Mutant Sewer Sharks, Killer Robot Servants, and Walt Disney

Sewer, Gas, & Electric: The Public Works Trilogy

by Matt Ruff

p. 1997

Sewer, Gas, and Electric is exactly the kind of frenetic, insane romp that I never knew I was missing in my life, and it has made me an instant devotee of author Matt Ruff. The author was recommended to me by a friend; though I was directed to his earlier book, Fool on a Hill, I happened to find this one in at JKB first, so I tried it out and I can definitely conclude that Fool on a Hill will be bumped up a few places on my list of things to read next.

Written in the early nineties but taking place in 2023, Sewer, Gas, and Electric is... far too complex to explain in a simple review. It can be accused of being ‘convoluted’ but it is convoluted in a good way. The wide array of characters and the intersecting subplots not only move the main story along, but it creates enough distraction to surprise you with the ending. Characters and devices are introduced in the first acts and disappear just long enough to lead you to believe they were red herrings, before establishing their deus ex machina ulterior motives.

The way I understand it, it is Matt Ruff’s characters that decide whether or not you’ll be a fan of this book. For starters, there are a lot of them, so many in fact that a character guide—which I had to consult frequently in the first 50 pages—proves itself as a handy tool. Given the recent popularity of Game of Thrones, however, I would expect this to not be an insurmountable problem. Then again, I am a big fan of quirky ensemble casts and I am fairly used to keeping them straight, but not everyone is. It has been opined that all of Ruff’s characters possess a singular jaded, at times prescient, but mostly resigned sarcasm that cause them to blend together to the point that they are really just one character—surrogates of Matt Ruff himself—and to an extent, I actually agree that they do seem somewhat similar, but it was all so much fun that I hard time complaining. I guess it comes down to whether or not you enjoy and agree with Ruff’s world view. If you despise the man and his outlook, you’re less likely to enjoy the ride than if, like myself, you’re content to sit back and go with the flow.

One of the things I enjoyed most about SG&E, aside from the off the wall characters, was Ruff’s subversion of popular cliches and tropes. One of the first points of view represented to the reader is possessed by a character who is promptly devoured by a mutant sewer shark. The shocking turn serves to keep you on your toes, not so much for the mutant sewer shark part, but for the fact that the narrative is misleading and no one is safe. Near the end of the book, the good old ‘will-I-shoot-the-good-twin-or-the-evil-twin’ trope is quickly and quite literally shot down without hesitation. My favorite subversion of convention is probably that the novel’s female characters are also the strongest, physically and emotionally. Perhaps I’ve been reading too many halcyon days sci fi, but I’m used to seeing strong women underrepresented, so it was a relief, in this modern tale, to see women take the forefront and solve their own problems without needing to be saved.

It’s a bit funny reading this book as it predicts events that, to Ruff, happen in the future when for myself, it is already the distant past. Ruff combines a mess of made up effluvia with real life history and facts, with a few conspiracy theories thrown in. I found myself looking up every historical reference and was surprised to find how many of them were real. At the same time I was amused by Ruff’s predictions that did not come true as he envisioned. The best part of it all is that Ruff clearly states at the beginning of the book, his opinion on science fiction that tries to predict the future then fails... only to do the exact same thing himself. Obviously, Ruff threw caution to the wind, but at least he acknowledges his irreverence. Matt Ruff is someone whose tongue is pretty firmly embedded in his cheek with regards to a lot of issues, not the least of which is political correctness.

The best way to approach this book is not to read up on the plot; any vague description would sound far too silly and the Public Works trilogy is not a short book. It’s probably best to just turn off your critical inclinations, sit back, and enjoy the ride.