Suzanne Collins is a sick woman (honorific). When I finished this novel, I was on a delayed plane, and put my head in hands just sobbing hysterically,Suzanne Collins is a sick woman (honorific). When I finished this novel, I was on a delayed plane, and put my head in hands just sobbing hysterically, and my best friend got very scared that I was having a genuine mental break about the flight delay. I'm sorry but it was just that book.
What is there to say about Sunrise on the Reaping that has not yet been said? It's a brilliant novel about propaganda, using just a page's worth of expectations created by Catching Fire to demonstrate that so much can be hidden by a so-called truth. The cast of tributes created — Wyatt, Louella / Lou Lou, Haymitch, and Maysilee — each made me beyond emotional, and I particularly adored the development of Maysilee. She is my best friend in the world. The storyline with Lou Lou also utterly devastated me. The pacing is stellar and plot swings along quickly.
There are several semi-fanservicish cameos, but though I'm not sure I was particular mad about them, I admit in hindsight I sort of wish we'd gotten more information on Seeder or Chaff, the District 11 victors from Catching Fire. We knew very little about them and they've always been some of the victors I'm most intrigued by in part because of Haymitch's relationship with them, and because we miss out on their allyship in Catching Fire despite them being part of the alliance. This just felt like a bit of a missed opportunity to introduce us to further victors.
One of the other critical reviews on the page also pointed out that Lenore Dove is a bit of just a Lucy Gray redo. Which I cannot totally disagree with.
Overall, though, I can't even begin to emphasize how crazy this made me. I'm beyond glad I read this and excited for the movie.
And if I said I found this kind of disappointing? I love Becky Chambers' utopian vision for the future, but this particular vision felt underdevelopedAnd if I said I found this kind of disappointing? I love Becky Chambers' utopian vision for the future, but this particular vision felt underdeveloped within this novella.
"I think there's something beautiful about being lucky enough to witness a thing on its way out."
Psalm For the Wild Built is set in a future where the robots have departed and humanity is thriving without them. It is a low-tech society, but one where people care for each other and find vocations to take them there. This is perhaps cynical, but I found myself frustrated by the lack of detail we actually get about how this society functions. My favorite utopian vision by Becky Chambers, the spellbinding Record of a Spaceborn Few, has a deep-rooted care for the how of the society. I didn't feel this novella had that desire.
While I'm always one to enjoy a robot-human friendship, the monk character, Sibling Dex, also felt a bit... lacking. Sibling Dex is a character who is written to be confused about their wants and desires, but they feel built as a representative of that facet, rather than as a fully-rounded character of their own volition. In essence, Dex stands in for confusion, rather than working on their own. (Maybe I've just gotten too used to Chambers writing aliens?)
Overall, as a novella, this just didn't quite feel complete. It's the first half of a good story, but not a full story in and of itself – or at least not one I loved.
This is a book that translates extremely differently from movie or book.
Better in the book: —Clemensia’s defeat being less her fault; her being a charThis is a book that translates extremely differently from movie or book.
Better in the book: —Clemensia’s defeat being less her fault; her being a character we feel for. Related, Clemensia’s scene in the hospital. —Coryo getting the guitar from Pluribus Bell, who also gives him —The song being a betrayal is so INTERESTING. I think Movie Coryo is inherently more sympathetic just by virtue of missing his internal monologue, where he has a consistent entitlement to Lucy Gray.
Better in the film: —Songs translate better obviously; specifically, I think “Ballad of Lucy Gray Baird” live is one of the most haunting things I’ve ever heard —I like Lucy Gray’s unwillingness to sing —Lucky Flickerman being the main report —And Lucy Gray is a far more interesting character simply by not being filtered through Snow. Which is fascinating because… her dialogue is exactly the same, almost down to the word. Lucy Gray’s movie dialogue is extremely close to her book dialogue but her character feels vivid in a way her book character does not – particularly “Ballad of Lucy Gray Baird,” “The Old Therebefore,” and in her final scene.
And it’s here that I think comes both what is best about this story and worst about this book: Snow’s interpretations are almost universally unreliable. He reads Lucy Gray wrong, Sejanus wrong, the tributes wrong. He cannot see her courage in leaving him—only that she has left.
I adore Lucy Gray as a character. And while I’m not entirely sure I really *enjoyed* the reading experience, I think this is a really clever narrative. I’m glad I read it.
To acknowledge it, to try to name it, might be a way of letting it in.
One of the most horrifically viscerally upsetting books I have read in my e
To acknowledge it, to try to name it, might be a way of letting it in.
One of the most horrifically viscerally upsetting books I have read in my entire life. Every sentence of this crawled down my spine and into my body, changing me—invading me, just as text invades The Biologist. Haunting me, as the ghosts of the Lighthouse haunt the entirety of Area X.
The horror of Annihilation is the horror of the erosion of bodily boundaries, that once you are within you may not be fully yourself but a part of the vast environment. That is the horror, but maybe also the hope and kindness of this novel.
This really freaked me out. I will be thinking about it for a long, long time.
The Marrow Thieves is what, to me, makes a perfect dystopian novel - it makes a horrific future out of a horrific past. Specifically, Dimaline plays wThe Marrow Thieves is what, to me, makes a perfect dystopian novel - it makes a horrific future out of a horrific past. Specifically, Dimaline plays with historical pasts of Native youth in Canada - specifically, the exploitative and genocidal Canadian Indian residential school program. With a death rate of between 3,000 and 30,000 children, the Canadian system of legally required boarding schools for First Nations Children aimed itself towards separation, alienation from culture, and forced enfranchisement. The last school closed in just 1997.
Here, the world is based around a lack of dreams. The white members of Canada and the United States exploit Native children through theft of bone marrow, believing it will bring back dreams. Native children can dream, and the dominant culture seeks to steal culture - as well as destroy Native connection. It's smart and well-done.
I think really my only issue here is just intended audience; this is gearing itself just slightly younger. (This would have been perfect for me at sixteen.) The characters are: lead character Frenchie, a sixteen-year-old Métis boy trying to figure himself out; Wab, eighteen and with perhaps the worst past of them all; Chi Boy, seventeen-year-old Cree; Tree and Zheegwon, a set of twelve-year-old twins; nine-year-old Slopper; RiRi, seven years old, Métis, and the sweetheart of the group. (Wab and RiRi are absolutely standout as characters.) While I found the romance a bit boring at times, there's a way Dimaline writes about love that I enjoyed - a love for connection, whether it come with words or not.
After an excellent book one focused around two girls falling in love and the politics of revolution, I was really exciteUm… so this was disappointing.
After an excellent book one focused around two girls falling in love and the politics of revolution, I was really excited for book two, focused around book one love interest Carmen as she tries to find her way between ruthless rebel and lover. But. The execution? Was not amazing.
This was not the worst book I have read. This book is an excellent warning to remember the human aspect of any type of revolution; to remember that, when fighting for freedom, human life still matters. People still bleed. Carmen is forced to choose between herself and her cause, which serves for an interesting arc. The scene in which Carmen is forced to cross a border is particularly excellent, rivaling the best of book one. I genuinely liked Carmen and found her decently compelling as a lead.
On paper, this book is good. But in practice… I feel like I wasted my time.
The problem is that We Set the Dark on Fire bases its appeal off the tension between Carmen and Dani. In this book, they do not reunite until 50% of the way through the book, and it is frankly boring. Which shocks me to type, by the way. In book one, the tension between Carmen and Dani was genuinely never boring to me.
It makes more sense, however, when I remember just how repetitive this book was. We get it, Ari is evil. We get it, Carmen feels guilty over her betrayal. We get it, she has feelings for Dani, but maybe there’s angst about it. We get it, she’s not sure whether Alex trusts her. Mejia also tends to rely on tell, not show, for her characters, and here, with no actual interaction between Dani and Carmen, the telling gnawed at me. I don’t want to be told that Carmen misses Dani for 200 pages, regardless of how invested I am in how much she misses Dani. Show me.
Maybe as a result of this, I actually found myself struggling to invest in Carmen here. Her character is on the precipice of a decision, and is desperate to get Dani back, and cares for Alex and Sota too. There is no reason she should not drive the plot with ease. But… it feels like the plot happens to her. And yes, this was true of book one at times, but there was a reason for that; Dani and Carmen’s situation was helpless, trapped. Carmen is doing things in this book. There is no reason for her to be boring, and it is frankly a crime that she is.
Oh. And the plot twist is really painfully obvious, and not satisfying enough to make up for it. You could guess the twist in book one, too, but you cared so much that it didn’t matter. This… why on earth do we care about the characters involved?
All in all, while book one felt dynamic, this feels, frankly, stagnant. I honestly think this just needed another round of editing. It really wasn’t awful. It was just. Deeply mediocre. I’m going to pretend this doesn’t exist and reread the Dani/Carmen scenes from We Set the Dark on Fire now.
One morning, women all over the world begin developing a power: electricity, running through their fingers. The ensuing cataclysm, framed by documentaOne morning, women all over the world begin developing a power: electricity, running through their fingers. The ensuing cataclysm, framed by documentation from the future, comes from four characters. There’s Roxy, 15-year-old white British daughter of a gangster; Tunde, a Nigerian journalist and the only man who narrates; Margot, an American mayor who develops the power despite her age; and Allie, a mixed-race abuse survivor who is stronger than normal in her power. As nations are conquered by women, things fall further and further apart.
This book primarily works as a subtle reverse of gendered power dynamics. Tunde’s first scene, and some further, are really strong. Tunde’s role in the book, specifically, feels like a specific reversal of the roles we're used to seeing women and men play in literature. His experience in the introduction to the book is an excellent metaphor for subtler forms of sexual violence and turns your expectations for the situation on their head very quickly.
This at first was really interesting to me. Over time, I realized it was all this book had to offer. Around 85%, I was seriously considering giving this book one star.
The characters here generally left me colder. Tunde was the only narrator in this book I actually consistently liked, though Roxy grew on me a lot by the end. What bugged me about the characterization in general, though, was how much the characterization seemed to serve as a vehicle for the plot. Margot’s motivations and personality fall off the track on about her second chapter and never return. Roxy is a solid narrator, but I never felt like I understood her. Tunde’s only stated motivation remains his newfound ambition to know, and we don’t get any sense of where that comes from, making it difficult to invest in. Allie’s motivations, criminally, remain fairly murky, indeed coming about primarily as a voice in her head. (view spoiler)[We don’t see her challenge this voice, at all, even in the barest sense, until her last chapter; the audience, meanwhile, knows the voice is badly intentioned very quickly. A lot of buildup would’ve been needed to justify her never questioning the voice, and the book does not give that. (hide spoiler)]
As the characters are clearly not meant to be the focus here, the main interest should come in the storylines. Unfortunately that was not working for me, either. Past the halfway point, I struggled to stay invested in the narrative. Some of this may also be the writing’s at-times overdramatic quality; however, I really don’t think that’s the main concern here. Something about the storytelling here feels far more focused on the brutality of the moment, the violence inflicted, then on the human element behind it.
This specifically began to bother me in terms of sexual violence. There are at least four graphic rape or attempted rape scenes in this novel (excluding the many instances of sexual harassment or threatened assault). The first one made me wince, but reminded me of the flipping of the targets of sexual violence; I especially appreciated the fact that the perpetrator invoked ‘he was asking for it’ as justification. The second one made me wince a bit more. The third struck me as genuinely gratuitous. By the fourth, which is also simultaneously a murder scene, I was really really struggling to not put the book away.
We’ve all read novels by men who immediately jump to graphic sexual violence when they have no idea what to use as plot. I would like to think, on a meta level, that the author is commenting on this tendency. However, my feelings on the actual plot device—profoundly negative—do not change when the victims are men.
The author also seems to have not taken into account essentially any of the nuances of gender discrimination based on culture, or based on intersections with race, sexuality, or gender identity. The fact that the societies we see break down are almost entirely non-European, while America and Britain both stay intact, began needling at me a lot as the brutality increased. I would enjoy seeing the takes of Middle Eastern or African reviewers on this. It’s also interesting that the author seems to not have taken into account variations on gender identity beyond ‘cis man’ and ‘cis woman’ (one intersex character appears, but no mention of trans people) in a novel about gender as a construct.
The thing that worked for me the most about this book was actually, weirdly enough, the framing device. The idea that this book is actually a male author’s book about a far-back time in history, framed by his deferential letters with a female colleague, spoke volumes. (view spoiler)[The line “This can’t have happened to women in the time before the cataclysm” is genuinely brilliant, and the line about “the canon of men’s fiction” really really really struck me. (hide spoiler)] It may not have been enough to make this book a favorite, but it certainly left me with less of a bitter taste in my mouth. I only wish the rest of the book had worked so well.
There was a piece of me now that no one would ever be able to reach.
A really interesting book about cloning, loneliness, what makes the self, and
There was a piece of me now that no one would ever be able to reach.
A really interesting book about cloning, loneliness, what makes the self, and where programming ends and choices begin. And also, perhaps more notably, a book which uses all of these to talk about abuse and escape.
Evelyn Caldwell is a cold cloning geneticist used to working and getting what she wants. She gets what she wants, that is, until her husband clones his perfect version of her, Martine, ready to fulfill her every need. I should just say off the bat—this book is compulsively readable. Every moment was just so messed up that I could not look away. And I did not want to! I was having a grand old time in this fucked up little place. Sarah Gailey's writing is seemingly not for everyone, but she hits just right for me.
There are two clones and each clone must be defined both by their old selves’ actions, and the new. Martine is programmed to be different from Evelyn, so where is her growth closer to Evelyn agency, and where is her growth away agency? Where should a copy be punished for the acts of that which came before? Where does your selfhood begin if you live as a copy?
I think you could read parts of Martine’s arc somewhat as a political critique of choice feminism—feminism that tells women and afab people that choosing children, makeup, etc are nonpolitical choices. They may be choices, but they are never nonpolitical; at the same time, they may be political, but they’re still choices. Martine’s desires, even those programmed into her, are what she has; she wants a child, and whether programmed into her or not, that desire is part of her to her.
Quotes Sticking Out To Me: ➽I think we would have been dead either way. Even if we were still breathing, even if we were still aboveground, we would have been dead. ➽ That didn’t mean I was the same as Nathan has been. He’d created Martine to be this way; I was merely taking advantage of a thing that was already there. I didn’t forge the tool. I just wanted to use it effectively. ➽ He was never going to be good enough; the original Nathan was born to be a disappointment to me at every turn, all the way down to his marrow. I couldn’t extract that from him. Not without making him someone entirely new. Someone I could never have fallen in love with in the first place. ➽ Everything I felt toward Martine, I felt toward myself, too. Of course, then, I wanted to find some way to protect her. And of course I resented her for it. ➽I had wondered for so long why she stopped there, why she didn’t spread like a climbing vine, devouring the void he left behind. I spent my adolescence nurturing a quiet disdain for the way she failed to become a monster in his absence.
Sarah Gailey, you are beyond insane. Can we get drinks sometime?
“When there’s people around who we don’t trust, we let them think we’re the kinds of people who are allowed to exist.”
Upright Women Wanted
“When there’s people around who we don’t trust, we let them think we’re the kinds of people who are allowed to exist.”
Upright Women Wanted follows lead character Esther Augustus, daughter of a major ruler, as she runs away to join traveling librarians Bet, Leda, and Cye. In a post-apocalyptic Western society, people who don’t fit are a class all to themselves: some are hanged, like Esther’s old lover Beatriz. Some become librarians.
This novella is an excellent exploration of the politics of otherness: of the ways in which those who do not “belong” learn to live at the margin of society, to make their own rules. This becomes specifically relevant with Bet and Leda, a lesbian couple, and Cye, who is nonbinary. The idea of queerness as a marginalized identity is wonderful.
Oh, and the tension between Cye and Esther is excellent. There’s this sense of push and pull between them: the conflict between Esther’s newfound rebellion and her intense feeling that any feelings she has not for a man are wrong makes watching her pine after Cye satisfying and interesting.
Gailey conveys the world mostly via dialogue and occasional hints, creating a seamless transition between your brain and the space of the novel: it feels as if you have always been a part of this world. I at once wanted to see more and was happy with the ambiguity; the novella focuses on character, and doesn't get bogged down by intense worldbuilding.
I don’t know if I’m going to remember this forever; it was mostly just really, really fun. But I loved my reading experience and would definitely read this again. Basically, I second Tor's blurb: What Sarah Gailey's upcoming novella lacks in hippos, it makes up for with queer librarian spies on horseback.
This was like watching a slow-motion train wreck, and I loved it.
Amberlough follows a city set in a world paralleling 1920s counterculture as it slowlThis was like watching a slow-motion train wreck, and I loved it.
Amberlough follows a city set in a world paralleling 1920s counterculture as it slowly falls under the power of a fascist sect. But rather than focusing on the power plays of that fascist movement, this novel goes a lot more in-depth; it focuses on just three of the characters affected by the new regime, and how they react to the disappearances, the burgeoning fear.
And I think this is the narrative choice that makes the whole book so haunting. As the novel builds up, we get the sense that there’s a lot more going on than what these three characters see, and indeed there is. But this small scope feels like a far more relavant portrayal of a society in crisis. You don’t always know your life is about to be wrecked until it is. By focusing only on a few characters, this story feels so much more real.
It helps that these three characters are such lovable disasters. ✔Cyril – gay disaster. Tries to play everyone but really just succeeds in falling in love with someone he definitely should not fall in love with and is really mad about it. “congratulations you played yourself” -me ✔Aristide – literal icon, constantly kind of buzzed but plays it off as if he’s just living his life, we love him ✔Cordelia – absolute disaster and doesn’t even try to hide it. character development is learning to sort of care that she’s a disaster. So proud of her.
What’s so hard is this whole book is like watching an oncoming disaster, and you don’t want it to happen. Sure, these characters are messy, and not doing so well in their personal relationships or their lives in general. But they’re living in a world that is not as dangerous as it could be. Cyril and Ari are fairly open about their relationship, despite some homophobia in the society; the Ospies change that.
Given the current U.S. political climate, perhaps it’s important to remember how easily a society can fall.
Anyway, I loved this, and I can’t wait to read and love the next two books. When are they coming out again?
“You've no idea what you've cost me. Not the faintest trace of an understanding.”
In the aftermath of the fabulous Amberlough, I was worrie
“You've no idea what you've cost me. Not the faintest trace of an understanding.”
In the aftermath of the fabulous Amberlough, I was worried I would be let down by this book. I was. But thankfully, not completely.
This one follows Cordelia and Aristide, two of the three leads of book one, and Lillian, an ambassador for Gedda… and Cyril’s sister. Ari is a traumatized refugee. Cordelia is in hiding after a resistance bombing campaign. Lillian is being blackmailed. But as things get more complicated, Lillian will have to risk it all to save her son.
It took me a while to really get used to the worldbuilding of this; while book one was set almost exclusively in Amberlough, one of the provinces of Gedda, Armistice is set in Porachis, a nearby country, which conveniently is not depicted on the map. We also get little snippets of information about nations like Liso that I found hard to keep up with and sometimes convoluted. And I still could not fucking tell you where Liso is.
And added on to that, the character cast is huge. There’s Daoud, Ari’s new lover, Jinadh, Lillian’s ex-lover and a prince of Porachis, Memmediv, Lillian’s maybe-current lover and a possible traitor for the Tatie province, Pulan, the head of Ari’s movie-making company, Sofie & Mab, two wives and undercover operatives, and a few more.
As a result of these two aspects, I found the plot overall somewhat hard to track, and found it hard to be invested in action I didn’t always understand.
I will say I really liked Lillian’s character direction; since the other two characters are old, I didn't feel they progressed as much. But she grows from a fairly dislikable - though sympathetic - character to one of my favorites. She's almost a subversion of the Ice Cold Blonde villain trope, at first coming off as closed-off and emotionless but eventually showing a far softer side.
I don’t think I have much more to say than that on the quality of this as a sequel. It was good enough and the ending was nice - I liked seeing all the threads come together. But I’m hoping book three goes back to being more character-drivne.
✨Arc received from the publisher via Netgalley for an honest review. released: 7 May 2018.
“It’s not as expensive as you think.” Sara Holmes leaned against the entry to the parlor, arms folded and mouth quirked into a smile. The lace
“It’s not as expensive as you think.” Sara Holmes leaned against the entry to the parlor, arms folded and mouth quirked into a smile. The lace gloves on her hands were just visible, though their color had faded to a pale gray. “How did you-” “Deduction. And a certain empathy born of like experience.”
god, this was so good. it's a really fucking awesome reimagining of Sherlock Holmes but they're both black sapphic ladies and also, it takes place in a post-Trump era, and also, it's a political thriller.
[this feels like it should be a solid recommendation all on its own.]
So I have not read Sherlock Holmes, but I do know from general life experience [and from watching this hilariously dedicated literary analysis, like, eight times] that it is episodic in nature. Something this does not do, as an adaptation, is act episodic in nature. Another thing this does not quite do, as an adaptation, is give you the clues and let you figure it all out. Also, Irene Adler is a villain. I think. This is slightly disappointing. However, the element this novel chooses to adapt well is the characterization of the two leads, and personally, I thought that was pitch perfect.
So I mean, the plot is fine, but the best part of the book? The characterization. I mean, first of all, there are the two lead characters themselves. Watson is super well-written and one of my new fave characters of the year. She’s the focal character here, disabled and dealing with ptsd and constantly stressed. Oh, and Holmes is this gloriously sarcastic and enigmatic character who also feels human. All of the Holmes-is-completely-a-dick narratives can go fuck themselves; this Holmes is occasionally a dick, yeah, but she's also a genuinely loving and caring person who wants to use her smarts for good.
And then there’s the centerpoint of the novel, and the reason I loved it so much: the relationship between Watson and Holmes. Their dynamic is this weird in-between where they're best friends but also Watson is just so Tired™ of Holmes but also they have a vague amount of romantic chemistry, and it's kind of the best thing about the whole damn book. I still kind of want them to be girlfriends, but I… also am happy with their current relationship? Which I actually think is the authorial intent and I. Love. It. I found their dynamic so effortlessly compelling and interesting and fun.
This is also the first book I’ve read that feels very much like fiction that is… explicitly a reaction to the Trump presidency. So let’s talk about that. In recent months, we have seen an incredible immigration crisis – in which children, down to preschool age – were separated from parents. This is a crisis author could have in no way known of when she wrote this book, yet the book itself is explicitly a book about an America in which political discourse has become tinged in racism and discrimination no matter which faction you belong to.
Which is… harrowing. And accurate.
I’m wondering how this novel will hold up in five years, but still, it’s a frightening portrayal of a world gone wrong; just not in the overt, dystopian way. It’s gone just wrong enough that people like Janet Watson, a disabled veteran and a sapphic black woman, would feel it. Would hurt because of it. But not wrong enough that it feels like a far cry from our society, which is perhaps the most terrifying thing of all. We are so complicit when we want to be.
The world is horriying and the way that we as human beings use the media we produce and consume to deal with it is fascinating. Anyway.
On the whole, I thought this was excellent. Like this year’s earlier Witchmark, despite my feelings that the plot was hovering somewhere around “just good,” the character dynamic is so completely 20/10, and I adored all the themes and various existential tensions so much that I just can’t not five star this. I will definitely be revisiting this when I’m sad and you should definitely pick up your copy immediately when it releases on July 31st.
This is one of the most psychologically terrifying books I've ever read, and I think that's because of its hyper-realism. I don't know if I'd class thThis is one of the most psychologically terrifying books I've ever read, and I think that's because of its hyper-realism. I don't know if I'd class this as dystopian. I think I'd class this as a survival tale. And a terrifying one at that.
It's a smooth progression from a completely normal situation to a freakish horror scenario. Miranda's world progresses so slowly, so smoothly, that it's hard to even realize how nightmarish her life has become.
Don't expect any jump scares, or explicitly scary scenes, yet the whole book is terrifying. The focus is all on showing and not on telling.
And Miranda's character arc? Stunning. She grows from a very naive and downright dreamy kid to an incredibly mature kid, and you barely notice. Again, the showing and not telling is the main strength of the book.
Honestly, I read this book too long ago to really get everything, but I think you can get anything you want from this review.
I always forget this about myself: if I don’t love the characters of a series’ opening book, I should not read the sequel to said book. Even if I loveI always forget this about myself: if I don’t love the characters of a series’ opening book, I should not read the sequel to said book. Even if I loved the ending. Even if I gave it the fairly solid rating 3 1/2. That is not how I work.
Okay, so here’s a basic summary of this series: a premise about video games gets somewhat underused but in a fun way. None of the characters are particularly interesting, but I guess they’re compelling enough for a YA sci-fi. Marie Lu is a compulsively readable author and very easy to connect with. And then this book fucks up a perfectly good thing by removing any sort of agency from the main character, which is not a good way to make a narrative compelling and I, as someone who literally has a mention of my love for narrative agency in my Goodreads bio, am not pleased.
anyway, read The Young Elites instead. at least the cover for those are better!! also, they’re really good!!...more
2 ½ stars. I’m kicking myself for going into this expecting a fast-paced novel I’d rocket through. Because this book may be post-apocalyptic and all d2 ½ stars. I’m kicking myself for going into this expecting a fast-paced novel I’d rocket through. Because this book may be post-apocalyptic and all depending on The Twist [which comes like a third of the way through, by the way] but it is certainly not fast-paced. Basically, even though I appreciated things about Never Let Me Go, my reading experience of this was 99% awful.
I’ve split this review into several parts, but my overarching opinion falls into one category: this book has clever ideas, but they’re not the focus. Instead, Never Let Me Go becomes a long list of memories. There is such a thing as taking show, not tell, too far - it’s when what you’re showing is beginning to bore the reader. Listen, if there are three thousand reveals or a deep character arc running through the book, we’re fine, but there are approximately two reveals and a bunch of character memories that failed to make me feel attached.
→ the characters ← I want to say that I like the idea of Cathy’s character. She has been so torn down, so forced to be one thing that she has never considered being anything else or finding a different path in life. It is awful and horrifying. And yet, two things: one, she has no character voice, and two, the focus is not on developing Cathy. That is absolutely fine. Unless you’re me and literally only care about character development.
→ the romance ← I’m so sorry, but this book did an utterly awful job with character chemistry. Tommy and Cath… I’m sorry, I just didn’t believe it. (view spoiler)[After spending an entire book screwing around and being just friends, they decide they’ve been in love for years because his ex girlfriend tells him they are. And then they start having sex and it is described so goddamn clinically. (hide spoiler)] They clearly care about each other, but where’s the romantic side to this? I don’t even really attach to them as best friends. Neither of them are all that likable or even all that relatable.
→ the worldbuilding ← A good idea, but I really don’t think this works when we see nothing about the rest of the world. I had sort of hoped the world would get expanded, we’d see the true context of normalcy juxtaposed to what the leads go through, and it just does not happen.
→ the morality conflict ← It’s as if authors of 2005 think they can bring up a topic, offer zero new insight into said topic, and hope the audience thinks about the book in the future. Which, okay, I admit this strategy can work. If you’re attached to the characters enough to feel your heart break in tandem. I was not.
→ the audio format ← I think, in general, listening to an audiobook of a book like this was a mistake. This is a book that required my skimreading technique. If I had read this in physical copy, I am quite confident I would have turned pages in a rush, read the whole thing in two hours skipping half the sentences, and liked it quite a bit more - I’m sure some of my thoughts would be similar, but the few reveals could’ve bumped this to a three or four at least. But by the end of this book… I was just waiting for it to end. I could no longer connect to Cathy because the book just needed to end. And that’s something to know for the future - about my reading style and about this book.
NOTE: This is a series review, so I'm talking about every book here. They're all on a fairly similar caliber to me, although book one is probably the NOTE: This is a series review, so I'm talking about every book here. They're all on a fairly similar caliber to me, although book one is probably the best one; it gleams with slightly wasted potential.
Delirium has some great elements, enough that it made a big mark on me in grade six, but also far too much romance for my taste.
This book focuses on a future society where love has been outlawed, and humans are cured of their ability to love at age sixteen. Lauren Oliver develops this concept into a terrifying yet realistic world; it's not hard to understand why the characters think of this world as a utopia. Sure, they have somewhat restricted freedom, but when their religion and all their elders believe so firmly in protecting them from love, how can they disagree?
This book exhibits some of Oliver's best writing, with prose that's flowing yet not too flowery. There are metaphors, yes, but they never overwhelm or kill the book.
"Love; the deadliest of all deadly things. It kills you both when you have it and when you don't."
Lena is a believable narrator, although not very entertaining. She's a bit... typical. To be fair, Lena improves and has a decent character arc as she realizes the toxicity of this world. I ended up really liking her. Lena's best friend Hana is an interesting, dimensional side character.
I have a complicated relationship with this series' romantic plots. Plots, you say? Yes, there are two. Love triangle pops up in the second book. To be fair, Oliver executes both these plotlines fairly well, and both Alex and Julian are good love interests. But there's just too much romance in these books. Oliver should've focused more on platonic love (Lena and Hana's friendship was RIGHT THERE) rather than entirely romantic love.
All that being said, this is a fantastic series beginner. It's just one of those beginners that's good for its potential, not for its actual content. Pandemonium and Requiem are, again, not bad. They're just not great.Pandemonium is a gritty and a fun ride, with a good character arc for Lena. I know many reviewers hate Requiem's ending, but I thought the open ending fit. I was also glad to finally get Hana's point of view, although I really wished her arc were resolved.
Hana in general is a very complex character. Hana's story takes us through the tale of her friendship with Lena, her jealousy and want for love. Hana's character in general is fascinating and I LOVED getting this insight into her motivations. I really wish Delirium had focused on Lena and Hana as the two leads, rather than just bringing Hana in for the final book. This short story also brings up issues of class between Lena and Hana. It just really fascinated me. And the last line is!!
Probably not recommended, because YA can do better. In fact, Lauren Oliver can do better (Before I Fall, anyone?). But if you're interested, go for it....more
3.5 stars. Please just consider this a review for all the books except book three. I don't accept Allegiant as canon. Bye.
Okay, look, I know that in 3.5 stars. Please just consider this a review for all the books except book three. I don't accept Allegiant as canon. Bye.
Okay, look, I know that in the book community, Divergent is occasionally considered an overhyped hunger games remake. Maybe just stop reading this review if that's how you feel about it. Because I absolutely LOVE this book.
WHY THIS BOOK STANDS OUT: AN ESSAY BY ME
Whenever I hear people joke about Tris being similar to Katniss, I immediately assume they haven't read both books. Because Tris is nothing like Katniss. Katniss can be very cold and dispassionate: she's driven by her need to protect her sister. Tris is not at all cold. She's driven by passionate, self-righteous anger. She's extremely reckless and These things are written as character flaws. Tris is called out for being reckless in the face of danger multiple times throughout the series. (view spoiler)[I mean, she fucking dies because of her own recklessness. I may hate Allegiant, but I'm still allowed to use it to prove my point. (hide spoiler)] She's flawed in a realistic way and she'll always remain one of my favorite fictional characters.
While the worldbuilding of this book is admittedly a little odd, this book does a wonderful job exploring fear. (view spoiler)[Tris has a seemingly random fear of being trapped in a box slowly filling with water. As the book goes along, she realizes that fear is related to her fear of losing control. Tobias has two separate fears that stem from his abusive childhood. (hide spoiler)] There's such a deep examination of fear and its roots, which I've never seen in another book.
This book does a damn good job with moral conflicts. (view spoiler)[There's a moment close to the end where Tris is forced to shoot a close friend to survive. While the drama of it all is arguably dragged out too long in Insurgent, this is a really interesting conflict to have in a book. It's brilliant writing. (hide spoiler)]
OTHER GOOD THINGS
Tobias and Tris are my favorite damn couple. Their dynamic just... works. I love how they narratively parallel each other and reflect each other's flaws. I love how they fight but there's no dramatic breakup. (Oh, there's another bonus! No love triangle.) And that scene between them in the fear landscape remains one of my top ten scenes ever. The lack of jerkass guy x sweet innocent girl romance is also a plus. (Side note: I still think the movie Tobias was way too hot for the role. Maybe I should've known I was gay sooner??)
And the side characters!! I love the side characters. I love the Uriah and Lynn and Marlene dream team. I love Christina and Will. And Tris' family relationships make me feel All The Emotions.
SLIGHTLY LESS GOOD THINGS, AND WHY I IGNORED THEM AND LOVED THIS BOOK
The book isn't a very sensical dystopia. In some ways, I guess the faction thing is no less sensical than the Hogwarts worldbuilding. Actually, I think the alignments based on top values make more sense than HP houses. So I'm not really bothered by that.
All the worldbuilding is technically explained in Allegiant, but I hate Allegiant SO MUCH that I'm just going to acknowledge how weird the divergent tests are.
THE BIG BIG CON AND REASON I CAN NEVER ACTUALLY RECOMMEND THIS BOOK
Because the last book fucking sucked. Sorry. Here's my ranty, spoiler-filled review about that. This book totally would've made my all-time favorites list if not for my anger over Allegiant.
Divergent is solidly the best book Insurgent is kind of a "meh" second book. It's not terrible, just not amazing. At least it's not as bad as book three.
Allegiant is... a fucking mess. I wrote a separate review because I was just that pissed off. Fuck you, Allegiant.
Four is a typical story collection, but it's one I liked a decent amount. I always did like Four's character....more
4.5 stars to this amazing series. You'll notice that this box set only contains the first three, which is ridiculously convenient - I didn't read book4.5 stars to this amazing series. You'll notice that this box set only contains the first three, which is ridiculously convenient - I didn't read book four or the novella until 2016 and still loved both, which just goes to show that this series truly is amazing.
Unwind is about a world where society’s distrust for teenagers has been taken to a further extent. Instead of aborting unborn children, governments allow parents to unwind their kids at ages 13-18. Your organs will be given to people who need them – cancer patients, car-accident victims, sick, mangled or disease ridden people. This concept could’ve been terrible in any other author’s hands, but Shusterman executes it perfectly. He writes about how teens are seen as property, existing as aspects of their parents or not at all.
Shusterman has extremely well-written main characters. Connor's character development is complex and interesting. He’s sarcastic and willing to do what it takes. Also, nice socks. Lev isn’t the most interesting towards the beginning of this book, but he has incredible character development, going through a slight villain arc and learning who he is slowly but surely. Risa is emotionally cold, but also badass and lovable.
He doesn’t stop there; this series is also packed with interesting, developed side characters. Una has broken my heart so many times, Hayden has broken my heart so many times. I've only read one or two other series where the character arcs are so consistently interesting, especially with such a large cast.
There’s not too much romance, but what romance exists is amazing. The romance between Connor and Risa is developed extremely slowly, no instalove, with them gradually becoming a team. They’re one of my favorite couples.
While this series is fairly diverse in terms of race and gender, I do have a few quibbles. Throughout the series, we have so many interesting girl characters… but none of the major girls are leaders. All the leaders here are guys, and it's not the greatest. Also, there is not a single lgbt character in this entire series. That’d be fine with a small cast, but there are around 20 major characters in this series. There’s a short novella where Hayden is implied to be bi (which he totally is), but a one-line reference to bringing either a boy or a girl to a party is not enough. I need more.
There is also too much backstory for villains I didn't care about. This aspect is really awesome for the first two books, but it gets old after a while. Not every villain can be symapthetic.
All that being said, I recommend this series wholeheartedly, to everyone....more
3 stars for the series as a whole. This series has a really great concept and some good aspects, but it lacks quite enough emotional depth and ends up3 stars for the series as a whole. This series has a really great concept and some good aspects, but it lacks quite enough emotional depth and ends up being somewhat superficial as a result.
Uglies is about a world in which everyone is considered by default ugly and has to become pretty. The book certainly benefits from this smart concept; this is a world where beauty rules. Unfortunately, the interesting connections to our world aren't explored enough in this series. Pretties are stupid, Uglies have their brains. It's nothing new.
Tally and Shay are each interesting characters with believable inner conflict. They're flawed and their friendship is flawed, but they parallel each other in interesting ways. I almost wish we could've gotten both their points of view. Unfortunately, this series goes all over the place in terms of plot and character growth. There's no solid arc for Tally and Shay; they have emotions, then go back to being terrible because of an operation, then they develop again. Tally has three different character arcs because she keeps having her brain remodeled. I have to admit, it was quite disappointing. It gets old after the second time her character regresses.
Tally's ending as a character (after four books) is pretty good; she's changed a lot and lost many of her emotions, but she's not a robot. Her morally ambiguous character during books three and four was a lot of fun. While I didn't like Specials as much at the time, in hindsight it might be my favorite for Tally's slightly psychotic yet way more interesting character. Despite the fact that the twist at the end of book two was AWESOME.
However, I question the need for her in-between reset to become a Pretty. All that happens in book two is a romance. What was the need? If I were to rewrite the series, I would've skipped Pretties and instead left Tally as an Ugly.
Another issue with this series is the badly-written romance. The love triangle especially is just a fail. David is the love interest for this book, and he's a decent guy and decent character, but it's hard to ignore that he's supposedly dating Shay at the time he kisses Tally. Zayn, in the second book, is flat-out annoying. He's reckless and tiresome, and their entire relationship is based off his hotness. There's no need for the love triangle here, and frankly, both plots could've been executed better. The conclusion for Tally and Zayn is especially messy.
This isn't so much a review as a compilation of thoughts. God knows what my views would be today. Just see how you feel after reading the review, I guess....more
OH GOOD, LET ME DO A SERIES REVIEW. I don't care about reviewing all six books because I don't remember which ones I liked best - I read the whole thiOH GOOD, LET ME DO A SERIES REVIEW. I don't care about reviewing all six books because I don't remember which ones I liked best - I read the whole thing in a week, and then read Light a month later when I released. But this series is fabulous. The Gone series is basically Lord of the Flies with much better characters. This series is seriously weird and yet SO much fun and SO emotional.
This series is the gold standard of dramatic tension. Grant's plotting is brilliantly crafted, full of twists and turning. The events are often viscerally terrifying. Michael Grant's writing draws you in, making you feel as if the events are actually happening.
In terms of which book is my fave... who fucking knows. So I don't remember much about Hunger but it changed me as a person? I'm pretty sure mostly because I fucking love Diana. I think Lies was my least favorite and I honestly remember nothing about it. Plague is definitely the scariest; I don't remember the last time I was so terrified by a book. Fear and Light are both good, although not quite as great. The best part of Light is the fantastic conclusion. I am so, so okay with who lived and who died. Seriously, there are one or two characters I was sure were going to die and they didn't!! I'm so blessed!!
CHARACTERS AND STUFF
All the characters are SO GOOD. Seriously, this series has such great characters. There are so many side characters and somehow you get attached to all of them. Even the antagonists get your sympathy, and sometimes even your genuine love. There's one particular villain-to-hero growth arc that touches my heart more than any other.
[minor spoiler alert] I'm talking about Diana Ladris. She's seriously such a developed, heartfelt character. Diana's crisis over that one thing she did in Hunger made me fall in love with her. And then her arc?? Murdered me. We're so #blessed by her character growth. My original review of Light was “In this cruel world of YA lit, all I have left is Diana's character arc.” And I want to talk about this character arc a little. Diana is a self-confessed “bad girl.” She's not the greatest person; within this series, she does some fucked-up things and manipulates situations to her advantage. But she still gets a character arc and a happy ending. Bad characters in YA lit hardly ever get happy endings, and the fact that she did is amazing.
Some of my other faves are pretty surprising too. I can't believe I like Caine as a character? Fight me Michael Grant.
There's not much romance, but the existing romance is great. Sam and Astrid have a touch of instalove, but they get really developed throughout the book series. And the other romantic plots are even better, maybe just because they have less focus and way less instalove. Diana and Caine have an incredibly unhealthy dynamic on both sides, yet their characters are each so developed that you get invested anyway.
This series has great diversity too, with major lgbt characters and non-white characters. Yes, the two physically strongest characters are both guys, but this series does have a ton of high-powered girl characters, like Dekka and Brianna and Taylor. And there are of course other interesting, multifaceted girl characters, like Lana, Astrid, and Diana, who is my personal favorite character of anything ever. Sorry, I'll shut up about Diana's character arc someday....more
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