aspiration, from crime to social noise in the US. The fact that these circumstances reveal institutional failures underscores the artificial escapism that the American Dream manufactures. Rather than reforming systems to improve cities, Americans dream of life outside the city, illustrating The Folly of Human Ambition as a theme.

“He hadn’t wasted one neuron on that thought, because, in his mind, it was just that. A waste. All positivity all the time. Learn to fly, even if it’s in the Hindenburg.

Move fast and break things.”

Just as Schell critiques the escapism of Greenloop’s social environment, Frank critiques the iterative mindset the tech industry champions. The “move fast and break things” philosophy refers to the industry’s failure to consider the broader implications of its impact, including negative social effects. Frank’s allusion to the Hindenburg foreshadows the tragedy awaiting the residents of Greenloop, who trusted that Tony’s promise of a groundbreaking new lifestyle would circumvent any challenge it encountered.

“You’d probably also take pride in my need to psychoanalyze Yvette. For some reason I’m not as guilty doubting her as I am with Tony. Why had she been so quick to prompt him about a rescue? Was it a power thing? Admitting Mostar was right? Is that why, during our morning meditation, she’d spun the truth about who’d predicted the lahars? And why she’d given us that not-so-subtle loyalty test? Would agreeing with Mostar mean giving up some control of the group? Is control that important to her?”

Kate conceives of her disillusionment with Greenloop as originating with Yvette rather than Tony. This is a by-product of Kate’s internalized misogyny, which stems from her relationship with her parents. Just as she blames her mother for her father’s faults, Kate finds it easier to criticize the Durants for trying to hold onto their power whenever Yvette steps in as a figurehead for Tony.

“I know you won’t see it for a while, and I know it’s probably silly to pretend like I’m still writing it to you, but just the act of writing, putting everything down on paper where I can see it, is so helpful in organizing my thoughts.”

This passage marks a turning point in Kate’s relationship with her therapist while also developing the journal as a central thematic motif for Resilience as a Catalyst for Personal Growth. Kate acknowledges the benefit of recording her thoughts for herself rather than for her therapist’s approval. Brooks places more emphasis on Kate’s use of first-person address to an assumed reader (“you”) in this passage, as it’s one of the last times that she does so, marking her independence from therapy.

“Injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you. That’s why most weapons of war are designed to injure instead of kill. Wounded are more of a drain than the dead.”

Mostar’s caution subtly raises the stakes for the other characters by emphasizing the burden that injury places on the community. Everyone is necessary to fulfill key roles for the whole collective’s survival, and injury makes it harder for the community to improve its output capacity. By suggesting that someone dying is better than surviving with an injury, Mostar spells out their situation’s life-or-death stakes.

“Need. That’s what makes a village. That’s what we are now, and what holds us together is need. I won’t help you if you don’t help me. That is the social contract.”

In contrast to Tony’s lifestyle philosophy, which prioritizes comfort and nominal equality, Mostar defines her leadership style by acknowledging the mutually exclusive needs of her neighbors and pushing this as the basis of interaction. She teaches the Hollands that acknowledging these needs will teach them the value of resilience by challenging them to offer what skills and resources they can access in exchange for goods and services that meet their needs.

“Facts are supposed to banish monsters […] not invite them in.”

Schell reflects on the irony that surrounds knowledge and the truth. By describing facts as the mechanism by which one invites monsters into one’s life, she essentially defines knowledge as the pathway to realities too uncomfortable for the individual mind to process with ease. The more one learns about something, the more one confronts the “monsters” of that subject matter, even if the intention of learning was to overcome the monster of ignorance and doubt.

“I think the human mind isn’t comfortable with mysteries. We’re always looking for answers to the unexplained. And if an answer can’t come from facts, we’ll try to cobble one together from old stories.”

Schell digs deep into the collective denial that many Greenloop residents espouse for much of the novel. Rather than dismissing it as intellectual laziness, Schell frames it as a defense mechanism. Denial is helpful in confronting an unfamiliar concept, framing it within the limitations of what is known. If the Greenloop residents deny the existence of Bigfoot, they can avoid facing the difficult implications of this knowledge on their thinking.

“People only see the present through the lenses of their personal pasts.”

Mostar’s statement acknowledges her personal limitations. Though she has guided the Greenloop community through the adversity of their isolation, she knows she can’t guide them through something she has no real experience with. This creates an opportunity for Kate to step up as a leader, drawing on whatever parts of her own past may help address the needs of her present community.

“But maybe there was also some latent gene that woke up in those creatures when they stumbled across Greenloop and found themselves facing a herd of cornered, isolated Homo sapiens. Maybe some instinct told them it was time to swap evolution for devolution, reach back to who they were to reclaim what was theirs.”

This passage, an excerpt from an interview with Frank, connects to the novel’s title, pinning it to the behavioral regression the Bigfoots experience when they encounter Greenloop’s frightened residents. However, the passage also foreshadows the outcome of the conflict between Greenloop and the Bigfoots. If the Bigfoots are regressing, then it’s also possible that the humans may experience their own “devolution” in the process of confronting their ancient enemy.

“It all goes back to the core philosophy of Greenloop: People are the problem. Nature is your friend.”

Frank’s simplistic articulation of the Greenloop philosophy highlights the flawed assumptions that stem from Tony’s iterative thinking. Greenloop assumes that nature is benevolent and supports humankind’s ambitions. It also assumes that its residents aren’t the kind of people who contribute to the problems that make the urban world so undesirable to live in. In truth, Greenloop enables people to bring their problems to a setting that is wholly indifferent to them.

“And the brain boost we got from that bonanza. Tools, language, cooperation. You can see the incentive for all the advances that make us human. More meat. Bigger brains. Bigger brains. More meat. I wonder what it looked like, when we first tasted fresh blood.”

This passage, an excerpt from an interview with Schell, formally introduces the idea of human behavioral regression, which a previous passage foreshadowed. Brooks depicts the first instance of meat consumption as a cold, procedural event, something that reaps benefits without considering the life of what is being eaten. This way of thinking about meat mirrors the iterative behavior of tech industry leaders in focusing only on positives without reflecting on the broader implications of their actions.

“‘We…,’ I blathered nervously, ‘…we’ve been pooling resources, right? Food, skills…but there’s another resource…,’ directly to Mostar, ‘…and I know we blew it off in the beginning because we had to handle the practical stuff…and we still do…But we can’t forget…we need…’

‘Comfort.’ Mostar came forward with a look I recognized as contrition.”

This exchange represents a crucial turning point in Greenloop’s social dynamics, as it marks the moment that Kate begins to step up to a leadership role in the community. Her broken speech suggests her struggle to assert herself, but when her idea becomes clear to Mostar, Mostar helps her finish the thought, acknowledging that Kate’s empathy for her neighbors is what her own leadership approach was missing all along. Brooks signals Mostar’s concession by observing her contrite expression, as if realizing a simple truth she had failed to recognize.

“Terror is a powerful weapon. Terror clouds thought. The flushers are counting on that. Intelligence surrendering to self-preservation. If they can get just one to break away from the group. That’s key. There’s strength in numbers, even for prey.”

Though Brooks keeps the Bigfoots’ motivations ambiguous throughout the novel, he increases the story’s mood of dread by emphasizing the psychological impact of their actions on Greenloop residents. This passage demonstrates that technique by implying the Bigfoots’ desire to pick off the humans one by one, even though Schell is describing chimpanzees’ hunting patterns.

“Different places, different ages, completely different cultures, and yet they came up with similar weapons and tactics. Is there something about how we’re wired, something universally human?”

Kate’s reflection on the common combat tactics of ancient cultures leads her to wonder about the fundamental nature of humanity. While the thought is inspiring because it points to something common across culture and time, it also drives the implication that the capacity for armed combat is part of what sets humanity apart from other animals. This hints at Kate’s impending devolution, the point at which she fully embraces violence against the Bigfoot species.

“Why fear us when we can be invaded so easily, when we won’t even try to fight back?”

Reinhardt’s death marks the point of no return for the Greenloop community, as it signals the Bigfoots’ increased confidence in infiltrating homes without detection. This heightens the stakes for Kate and her neighbors as it brings the chilling implication that the Bigfoots could kill any one of them at any time.

“Nature is pure. Nature is real. Connecting with nature brings out the best in you. That’s what I hear from the poor dumb dipshits who come up here every year in their new REI outfits, never having felt dirt under their feet, just aching to lose themselves in the Garden of Eden. And then a few days later we find them crawling through the muck, half-starved, dehydrated, nursing some gangrenous wound.

They all want to live ‘in harmony with nature’ before some of them realize, too late, that nature is anything but harmonious.”

Schell supports Frank’s earlier assertion about the flawed philosophy behind Greenloop, though she takes a more aggressive stance in her invective against people attempting to connect with nature. Whereas earlier criticisms focused on escapism and the assumed benevolence of nature, this passage focuses on the human toll of naturalist endeavors. If anything, Schell emphasizes the idea that a naturalist lifestyle is folly.

“‘We can’t just mourn the deaths, we also have to celebrate the lives. We need Anne Frank’s diary, but we also need her smile on the cover. That is why I decided to become an artist…’”

Mostar’s identity as an artist complicates her characterization. Despite her harsh behavior, Mostar lives for something more than survival. She highlights how life can be more than showing austerity or resilience in the face of adversity. Rather, adversity can give rise to moments of joy, which form the philosophy underlying her work as an artist who survived a war.

“I remember laughing.

No words, words are for thinking animals, for human beings. Laughing and grunts and tight little moans of joy.”

This passage marks Kate’s “devolution,” the moment when she embraces violence and loses her sense of humanity. Brooks underscores Kate’s abandonment of language as she mutilates Gray, resorting to non-linguistic sounds. The explicit reference to laughter and joy adds menace to this moment, as if Kate thrives on Gray’s suffering.