Jeremy Robinson tends to write really good books. Every time I pick up a new novel of his, chances are, it’s gonna be a hell of a fun time. And, it goes without saying, that I’m probably gonna give that book anywhere between 4 and 5 stars. When one of his books falls flat, seeming to misfire on so many levels, it comes as quite a shock and surprise. Tribe is one of those kinda novels.
Look, I know that Robinson had a great time writing this. He says so in the forward. And that’s great. There was a time that he was definitely just going through the motions, putting out stuff that he wasn’t super happy writing. The fact that’s he’s back to doing what he loves and going at it 100% is awesome. And the fact that he went balls out with Tribe, not caring to follow typical conventions or make yet another ChessTeam novel deserves at least some moderate applause.
And speaking of balls out, the first 50% of Tribe was nuts...in a good way. Typical Robinson action, only on steroids. This was basically John Wick, mixed with a unique story that had a ton of potential. It was fast, crazy, and never ending. I had no idea where the plot was going, but I loved every minute of that first half. I seriously thought I was going to have the pleasure of experiencing Robinson’s best work since Alter.
But then that all came crashing down. It’s kind of impossible to get into the reasons of Tribe’s major disappointments without giving away massive amounts of the plot, so I’ll just say that once the requisite Robinson twist comes into play, everything this book had going for it completely disappeared. Tribe went from an action film that would give Michael Bay a boner into a convoluted mix of mythology and over the top violence similar to The Boys. I’m actually a big fan of the Amazon iteration of Garth Ennis’s anti-superhero comic so the over the top gore and bloodshed wasn’t a huge deal...it’s just that it felt like Robinson was trying too hard to make this one stand out and separate himself from past works.
So too for the excessive explicit language. Robinson has never been shy about using the f word or a few vulgar quips but it seems like ever since The Others, he’s been trying to shoehorn more and more of them into his stories. It’s not necessarily something I would usually complain about, however when an author who isn’t known for including this stuff, suddenly goes from zero to a hundred with them, it’s jarring and, frankly, off putting. It feels as if Robinson is reaching, trying to be “edgy” and “cool”, when, in reality, it just feels kind of lame and conforming.
I might have been able to look past that (after all, I grew up on Keene and King), but the plot really messed things up and just made me incredibly bummed out about the whole damn book. The mythology stuff quickly got old and the way Robinson wove it throughout the story just didn’t work. The main characters were totally unbelievable and using teens as what amounts to unchecked, unregulated assassins required a suspension of disbelief I just couldn’t force myself to conjure. The twist was confusing and only got more and more tangled the further the story went on. And the conclusion? Meh. Didn’t do it for me.
Had this been welded by Matt Reilly, who knows, this might have been a 3 Star book (and actually gotten Reilly back in my good graces...but that’s another story for another day). The fact that Robinson authored it, however, is a big disappointment. Robinson is a far superior author to what The Tribe would have you believe.