Post
by sauvin » Tue Apr 29, 2014 6:27 am
I'll cheerfully admit not yet having read the linked-to article, but had some thoughts as I read the OP's post just before hauling off for work.
She's twelve years old. She's been twelve years old for a couple of centuries. And, she's just moved in next door. If you live long enough to ask her how old she is really, she'll say she really is twelve - but she'll get a worried and confused look on her face and say that she's been twelve for a very long time (sorry, folks, every time I see Eli, I see Lina). If you ask her if she's dead, a small glint of amusement will show through the worried expression when she says "no... can't you tell?"
One of the things I don't imagine her doing is sitting in the courtyard watching Oskar practise his lumberjack skills and wondering why her telomeres aren't getting any shorter, or her DNA fragmenting from too much moonlight, or something.
We've gone down this road a few times, although I don't recall any firm conclusions being drawn that meet with general agreement. It seems to be a given that she's physically frozen at twelve years (more or less), and one presumes this means in all sorts of different ways, including brain chemistry, rates of cell division and death - every little thing. This doesn't necessarily impact things like serotonin levels that can be impacted from without (she can get depressed, in other words, and can be lifted out of a depression), but these are largely ephemera within the present context.
Together with the fact that we don't honestly know how our brains tick to begin with, or which parts of our personalities and outlooks might be mostly because of hardware, software, firmware or just plain sloppy squishy wetware, the very moment we agree that Eli is physically frozen at twelve, all bets are off. Since she's probably been sucking down oceans of every kind of blood-borne pathogen known to man (and probably a few yet to be discovered, and maybe a few that've disappeared before microscopes got to be a fad), and she still manages to look not one day older, it seems pretty much a given nobody's going to bash her brains in, do a necropsy on her and find evidence of her brain matter turning to mush, stone or some kind of fungus.
Sometimes we can point to precise reasons people go crazy. Eat lots of fish known to contain lots of mercury, you'll find out! Sometimes people turn their brains to mush by toking up, shooting up or huffing stuff; other times, they were unfortunate enough to be caught in a cloud of some really nasty gas. Can't see these things happening to Eli, either, otherwise the mere fact of living in close proximity to a creature that seems to insist on creating and living in semi-toxic environments would have gotten her years ago. The very same thing allows her to heal broken bones and torn ligaments is what's keeping her brains in more or less "twelve year old" condition.
This doesn't necessarily imply that she'll stay "sane" throughout eternity, though. A very large part of what we call "sanity" is the ability to discern physical and social worlds we live in in (more or less) the same way as everybody else, and interact with it (more or less) the same way anybody else would. Eli's personal reality, not to mince words too much, is pretty far out. The novel itself suggests this rather broadly early on, shortly after Eli and Oskar start talking for real, when he remarks that her speech is "antiquated".
One of the many theories we've had on the forum over the years is that Eli routinely recruits helpers of a (more or less) Haakan-like sort not only to serve as go-fer and insulating cut-out, but also as a point of social contact to help her try to stay (more or less) in touch with where humanity is going. Without this kind of personal interactive contact, what you won't get from any radio or television, she really would sail off the cultural radar, and be very readily identified as somebody we'd call "crazy".
Some years ago, I read a kind of anthology of short stories about vampires, each story exploring a different facet of what being such a creature (or associating with one) might be like. In one, a fairly long-lived vampire became romantically involved (if I recall properly) with a human girl. As their relationship progressed, he became increasingly less stable, until one night, he went to an opera that he'd remembered going to some centuries before. Familiar sounds, familiar songs, even familiar costumes and settings brought back memories - emotional events - and he wound up hightailing it back to his coffin for another Long Sleep. This story speculated that after such a sleep, he'd been purged of any humanity he might have retained or regained, going on for long periods of time as said humanity seeps gradually back in. Trouble is, more human a vampire becomes (according to this story), less effective he becomes as a vampire. They apparently don't fare any better than we do when food aversion develops. These "long sleeps", apparently, serve to recharge his vampire batteries.
We don't get from the novel that this is necessarily what happens to Eli, but it remains to me as a possibility, along with whatever physical pressures might mount (maybe the parasite needs to shut its host down for a few months at a whack while it takes a vacation from constantly having to repair genetic damage and suchlike). What we're given is that she sleeps for long periods of time every now and again, and when she wakes up, she's "small again". We don't know what this means in terms of physical strength or stature, or in what kinds of factual knowledge she might have acquired between hibernations.
Together with her apparent physical stasis, these possibly purgative hibernations restore her mentally, emotionally and physically to some kind of base state; the implication is that she won't get a whole lot "crazier" than she is when we meet her. One presumes that something similar would apply to Oskar when he turns.
Fais tomber les barrières entre nous qui sommes tous des frères