Middle of the Road Dystopian

The Girl in the Road
by Monica Byrne
Published by Crown
2 Out of 5 Stars

Set in the not-too-distant future, The Girl in the Road focuses on the brutal journey of two women fleeing from violence in patriarchal cultures: Meena, a young woman from India, and Mariama, a girl enslaved in Africa. Told in alternating first person narratives, their stories converge by the end in not entirely surprising ways due to the symbolic overlap we see in each of their tales. Both have been attacked by snakes, both show signs of mental illness, both have suffered tremendous loss, both encounter words and images that have a spiritual significance to them alone, both are journeying toward a future they hope will be better.

In Mariama's story, she flees her home after finding a light blue snake in her bed. Heeding her mother's advice, she decides to flee and becomes a stowaway in a caravan transporting oil to Ethiopia. During this time, a beautiful woman named Yemaya joins the caravan and Mariama adopts her in her mind as a mother/lover/goddess figure. Born into a life of poverty and subservience, and bearing witness to her mother's repeated rape by their owner, Mariama is a surprisingly driven, courageous character, but her childlike naivete and bluntly sexualized view of the world are a dangerous combination in one so young.

In Meena's story, she awakens to find that a snake placed in her bed has bitten her; she immediately assumes someone is trying to kill her and flees India for Ethiopia, the place where her Indian parents were brutally murdered before her birth. She undertakes the dangerous journey across "The Trail," a bridge consisting of "scales" that runs from India to Djibouti. The bridge is intended to harvest wave energy and to cross it is an illegal, dangerous act. As Meena's trek goes on, she begins shedding that which is inessential and facing the truth from which her traumatized mind has been shielding her.

There is a lot to like about The Girl in the Road. The futuristic setting is at once recognizable and alien, but doesn't overshadow what is essentially an emotional and spiritual story about violence and healing. The world of Meena (which is set a few decades after the story of Mariama) is a racial, cultural, and sexual melting pot, and reading a book with characters from diverse backgrounds was a pleasure. Byrne's prose is lovely and minimalist, and her inclusion of Indian and Ethiopian cultures is seamless.

However, there was a lot that I did not enjoy. First off, the persistent phallic imagery, both the snakes in the bed and The Trail itself, is fraught with psychological and symbolic implications that had me expecting the big reveals in the end. I'm not a prude faulting an author's use of phallic imagery; rather, my complaint is that it lessened the suspense toward the novel's end because it seemed a little heavy handed. I was also disappointed that, in a novel that initially challenged the stereotypical view of transsexuals, it ultimately bolsters that stereotype.

And then there was THE SCENE, a scene that has apparently generated a lot of debate.**Since discussing the scene in question involves spoilers, I'll post it in the comments section below.  Be forewarned.

I do want to make it clear that this scene is not responsible for my 2 star review. The disappointment I feel stems from the book blurbs leading me to believe that this is a sci-fi action/thriller. This is certainly a very different reading experience than the one I thought I signed up for. In addition to my misguided expectations, this is a novel of unlikable characters that engendered my sympathy, but not my empathy.

But Where Are the Werewolves? I Was Promised Werewolves!

Santa Olivia
by Jacqueline Carey
Published by Grand Central Publishing
2 Out of 5 Stars

The town of Santa Olivia lies between the U.S. and Mexican border, but becomes a sort of present day leper colony when it is walled off from the rest of the world. Apparently the epicenter of a particularly nasty flu virus, the U. S. military builds a base there so the soldiers can keep the townspeople in line. And, as governments are wont to do, it decides, "Hey, while we have this super-secret base cut off from the rest of the world, how's about we take the opportunity for a little genetic experimentation? Maybe splice some animal DNA into human DNA and create a super soldier? Anyone have any wolf DNA lying about?" Which is all fine and dandy until your super soldier escapes, impregnates a local waitress, and hightails it for Mexico after the townspeople turn against him. And so Loup Garron is born, a child with super-strength and an inability to feel fear. 

Following Loup throughout her childhood and teenage years, we witness as she deals with the deaths of loved ones, bands together with others in her orphanage to create miracles and punishments in the name of the town's patron saint, grapples with her identity and her sexuality, and enters into a military sanctioned boxing match as a means of avenging her brother's death. To have focused on any one of these stories might have made for a more cohesive (if not more satisfying) narrative, but, as it is, the plot structure seems clunky and jumps from one idea to the next. It doesn't help that, through it all, Loup doesn't seem to feel much of anything or develop a personality beyond "gee, I feel different from everyone else." The climax of the book leads to the aforementioned boxing match, which lacks any real sense of tension or drama.

I've seen summaries of Santa Olivia that claim it gives a new and intriguing slant to both the werewolf mythos and to the superhero concept. Except for it doesn't. Because, really, it's not about werewolves or about superheroes. The whole wolf DNA angle is basically irrelevant; the only wolfy characteristics exhibited by Loup are her super-strength and stamina, a keen sense of hearing, an increased appetite, and some poorly executed idea about her "mating for life." Any animal could have been selected for the same traits--there's no real reason as to why it had to be a wolf. In terms of her superhero abilities, see the list provided above. Not exactly thrilling stuff. She's no Wolverine (although one of the orphans compares her to him). Here she is, blessed with the strength of the big bad wolf, so what's she going to do? She's going to box her heart out, baby! This failed to blow my house down. 

There were some intriguing ideas here whose executions fell flat, but I did appreciate the inclusion of a strong lesbian character. However, even that feels a little disingenuous in that it seems to exist only as a means of reinforcing the idea that Loup never fits in, in case it's not really coming across that she's different. During her sexual experimentation with boys, the boys always reject her, saying that she just "feels different" when they kiss her or that sex with her is like putting a "penis in a vise." It's almost as if seeking out another female is her only option, although it's later connected to the whole tendency to have only one mate idea. I would have preferred it if her attraction to women had been separated from this strange connection to her lupine heritage.

Overall, I feel this is the type of book that was born out of a tongue-in-cheek conceit: "Hey, what if I named the main character Loup Garron? Get it? Like loup garou? As in werewolf? Why aren't you 'howling' with laughter?" 

Also, I'm pissed about that cover. Because that cover has nothing to do with the book.

Might Be Contagious for the Right Audience

Rash
by Pete Hautman
Published by Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
3 Out of 5 Stars

My immediate thought after finishing Rash: Huh. For it is a peculiar novel. And I'm still not entirely sure what to say about it. I enjoyed it, but didn't love it. However, I think its target audience would love it. That audience is teen and preteen boys, and heaven (aka Barnes and Noble) knows there aren't enough books out there for them. 

The novel is set in the not too distant future of the United States, which is now known as the USSA (United Safer States of America). In this dystopian-lite future, anything that is dangerous to one's safety has been outlawed: no drinking, no smoking, no contact sports, no fast food, no foul language. Children can't play outside without the appropriate safety gear. Most of the populace is taking a cocktail of drugs to maintain their health and well-being (including Levulor, which dampens the instinct toward anger). The reason for the emphasis on safety is that it has significantly increased the lifespan of the average human. The trade-off is that one really can't enjoy that extra-long life. (And if you think this future is a ridiculous hypothesis, look at national, state, and city legislation attempting to yank toys out of Happy Meals, make walking and using an electronic device illegal, implement Body Mass Index requirements at public schools, etc.)

In this society, even the most minor of infractions can be a criminal offense that sends you to a prison work farm. These work farms perform the potentially "dangerous" (by this futuristic society's standards) jobs no one else wants to do. They produce goods and produce, and they also maintain the nation's infrastructure. Bo Marsten's famously short-tempered family knows this first hand: his father (convicted of road rage) works at a shrimp farm and his brother works on a road crew. It's only a matter of time before Bo's own temper gets the better of him and he's sent to a production facility in the arctic that is run by a football fanatic who arranges illegal sporting events for his own entertainment. Because of Bo's ability to run faster than anyone else, it isn't long before he's recruited to the team and learns first hand what pain really feels like.

There are a lot of draws here for teenage boys: very short chapters, rapid fire pacing, frequent changes in topic (you'd almost think Hautman himself is ADD as frequently as events and settings change), a futuristic society whose ridiculousness makes it simultaneously frightening and funny, and, of course, football. 

A Frightening Future

Oryx and Crake
by Margaret Atwood
Published by Nan A. Talese
4 Out of 5 Stars

I've read a few of Margaret Atwood's poems and short stories, but this is my first official Atwood novel (I now imagine a collective gasp from all the hardcore The Handmaid's Tale fans . . . not to worry, that's on my reading list as I've already procured a copy). I've always heard people rave about how wonderful Atwood is and I can now say that I finally know what all the fuss is about. 

A dystopian novel, Oryx and Crake is set in a not-so-distant apocalyptic future in which mankind has been eradicated by the jealousy of one man, Crake. We soon learn that Crake was the childhood best friend of the narrator, Jimmy (aka Snowman). While I don't want to give too much away regarding the how and why of this catastrophic event, it is Jimmy's fate to live on so that he can care for the "Crakers," a race of genetically altered human beings that have been modified by Crake to be docile herbivores, existing like animals in a natural habitat and never plagued by petty human concerns. 

For all the inventiveness of Atwood's imagined future (video games, the increasing power of the Internet, genetic splicing, biotechnology, etc.), this is not so much a story about the end of humanity as it is a story about Jimmy, his life and the destructive love that brought about his castaway status in a future he couldn't have imagined. Atwood doesn't offer answers and is never didactic--she simply tells a story and that story speaks volumes about what may be the future of humanity.

Burn, Baby, Burn!

Fahrenheit 451
by Ray  Bradbury
Published by Ballantine Books
3 Out of 5 Stars

Fahrenheit 451 is one of those books that I should have read by now. Occasionally, a student comes to me, eyes ablaze with indignation that anyone should ever burn books, and they want to talk about it. "Why would anyone do such a thing? This is impossible! Why would such a world exist?" And, more tremulously, "Could this world ever exist?" As shame and humiliation wash over me, I have to say, "Um, I haven't read it.  But it's on my to-read list!" They look stricken, abashed, as though I have failed them. And maybe I have. If anyone should have read the book about burning books, it's the English teacher, right? Hell, I'm just excited that they get so pumped over it. In a world where student literacy scores are on the decline, where a teenager would rather pick up an iPod than a book, and most students only read 2-3 books a year (except for my room, where I must brag for a moment, we kick some reading ass), the fact that some of them still read Fahrenheit 451 and become incensed gives me hope for the future.

It is a shame that I haven't read Bradbury's novel until now. This is a book that calls out to the bibliophile. It reminds us what a simple and precious thing a book is; what a liberty it is to own them and have the privacy to read them and the right to think about them; what a privilege it is to not have our books censored. Reading is a simple freedom that so many take for granted because they see just the physical act: sitting in a chair and turning a page. What they don't realize is that, in that simple act, an entire person is formed: beliefs, opinions, and thoughts are constantly challenged, reassessed, and reshaped. Reading is the act of constantly taking our measure against the world and deciding if we're the type of person we want to be. Reading keeps us in check and it reminds us there are others out there in very different circumstances for whom we should feel empathy. In short, reading is the very act of maintaining our humanity.

In Fahrenheit 451, however, reading is a freedom that has been willingly renounced by the citizens. As more immediate forms of technological entertainment became available, people simply lost interest in reading.  In Bradbury's world, the living room itself is a wall-to-wall tv, constantly droning on and offering pure entertainment with which the viewer can take an interactive role, but there is no substance. When you're not in the living room, you wear a Seashell in your ear that constantly broadcasts news and auditory entertainment. Silence and introspection are shunned. Perhaps most frightening is that this is eerily the world of today: flat screen televisions on every wall of the house; interactive technology such as video games and computers; iPods constantly delivering a steady stream of noise. In terms of technology, we are living in Fahrenheit 451. As Captain Beatty tells Guy Montag, "School is shortened, discipline relaxed, philosophies, histories, languages dropped, English and spelling gradually neglected, finally almost completely ignored. Life is immediate, the job counts, pleasure lies all about after work. Why learn anything save pressing buttons, pulling switches, fitting nuts and bolts?" If that doesn't sum up the general direction in which education is heading, then I don't know what does, unless it's when he tells Guy that the educational development can be summarized as "Out of the nursery, into the college and back to the nursery; there's your intellectual pattern."

The novel focuses on Guy Montag, a fireman whose job is to start fires instead of putting them out. Specifically, the firemen exist to burn houses where books are being kept by those few who still cling to the written word. Through a series of events, Guy becomes self-aware and begins to question the world around him--specifically, what threat is there in books and could books hold the key to curing the detachment, the ennui, and the hatred that permeate the world in which he lives. As Guy learns to think for himself, we're taken on a journey through the dystopian world in which he resides.

Now, after all this, you may wonder why I only gave the book a 3. In terms of Bradbury's stance on books and his presentation of what value books should have to humanity, I'd definitely give it a 4. However, in terms of the execution of his dystopian conceit, it isn't quite as powerful as I wanted it to be. This may be because I just finished reading Nineteen Eighty-Four and, compared to the elaborate lengths to which Orwell goes to describe every facet of Oceania's society, the dystopia here felt rather thin. I wanted more background and more history than Captain Beatty presents to Guy Montag, but perhaps that's the way it should be. In a world where thinking isn't valued and knowledge is condensed, it shouldn't be surprising that the characters know very little about their own history.

Hungry for More by Collins

The Hunger Games
by Suzanne Collins
Published by Scholastic Press
5 Out of 5 Stars

I freely admit that young adult novels are not my thing and, at the age of 30 something, I'm not sure that they should be. However, I appreciate that they are geared to a specific audience and they get that audience to read (and I did my time with Sweet Valley High and The Babysitter's Club *cringe* in junior high and turned out just fine--sort of). Typically, however, there's just too much teen angst, star crossed lovers, and sparkly men for my taste. Now, having said that, The Hunger Games was a great novel. Two teenagers are chosen from the twelve districts that make up Panem (what was once the U.S.) to participate in the Hunger Games, a fight to the death televised on national television as a reminder of who is really in control of this impoverished dystopian future. Suzanne Collins doesn't pull any punches--there is violence and there are several deaths in the arena, but they are portrayed with just the right touch (not too graphic, but also not too watered down). There are some nice plot twists (another complaint I often have with young adult--they're usually predictable to more sophisticated readers) and finally, finally, finally a strong female character who can take care of herself inside and outside of the arena. 

Catching Fire

by Suzanne Collins

Published by Scholastic Press

4 Out of 5 Stars

While not as good as The Hunger Games, Catching Fire is definitely a worthy sequel. The reason I say it's not quite as good as the first is that the originality of The Hunger Gamescaught me completely off-guard. That impact was somewhat diminished with the second novel since I now had a sense of what I was getting into.

The first part of the book is a little boring, as most sequels are. You have the exposition that reminds you of certain key events in the last book and then you are introduced to the life Katniss is living after winning The Hunger Games. What should have been a victory over the corrupt Capitol and President Snow, however, has resulted in several Catch-22s for Katniss. Because of the popularity of the star-crossed lovers from District 12, Katniss knows she can never be with Gale. Even worse, Katniss finds that her defiance of President Snow has stirred up rebellion in several districts. Katniss is ordered to diffuse the situation during the victory tour, which proves to be impossible as the underground rebellion is using the mockingjay (Katiniss's symbol in the arena) as their symbol; Katniss is now the unwitting face of the rebellion. What's a totalitarian government in a dystopian future to do? There seems to be only one option left--throw Peeta and Katniss back into the arena with the victors of past Hunger Games and show the people that even their heroes can not defy the Capitol. 

What I love about these books is the smart, tough heroine who can take care of herself without relying on the protection of, oh, I don't know, say a vampire that sparkles like a disco ball in the sun. The tables are turned here as Katniss feels the need to protect Peeta who, while not a sissy, lacks the ruthlessness necessary to survive in the arena. Katniss is faced with difficult choices and is prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice in order to save her family and her people. As for the ending, which has apparently fuzzed up a lot of folks, I think it is genius and has set into motion many amazing conflicts for the next book. My only complaint is that I want that third book and I want it now. 

Mockingjay

by Suzanne Collins

Published by Scholastic Press

4 Out of 5 Stars

It looks as though the reading public is split pretty evenly on this one. However, I found it to be a fitting end to one of the best young adult series out there (and that is not a compliment to be taken lightly as I only love about 1/4 of the young adult books I read).

The character of Katniss has evolved throughout the books and I think some are disappointed because she's not as bad ass as she was in the beginning of the trilogy. However, I think this is fitting. In the first book, Katniss is a somewhat introverted, anti-social character who only volunteers for the Hunger Games to save her sister, Prim, from being chosen. Katniss never chooses to be a Big Damn Hero. Her first and foremost priority is the survival of her family. By the time we reach the end of the trilogy, Katniss has been through the mental, emotional, and physical trauma of the Hunger Games, the Quarter Quell, and the sadistic threats of President Snow. Like a soldier who has seen the worst humanity has to offer, both within the self and within others, Katniss is suffering from PTSD. She's not as assured and ruthless and, as the politics of both sides ramp up, she's no longer certain as to who she can trust. 

At the hands of the rebels, Katniss is reduced to an ineffective emblem, a rallying point around which the rebellion hopes to win over the general populace. As the Mockingjay, Katniss is removed from real combat and reduced to little more than an ad campaign--but one that is effective. That Katniss has been weakened by the horrific events in her life and by her use as a pawn makes her relatable. Everyone has a breaking point and it may be that Katniss has reached hers.

While Katniss has suffered, Peeta has been completely broken. Tortured by President Snow, Peeta now associates Katniss with danger and as a threat to his life. This conflict adds an interesting angle to the relationship that was developing between them in Catching Fire. I will say no more as the love triangle between Katniss, Gale, and Peeta provides much of the novel's suspense.

The ending is pitch-perfect, but I won't say more than that as it, too, may ruin the experience for many readers. There is violence and bloodshed, but this is ultimately a book about the ruthlessness that exists hand-in-hand with absolute power. The epilogue is also beautifully written and nicely ties up the loose ends to the reader's satisfaction

In The Hunger Games trilogy, Collins has created a series of books that is well-written, inventive, and intelligent--something we see too little of in the young adult section of any bookstore. 

This Knife Dulls by the Trilogy's End: Chaos Walking

The Knife of Never Letting Go

by Patrick Ness

Published by Candlewick Press

5 Out of 5 Stars

In a world where we're bombarded with technology, our senses are often overwhelmed by the amount of noise and it's becoming increasingly difficult to find true quiet anymore (especially since most of us just plug into our computer or iPod as soon as it is quiet). A constant stream of sound and images feed us information, prod us toward rampant consumerism, and entertain us. I've become increasingly aware that many of my students seem uncomfortable with simple quiet--always wanting some sort of noise to help them concentrate and focus. It's sad that our world has become one in which quiet is such a rare and undervalued commodity. And that, according to Patrick Ness, is the inspiration for The Knife of Never Letting Go.

Inventive and unlike anything I've ever read, The Knife of Never Letting Go is billed as a young adult dystopian but there's very little that's young adult about it other than a 13 year old protagonist. In fact, a lot of the language is violent, graphic, and brutal by young adult standards, but it has to be to capture the world that has been created by Ness.

Todd Hewitt is only days away from becoming a man by Prentisstown standards. Prentisstown is a town on New World, a planet that is being "settled" by the people of earth. What's unusual about Prentisstown, though, is that it's a town that consists entirely of men. The women were killed twelve years earlier when the Spackle, the indigenous alien race, utilized germ warfare in an attempt to win the war against the pioneers. The men, however, were not entirely immune to this germ. Instead of killing them, it made every man's inner-thoughts (both verbal and visual) visible to those around him. There are no secrets in the Noise. As a means of coping, some men turn to drink, others attempt to run away, and some kill themselves. Life here is bleak under the totalitarian rule of Mayor Prentiss and the bizarre radical teachings of the holy man, Aaron. As far as Todd knows, Prentisstown is the only place on the planet.

As Todd nears his 13th birthday, he finds something in the swamp that shouldn't exist--silence. Shortly after discovering this peculiarity and unable to find its source, he's forced to flee Prentisstown and go on the run with only his dog, a knapsack of supplies, a hunting knife, and a book written for him by his mother. To tell you the how and why for all of this would be to ruin the suspense that drives the entire novel. Todd struggles for survival and begins to unravel the lies that he's been told his entire life. During his journey, he discovers the truth about New World and about Prentisstown.

The novel is told in first person stream of consciousness, which really works because it's like we as readers are able to "hear" Todd's Noise just as the other inhabitants of Prentisstown would. It also means that we learn as Todd learns and, as his mind shies away to avoid truths that he can't yet accept, information is sometimes withheld from us. In addition, some of the words are written in dialect to help better capture how Todd sounds. There are some unusual narrative techniques used throughout, such as a different font to indicate the Noise of different individuals and animals (that's right--even animals have Noise; I particularly enjoyed the depiction of Todd's dog Manchee) as Todd encounters them. Instead of finding them gimmicky, I thought it a very effective way of visually demonstrating the intrusion of other people's thoughts into one's own.

In some ways, the novel reminded me of the television series Firefly, but only in that these space travelers are the new pioneers. While they have a lot of new technology, the struggle for survival is a very real one and never certain. The novel ends with one hell of a cliffhanger and I find myself for the first time in a long time wanting to dive right into the second novel of the series.

The Ask and the Answer

by Patrick Ness

Published by Candlewick Press

4 Out of 5 Stars 

**Some Spoilers Ahead for Those Who Haven't Read the First Novel**

I didn't so much read the first book in this series, The Knife of Never Letting Go, as inhaled it. Original and disturbing, Ness is not afraid to take some risks as he tells the story of Todd Hewitt, a boy about to become a man in Prentisstown--a town inhabited only by men. As we read, we find out that Todd lives on a colony planet so distant from Earth that it takes decades to get there. Upon arrival, the first colonists went to war with the indigenous inhabitants, the Spackle. In a desperate effort to defeat the invaders, the Spackle release a germ that kills all of the women. The men survive, but with a strange side-effect: they can hear each other's internal monologue. At least this is the story Todd was always told, but when he discovers a real girl in the swamp Todd is forced to flee for his life and learns that everything he thought was true is a lie.

The Ask and the Answer picks up where The Knife of Never Letting Go left off. Todd and Viola, whose uneasy truce forged a devoted friendship, are separated when Mayor Prentiss (the antagonist from the first novel) names himself President, quarantines the women from the men, and establishes martial law in New Prentisstown. As Mayor Prentiss exerts his power, a female rebel force known as the Answer rises against him, and Viola finds herself swept up by their cause. Meanwhile, Todd is forced to do President Prentiss's bidding in order to keep Viola safe. He's put in charge of managing the enslaved Spackle workforce being used to build the New Prentisstown envisioned by the President.

What is so fascinating about the novel is how Ness explores the brainwashing and mind games employed by each side as they use Viola and Todd as expendable pawns in their quest for victory. Viola struggles with the terroristic tactics used by the Answer against innocent civilians in the name of their cause, while Todd is forced to face his shame in killing a Spackle in the first novel as he witnesses the dehumanizing treatment of the thinking and feeling alien race. As Viola and Todd try to navigate the labyrinthine truths, loyalties, and beliefs that are relics from a war that occurred before either of them were born, they begin to question themselves and their trust in each other. This psychological complexity is heightened by the fact that the reader still isn’t sure who the bad guys and who the good guys are—if, in fact, there are any good guys. There are no easy answers and Ness forces readers to think through the complex issues of war, justifiable violence, and racism.

Monsters Of Men

by Patrick Ness

Published by Candlewick Press

3 Out of 5 Stars

If you read my reviews of The Knife of Never Letting Go and The Ask and the Answer, you'll find that I was a smitten kitten with the Chaos Walking series. In the carbon copy world of young adult literature, these are inventive books with powerful themes resonating throughout. I have been anticipating the moment when I would finish the last book in the trilogy, expecting to savor the return to Todd and Viola's world. So what effin' happened that led to a tepid 3 star rating? I'm still trying to figure it out.

Maybe it was series fatigue or maybe I waited too long between reading books 2 and 3 (I hate getting locked into series books, so that is a possibility). For whatever reason, Monsters of Men never grabbed me in the way the first two books did. It felt repetitive. War with the Spackle, conflict between Mayor Prentiss and Mistress Coyle, Todd and Viola don't know what to do, and round and round it goes. Each time I picked up the book, I felt like it was Groundhog Day--I could have sworn I read the same damn thing yesterday. The war is somewhat anticlimactic and I never felt any real tension. I'm rather out of sorts about this because I feel as though I somehow let down the book instead of the book letting me down. Did I miss something? Is there something I'm just not getting? These are the thoughts that plague me because I wanted, nay, needed to love this book. And I just didn't. Todd and Viola's angst over being separated is irritating to me because I could not for the life of me understand why they insisted on being apart ("Just walk your ass up the damn hill, Todd," I kept encouraging him throughout, but he never listened), Mayor Prentiss doesn't seem like that big of a bad ass threat, and the one twist the novel is relying on is fairly predictable.

Despite this, I liked the addition of the narration from 1017's point of view. Told in the language of the indigenous people of New World, Ness does a good job of making the voice seem alien and foreign. These chapters are somewhat difficult to read in terms of adjusting to the syntax and invented phrases, but it added to my ability to believe in the Spackle as a separate sentient species from humans. Also, the questions raised (is there morality in war, what makes a terrorist, how do we know when we can trust our leaders, is violence ever justified) are all complex and worthy of our attention. Ness skillfully asks these questions without glorifying war nor necessarily vilifying it, which makes this an above average young adult read.

Who Controls the Past Controls the Future

Nineteen Eighty-Four

by George Orwell

Published by Plume Books

5 Out of 5 Stars

I've put off writing a review for 1984 because it's simply too daunting to do so.  I liked 1984 even better after a second reading (bumping it up from a 4 star to a 5 star) because I think that, given the complexity of the future created by Orwell, multiple readings may be needed to take it all in.  I thought it was genius the first time and appreciated that genius even more the second time.
 
Orwell had a daunting task:  creating a future nearly half a century away from the time period in which he was writing.  This future had to be its own complex, independent society, but it also had to be the natural end result of the totalitarianism Orwell witnessed in the communist and socialist regimes of World War II.  That's part of the horror of 1984:  this future is a recognizable one, even in the 21st century.  It's easy to see how those in control can, through manipulation and propaganda, maintain that control simply for the sake of sating their own power hunger.  It's easy to say "no one could ever tell me what to think or what to do," but the Party's use of Big Brother, the Thought Police, the Two-Minute Hate, and Doublethink make it easy to see how a person's ability to think independently and discern fiction from reality can be eroded when there is no touchstone to fact.  Revising and rewriting the past to make certain that Big Brother and the Party are always correct has effectively eliminated historical accuracy.  How can one think and reason in a society where everything is a fabrication?

Another facet of 1984 that I find fascinating is the relationship between Winston and Julia.  Winston claims Julia is a "rebel from the waist down," engaging in promiscuity and hedonistic indulgences forbidden by the Party.  She doesn't care about social injustice or defining "reality"; she only longs for what will make her feel good in the moment and only rebels far enough to get what she wants.  By comparison, Winston is an intellectual rebel, constantly worrying over the issues of truth and freedom and the real, unvarnished past, but limited in how far he's willing to push the boundaries (until he meets Julia).  Together, they make a complete rebellion--physical and mental, but apart they find themselves impotent to stand up to the Party. 

A cautionary tale, social commentary, and exemplary example of dystopian fiction, 1984 is one of those perfect novels that not only entertains, but forces one to think about the danger associated with giving any one person or entity too much power or control over our lives--issues well worth consideration in post-9/11 America.