Boy oh boy. I can't remember the last time I felt so simultaneously positive and negative about a book. Hence the three stars, averaging everything out.
(Just realized that I reviewed this at my blog but not here. Here's the cut-n-paste)
This review will, by necessity, have lots of spoilers, because the things I liked (and disliked) are very specific. Insofar as I can give you something spoiler-free, here goes: I love the concept; the world is unique and well-realized; the relationship between the main characters is believable and well-developed; there is a wonderfully realized dog; the narrative voice is a bit irritating; there are whole pages you can just skip because there’s nothing worth reading on them; there is quite a bit of extremely graphic violence; the author CHEATS most egregiously at narrative; while the overall message of the book is solid and good and right, I hate the way we get there; the villains are completely eye-rolling over-the-top; and it ends on a giant cliffhanger.
It is the best of books, it is the worst of books. I seem unable to speak of it except in gross hyperbole. Here come the spoilers:
First of all, a salute to the best character in the whole damn book, the dim-witted and noble hound, Manchee. He was such a good dog, and a good depiction of a dog. His death was heartbreaking, and maybe that’s my real problem with the book: I will never forgive the author for killing him off.
I thought the relationship between Todd and Viola was also handled well. Their friendship followed a realistic trajectory. Yes, Todd is protective of her, but Viola’s as tough as he is — plus smarter — and I felt she held her own pretty well. Todd, having been raised in a world without women, has few preconceived notions about what women should do or be, or what the male-female dynamic is supposed to be. He treats her as a friend and equal, hardly an inkling of sex or romance in his head. The scene where he realizes that he can tell what she’s thinking and feeling, even though he can’t hear her Noise, is — for my money — the best thing in the entire book, a genuine, human moment of recognition.
The whole “endless fleeing punctuated by extreme danger” plot, however, I found utterly tedious. I think I have Mortal Danger fatigue when it comes to YA. I’m choosing to blame Hunger Games — not that I didn’t like Hunger Games, but when I heard that the second volume was basically Hunger Games II, I decided I didn’t need to read that one. The other book this reminded me of is Graceling, where she’s fleeing over the mountain pass with Bitterblue, and it’s just endless page after page of running! And surviving! And OMG the tedium of the endless chase and getting more and more sick and injured and will they survive? WILL THEY?! That part of this book made me cross-eyed with boredom.
Also: the villains made me want to poke my eyes out with the ubiquitous knife. They’re CRAYZEH! And they’re indestructible! And did we mention CRAYZEH? No subtlety to evil here, no nuance. No temptation. No point.
But y���know, I could have forgiven both those flaws. I really could have. I forgave them in Hunger Games, after all (though the evil was more nuanced there, in my opinion, and less CRAYZEH). There were two things I can’t forgive.
One: the way the killing of the spackle was handled. OK, I get that it’s supposed to be some kind of commentary on how people can be brainwashed into hating, and scapegoating people, and it parallels what happened with the women in the town, and blah de blah. But it was incredibly jarring, then brushed off like no big deal (by Viola and then by Ben), conveniently forgotten when Todd needs to be “not a killer”, but then retrieved to illustrate the overarching Eden theme?
Todd is still somehow “pure” and “innocent” — right? Because if he’s not, then what’s the showdown with Aaron about? Why can’t he just say to Aaron, hey, I already killed someone? Wouldn’t Aaron have self-destructed, now that he can’t be the sacrifice? But then again, Todd’s NOT pure and innocent because he gives Viola that speech about how we all fall, and we all get up again — a speech which I would have taken for another genuine human moment except FALLING = KILLING PEOPLE (or spackle), and no, we don’t ALL do that. They’re reaching really hard for some kind of Garden of Eden metaphor, and I’m just not buying it.
Two: the misuse and abuse of first person present tense, and by extension, of the reader’s trust and goodwill. Just like Hunger Games, where it was used to excellent effect, this book is in first person present tense. The entire POINT of first person present tense is to make it feel like you are there, as close as you can possibly be to experiencing AS the narrator. If that’s the case, then I think it’s cheating to have the narrator say, essentially, “Then he told me the truth and it was so awful I couldn’t believe it” — without revealing anything to the reader. NO YOU DON’T. I would accept the narrator dissociating, or doing some version of “lalala I can’t hear you!” such that he doesn’t completely hear what’s said either. But I cannot accept that he is told something, IN REAL TIME, and he has the option of keeping it from the reader. This isn’t a journal he’s writing after the fact. This is his experience, IN REAL TIME, and he doesn’t get to edit it that way.
It’s like the author couldn’t think of any other way to create suspense. The character had to know, so he’d get out of town, but if the READER knew, that would spoil the surprise. You can do that in third person. You can do that in first person past tense. I do not accept it as fair play here. The Big Reveals, when they come, are utterly anticlimactic. Nothing you couldn’t have guessed; I guessed, and then rejected it as too obvious. My version had mind control and cyborgs (TELL me Aaron’s not a cyborg!), and I liked it better.
Would I read the next one? This, I do not know. I feel like I spent a lot of time complaining here, and didn’t really elucidate all the things I liked: the world, the premise of Noise, all the possibilities of a frontier planet, Wilf, the singing cow-things. There were things here I liked. If I had some assurances that the next one wasn’t a rehash of this one (the way Hunger Games II sounds like it is), then maybe. There were ideas here. Poorly executed, some of them, but still. I think part of the reason the bad parts made me so mad was that I really liked the good parts.