Inequality, Injustice, and the Law Theme Analysis

Unwind introduces the reader to a futuristic version of the United States. In the relatively recent past of the novel, the U.S. resolved the debate and subsequent Heartland War over abortion by adopting the Bill of Life, which states that after conception, a parent cannot terminate an unwanted pregnancy—but they can, once their child turns 13, begin to unwind the child. Unwinding is a process by which teenagers between the ages of 13 and 18 are essentially harvested for parts, which, according to the Bill of Life, means that the child doesn’t truly die—they continue to exist in a divided state, as they’re still considered alive as long as 99.44 percent of their body is used in other people. Even though the Bill of Life is meant to resolve the debate over abortion, it gives rise to a new debate: to some, unwinding is the greatest public service anyone can perform and is unequivocally good, while to others, unwinding is a horrific practice that robs children of their futures. However, even though Unwind leaves room for thought experiments in support of either side of the debate, it still makes it very clear that the laws surrounding unwinding are, without exception, wildly ineffective at creating a truly equal and just society.

Despite being legal and considered normal by many—adults, children, and government officials alike—Unwind shows various instances in which the ethics of unwinding, and those of the society that supports this procedure, are actually muddier than people in the novel want to acknowledge. For instance, unwinding renders abortion illegal, meaning that women who may have terminated pregnancies if given the opportunity can instead stork their babies, or legally abandon them on doorsteps. If the woman gets away, she’s free and the homeowner has to care for the baby; if the homeowners catch her, she has to keep her baby. One of the novel’s main characters, an Unwind named Connor, explains that that while this may be a fine idea in theory, in practice, it puts vulnerable infants at risk. He shares that when he was little, his family was storked—but rather than keep the infant, Connor’s dad put it on a neighbor’s doorstep. Two weeks later, the baby reappeared on Connor’s family’s step, ill, and died days later after being passed from neighbor to neighbor, none of whom wanted another child. This makes the case, first of all, that the unwinding and storking laws aren’t effective in solving what they’re supposed to—unwanted babies still die, just from neglect after birth rather than via abortion. Further, Connor’s horrific story leads Risa, another Unwind and his traveling companion, to wonder if storking is really more humane than abortion was in the past, a question the novel never resolves but one that illustrates how effective the law is at solving the problem it was supposed to, instead perpetuating more cruelty and suffering.

Unwind shows that the injustice of the novel’s society goes far deeper than storking and unwinding, as people with money can also buy the best of the best when it comes to organs—and with enough money, they can even replace their own body parts, such as eyes or teeth, for purely cosmetic reasons. This creates a situation in which the poor in need of transplants or medical attention can’t afford the help they need, while the rich can use these resources to fulfill superficial desires. In a broader sense, the laws governing storking and unwinding prey upon society’s most vulnerable members: infants, teenagers with no legal rights, and in most cases, individuals who come from poverty and therefore have even fewer ways of defending themselves. Again, this asks the reader to consider whether laws and systems like those in the novel (which ostensibly solve widespread societal problems but cause more problems in the process) are truly just when the victims are overwhelmingly innocent and vulnerable populations, and those who benefit are overwhelmingly privileged to begin with.

Unwinding and storking were never intended to be taken literally and put into law—they were only introduced to make a point and solve the national debate surrounding abortion. Admiral Dunfee, a man who runs an underground resistance group that rescues Unwinds, tells Connor that he fought for the U.S. Army in the Heartland War, where his job was to try to keep the carnage at a minimum and, when it came down to it, broker peace between the two sides. He explains that the Bill of Life and the concept of unwinding were originally created as a satire of sorts, and the goal was to calm both sides and impress upon them that they were being ridiculous. But in reality, no one backed down and the Bill of Life inadvertently became the law of the land. The development of the Bill of Life illustrates clearly how nonsensical law is in the world of the novel. In many ways, unwinding is nothing more than abortion dressed up in a different package, as it may solve some issues but consequently introduces a host of other problems, including issues in common with abortion such as access, bodily autonomy, and family planning. Though Unwind doesn’t fully resolve any of these issues, being the first in a series of five novels, the book nevertheless shows clearly that within the world of the novel, the law as the characters know it is wildly ineffective, corrupt, and predatory—a scenario that sets the stage for potential change in later installments.