The Point of Pumpkin - on Riley August's 'The Last Gifts of the Universe'

You don’t have to know me long to know one simple fact about me: I love creatures.

Every day during my little library job, I will open up my remote camera planted at home just to stare at my sweet little doggy. I will show my doggy to everyone who will look at her. I will tell everyone about my little doggy and her big nose and soft ears and little toesies. I am, essentially, obsessed with my dog.

(And my cat too, though he’s not seen on the camera nearly as often.)

So, you would think with my affinity for little creatures and the companionship they provide, I would automatically see every animal companion in a story as my absolute favorite character. An absolute essential part of what’s being told to me, the reader—not because the creature encapsulates anything particularly important about the plot, but because they’re cute. I mean, my animals are cute and they’re my favorite thing in the world, so obviously cute creatures in the stories I read should be too.

Right?

Well, I’m apparently not that simplistic.

I’ve noticed a trend really taking stride in the adult fiction space. It’s not one that’s taken off nearly as much as, say, romantasy, but I’ve been seeing it often enough in science fiction and fantasy that it’s caught my eye. It’s not a particularly new trend, but I think it’s been gaining it’s strides a little more as of late. I have also fallen into this particular trend with my own WIP.

That is: the trend of the non-human companion.

I say “non-human” because not all of the companions I’m talking about here are animals. For example, Sarah Beth Durst’s The Spellshop features a sentient spider plant as the non-human companion of Kiela, the protagonist. I’d also argue that dragons are not necessarily animals either, and they’ve skyrocketed in popularity as of late (though I’d argue that dragons are their own beast to tackle).

Still, these non-human companions serve the same purpose as animal companions do.

What I’m not referring to is when the non-human companion serves as a set piece for a character’s background. “Auntie Glenda owned fifteen cats,” gives you a sense of what kind of person Auntie Glenda is, but does not tell you anything about the fifteen cats themselves. In this scenario, the cats serve only to expand on Auntie Glenda’s character. The cats themselves are not characters on their own.

What I am referring to is what Pumpkin is in The Last Gifts of the Universe by Riley August—a character wholly separate from any other, with its own place within the narrative. Pumpkin does not exist only to add something to Scout (the protagonist)’s character, but rather exists to be his own. Pumpkin is not just Scout’s cat, but also a cat flying through space with Scout.

Pumpkin, on the surface, should’ve been everything I enjoy.

A small creature with its own vibrant personality—needy at some points, sassy at others. Curious about the adventures Scout and Kieran bring him along for, and overall feeling like a part of the small family the trio foster together. Orange. He acts like a cat, sniffs like a cat, meows like a cat, attacks Scout’s face like a cat.

Pumpkin is a cat. Nothing more, nothing less.

And it left me feeling unsatisfied with him by the end of the book.

When I closed The Last Gifts of the Universe, I sat back for a moment and considered what I thought about it. I usually do this with any book I read—gathering my thoughts about what I’d just experienced and basically surmising if it was worth it. And, honestly, the book is worth it for the exploration of what it means to live and exist along with it’s general critique on capitalism (though it may be a bit surface level).

But, one question did bubble up in my head when I was filtering my feelings on it:

And, honestly, I still wonder that.

Once thing I’m sure of is that Pumpkin is there to be cute. He’s there to be a cat. He’s there to serve as the non-human companion to Scout.

But is that enough to serve as a character?

One thing you will hear when you’re a writer is that everything you write should matter. Every detail, every character, every scene—it should serve as to either push your plot forward or explain why something serves the plot. No matter what, every word should contribute to moving the story in some way.

What’s happening in a story should help build upon the greater themes and convey something to the reader. It can be subtle, it can be overt. It can be subjective, it can be objective. But the events and the characters engaged in those events should matter to the overall message the author is trying to tell.

And, unfortunately, I don’t think that applies to Pumpkin. I think Pumpkin served the role of being cute, but I don’t think Pumpkin adds anything to the story that makes it so removing him would jeopardize what August was trying to convey. And yet, Pumpkin receives so much individualized screentime that it’s obvious he meant to play a larger role as a side character. So, that brings me to the question:

Now, I know some of you read that question and thought: “Duh. Yes.” And I know some of you read that question and thought: “I don’t think so!”

Some are completely satisfied with their cat and dog characters serving as only cute pets. Heck, that’s what our pets serve in real life. Why do we need some kind of bigger expectation when we don’t have that for ours? They’re just animals! They’re worried about what’s for dinner, not the complexities of what it means to live.

Meanwhile, some are thinking of these characters in the context I mentioned earlier—every moving part should contribute to the story in some matter. This is literature, after all. Why write a story if it’s going to contain a bunch of unrelated details, possibly muddling the overall message?

I’m not here to answer definitively one way or the other and make you think you have to agree with me. Rather, I’m simply trying to wrap my head around my feelings on Pumpkin and how that relates to my own personal answer.

To do that, I will be getting into spoilers in order to expand on some of my points, so here is your warning: Some major plot points will be spoiled ahead, specifically relating to the ending. You have been warned!

The Last Gifts of the Universe is a cozy sci-fi about Scout, an interstellar archivist, traveling through the stars in order to find any traces of millions of dead civilizations across the universe. They travel with their brother, Kieran, and their cat, Pumpkin. The story focuses on the surviving messages of one civilization which was vanquished years ago, specifically one focusing on their president. There’s something out there devouring these planets and their inhabitants, and these messages—these “last gifts”—may give them some clues on how to save their own world from such a fate.

The story focuses on existentialism: why do we exist? Why do we live? What is the point of anything, or is there a point? By the end of the story, August leaves you with the idea that the point of existing is to simply live, to love, to build relationships and nourish them. It’s a very anti-nihilistic book in the face of potential world collapse, which I feel like is something we all need in the current state of the world. Overall, I really enjoyed this book for these themes filled with hope and a desire to simply be.

On the topic of Pumpkin, I feel like he didn’t have much in ways of “big moments” until the very end:

This reveal and action are served in tandem, the reveal of Pumpkin’s backstory serving as a foundation leading into Scout’s decision.

Now, individually, these two moments are very well-done. In fact, I thought Scout’s decision led to the biggest character moment for Pumpkin, solidifying the fact that this non-human companion is meant to be a character on its own rather than an accessory. After receiving the emergency tank, Pumpkin springs back up from oxygen deprivation and starts leading Scout down the cavern, trying to find an exit. When they discover the exit is blocked off, Pumpkin starts pawing at the boulder in their way while also meowing at Scout to do something. There’s a sense that Pumpkin knows something’s going on with Scout, so his gripes to escape seem to transition to panic after a bit. All the while, Scout’s air tank continues to leak, the archivist struggling to keep up with their kitty companion.

It’s a very heart-wrenching scene, and very well-written. It reminded me of the stories you hear about animals waiting at their dying owner’s bedsides, or how dogs will lay on the graves of their deceased owners. Tie this into Scout’s own development—someone desperate to find the solution to save the universe while burdened with their mother’s death, feeling responsibility that they couldn’t do more and thus needs to prove their worth of living over their mother by doing this—and it’s an effective way to really hammer August’s message into the reader. I can even identify Pumpkin as representative of a symbol here: of Scout’s mother urging them forward towards life, even when they feel like giving up.

However, there is something that needs to be taken into account with this: both this reveal and these scene takes place about 95% through the book. This is literally the second-or-third to last scene before the book ends. And, before this, Pumpkin didn’t add to the narrative other than occasionally adding a comedic moment here at there.

I read a few reviews that said the same thing: Why did you bring a cat into space? I don’t think that’s exactly the correct question, as I feel like, if implemented better, this question wouldn’t be asked nearly as frequently by readers. This is literature—a cat can be in space. And yet, this is the question readers were left with by the end of the book.

I think the better question is: Why is Pumpkin here? This focuses specifically on the purpose of the cat being in space rather than trying to bring rationality into it. For what reason did Pumpkin need to be with Scout on this journey?

I think the easy answer is that Pumpkin represents Scout’s mother, being her previous pet. Scout does not want to let that part of their past go, thus has Pumpkin with them on this journey to find some meaning in their life.

But that doesn’t make Pumpkin a character. I explained earlier the difference between non-human characters being their own entity versus being set pieces. If we use this answer, then Pumpkin exists to be a set piece for Scout—to add definition to their character. This would be fine if I felt like this was August’s only intention.

But I feel like August intended Pumpkin to feel like his own fleshed-out character, with his own standing in the story. That if we were to remove Pumpkin, the course of the story would ultimately alter, and we would not be reading the same text as has been published.

Or, maybe, Pumpkin was never intended to be so deep. Maybe Pumpkin was intended to only be a cute cat with some relation to Scout’s development. There to be the third in a trio, the comedic relief in a tale about living and dying and facing the end of the world with your nose held high. A cat in space with no reason to be other than to be cute.

And, truthfully, the last scenes would not have played out the same without Pumpkin. Pumpkin represents Scout’s past and their inability to let go, letting that affect their present and even future. To say that removing Pumpkin would not alter the course of the story would simply be wrong in terms of the ending.

Except, we have Kieran.

Kieran is Scout’s brother and the technician of the spacecraft. Throughout the story, you can see that Kieran is not as into this world-saving message-reading business as Scout is. In fact, about three-fourths of the way in, Kieran admits that he does not want to scour the universe anymore. He wants to settle and work back at home, safely on the ground.

Kieran, in my opinion, is an incredibly underutilized character.

Despite being Scout’s brother, we know absolutely nothing about his relationship with their mother. We don’t know exactly why he travels with Scout other than being related. We know he likes pizza and is good with managing the ship. The reveal that he does not want to travel through space anymore had very little emotional impact (to me).

Scout’s reaction to Kieran’s admission—being taken aback, thrown completely for a loop and generally feeling betrayed—did not stick the landing (again, to me).

Kieran was another thing I considered when I did my post-read consideration. And I came to a conclusion:

If you plopped Kieran in Pumpkin’s place, his character would’ve improved tremendously.

We would’ve learned his relationship with their mother, and possibly gained an explanation on why he even chose to travel with Scout in the first place. Their relationship would’ve more well-defined, thus making his admission more impactful. I would’ve understood Scout’s reaction a little better as I could see not only their personal relationship but how that related back to their own burdens about their mother.

While the events of Scout’s decision would’ve played differently, I think a lot of the same points would’ve still hit. Kieran, being the potential last family they have, and choosing that family over themselves. Kieran, trying to find an exit to save a dying Scout.

You can put Kieran in Pumpkin’s place and relatively have the same story.

You cannot say the same about putting Pumpkin in Kieran’s place. Cats can’t fix spaceships, after all, nor can Pumpkin vocalize to Scout that they’d rather stay home and disrupt the normalcy in their life (unless August decided to go down the path of a sentient bipedal cat, but I think the intention was to make him as cat-like as possible).

So, if one character can easily be replaced by another and hit the same themes, it comes back to the question:

Honestly, if I had to answer that, it would be: to be cute. (At least for the first 95%)

Perhaps putting so much brainpower into wondering why this literal cat is a character is nonsensical. Maybe the answer is simply: because it’s a cat. Cats are cute. Stories are meant to entertain, and cats at entertaining.

There’s all kinds of media that have animals as their own characters, and those animals serve to simply be animals. My first thought is the Fallout series and Dogmeat.

Aside from the occasional mission, Dogmeat really only serves to be a companion to the player character. It’s just a dog, and that’s why so many people love it. Dogmeat is THE star of Fallout. Literally the first thing I do when I boot-up Fallout 4 is get Dogmeat because I love that little guy sooooooooo much.

So what makes Dogmeat different from Pumpkin to me? Why am I so accepting of a dog being a dog in Fallout yet feel like the cat needs to be more than just a cat in The Last Gifts of the Universe?

I think books and video games have different levels of breathing room to do what they need to do, with literature needing to be a bit more concise.

Video games have more elbow-room to insert less relevant things into its narrative without disrupting the experience. Easter eggs, developer jokes, side quests, random dialogue, what have you… Most games are non-linear, so the plot and narrative cohesiveness doesn’t need to be the forefront of the developer’s concerns. Their concern is making the game entertaining and engaging, and they have hours to do it.

Books don’t have that freedom. The story of a book is limited to what’s printed on the page—there really isn’t that same freedom to go off topic, to distract the reader with other things like what’s going on with Fred the Farmer and his sheep problem. As such, what’s included needs to matter to an extent. Again, the details should push the plot forward.

It should also matter because of this limited space.

So when you have a character taking up space that doesn’t feel necessary to a majority of what’s going on, what’s the point of them? Why take up all this limited space when you can use it to refine your themes, your plot, your other characters further?

I think that’s why Dogmeat works for me yet Pumpkin doesn’t—I have infinite time with Fallout, but finite time with The Last Gifts of the Universe. And I want every moment of that finite time to matter—not for me to wonder why we have a cat, no matter how cute it may be.

So, in conclusion…

There really isn’t much else to it. Pumpkin is a cat, and I’m generally not satisfied with his implementation. I don’t think this is any testament to August’s skill as a writer, though—I will keep reiterating that this story is very strong and I do highly recommend reading it.

Pumpkin just leaves me with more to be desired. Pumpkin also makes me with there was more done with Kieran as well. I can’t help but wonder if Pumpkin needed to be in the story.

Pumpkin is also just a cat. And he fulfills his role as a cat very well. He is, essentially, a well-written cat when it comes to cat behaviors and mannerisms.

But, to me, Pumpkin needed that little extra oomph as a cat in order to be more than that: to be a character. That, or he needed to be better emphasized that it really isn’t that deep with him; that he really does exist merely as Scout’s backstory set-piece.

Which, then, begs the question: why bring a cat into space?