Once upon a time Riemann’s hypothesis was solved…

What does it mean to be alien? Can humans be alien to their own kind and planet? Is it possible to alienate oneself completely? What does it mean to be human? What is it that makes you one? How weird one needs to be to not fit anymore with other humans?

These and many other questions are raised by Matt Haig’s novel simply titled “The Humans”. It is exactly what this book is about – humans and their nature, true or perceived.

Humans, as a rule, don’t like mad people unless they are good at painting, and only then
once they are dead.

Matt Haig

Professor Andrew Martin is being sent for a psychiatric observation after wandering unclothed through Cambridge. Once back with his family, he seems to had lost all sense of himself and his ways. Unsure about how to navigate previously familiar existence, he clings to a bond with his dog Newton. Professor Martin is a mathematician, a researcher, who just solved the greatest mystery of his field. And yet, he is more intrigued by the riddle of compulsory pants and peanut butter.

Pages of this book are soaked in longing. Haig made me feel homesick on my own planet. He brilliantly observes and describes humans from the outsider perspective, skillfully interlacing deep reflections on the core of our nature with witty, humorous comments on the rules we follow. The story makes you question alongside confused main character and contemplate ordinary things not only from a new angle but perhaps for the first time ever.

Every chapter is captivating and surprising in its own right. All of them built a moving story about love and belonging. Story that floats between wholesome and disturbing.

Photo: Greg Rakozy