The book: Fractured (Slated #2)
The author: Teri Terry
The rating: 3 stars
Simply put, Fractured pales in comparison to the first novel in the series. The wonderful, immersive, and thrilling story is replaced by a slew of cheap twists and turns, coming at the reader at the bizarre pace of nothing at all, and then all at once. There's the twist where that character you knew was a bad guy all along reveals that they were a bad guy all along (to be honest, there's quite a few of these). There's the twist where that character you knew was going to die dies. There's the twist where that character you knew was a good guy all along reveals that they were a good guy all along. And it's not just double agents; its triple and quadruple and pseudo-agents that are all thrown at you at such a rapid-fire pace that you couldn't give two hoots about any of them.
Furthermore, I stopped caring about Kyla. As she gained literal freedom, losing her Levo and regaining some of her past, her character bizarrely lost agency, tossed between one group and another, constantly manipulated and with no discernible spirit of her own other than an ever-present, grating whine for her instalove, Ben. The other characters were just as drab. The interesting cast of the first book was mostly sidelined, their roles marginalized to mere plot devices: Amy, Kyla's mum, Ben, even Dr. Lysander, to a point. Their pagetime is given away to an irritating cast of terrorists from Kyla's past life as Rain; Nico in particular was grating to read. Just as the intriguing characters were replaced by a flat ensemble with obvious fates, the thought-provoking questions of memory and identity were pushed aside to make room for a lackluster exploration of whether killing is ever justified. The side supporting violence is designed to be soulless and extreme, making this exploration fairly unsatisfying; the reader is never forced to deal with a moral quandary, as it is always obvious that the AGT is just as bad as the Lorders.
However, Fractured is also the opposite of Slated in another regard: while fantastic-novel Slated had a weak ending, Fractured's final chapters are perhaps the best part of the novel. If the tone set at the end of Fractured carries over into its sequel like Slated's did, Shattered may well redeem the series for all this middle novel's wrongs. I'm eager to finally learn more about Lucy and move far, far, away from Rain, easily the most intolerable of Kyla's threefold identities. Shattered may not be next on my reading list, but Fractured hasn't quashed my spirit enough to stop me from coming back entirely.
Wednesday, 18 June 2014
Tuesday, 10 June 2014
22. Clean Slate
The book: Slated (Slated #1)
The author: Teri Terry
The rating: 4.5 stars
Lucy isn't okay; she is as good as dead. She doesn't exist anymore. She's been Slated.
There are a lot of works which have been described as "riveting psychological thrillers" and are anything but. Slated, on the other hand, is well-deserving of the epithet. The suspense Terry creates from the very first page is palpable and unnerving, a combination of the Chasing Yesterday series by Robin Wasserman, the Dollhouse tv-show, and The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer (before the latter lost all suspense and became just another trite paranormal romance). This suspense comes in part from Terry's voice and the way in which she describes the world, but also from the characters. Again, unnerving is the best descriptor for many of the chilling cast, their smiles and murky motivations leaving the reader, like protagonist Kyla, unsure of who to trust. Characters introduced in a negative light gradually shift to be perceived as friends; characters that initially appear allied to Kyla take on darker meanings. There's no certainties on which to cling, nobody who is incontestably on Kyla's side, not even Kyla herself, devoid of her memories and her past, but with instincts and talents that remain as vestiges of the girl she must have been before.
Another aspect which contributes to the suspense is Terry's worldbuilding, something with which I seem to be fixated as of late, but I still attest that it is extremely significant to a good futuristic story. Worldbuilding is well-integrated into Slated, a trait that stands out when info-dumps seem to be the norm in YA dystopian fiction. Terry has mastered the 'show not tell' method of building her world, and accomplishes this feat without ever causing the reader to feel utterly confused and lost, unable to follow the story due to thick jargon or oblique historical references. Furthermore, this future-UK is not farfetched or completely unbelievable. There is no outrageous future-tech or unlikely historic events, just a restrained inclusion of a few important developments: peaceful student protests that began to escalate; right versus left political tension that resulted in society toeing centre; new medical treatments coming out of autism research. Heck, the way Kyla and Ben interact with their Levos is reminiscent of diabetics checking their blood sugar. Unlike stories involving Space Amish, I can clearly imagine how society went from life as we know it today to Slated's future world; Terry uses past events to mould an undeniably plausible future, and this plausibility further increases the atmosphere of tension and suspense.
Aside from the suspense, another of Slated's virtues is the novel's intriguing premise. Growing up, there were three types of novels that really enthralled me: paranormal tales about witches or fae, vampires or psychics; stories about futuristic societies where danger lurked behind an idyllic surface; and finally, exciting thrillers about lost memories, amnesia, and forgotten identities. As a kid, I could find amazing books in all three of my favourite genres if I looked, but after Twilight hit it big, paranormal stories exploded. Nowadays, hundreds of paranormal romance clones flood the market, and I avoid them like the plague; while there's likely still ones out there as good as those I'd always loved, more often than not I'll just end up disappointed by a shoddy love triangle when I pick up an urban fantasy or paranormal adventure. The second of my favourites also rose to prominence in the form of the dystopian genre, fueled by The Hunger Games and others like it. Dystopia is also beginning to suffer from an oversaturation of poor copycat novels, trying to cash in on the successful trend, but evidently I haven't given up hope on that one yet. While this book is also a dystopia, the final genre fits Slated like a glove: stories that explore identity and memory. Unlike the previous two types, this kind of novel has yet to rise in popularity, and so while there are a number of books that fall into the category, it enjoys a much greater sense of originality. There are new ideas to explore here, and Slated explores them with insight and finesse. If all our memories are taken from us, is the person we were "as good as dead?" Are our memories all that make us who we are?
However, I did have a few quibbles with the novel that prevent me from awarding it the elusive five stars. For one, I found that Kyla occasionally slipped into the role of a Mary Sue superstar: she's an exceptional, one-of-a-kind artist; she's the fastest runner in the school, faster than all the other girls and also the top male athlete, even though she joined cross country on a whim and had been in a hospital for nine months or more; she's a bit of a brainiac, finding the school entry test a breeze and able to slide immediately into regular classes. Most of the time, it's not an overwhelming aura of Mary Sue, and perhaps Kyla's special talents may be better explained in the sequel after her history is more greatly uncovered, but nonetheless, just how "special" she was left a slightly tinny taste in my mouth after an otherwise exquisite meal.
The only other problem I had was the ending, establishing the hook that will lead into the second novel in the series, Fractured. After an original, thought-provoking and well-paced plot, the last chapter seemed to be an info-dump, clumsily setting up what may be the type of undesirable vanilla rebel plot I have mentioned in previous reviews. This wrong-note ending caused the tinny taste to remain even after the delicious flavours of the novel had begun to recede, something which has me slightly worried for what Fractured has in store. However, one bad chapter doesn't necessarily spoil the whole bunch; a bit of trepidation won't temper my need to find out what happens to Kyla next, and Fractured still sits square on top of my reading list.
The author: Teri Terry
The rating: 4.5 stars
Lucy isn't okay; she is as good as dead. She doesn't exist anymore. She's been Slated.
There are a lot of works which have been described as "riveting psychological thrillers" and are anything but. Slated, on the other hand, is well-deserving of the epithet. The suspense Terry creates from the very first page is palpable and unnerving, a combination of the Chasing Yesterday series by Robin Wasserman, the Dollhouse tv-show, and The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer (before the latter lost all suspense and became just another trite paranormal romance). This suspense comes in part from Terry's voice and the way in which she describes the world, but also from the characters. Again, unnerving is the best descriptor for many of the chilling cast, their smiles and murky motivations leaving the reader, like protagonist Kyla, unsure of who to trust. Characters introduced in a negative light gradually shift to be perceived as friends; characters that initially appear allied to Kyla take on darker meanings. There's no certainties on which to cling, nobody who is incontestably on Kyla's side, not even Kyla herself, devoid of her memories and her past, but with instincts and talents that remain as vestiges of the girl she must have been before.
Another aspect which contributes to the suspense is Terry's worldbuilding, something with which I seem to be fixated as of late, but I still attest that it is extremely significant to a good futuristic story. Worldbuilding is well-integrated into Slated, a trait that stands out when info-dumps seem to be the norm in YA dystopian fiction. Terry has mastered the 'show not tell' method of building her world, and accomplishes this feat without ever causing the reader to feel utterly confused and lost, unable to follow the story due to thick jargon or oblique historical references. Furthermore, this future-UK is not farfetched or completely unbelievable. There is no outrageous future-tech or unlikely historic events, just a restrained inclusion of a few important developments: peaceful student protests that began to escalate; right versus left political tension that resulted in society toeing centre; new medical treatments coming out of autism research. Heck, the way Kyla and Ben interact with their Levos is reminiscent of diabetics checking their blood sugar. Unlike stories involving Space Amish, I can clearly imagine how society went from life as we know it today to Slated's future world; Terry uses past events to mould an undeniably plausible future, and this plausibility further increases the atmosphere of tension and suspense.
Aside from the suspense, another of Slated's virtues is the novel's intriguing premise. Growing up, there were three types of novels that really enthralled me: paranormal tales about witches or fae, vampires or psychics; stories about futuristic societies where danger lurked behind an idyllic surface; and finally, exciting thrillers about lost memories, amnesia, and forgotten identities. As a kid, I could find amazing books in all three of my favourite genres if I looked, but after Twilight hit it big, paranormal stories exploded. Nowadays, hundreds of paranormal romance clones flood the market, and I avoid them like the plague; while there's likely still ones out there as good as those I'd always loved, more often than not I'll just end up disappointed by a shoddy love triangle when I pick up an urban fantasy or paranormal adventure. The second of my favourites also rose to prominence in the form of the dystopian genre, fueled by The Hunger Games and others like it. Dystopia is also beginning to suffer from an oversaturation of poor copycat novels, trying to cash in on the successful trend, but evidently I haven't given up hope on that one yet. While this book is also a dystopia, the final genre fits Slated like a glove: stories that explore identity and memory. Unlike the previous two types, this kind of novel has yet to rise in popularity, and so while there are a number of books that fall into the category, it enjoys a much greater sense of originality. There are new ideas to explore here, and Slated explores them with insight and finesse. If all our memories are taken from us, is the person we were "as good as dead?" Are our memories all that make us who we are?
However, I did have a few quibbles with the novel that prevent me from awarding it the elusive five stars. For one, I found that Kyla occasionally slipped into the role of a Mary Sue superstar: she's an exceptional, one-of-a-kind artist; she's the fastest runner in the school, faster than all the other girls and also the top male athlete, even though she joined cross country on a whim and had been in a hospital for nine months or more; she's a bit of a brainiac, finding the school entry test a breeze and able to slide immediately into regular classes. Most of the time, it's not an overwhelming aura of Mary Sue, and perhaps Kyla's special talents may be better explained in the sequel after her history is more greatly uncovered, but nonetheless, just how "special" she was left a slightly tinny taste in my mouth after an otherwise exquisite meal.
The only other problem I had was the ending, establishing the hook that will lead into the second novel in the series, Fractured. After an original, thought-provoking and well-paced plot, the last chapter seemed to be an info-dump, clumsily setting up what may be the type of undesirable vanilla rebel plot I have mentioned in previous reviews. This wrong-note ending caused the tinny taste to remain even after the delicious flavours of the novel had begun to recede, something which has me slightly worried for what Fractured has in store. However, one bad chapter doesn't necessarily spoil the whole bunch; a bit of trepidation won't temper my need to find out what happens to Kyla next, and Fractured still sits square on top of my reading list.
Saturday, 7 June 2014
21. Royal Fluff
The book: The One (The Selection #3)
The author: Kiera Cass
The rating: 4 stars
I'm sure everyone has those guilty pleasure books, the kind that they'd never imagine buying in any format other than eReader, the kind with no redeemable qualities whatsoever, yet the kind that simply cannot be put down and that is devoured within twenty-four hours of purchase. This book is one of those. I'm typically a big proponent of YA literature, vehemently opposed to those who deem it to be pointless drivel. Just like any other type of novel, YA can be profound and meaningful explorations of character and theme, investigating slithers of teenage reality through intriguing and imaginative narratives. On the other hand, The One is pure, unadulterated fluff.
From a standpoint of literary quality, The One fares poorly. It has an overbearing love triangle, a caste-based dystopian world that is uncannily reminiscent of every single other caste-based dystopian world ever written, a vanilla rebel plotline, and following in the tradition of current popular dystopias, a ridiculously high body count, something that feels completely unnecessary in a novel which is essentially a futuristic The Bachelor. Other faults include the novel introducing characters and having them disappear with no warning, not even a cursory mention in the epilogue (I'm looking at you, Paige), subscribing to the YA fad-du-jour of the male lead having a physically abusive father, and the fact that Cass seems dedicated to giving everyone positively horrendous names: Maxon; Amberly; America; Aspen; Clarkson; the list goes on and on. Furthermore, America is your cliche teen heroine, full of romantic angst, horrible communication skills (90% of the plot relies on every single conversation causing more problems than it solves), and a fierce streak of independence... absolutely nothing at all like Collins' Katniss, or Condie's Cassia, or Roth's Tris. Not one bit. Nuh-uh.
All that taken into consideration, I loved The One. Despite being away on vacation, my eyes were glued to my eReader all day, stylus tapping through pages during dinner at an Italian restaurant or underneath the covers of my hotel room bed, the downy comforter not doing enough to prevent my Kobo's telling glow from keeping the others awake. The story is fluff, but sometimes a little fluff is a good thing. The One is entertaining, readable, and addicting; it takes only a few chapters to become hooked on Cass' comfortable prose. Somehow, it is so incredibly inviting, deliciously engrossing even in its banality. Cass writes in a way that makes you want to keep reading, in a way that makes all else seem irrelevant.
I hate love triangles, I hate reality television, yet for all its flaws, I did not hate The One and The Selection series. The worldbuilding was cliche; the characters flat; the plot trite, yet I still hung on every word. Overall, I'm incredibly eager to see what Kiera Cass will write next; if she can write such a captivating novel with everything stacked against it, I can't wait to find out what she can do when her words have a good plot, world, and characters to back them.
The author: Kiera Cass
The rating: 4 stars
I'm sure everyone has those guilty pleasure books, the kind that they'd never imagine buying in any format other than eReader, the kind with no redeemable qualities whatsoever, yet the kind that simply cannot be put down and that is devoured within twenty-four hours of purchase. This book is one of those. I'm typically a big proponent of YA literature, vehemently opposed to those who deem it to be pointless drivel. Just like any other type of novel, YA can be profound and meaningful explorations of character and theme, investigating slithers of teenage reality through intriguing and imaginative narratives. On the other hand, The One is pure, unadulterated fluff.
From a standpoint of literary quality, The One fares poorly. It has an overbearing love triangle, a caste-based dystopian world that is uncannily reminiscent of every single other caste-based dystopian world ever written, a vanilla rebel plotline, and following in the tradition of current popular dystopias, a ridiculously high body count, something that feels completely unnecessary in a novel which is essentially a futuristic The Bachelor. Other faults include the novel introducing characters and having them disappear with no warning, not even a cursory mention in the epilogue (I'm looking at you, Paige), subscribing to the YA fad-du-jour of the male lead having a physically abusive father, and the fact that Cass seems dedicated to giving everyone positively horrendous names: Maxon; Amberly; America; Aspen; Clarkson; the list goes on and on. Furthermore, America is your cliche teen heroine, full of romantic angst, horrible communication skills (90% of the plot relies on every single conversation causing more problems than it solves), and a fierce streak of independence... absolutely nothing at all like Collins' Katniss, or Condie's Cassia, or Roth's Tris. Not one bit. Nuh-uh.
All that taken into consideration, I loved The One. Despite being away on vacation, my eyes were glued to my eReader all day, stylus tapping through pages during dinner at an Italian restaurant or underneath the covers of my hotel room bed, the downy comforter not doing enough to prevent my Kobo's telling glow from keeping the others awake. The story is fluff, but sometimes a little fluff is a good thing. The One is entertaining, readable, and addicting; it takes only a few chapters to become hooked on Cass' comfortable prose. Somehow, it is so incredibly inviting, deliciously engrossing even in its banality. Cass writes in a way that makes you want to keep reading, in a way that makes all else seem irrelevant.
I hate love triangles, I hate reality television, yet for all its flaws, I did not hate The One and The Selection series. The worldbuilding was cliche; the characters flat; the plot trite, yet I still hung on every word. Overall, I'm incredibly eager to see what Kiera Cass will write next; if she can write such a captivating novel with everything stacked against it, I can't wait to find out what she can do when her words have a good plot, world, and characters to back them.
Wednesday, 4 June 2014
20. Down to Earth
The book: Salvage
The author: Alexandra Duncan
The rating: 3.5 stars
"Are we always our mistakes? Does anything we do heal them?"
It's never wise to judge a book by the quotes on the back of the dust jacket, but some glowing praise from my favourite YA sci-fi writer, Beth Revis, as well as other just-as-rave reviews which dubbed Salvage "kick-ass, brilliant, feminist science fiction" definitely gave me high hopes for this debut novel.
While Salvage was enjoyable enough, it certainly didn't live up to my lofty expectations. A good novel needs a lot of the things, but when that novel is science fiction, perhaps the element that is paramount is its worldbuilding. A good world can make or break a novel, and while generic worldbuilding can be redeemed by an extremely intriguing plot or characters, a well-built world can carry a generic cast of characters or a well-worn plot a far ways. Unfortunately, Salvage's world failed to deliver. From the very beginning, I found it difficult to buy into the whole Space Amish scenario; even once the setting shifted to the Gyre, the worldbuilding continued to puzzle. A futuristic setting is unique in that it enables the author to easily communicate their view on present-day issues through the future they create, but Duncan seems to shy away from making any sort of statement one way or another on any issue other than feminism. A continent made of trash is bound to carry connotations of some sort regarding environmentalism or commercialism or... something. But instead, the setting of the Gyre is vastly underdeveloped, used for nothing more than yet another cheap tragedy to push the main plot along. Forget Diet Theme... Duncan introduces InvisiTheme, so hard to see, it's like it's not even there!
While I've stated that unique characters and their characterization can make up for a dull world, the cast of Salvage is nothing new. Be it in the Parastrata, the Gyre, or Mumbai, Duncan's world seems to be populated exclusively with stock characters. Child prodigy? Check. The golden-hearted one with a troubled past? Check. The kind mentor figure whose death acts as a driving force to our hero's quest? Check. The calculating, immoral, and emotionless scientist? Check. There's very few characters in Salvage that you haven't seen a thousand times before, and in likely more nuanced variations. Furthermore, these characters are exceptionally flat... save for dying, nobody changes much over the course of the lengthy novel, and this lack of depth and development prevents the reader from becoming engrossed in Duncan's tale.
The one exception to this rule is Ava Parastrata, the story's heroine. Her character development - and the feminist theme portrayed by this development - are easily the most engaging aspects of Salvage (almost as if Ava and the girl-power message sucked every last drop out of the characterization and theme budgets, making them intriguing, rich splashes on a backdrop of grey and cliche). My opening quote provides a good summation of Ava's storyline and conflict: is redemption possible? Can one become whole again, become someone new? Refreshingly explored and thoughtfully developed, this thread, coupled with some good ol' girl-power that is not often found in sci-fi novels, provides a taste of what I'd hoped Salvage would be. It's not enough to truly allow the novel to realize its potential, but it's certainly better than nothing.
The other redeeming feature of Salvage is the way Duncan resists the urge to follow in the current YA fad of stretching every story over a trilogy. I can easily see how a lesser writer might have split Salvage into three books: book one taking place on the Parastrata, book two in the Gyre, and book three beginning once Ava and Miyole arrive in Mumbai. As I've mentioned before, there are few things I appreciate more than a writer penning a solid stand-alone, and I'm glad to say that Salvage was that. A multi-segmented tale was started, developed, and finished between two covers, and I was thoroughly satisfied by the time I flipped the last page. Yes, Salvage wasn't all that I hoped it would be, and yes, it was rather myopic, focusing almost exclusively on Ava and the central theme at the expense of all else, but I had a smile on my face by the time I turned the last page, and from one reader to another, can we really ask for much else?
The author: Alexandra Duncan
The rating: 3.5 stars
"Are we always our mistakes? Does anything we do heal them?"
It's never wise to judge a book by the quotes on the back of the dust jacket, but some glowing praise from my favourite YA sci-fi writer, Beth Revis, as well as other just-as-rave reviews which dubbed Salvage "kick-ass, brilliant, feminist science fiction" definitely gave me high hopes for this debut novel.
While Salvage was enjoyable enough, it certainly didn't live up to my lofty expectations. A good novel needs a lot of the things, but when that novel is science fiction, perhaps the element that is paramount is its worldbuilding. A good world can make or break a novel, and while generic worldbuilding can be redeemed by an extremely intriguing plot or characters, a well-built world can carry a generic cast of characters or a well-worn plot a far ways. Unfortunately, Salvage's world failed to deliver. From the very beginning, I found it difficult to buy into the whole Space Amish scenario; even once the setting shifted to the Gyre, the worldbuilding continued to puzzle. A futuristic setting is unique in that it enables the author to easily communicate their view on present-day issues through the future they create, but Duncan seems to shy away from making any sort of statement one way or another on any issue other than feminism. A continent made of trash is bound to carry connotations of some sort regarding environmentalism or commercialism or... something. But instead, the setting of the Gyre is vastly underdeveloped, used for nothing more than yet another cheap tragedy to push the main plot along. Forget Diet Theme... Duncan introduces InvisiTheme, so hard to see, it's like it's not even there!
While I've stated that unique characters and their characterization can make up for a dull world, the cast of Salvage is nothing new. Be it in the Parastrata, the Gyre, or Mumbai, Duncan's world seems to be populated exclusively with stock characters. Child prodigy? Check. The golden-hearted one with a troubled past? Check. The kind mentor figure whose death acts as a driving force to our hero's quest? Check. The calculating, immoral, and emotionless scientist? Check. There's very few characters in Salvage that you haven't seen a thousand times before, and in likely more nuanced variations. Furthermore, these characters are exceptionally flat... save for dying, nobody changes much over the course of the lengthy novel, and this lack of depth and development prevents the reader from becoming engrossed in Duncan's tale.
The one exception to this rule is Ava Parastrata, the story's heroine. Her character development - and the feminist theme portrayed by this development - are easily the most engaging aspects of Salvage (almost as if Ava and the girl-power message sucked every last drop out of the characterization and theme budgets, making them intriguing, rich splashes on a backdrop of grey and cliche). My opening quote provides a good summation of Ava's storyline and conflict: is redemption possible? Can one become whole again, become someone new? Refreshingly explored and thoughtfully developed, this thread, coupled with some good ol' girl-power that is not often found in sci-fi novels, provides a taste of what I'd hoped Salvage would be. It's not enough to truly allow the novel to realize its potential, but it's certainly better than nothing.
The other redeeming feature of Salvage is the way Duncan resists the urge to follow in the current YA fad of stretching every story over a trilogy. I can easily see how a lesser writer might have split Salvage into three books: book one taking place on the Parastrata, book two in the Gyre, and book three beginning once Ava and Miyole arrive in Mumbai. As I've mentioned before, there are few things I appreciate more than a writer penning a solid stand-alone, and I'm glad to say that Salvage was that. A multi-segmented tale was started, developed, and finished between two covers, and I was thoroughly satisfied by the time I flipped the last page. Yes, Salvage wasn't all that I hoped it would be, and yes, it was rather myopic, focusing almost exclusively on Ava and the central theme at the expense of all else, but I had a smile on my face by the time I turned the last page, and from one reader to another, can we really ask for much else?
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