In Honeydew, Ben Zalkind’s new novel, tech billionaire Moses Honeydew is intent on tunnelling into the core of the earth. I suspect readers will either be automatically sold on the book after hearing this, or put off. It’s ridiculous, and it’s exactly the kind of litmus test I love; you’re either on board, or you’re not.
The novel begins with our heroine, 20-something layabout Rose Gold, getting preemptively fired, Minority Report-style, from her new gig at Substrate. Substrate, is, of course, Honeydew’s Amazon-like conglomerate—their marquee product is synthetic soil, but they seem to have a sideline in everything from defense tech to consumer goods.
Substrate, is, of course, Honeydew’s Amazon-like conglomerate—their marquee product is synthetic soil, but they seem to have a sideline in everything from defense tech to consumer goods.
Rose says she’s innocent; that doesn’t prevent her from getting ejected, “with the force of a vaudeville hook,” out of the building (after a brief session with the most loopy, ineffectual psychiatrist this side of My Year of Rest and Relaxation).
This incident turns out to be the catalyst for an odyssey into a world of mutual aid, direct action and corporate surveillance. Rose reconnects with a mysterious HVAC tycoon from her past, who recruits her into Wooden Shoe, a loosely organized activist organization dedicated to, if not bringing down, then at least publicly embarrassing, Honeydew. Rose is assigned a crew; inevitably, they take their low-stakes shenanigans way too seriously, and end up in over their heads as a result.
As things escalate, the full extent of Substrate’s surveillance operation is gradually revealed. Rose and co. get some (largely ineffective) help from an odd Swiss doctor and part-time fixer; meanwhile, Honeydew continues to gallivant around, hyping his inner-earth exploration plan. Along the way, there’s also a group of greyhaired vigilantes, a spaceship that gives the term “remote work” a new meaning, and a last-chapter reveal that calls into question everything that happened before it. So, yeah: a lot goes on in this relatively slim novel.
Along the way, there’s also a group of greyhaired vigilantes, a spaceship that gives the term “remote work” a new meaning, and a last-chapter reveal that calls into question everything that happened before it.
Honeydew’s best moments occur when Rose and co. step away from the action and the characters are allowed to interact in ways not driven entirely by the breakneck plot. I particularly enjoyed the arc of Barnabas, who starts out as a kind of simpleminded stooge, almost comic relief, but develops a genuine soulfulness as the narrative progresses. (To say more would spoil an important plot point.)
The novel is less successful as a satire of big tech (or surveillance capitalism more broadly). These things are hard to satirize, especially now. In Honeydew, Substrate’s all-pervasive surveillance state rarely poses a serious threat to our protagonists; a handful of people are disappeared, but we’re repeatedly assured that they will come to no great harm. Our present reality, of course, is much, much, much more horrifying; it’s probably pointless for a novelist to try and top it for cruelty.
The alternate approach would be to lean into the veneer of ridiculousness that exists in parallel to these horrors, contrasting hyper-capitalist ruthlessness with new age platitudes and inane LinkedIn-speak. Zalkind does this more effectively (the drivel-spouting Substrate psychologist is a good example) but the level of specificity and/or commitment to the bit required to make this land effectively isn’t quite fully developed.
That said, there’s still a lot to love about Honeydew. It’s audacious and fast-moving. The characters feel well-developed. And, most importantly, it swings big, barrelling through ideas and situations in a way many novels don’t these days. I would like to see more books like Honeydew, and I’m looking forward to seeing where Zalkind applies his prodigious imagination next.
And, most importantly, it swings big, barrelling through ideas and situations in a way many novels don’t these days.
Ben Zalkind lives and works in Calgary, Alberta. A Salt Lake City native and naturalized Western Canadian, Ben is happiest outdoors, where he can cycle, drink coffee, and adventure with his wife and fellow traveller. Honeydew is his debut novel.
Publisher: Radiant Press (October 7, 2025)
Paperback 5.5 x 8.5 | 275 pages
ISBN: 9781998926350
Tim Welsh is a writer and musician from Toronto. His debut novel, Ley Lines, was published by Guernica Editions in 2025.
