Review: Double Helix

Double Helix has been hailed as a "gripping new medical drama" and Auckland writer and medical professional Eileen Merriman as "the next Jodi Picoult." These descriptions are in some ways useful as indicative of content or style; but to box Merriman in as being our equivalent of a prolific American writer is limiting. While Picoult's books have sold millions of copies, this is due to popular appeal rather than necessarily to substance, critical thinking and quality of prose. 

Like its predecessor, The Silence of Snow, Double Helix concerns characters in a medical setting as they deal with health and life-matters that range from the banal to the urgent. In both novels there is a developing romance. Where the melodramatic scenes were the weakness of Silence, here such scenes are riven with fully-fledged soppiness.

It’s a pity because the characters are, in other ways, substantial. The frequent innuendo in beds, showers and glasshouses makes it read as a soap opera. Rather than this, it is the everyday dilemmas of these characters and their quandaries which are of more interest since they share vital medical worries. Many readers will be unfamiliar with these specific afflictions, and what will hold their attention is the author's knowledgeable discussions around these. 

Our main individual, Jake, is a newly registered doctor from the Far North. He is estranged from his father who is very ill. This family suffers from Huntington's disease, a progressive brain disorder. Since it is genetic, any children Jake may have could inherit this debilitating disease which has already wreaked havoc in his family history. Thus, when Jake becomes involved with Emily, this issue more prominently raises its head, though he is not ready to address it.  

There are further complicating factors in this relationship. Emily has a tendency to panic in stressful situations. As she too is training as doctor, this does not bode well. Also, both wider families have at times strained interactions, to which many readers will relate. How the characters handle these dilemmas, confrontations and raw emotions is a strength of the book. 

A playful twist is how the author links this story to her Black Spiral Trilogy for young adults. Here, one of Emily's strings is as an aspiring graphic designer, and she is centring her science fiction storylines around the figure of Violet Black. Spirals too, feature, and link with double helixes and dragons to form a motif linking both sets of works. 

In terms of the structure, the book moves between several time periods, which can be confusing. It is hard to keep track of the narrative when it is frequently oscillating, sometimes between decades, and other times a shorter gap.

However, within her time frames, Merriman unravels detailed backgrounds and fleshes out other players, such as Emily's father Jim, an intricate figure. She sets up believable dynamics and often drives the plot with these tensions. The locale changes between Dunedin, the North Island and Melbourne, as her characters age and develop their careers, facing realistic anxiety, indecision and conflict along the way. 

As a full-time consultant haematologist, Merriman's extensive experience informs her work and she drills in on specific patient-doctor scenarios. While Huntington's disease is the main issue for Emily and Jake, there are other factors as well. These involve mortality, loss, culpability, guilt and regret and, as such, these are universal themes and emotions. There are vital ideas here around euthanasia and patient choice. It is disappointing that Merriman chooses melodrama as the vehicle, as it weakens and pulls away from her content that is informed, complex and much more worthwhile.

Reviewed by Jessie Neilson