What’s the plot?
Twins Rachael and Theo are staying with their family in Auckland for the summer, but their holiday’s barely begun when they’re pulled into a terrifying world of shapeshifting aliens and psychic powers. Only if they learn to use their newfound abilities together can they hope to destroy the creatures that are about to emerge from under the mountains ... before the creatures destroy the entire universe. No pressure.
Where’s it from?
This was Maurice Gee’s first children’s novel, which he wrote in 1979, and it’s been in print ever since. Twenty-five years later, it won the Gaelyn Gordon Award - given to NZ children’s books that weren’t recognised when they were first published.
The vibe in three words: Old-school, ominous, chilling
Re-readable? Yeah, actually (it ain’t a classic for nothing!)
* * *
It’s April, and I’m the fool - for losing my copy of Under the Mountain since January and only now remembering where I put it! The holiday blogging break has been longer than anticipated, so welcome back to your regularly scheduled dip into the library stacks.
Are you a true kiwi kid if you haven’t read Under the Mountain?
I never did, but somehow me and my siblings still had in-jokes about the Wilberforces - that’s how ingrained this story is in the national psyche. I remember a Sideswipe quip from a woman who recalled telling her kids off in the car for screaming that they’d seen Mr Wilberforce, then turning around to see the actor from the ‘80s TV show crossing the road in front of them. Most of all, I remember the 2009 movie’s laughable Wilberforce line “I will observe you to die” (iconically said before proceeding to chase the protagonists at walking speed).
Campy villains, lava tunnels, and epic volcano eruptions - that was my initial impression of the story. That’s what the movie would have you think, at least. Now, having finally read the book, my impression is more along the lines of sci-fi thriller, dread-inducing responsibility ... and, paradoxically, good old-fashioned kids’ book charm.
* * *
I tend to gravitate to books set in far-off foreign places (it’s
not escapism if it’s where you already live), but I really
enjoyed the familiarity of Under the Mountain. Rachel and Theo
arrive in the bustle of Auckland city, are picked up by their cousin
Ricky, and are driven over the harbour bridge towards the North Shore with
the view of volcanic cones and sailboats - it’s something me and my
siblings have done countless times, even though we grew up in a different
century to these characters. Seeing your own home in fiction does give you a little spark of joy.
Maurice Gee has said he “wanted settings New Zealand children would recognise, with New Zealand as the most important place in the world, as it is for the children who live here.”
I’m sure generations of young readers have
climbed Mount Eden or gone swimming at Takapuna Beach and imagined
themselves as Rachel or Theo, a normal kid with a secret deadly task.
Even the prologue in the King Country farm town is oh so recognisable. It’s
instantly relatable, and I think it’s partly because of the way the
characters are written - but before I get onto that, let’s talk about the plot.
We all know that a story is only as good as its villain - and the Wilberforces are pretty darn good.
Ah,
Mr and Mrs Wilberforce. They live in the dilapidated house across the
lake, leave grey slime and a rotten smell wherever they go - and they
drive a black hearse! What more can you ask for?
As Rachel and Theo discover, the Wilberforces are also shapeshifting slug aliens, who act as the brains for enormous space worms that lie in wait under the mountains of Auckland. The worms are waking up, and when they do it’ll all be over for planet earth. Luckily Mr Jones, their ancient adversary, is in the neighbourhood - all he needs is some telepathic twins to wield some magic stones to put the worms to rest once and for all.
The scenes with the Wilberforces are by far the best in the book, not only because they’re delightfully creepy, but because these are the scenes where the twins have the most agency.
I love the part where Rachel and Theo are lured into the Wilberforce house, land in (literal) deep trouble, and have to get out on their own. Aside from the Coraline-esque thrills of crawling through dusty basements in places you’re not supposed to be, it’s extra tense because they’ve had their memories wiped for some reason (thanks, Mr Jones) and they’re struggling to remember what’s going on. It’s always great when the audience knows more than the characters do.
World-building wise,
there’s a lot of cool stuff going on. I like that
the twins rediscover their childhood telepathy skills, cutely called “pebbling” (even if I occasionally missed that they were doing
it ‘cause it’s styled in quote marks like spoken dialogue). The
Wilberforces have a funky tunnel network made of a material that’s solid
from one side and squishy from the other, creating the horror
of suffocating in jelly while trying to escape through the walls. Then
there’s
the eerie floating models of the solar system in the Wilberforce house,
the planets seething in cold, sticky mud, belying their sinister
ambitions. Eat your heart out, Lovecraft.
“They’re creatures of tremendous will - no imagination, no feeling, no conscience,” Mr Jones says - aptly adding, “They remind me of some of the leaders of your race.”
Another exciting/terrifying scene is the one where Mr Wilberforce
corners Rachel and Theo in their own home. They can hold him off
with their powers, but not for long, and are on the brink of death when Ricky and his mates arrive for a party and rescue them. It is nice that
the family comes to their aid, as opposed to some books where
adults never believe the kids - even if Mr Jones’s mind control is
partly to thank.
* * *
In
contrast, the chapters of sitting around learning to use psychic powers are a
bit dull - mostly because half the time the twins are forced to go
along with Mr Jones’s instructions (who often frustratingly refuses to
elaborate on the what and why of things). In this way, Under the
Mountain reminds me of other real old-school fantasies like Over Sea, Under Stone.
Rachel and Theo’s main traits are aligned to how they use their twinned powers: Rachel
is intuitive, and connects to her magic stone easily, while Theo is a realist
whose need to understand his stone only blocks his ability to use it.
There’s also the threat that the stones might not even work for them ‘cause
they’re not identical twins.
The whole “boy = science, girl = emotion” thing made me raise my eyebrows a bit,
but it’s cool that Rachel’s sensitivity makes her more adept at saving
the world than Theo, and they each get a fairly even share of the
physical action too. Plus, having a science-minded kid does help slip in the necessary bits of volcano information here and there. I know the book’s been adapted twice already, but
I’d be interested to see a version where one (or both) of the twins is
trans or non-binary, to play around with the gender expectations
even more.
* * *
I kind of wanted the twins to have stronger personalities, but it’s
always side characters who have more attitude than protagonists anyway.
You can tell that Ricky’s their older cousin as soon as he’s introduced,
and I don’t know what Gee intended, but I got the sense that Ricky and
their auntie were Māori while their annoying uncle was Pākeha. I think having slightly generic characters has also helped Under the Mountain stay timeless - it would have dated a lot if Rachel was a Bee Gees fan, or if Theo was into All Blacks whose names are now quiz answers.
In
any case, not being fully formed makes Rachel and Theo really easy to
emphasise with. There’s enough to give you a sense of their lives
without bogging you down in backstory, and these brief mentions are
especially poignant near the end. “Dreams of his home and parents and friends floated
through his mind. That life seemed far away. He did not believe he
would ever find his way back to it.” We don’t need to know who those
friends are; we picture our own friends, just as we don’t need to be
told the details of the twins’ relationship - if you have siblings, you
know what it’s like.
Not that the twins are robots - Gee gives us a
good hint of their feelings, but doesn’t dwell on them, letting the reader fill in the blanks. It’s
refreshing to read something that isn’t full of angst or overwrought
emotions; that just says “He was angry” then gets on with it. Sometimes, telling is better than showing.
Likewise, things like the Wilberforce’s “fantastical machines” are left vague, and you can make them as horrific as you desire. Gee’s Halfmen of O
trilogy has the same blunt style. Although it can come across harsh
at first, it suits these stories with their difficult
quests - and he does temper it with lovely descriptions of the landscape every once in a while. Other times, Gee does an Antonia Forest and just suggests what’s going
on through dialogue, which has become one of my favourite writing
techniques.
* * *
Under the Mountain moves between perspectives seamlessly too. I wasn’t super keen on Mr Jones’s parts, with his grandfatherly
worry and seriousness - it seemed like an interruption in what
should have been just the kids’ story, and it took away some of the
mystery. Sometimes I think it’s best for things to be only from one point of
view, to make your connection to the protagonists really solid - like in E.T.,
where you hardly see an adult’s face till the end of the movie.
Overall, though, the story focuses on the twins’ point of view, and I
like how this emphasises the differences between them. When Mr
Jones magically guides their bodies to help them climb Rangitoto fast
and silently in the dark, Rachel feels she’s gliding along in a peaceful
daze, but Theo feels he’s in a nightmarish dance he can't break free
of. As the night wears on, their attitudes shift: Rachel is ready to
give up and sleep forever, and Theo is eager for revenge
for the way their lives have been twisted out of their control.
The twins aren’t perfect - and the Wilberforces aren’t portrayed as wholly evil either.
Rachel
in particular is conflicted by her role in bringing an alien species to
extinction. They’re only doing what’s in their nature, she thinks.
Isn’t there another way? Aside from Mr and Mrs Wilberforce, there are
other slug creatures who are almost affectionately dubbed “baby
Wilberforces”. At the end of the book, the sense of grief isn’t only for
what the twins have lost, but for the Wilberforce family, the last of
their kind, huddling together in despair before they face oblivion.
* * *
I like how this book blurs the boundary between quaint adventure and cosmic horror.
Like the boy-wizard series whose author must not be named, Under the Mountain
takes you from a fun kids’ fantasy to something much darker. The tame
cliches of magic stones and haunted house contrast starkly with the
moral ambiguity and death-of-the-universe tone the book takes on by the end,
but it also reflects how Rachel and Theo irreversably change
themselves, in a grim coming-of-age way. It’s subtly done, and not what I
was expecting. I
think that these days books are more set in their marketing niches, and
back in the day writers just did what they wanted with less regard for genre or audience.
Anyway, that's more than enough analysis - let's get to the end. Be warned: there be spoilers ahead.
You saved the world ... but at what cost?
I remember being confused by the movie’s triumphant climax - they activate the stones, and all the volcanoes are set alight ... including the one that their auntie and uncle live on the crater of. It felt odd to brush over the fact that half the city’s been Pompeii’d, but the book doesn’t shy away from this at all. In fact, I was shocked by how brutal it is.
Maurice Gee has no happy ending for Rachel and Theo. Their victory over the Wilberforces is abrupt and apocalyptic - and it’s Theo’s fault, for not following the plan. Mr Jones, his life force used up, evaporates into the wind, leaving the twins utterly alone in a rain of ash. They watch the destruction, weeping, and the book ends.
No wonder Under the Mountain made such an impression. This is an ending that'll stick in your mind and make you fret about what happens after. Were their family caught in the blast? Could they have escaped? Will Theo and Rachel ever be able to forget what they’ve seen and done?
If you’ve ever been to the room in Auckland Museum that’s done up like a lounge with a simulated view of Rangitoto erupting out the window, you’ll understand the primal, too-close-to-home fear that this story evokes. As someone who already has lifelong recurring dreams about exploding volcanoes (blame the dinosaur movies), maybe it was a good thing that I didn’t read Under the Mountain when I was a kid. It might’ve turned a morbid curiosity into a full-blown phobia. But that’s what I like about this book - it respects kids and their fears.
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