"You ran away from a world you controlled. Because you couldn't control what you had lost."
1.5/5 rounded down to a 1.
Norman Reedus, you're an incredible actor, an amazing artist, and such an engaging person. And I'm sorry, I am so sorry that I absolutely hated this book. If I weren't so die-hard against not DNF'ing a book, I would have put it down weeks ago.
I'll say this, for context: I'm an avid Norman Reedus fan, and that's why I took an interest in this book. Straight fiction isn't my preferred genre, but when I saw that Norman had a book coming out, I preordered it the day he dropped it on Instagram. I didn't know what to expect from it, only that my expectations were high because I thought so highly of Norman Reedus.
This book was awful. But, before I get to the bad, let me tell you about the good - because, for the worst books on earth, there are least some redeeming qualities. Number one: this book is absolutely gorgeous. Zena Kanes designed a beautiful cover illustration, and the actual binding of the hardcover is stunning. Number two: Norman Reedus is a pretty decent writer. If we're just talking about voice and structure, sure, this book was fine. I could practically hear Reedus's voice as I read this, and no one else but him could ever do the audiobook version.
That's it. Those are the two good things.
If I had to summarize what I disliked most about this book, it would be this - The Ravaged is written for the same person it was written by: an woman-loving, tough-as-nails, red-blooded, all-American man. I'm very certain that there'll be a lot of American men that loved his book, and that they'll tell their friends 'see? this guy understands what it means to be a real patriot!'
Yeah, yikes.
This book could not possibly come across as anything else other than something written by a cishet man. Reedus seems to be physically incapable of talking about any female characters without describing their breasts, ass, or how sexy (or distinctly not sexy) they are. I know a lot of other reviewers have mentioned this, but I'm sorry, I really have to as well: page 8, "he wraps an arm around her waist and squeezes an ass as firm as a helium-filled balloon." Jesus Christ.
Something else that I know other reviewers encountered (and subsequently DNF'd because of) was that Reedus goes into a lot of how-to and mechanical instruction in this book. A lot. And no, the page-long step-by-step instructions on how to clean out a lawnmower on page 7 isn't the only instance of this. There's an old writing adage that says 'write what you know' - but shit, you don't need to write everything you know. A third of this book reads as an instruction manual for fixing motorcycles or investing in the stock market, and I have no idea why. I have no idea, because not only does it add nothing to the story, but it's not even for anyone. There cannot possibly be a single reader on this planet who read those step-by-steps and felt more connected to this book coming out of it than going in.
Relatedly, this book isn't a work of fiction. It's really not. It's Norman Reedus's personal beliefs and manifesto wrapped up in characters based on people in his life. Is that what most fictional books do? Yes, of course. But Jesus, I don't need to be lectured on how 'all kids today do is use their smartphones' and 'I've wasted my life working too hard' by a famous, cishet White man with a $25 million networth. That's where I think I lose it with this book, a little: all of the characters are down-on-their luck, and barely surviving, and the lesson there is supposed to be something along the lines of 'you don't need money to survive, celebrities doing philanthropic work is all for show, society would be so much better without capitalism.' All of this, from... Norman Reedus.
I should also say that, because I was a Norman Reedus fan prior to this book, I know a little about his background. I know that the character of Jack was directly inspired by a Fortune Five Hundred guy he met on a plane once. Hell, Reedus even snuck his own tattoo and personal brand into Hunter's character. What Norman Reedus should have written was a biography: a way to tell his stories with meaning, and to tell people what he thinks, rather than trying to make his ideals seem more palatable because they're coming out of a homeless character's mouth.
Now, let me talk about The Ravaged as a story. We have three main characters, whose lives and plight we get insight into: Hunter, Jack, and Anne. And, somehow? I don't care about any of them. None of them have distinct personalities, none of them have distinct voices, and for some reason, Reedus thinks that giving his characters accents equals giving them character traits. It's so bizarre.
On top of that? Reedus shows his entire hand in the first... fifty pages of the book, maybe? We know all of our characters' backstories, all of their tragic pasts, no secrets or holds barred, within the first few chapters. What is the rest of this book about, then, you ask? Nothing. It's about nothing. It's about our three protagonists meeting new people, explaining their exact. Same. Tragic. Backstories. To these new people again, and again, and again. Nothing new, nothing surprising, nothing even thought-provoking. And the way in which these characters speak is so unrealistic, so stiff, so incredibly scripted, that it doesn't even feel like they're having believable conversations. Not a single person on this planet talks the way Hunter or Jack or Anne do, because Reedus couldn't seem to decide whether to make his characters sound like hillbillies or philosophers. There is a way to blend both, but Reedus really didn't do it.
As for the side characters? They're a lot of the same. I can't remember a single name of a single side character, because they might as well all have been identical. On top of that, every side character our heroes meet know an inordinate amount of knowledge about their local area. It's another instance of Reedus infodumping his knowledge for no reason other than to show the reader that he does, in fact, know a whole lot about American history and geography.
If I take anything out of this book, though? I think I'll take Hunter's kindness. That was the only thing I actually liked about any character in this book - the way that Hunter will do everything and anything he can to just be kind to a stranger. I liked that a lot. Unfortunately, that didn't make this nearly 400 page book more palatable.
I want to cut Reedus some slack because this is his first foray into writing at all, let alone writing an entire debut fiction novel. God, I hope there isn't a sequel, but if there is, I'd read it to give him the benefit of the doubt. The Ravaged was terrible, so incredibly disappointing, and I think I'm going to need a full year to recover.
P.S. The next male writer that calls women 'females' in their book is going to catch these hands. Why do men write about women like they've never seen one before?