The intention in the air, the compressed biomes, the shrill cry, the abandoned bunker, the fungus, and so much more – #Annihilation’s first chapter is a diorama of all things eerie. VanderMeer creates the eerie by incluing: for every concrete fact given by the crew, there are as many things they don’t understand. I, as the reader, trust that the things VanderMeer will leave unexplained will be rendered all the more alluring – but not frustrating. If I feel a presence in absence, or vice versa*, it is because VanderMeer intentionally put it there – not a failure to disclose, but a decision not to. None of his characters straight up say, ‘oh my god the wildlife is sentient,‘ but I sure as hell have my hunches:

> [The boar]’s features were somehow contorted, as if the beast was dealing with an extreme of inner torment. Nothing about its muzzle or broad, long face looked at all extraordinary, and yet I had the the startling impression of some presence in the way its gaze seemed turned inward and its head willfully pulled to the left as if there were an invisible bridle.

It’s one hell of a clue. Perhaps this is the last time I hear about the boar – I don’t know, yet – but this presence the Biologist notes will certainly return, and with it, the (figurative) ghost of the boar.

Another eerie example: the first chapter of #Annihilation, the first book of Jeff VanderMeer’s #SouthernReach quartet.

Four scientists – a biologist, a surveyor, an anthropologist, and a psychologist (hereafter capitalised) – are sent out explore the mysterious ‘Area X,’ a coastal area kept hidden by the secret agency known as Southern Reach. This is where the weird things are. The Biologist (our POV character) observes how the wildlife always seems to watch her and her crewmates with a particular intent. A boar charges the team, but veers at the last second as if pulled by an invisible force. During nights, they all keep hearing the shrill cry of an unidentified beast, and express an eagerness to track it down at some point. Their days, on the other hand, are focused on exploring a bunker in the woods, sixty feet across. Besides the entry and stairwell, the rooms are completely devoid of any intentional trace of life. Moreover, the structure, despite being plain to see, was not recorded on any previous maps.

The crew soon descend into the bunker’s liminal chambers, and find a fungus-like colony extruded from a wall. It glows. It is arranged to spell out words that the Biologist is able to understand and parse aloud, despite the fact that they are ‘written’ in a non-human script (so argues the Anthropologist). Again, there’s the suggestion of an agency – the only creatures known to organise symbolic information like this are humans – that oughtn’t be, but is.