We went out by a path that led through a big clump of flickering starflowers and then into Batwing. A whole bunch of Batwing grownups and newhairs were in their clearing banging away at a giant redlantern tree with their blackglass axes, working in the pink light of its flowers.

We walked round the edge of their clearing to Family Fence, dragged away the branches at the opening, and went out into open forest. No more shelters and campfires ahead of us now: nothing but shining trees.

Hmmmph, hmmmph, hmmmph, went the trees. Hmmmmmm, went forest. We walked for a waking under the light of the treelanterns, slashing down whatever birds and bats and fruit we could get as we went along, and finally stopped to rest at the big lump of rock called Lava Blob. Old Roger handed us out a gritty little seedcake each, made of ground-up starflower seeds, so we could have something in our bellies, and then we settled down with our backs against the rock, so we didn鈥檛 have to worry about leopards sneaking up behind us. There were lots of yellowlantern trees round there, which we didn鈥檛 get so much back in Family, and also yellow animals called hoppers that came bouncing out of forest on their back legs and wrung their four hands together while they looked at us with their big flat eyes and went Peep peep peep. But hoppers were no good to eat and their skins were no use either, so we just chucked stones at them to make them go away and let us sleep in peace.

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When we woke up, Starry Swirl was still bright bright in sky. We ate a bit of dry cake and off we went again, under redlanterns and whitelanterns and spiketrees, with flutterbyes darting and glittering all round us and bats chasing the flutterbyes and trees going hmmph, hmmph, hmmph like always, until it all blurred together into that hmmmmmmmmm that was the background of our lives.

After a few miles we came to a small pool full of shiny wavyweed and all us newhairs took off our wraps and dived into the warm water for crabfish and oysters to eat. All the boys watched Tina Spiketree diving in, and they all thought how graceful she was with her long legs, and how smooth her skin was, and how much they wanted to slip with her. But when she came up she swam straight to me, and gave me a dying oyster with the bright pink light still shining out of it.

鈥淵ou know what they say about oysters, don鈥檛 you, John?鈥� she said.

Tom鈥檚 neck, she was pretty pretty, the prettiest in whole of Family. And she knew it well well.

In another couple of hours we reached the place where Peckham Hills began to rise up out of forest of Circle Valley, and started to climb up through them by Monkey Path, which isn鈥檛 really a path, but just a way we know through the trees. The trees carried on up the slopes 鈥� redlanterns and whitelanterns and scalding hot spiketrees 鈥� and there were flickering starflowers growing beneath them, just like in the rest of forest. Streams ran through them down from darkness and ice, heading towards Greatpool, still cold cold but already bright and glittering with life. And small creatures called monkeys jumped from tree to tree. They had little thin bodies, and six long arms with a hand on the end of each. Handsome Fox shot one with an arrow, and was pleased pleased with himself, even though they were all bones and sinews and only give a mouthful of meat, because they move fast and are hard to aim at with those big blotches on their skin that flash on and off as they swing among the lanternflowers.

As we climbed up it got colder. The starflowers disappeared, the trees became smaller, and there weren鈥檛 any monkeys any more, only the occasional smallbuck darting away through the trees. And then the trees stopped and we came out from the top edge of forest onto bare ground. Pretty soon, when we鈥檇 climbed above the height of those last few little trees, we could see whole of Circle Valley spread out below us 鈥� whole of Eden that we knew, with thousands and thousands of lanterns shining all the way from where we stood on Peckham Hills to Dark shadow of Blue Mountains away in the distance, and from Rockies over the left, with the red glow of Mount Snellins smouldering in middle, to the deep darkness over to our right that was Alps. And above all of it the huge spiral of Starry Swirl was still shining down.

Of course, with no trees to give off light with their lanternflowers or to warm the air with their trunks, it was dark dark up there 鈥� you could only just barely make things out in the starlight and the light from the edge of forest 鈥� and it was cold cold, specially on our feet. But us newhairs dared each other to run up as far as the snow. The ice felt like it was burning, it was so cold, and most kids took ten twenty steps, yelled and came running down again. But I took Gerry right up to the ridge of the hill and then, ignoring Old Roger yelling at us to come back, went far enough down the other side so that the others couldn鈥檛 see us.

鈥淲e鈥檝e made our point now, haven鈥檛 we, John?鈥� Gerry said, shivering. We only had waistwraps on, and buckskins round our shoulders, and our feet were hurting like they鈥檇 been skinned. 鈥淪hall we go back down to rest of them now?鈥�

My cousin Gerry was about a wombtime younger than me 鈥� his dad was giving his mum a slip, in other words, about the time that I was born 鈥� and he was devoted to me, he thought I was wonderful, he鈥檇 do just about anything I asked.

鈥淣o, wait a minute. Wait a minute. Be quiet and listen.鈥�

鈥淟isten to what?鈥�

鈥淭o the silence, you idiot.鈥�

There was no hmmmmmmmm of forest, no hmmph, hmmph, hmmph of pumping trees, no starbirds going hoom, hoom, hoom in the distance, no flutterbyes flapping and flicking, no whoosh of diving bats. There was no sound at all except a quiet little tinkle of water all around us coming out from under the snow in hundreds of little streams. And it was dark dark. No tree-light up there. The only light came from Starry Swirl.

We could barely make out each other鈥檚 faces. It made me think about that place called Earth where Tommy and Angela first came from, way back in the beginning with the Three Companions, and where one waking we would all return, if only we stayed in the right place and were good good good. There were no lanterntrees back there on Earth, no glittery flutterbyes or shiny flowers, but they had a big big light that we don鈥檛 have at all. It came from a giant star. And it was so bright that it would burn out your eyes if you stared at it.

鈥淲hen people talk about Earth,鈥� I said to Gerry, 鈥渢hey always talk about that huge bright star, don鈥檛 they, and all the lovely light it must have given? But Earth turned round and round, didn鈥檛 it, and half the time it wasn鈥檛 facing the star at all but was dark dark, without lanterns or anything, only the light the Earth people made for themselves.鈥�

鈥淲hat are you talking about, John?鈥� Gerry said, with his teeth chattering. 鈥淎nd why can鈥檛 we go back down again if you just want to talk?鈥�

鈥淚 was thinking about that darkness. They called it Night, didn鈥檛 they? I鈥檓 just thinking that it must have been like this. What you get up here on Snowy Dark: it鈥檚 what they would have called Night.鈥�

漏 Chris Beckett

This is an extract from by Chris Beckett (Corvus), the November read for the New 女生小视频 Book Club. Sign up for the club here, and join the discussion on Discord .

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I came up with the idea of the planet Eden in 1992 for a short story called . At that time, I had no idea that there really were such things as planets without suns, but it seemed likely to me. It also seemed possible to me that life might arise on such a planet, since, even here on Earth, whole ecologies thrive without sunlight around thermal vents in the deep ocean. Life on Earth may have even have begun in such places.

Quite often, if something seems likely, it does indeed happen. (In another , I predicted that a US president would one day seek to take over Greenland and Canada.) Having written that story, I learned that free-floating planets did indeed exist. Being dark, they鈥檙e hard to spot, but a number have been detected using gravitational lensing. And I gather it鈥檚 not particularly controversial to think that some of them might support life (though not quite in the form that I chose to imagine it 鈥� but I鈥檒l come to that).

When creating a world for a story, I don鈥檛 usually seek to make the whole thing scientifically accurate, but I try to make it hang together in a way that feels coherent. I didn鈥檛 build Eden by doing a lot of research, but I did put a lot of thought into how it might all work. This wasn鈥檛 so I could put it all in the book 鈥� no one in Eden knows this stuff and the story is told entirely by its characters! 鈥� but so that I had something to guide my imagination and make my invented world feel coherent.

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My idea was that Eden had once been covered in ice, but its hot core meant there was liquid water below the ice in which life could come into existence. One particular kind of life form appeared, somewhat resembling tree roots, that was able to obtain additional energy by pushing deep down into hot rocks, pumping its sap through them to heat it, and then pumping it back up again, like a geothermal power station. One of the ways these organisms used this heat was to push upwards into the planet鈥檚 shell of ice, melting parts of it, feeding on the nutrients it contained, and creating more living space 鈥� and they carried on doing so until much of the surface of Eden was ice-free, and had an atmosphere that would turn out to be breathable by humans.

Millions of years later, this thawed-out surface, now populated by a multitude of different life forms, became the stage on which my drama could unfold: first that early story, then another story and then the novel Dark Eden and its two sequels. In Dark Eden, a tiny community of humans, descended from stranded visitors from Earth, eke out a living using tools made of stone and wood, and try to make sense of their life as exiles from a sunlit world that lives on in folk memory, but which they can only very shakily imagine. (In the biblical story of Eden, humans are exiled from Eden 鈥� my Eden is the place of exile.) Their stories tell them that Earth people could fly through the air, that there was a thing there called leckytrickity, that Earth animals had eyes that you could look into and see their minds looking back out at you, not like the flat, blank eyes of Eden creatures.

On the surface of Eden, those root-like life forms put up structures that Eden鈥檚 humans call 鈥渢rees鈥�. A whole ecosystem has evolved around them, including 鈥渟tarflowers鈥� that parasitise their roots. (These, as it happens, turn out to be a rich source of Vitamin D. Phew! What a stroke of luck!) And there are many animals 鈥� or quote-unquote 鈥渁nimals鈥�, strictly speaking, since they鈥檙e not related to the animal kingdom of Earth. There鈥檚 no sunlight in Eden (and therefore no alternation of day and night) but, like organisms that live in the ocean depths of Earth, Eden鈥檚 life has developed bioluminescence. The 鈥渢rees鈥� have luminous 鈥渓anternflowers鈥�; the starflowers glitter. Imagine a leafless forest on a moonless night, lit by thousands of Chinese lanterns. Then add in twinkling fairy lights at ground level. With your eyes half-closed, the forests of Eden would look something like that.

Just as life on Earth depends on plants that turn sunlight into chemical energy, so the life of Eden depends on geothermal trees. They bring heat to the surface to power their metabolisms, they keep the air warm and, if you live on Eden, the steady 鈥�Hmmmph hmmmph hmmmph鈥� of their constant pumping is the background of your waking and sleeping life, merging in the distance to a steady hum. All the trees are hot, and some of them are so hot that you鈥檇 burn yourself if you touched their trunks. If you cut down a tree, you have to watch out for the spurt of scalding liquid that bursts out.

When I read stories set on alien planets, I鈥檓 sometimes disappointed in the 鈥渁nimals鈥� (I鈥檒l drop the inverted commas now). Writers often seem to dream up a motley collection of bizarre creatures without much regard for how they might actually survive or how they are related to one another. I tried to design my animals on evolutionary principles, giving thought to how they were adapted to their environment, the role they played in the ecosystem and how they might plausibly have evolved. Animals on Earth fall into a large but finite number of basic body plans. For example, monkeys, cows, crocodiles and seagulls all have four limbs and, though some descendants of quadrupeds have lost their limbs (snakes, whales), there are no examples of quadrupeds developing extra ones. In the same way, large animals on Eden all have a six-limbed body plan. There are other animals that don鈥檛 conform to this, just as there are arthropods, et cetera on Earth, but the large animals are all based on this six-limbed pattern.

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I鈥檝e already mentioned how different Eden eyes are from the eyes of terrestrial animals. They have evolved alongside the evolution of bioluminescence, rather in the way that colourful flowers and nectar-eating insects have evolved alongside one another on Earth. Eden trees use luminous lanternflowers to attract the creatures that help them reproduce, just as flowering plants on Earth use colour and scent.

I gave a lot of thought to the biology of Eden, but I have to admit that, in strictly scientific terms, my imaginary world isn鈥檛 entirely viable. Free-floating planets with warm cores? Yes! Not just possible, but a certainty! But free-floating planets with warm surfaces? Sadly no. More than one astronomer has told me they just couldn鈥檛 happen. No matter how many radiator-like trees there might be, I鈥檝e been told, it still wouldn鈥檛 be enough to maintain liquid water or a warm atmosphere.

Let鈥檚 call it 鈥渇iction science鈥�, science made up for a story, which works in some places and in others allows itself poetic licence. Almost all science fiction uses fiction science and Dark Eden contains several other examples. I took some liberties with human genetics, for instance. And then there鈥檚 the question of how people got to Eden in the first place. (It鈥檚 many light years away from Earth.) Like the writers of pretty much all stories set in interstellar space, I pretended that faster-than-light travel was possible and went with that, although it most probably isn鈥檛.

(I think that鈥檚 OK. It allows us to visit, in our imaginations at least, parts of the universe we could never otherwise hope to reach.)

What I wanted from Eden was for it to be a world that hung together well enough to be a satisfying setting for my story, one in which I and my readers could immerse ourselves. The story is about exile and loss. The perpetually dark sky, and the animals with their blank unreadable eyes, serve as reminders that Eden folk are exiles. At the beginning of Dark Eden, every human being in Eden lives around a circle of stones that marks the place where their ancestors first touched down. And this circle represents to Eden folk the hope for return and redemption, which is central to their whole world view.

The fact that I took some liberties when constructing Eden doesn鈥檛 mean it wouldn鈥檛 be interesting also to write about a real free-floating planet. And, as it happens, I鈥檝e had the opportunity recently to do just that. In a project initiated by Comma Press, I was one of a number of writers who paired up with astronomers from Jodrell Bank to write stories for an anthology called . My astronomer collaborator, Ida Janiak, helped me build a scenario in which a free-floating planet called Lupus arrives in the solar system. Apart from being roughly Earth-sized, Lupus isn鈥檛 much like Eden, but somewhat like the Jovian moon Europa. Its surface is covered by a kilometres-thick shell of ice in no danger of melting, with a liquid ocean beneath and鈥� well, read the story! The anthology will appear in November but there will also be a condensed version of mine and Ida鈥檚 story in the Christmas edition of New 女生小视频, out online on 16 December and in print on the 19th.

I hope, meanwhile, you will immerse yourself in the luminous forests of Eden with their pulsing trees. Possible or not, they are very beautiful, if I say so myself.

by Chris Beckett (Corvus) is the November read for the New 女生小视频 Book Club. Sign up for the club here, and join the discussion on Discord .

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Steven D. Allison
Harvard University Press Out 3 November (US) and 27 November (UK)

It鈥檚 2030. Heatwaves are scorching parts of the globe, while elsewhere, hailstorms or tsunamis ravage homes, cities and farmlands. Wildfires rage across continents, Arctic ice sheets dwindle, volcanoes spew left and right, and Earth cracks open along multiple fault lines. Death tolls 鈥� human, animal and plant 鈥� soar.

Amid this doom and gloom, a superhero arises from scientific labs, ready to fight our 鈥� human-made 鈥� enemy, climate change. The tiny figure can trap excess carbon from the atmosphere, or bury it underground or at the bottom of the sea, for near-eternity. It can fuel jet engines with clean energy, replace chemical fertilisers, save coral reefs from bleaching and disease, and re-engineer trees, food crops and other plants to survive, even thrive, in droughts.

This scenario is at the heart of Steven Allison鈥檚 book, . Allison, professor of ecology at the University of California, Irvine, maintains a balance between realism and optimism as he introduces his as yet unsung hero, the microbe.

These resilient, highly adaptable and primarily single-celled organisms could, he insists, play a far larger role in controlling or maybe even reversing climate change than we imagine. Many of these bacteria, archaea, fungi and viruses are currently dismissed as insignificant or even targeted as pathogens to be wiped out. But the microbes he and others envision using against climate change are non-toxic and non-pathogenic.

The tiny superhero can trap excess carbon from the atmosphere or bury it underground for near-eternity

They are also, unlike other proposals 鈥� installing solar mirrors in space or sucking carbon dioxide out of the air 鈥� cheap, abundant, easy to produce and totally organic. For Allison, they 鈥渙ffer a rare glimmer of hope鈥�.

His book explores how microbes live and interact with each other, and with 鈥渘ewcomers鈥� such as humans. He focuses especially on how scientists are uncovering the mysteries of microbes and glimpsing the extraordinary properties they could offer if we only understood enough to stop fighting them.

Allison is a captivating storyteller, taking us on colourful journeys to different regions and times. Along the way, we meet fascinating characters, like Antonie van Leeuwenhoek, who ran his own draper鈥檚 shop in the Dutch city of Delft during the 17th century, and discovered bacteria by looking at his dental plaque using microscopes and lenses he had custom-built.

Microbes also appear as characters in their own right. We encounter bacteria-eating viruses engaged in an 鈥渋nsidious lifestyle鈥� known as lysogeny inside their hosts, and zooplankton, which, like cattle, graze 鈥� and 鈥減oop a lot鈥�.

He ensures we stay focused as we navigate complex concepts and vocabulary, like 鈥減hycoerythrins鈥�, light-harvesting and naturally fluorescent proteins in certain cyanobacteria. We also get better acquainted with biofilms 鈥� layers of slime made of carbohydrates, proteins and other sticky biomolecules. Unlike the ones we know and hate 鈥� dental plaque and toilet bowl rings 鈥� these biofilms stop important microbes from being swept away in moving water by holding on to water like a sponge. Those microbes are also protected from desiccation, while predators, such as animals or viruses in soil, find it hard to get at prey inside a biofilm. Inside, microbes can gain the carbon and nutrients they need to grow.

In passing, Allison provides us with what can seem like cool facts to use at dinner parties. But they are offered in service of the big picture. Did you know that Sequoia trees can live a thousand years or that their bark is fire-resistant? That the annual per capita energy usage in the US is 76,300 kilowatt-hours, equivalent to the energy in 2300 gallons of petrol? Or that there are nearly 3 billion billion billion oxygen-producing Prochlorococcus cyanobacteria floating around the ocean, thousands more than the stars in the known universe?

One way or another, the core message of The Age of Microbes is delivered: we can get microbes right or we can get them wrong. They are incredibly good at taking carbon in 鈥� and at letting it out again. The trick is to get them to swallow carbon and harbour it for thousands of years. That is exactly what they already do when their remains are preserved in the ground or at the bottom of the ocean as 鈥渕icrobial mummies鈥�, forming clumps called necromass.

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Enter the other superheroes in Allison鈥檚 book: the researchers and bioengineers studying microbes. There is a refreshing amount of overdue credit given to women scientists. What we now call the greenhouse effect was discovered by Eunice Newton Foote, who published a paper on it in 1856. A century or so later, biologist Mary Mandels pioneered cellulosic ethanol using fungal enzymes. If we ever fly on jets powered by carbon-neutral fuel, Allison says, 鈥測ou鈥檒l have microbes and Mary Mandels to thank鈥�. He also pays due debt to the Earth wisdom of Indigenous peoples, including the Pacific Northwest Karuk, who understand the importance of mushroom networks.

Today鈥檚 labs are investigating the genes behind necromass, hoping to selectively breed for them or to produce 鈥渄esigner microbes鈥�. Others study how to help plants resist climate change. Still others are slogging through complex risk-benefit analyses of commercial products touting microbial benefits. And there is key work on improving soil, depleted or destroyed by millennia of agriculture, using microbial 鈥渋noculants鈥�.

We also have some 鈥渓ong-shot鈥� solutions for climate adaptation, especially when it comes to protecting coral reefs, Allison tells me later in an email. There are scary forecasts about losing most of the world鈥檚 coral reefs by the end of this century, so 鈥減robiotic鈥� microbes that boost heat tolerance and reduce bleaching could save reefs that millions depend on.

Overall, The Age of Microbes is a must-read as climate change bites deeper. Let鈥檚 hope that microbes do indeed prove to be an excellent addition to our armoury.

Three more great reads about biology鈥檚 frontiers

by Rob Dunn

Rob Dunn explores the biology of homes, from moths in cupboards to thousands of species of insects, bacteria, fungi and plants under our noses. Kill them in the name of 鈥渃leanliness鈥� at our peril.

by Michael Grunwald

We might be making things worse by following bad science (and politics) in the fight to feed (maybe) 10 billion people by 2050. Michael Grunwald offers an intriguing narrative.

by Karen G. Lloyd

For more great storytelling, check out microbial biogeochemist Karen Lloyd鈥檚 journey to Earth鈥檚 deep biosphere. Its 鈥渁lien鈥� life forms could make us rethink how life is supposed to work.

Christa Lest茅-Lasserre is a science journalist specialising in animal health and behaviour

When you make a purchase via聽the links on this page, we receive a commission.

After a deep dive into particle physics in September with cosmologist Chanda Prescod-Weinstein鈥檚 non-fiction title The Edge of Space-Time, in October the New 女生小视频 Book Club stuck with physics but made it fictional, with Emily St. John Mandel鈥檚 new speculative fiction novel Exit Party.

Set in the near future, this is a tale involving quantum entanglement and parallel worlds, but Mandel being Mandel, it鈥檚 much more a tale of the people who live in those worlds than the physics that makes them possible. Our sci-fi columnist Emily H. Wilson gave it a glowing review, saying Exit Party was 鈥渁s elegant and brilliantly executed as [Mandel鈥檚] fans will have grown to expect鈥�.

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The book starts in Los Angeles in 2031 in the aftermath of civil war, as the curfew lifts and our protagonist Ari, recently released after years in prison, sets out for a party. She and her friends see some mysterious doppelgangers at the party, but the mystery isn鈥檛 really resolved until the second half of the book. By then, we鈥檝e followed Ari through the anarchy and chaos of this lawless version of the US, and we discover that another version of the future is also unspooling.

I asked Emily (Mandel, that is) what it was like to write about her imagined near-future US when we chatted. 鈥淏y the time I finished the book, I felt like I was struggling to stay ahead of the American news cycle,鈥� she told me. 鈥淚n 2022 [when she started writing], the notion of masked police seizing people off the streets or shooting civilians in broad daylight would have seemed quite fantastical, but those were literally the ICE raids in Minneapolis.鈥�

I adored the novel Mandel is most famous for, Station Eleven, another imagined near-future but this time set in the aftermath of a flu pandemic. I agree with Emily (Wilson, that is) that this latest is just as beautifully and brilliantly written, but I wasn鈥檛 quite as compelled by it, at least for the first half of the novel. By the time we got to the second half, the drama and the science fictional elements ramped up and I ended up really enjoying it, but it鈥檚 never that great to press a book on a friend with the words 鈥渏ust give it 100 pages鈥︹��.

Book club members, chatting on as they read, were equally conflicted. 鈥淛ust finished Exit Party. Not, IMO, Mandel鈥檚 best book,鈥� wrote Tethysnz. 鈥淲hen I finished Sea of Tranquility, I went back and reread it right away to understand all the connections and undercurrents I鈥檇 missed. But with Exit Party connections are pretty clear and not all that interesting.鈥�

Alan_P felt similarly to me about the first half 鈥� it鈥檚 鈥渁lmost without incident except for the actual odd appearances and disappearances鈥�, he wrote. 鈥淭he pace does pick up a little in the final quarter of the book, but most of it is a beautifully described description of two very different societies,鈥� he added. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a good book 鈥� I don鈥檛 think it鈥檚 a great book but it is technically very good, and has an interesting ending. But it makes you work to get there and I don鈥檛 think that improves it.鈥�

Matthew found Mandel鈥檚 writing style 鈥渙verly careful, which gets in the way. Which isn鈥檛 to say she isn鈥檛 a very good writer, perhaps she just needs to let her hair down a bit鈥�, while PiriShepherd, conversely, really enjoyed the novel鈥檚 opening. 鈥淚 love the idea that a party is the place where the unintended bridge between universes opens up. A party is disorientating 鈥� somewhere you might be a bit drunk 鈥� where unexpected or inexplicable things happen 鈥� where people show up that you didn鈥檛 expect to see,鈥� they wrote. 鈥淲here there might be consequences or disastrous events that extend beyond the next morning.鈥�

鈥淭here鈥檚 such an intriguing start but then the mystery is largely left aside for a long time 鈥� possibly too long for the reader鈥檚 satisfaction?鈥� said Dee55. 鈥淚 found the book鈥檚 B part much more gripping 鈥� and disturbingly close to things that are already happening in some countries.鈥�

Katita2026 found Mandel鈥檚 future visions very frightening. 鈥淪he doesn鈥檛 give us a 鈥榖ad world鈥� and a 鈥榞ood world.鈥� She gives us the two greatest political nightmares of the 21st century,鈥� Katita 聽聽wrote, pondering if 鈥渢he genius (and the terror) of this book lies precisely in this political pessimism鈥�.

鈥淏y offering a world torn between absolute chaos and absolute tyranny, isn鈥檛 the author diagnosing that modern society has already lost the ability to imagine a future where democracy survives?鈥� Katita asked.

As you can see, book club members really put this thoughtful, thought-provoking novel through the wringer!

(UK, out 20 November; US, out now)

I wasn鈥檛 sure what to expect when I sat down to watch , a documentary that follows the disgraced founder of Theranos, Elizabeth Holmes, in her final weeks before prison. At the very least, I thought I would gain insight into who Holmes is and why she defrauded investors of hundreds of millions of dollars. Instead, I left the theatre disoriented, my mind whirring like one of her faulty blood-testing machines. I couldn鈥檛 trust any conclusion this film spit out.

I suspect that was the point. The film鈥檚 directors, Nathan Fielder and Lance Oppenheim, have both made their career unsettling audiences, which explains the documentary鈥檚 ridiculous premise. Fielder, a comedian known for constructing elaborate scenarios involving real people, moves in with Holmes, her partner Billy Evans and their two children for the month preceding her surrender to federal prison. The result is about as absurd as you might imagine.

Holmes is facing more than a decade in prison for falsely claiming that Theranos鈥檚 machine could run hundreds of diagnostic tests with just a single drop of blood. Yet, she is adamant she is innocent. She tells Fielder she has nothing to hide, going so far as to claim she hasn鈥檛 told a lie since childhood, not even a white one. But despite her promise that he can see everything, it becomes increasingly apparent that isn鈥檛 the case.

The film ultimately focuses less on Holmes and more on using her as a vehicle to examine how we form our perceptions of others. It casts doubt about our ability to recall information objectively and accurately, especially when the boundary between the personal and professional blurs, be it romantic partners starting a business together or a documentary maker befriending their subject. You can鈥檛 trust anyone on screen, not even Fielder, who seems more concerned with entertainment than truth-seeking.

This is one reason why I鈥檓 hesitant to call You Can See Everything a documentary. The others I won鈥檛 disclose due to spoilers. Regardless of what you end up describing it as, this is a film worth watching. I was captivated for almost the entire 3-hour runtime, an impressive feat given I boycott most movies over 2 hours.

Just don鈥檛 go in into it expecting Fielder to crack Holmes. If anything, she cracks him, which is even more fascinating to watch.

Emily St. John Mandel, best known for her prescient flu pandemic novel Station Eleven, joined the New 女生小视频 Book Club to talk about her latest book, the science-fiction novel Exit Party. Emily discussed everything from why she is compelled to write about the aftermath of disaster 鈥� this latest book takes place in a near-future US, after a civil war 鈥� to how hard it was to keep ahead of the US news cycle as she wrote.