Bad writing is bad writing. It is inescapable. No story is so primitively authentic as to be above the error of the untalented or the lazy. RE: ZERO: STARTING LIFE IN ANOTHER WORLD, whatever the logic of its origin, fails to initiate the whimsical if not blind adventure it claims lies at the heart of all RPG narratives by succumbing to heedless overwriting, redundant storytelling tropes, and decidedly boring and unoriginal story dynamics. RE: ZERO is not a good book.
This is supposed to be a novelization of the intricately structured play style native to RPG gameplay, an homage as well as a betterment of the bifurcated or path-based storytelling that drives visual novels, as well as PC and console games. The reality is far more coarse. RE: ZERO is long-winded, poorly written, and restlessly dramatic. The book reads as if an otaku were narrating aloud the individual motions of individual characters in individual scenes from the most generic anime title ever produced.
The plight of Subaru Natsuki, a high-school truant, isn't particularly new, interesting, or endearing. As he finds himself thrust into a nameless fantastical realm, whose cities are populated with all sorts of magic, animal-people hybrids, and more, Subaru asserts his role as a hero-in-the-making, faults and all. The young man's hawkish if baseless optimism is a well-worn trait but here it serves its purpose.
Subaru encounters only a handful of recurring characters, all of which, according to the novel's structure, have their fates tested by his presence (or interference) in but one day of their busy lives. Felt is an adolescent petty thief; Satella is a half-elf mage who cannot lie; Reinhard is a knight; Elsa is a bedeviling sadist and assassin. All of whom, to summarize, engage a cat-and-mouse game of theft, item recovery, murder, and saving grace, respectively.
The later-revealed irony that many of these characters would have successfully completed their day with little to no harm had Subaru not interfered is played off as a joke; thus undermining, unintentionally, it seems, the existence of the entire book.
In RE: ZERO, Subaru is not a competent individual, a fact that hampers both reader integration as well as the story's interior dynamics. The character's irrational behavior certainly doesn't help. He starts fights he cannot win; he ignores warning signs and imperils others; he refuses, ultimately, to look before he leaps in everything he does.
Deeper into the rabbit hole, the quality of writing does not support its characters, however reluctant, prescient, or inadequate their heroism. From the onset, a handful of likely translation miscues mar the book's dependability. This includes, among other things, a reference to American currency (p. 10), Imperial units of measurement (p. 14), and the likely transliteration of the character name "Reinhard," which is either obviously wrong or a mark of dubious creativity.
Redundant narration is another problem. In the first chapter, the word "disappear" registers in five consecutive paragraphs (p. 55), leaving readers with cringe worthy, hyper-explanatory phrases, like "The green crystal continued to glow with a faint light in Satella's hand as she held it" (p. 56) and "Feeling the hard texture of the ground against his face, he realized that he had fallen facedown on the ground" (p. 66).
Other times, the writing is so awkward and protracted, it is nearly impossible to read the scene correctly: "Subaru had tried to get things moving again and change the mood, but Subaru only got turned on by both girls, and failed to get anywhere" (p. 179). Wait. What? Incidentally, this excerpt has nothing to do with sexual attraction. Rather, the scene chronicles Subaru's attempt at starting (and maintaining) a meaningful conversation without getting sidetracked.
To this end, RE: ZERO reads a lot like a high-schooler's first shot at fanfiction: run-on sentences and poor editing in protection of characters who vanish and reappear at random, to say nothing of the wildly contrived character interactions, written with annoying precision (or, conversely, in total absence of studied presence).
All too often, the author piles words upon words and ends up with a mass of confusing and crumbling stage directions. For example, "He couldn't understand himself, just why he was so angry. In part because he could not understand it as this emotion rose up inside him, he spit it all out" (p. 181), and, "As Felt's legs started to shake as she ran, she shook her head to try to deny the mess of thoughts running through it" (p. 197) are just plain awful. The second of these two samples can be simplified to read: "Felt was terrified. Her thoughts were a mess and her legs shook as she ran." Done.
Overwriting is the book's largest crime. On nearly every page, the reader suffers the blunt edge of overeager metaphors and inelegant imagery, all gallingly shoved to the fore and then turned and twisted, painfully, as if encountering the same reference in as many sentences has a doubling or tripling effect (it doesn't).
Take, for example, "When he opened his eyes, the sun's light was at an angle and shone into them, causing him to squint at the brightness and rub his eyes" (p. 20). Setting aside the misleading modifier (of which there are many in this book), the odd causality of the passage recounts a character behavior so instinctive and natural, it seems a total waste to actually narrate. Cut out the trash. Have the character wake up while rubbing his eyes. Done.
Similarly, "[H]e rushed to not be left behind this girl who kept continuing on toward her goal" (p. 53) is confusing, regardless of how excruciatingly obvious the writer's intention may be. Why not simply say, "The girl was stubborn, but Subaru followed anyway"?
And of the longwinded, try, "Subaru's brain had already started excreting endorphins and was rejecting the pain, which was greater than any Subaru had felt before" (p. 111). To fix, simply condense: "He pushed through the pain." (Also, "excrete" is the wrong word. The author/translator clearly should have used "secrete" in this instance.)
Vagueness is problematic, too. An assertion that may feel contradictory, given the author's penchant for pulsing the story with excess verbiage, but by encountering, "Subaru felt himself take some intense eardrum damage" (p. 48), the reader is left to wonder why the author is adhering so strictly to the story's (proposed) third-person formula.
Lazy writing invariably follows, as with, "The night flipped immediately from night to noon" (p. 70), which bears evidence of a limited vocabulary, as well as odd anatomical references, like "breaking his left shoulder" (p. 112); "she sliced about 70 percent of the way through Subaru's abdomen with her other hand" (p. 113), which neglects to mention the character is holding a knife; "The target was [Satella], and the strike was aimed to drive the knife into her chest" (p. 182); and lastly, with too many problems to count, is the increasingly misleading, "Felt didn't understand what she was feeling, but because those feelings were in her heart, she kept running about. She had felt something in response to Subaru's actions. Because of those feelings, her feverishness did not subside, and while she felt like she wanted to scream, Felt kept running" (p. 198).
RE: ZERO is not well written. At all. Regarding what blocks of story that are passable, it would behoove the reader to note they are already 130 pages into a 231-page book. Indeed, some passages are truly incomprehensible: "A high-pitched sound rang out, and Felt clicked her tongue from Elsa's side" (p. 110). Huh?
Bad writing is bad writing. It is inescapable. No story is so primitively authentic as to be above the error of the untalented or the lazy. RE: ZERO struggles mightily with its vague duplication of storytelling structure better fit for other media, and everything suffers as a result. There is nothing redeeming about a story for which the reader must slog through the same scene three or four times over, such that the main character, himself dense and illiterate, can learn the simplest life lessons.