Hunger Games: Catching Fire

And yes, I’m excited about this too. It’s going to be a good few months.


Cassandra Clare’s Brilliance & Beautiful Boys

I’m going to put this out there. I love Cassandra Clare. Her books have excited me in a way I haven’t felt since Harry Potter, and that, my friends, is an accomplishment.

I could go on and on about the books, and I will at some length in a few moments, but I want to deliver some praise towards Clare herself. For a writer, she is good. For a young adult writer, she is great. Her prose is beautiful, she does some excellent characterization, really creates empathy between the reader and the characters, and I quite enjoy the various plots and subplots that always hint  to more stories ahead (regardless of whether or not she intends to write them). And, please don’t let me forget the fabulous world-building she’s done. It truly is quite remarkable, both in the modern-day Mortal Instruments and the Victorian Era Infernal Devices.

That being said, there is one thing that can really make me….sad. I suspect it has something to do with editorial pressure/the desire to sell to the YA audience, and that is copious romance.

I like romance. I even like cheesy romance. But there are times in both series when the romance almost leaves the plot line a forgotten thread in the reader’s mind. She creates flawed characters, gives them their own battles and arcs, but the boys (who the two main female characters find themselves falling for) are inevitably gorgeous in some way or another, and Clare doesn’t let you forget it. Having the shape of someone’s shoulder blades beneath his tight black shirt described for the umpteenth time is really just wasted space and, I’m afraid, can come across as filler. This makes me sad, as a reader and as an author. However, following the love debacle that is Twilight, editors (and writers) in the YA genre know that romance gets you hooked and sunk before you even realize you’re in the water. Dammit.

Spoilers Follow.

In Mortal Instruments, Clare had intended six books as three separate trilogies that, for some reason, just ended up being a sextet. There is a clear and obvious break between #3 and #4, but the threads between them are strong enough to continue in a believable single line. Clary, a girl of 15, is a Shadowhunter who doesn’t know it. She is suddenly thrust into the world of Shadowhunters in modern-day New York with the kidnapping of her mother. Shadowhunters, it turns out, are a race of half-human half-angels who protect the world from demons, and Clary’s mother has been keeping this secret from her in hopes of protecting her from the oft-short life of pain and danger shadowhunters live. In the meantime, her comedic-relief best friend Simon gets caught up in the whole mess of Clary being trained and trying to find her mother, ending up a vampire for his troubles. And Clary, predictably, falls in love with the beautiful-but-flawed Jace. While the book’s main plot revolves around the return of Clary’s father Valentine (think, Lucius Malfoy — pale blonde hair, air of superiority, evil, etc.) who wants to destroy the Shadowhunter world — and all the Shadowhunters, save his loyal followers — with it, in the name of purifying the Shadowhunter race (sound familiar, anyone?).

This is the plot that runs through the first three books, that gives it forward momentum. So does Jace’s and Clary’s undeniable soul-mateish attraction that is doomed because they’re siblings except……THEY’RE NOT! (book 2) Hurray! So now they can properly make out without having to feel like they’re in a George R.R. Martin novel. Commence the descriptions of shoulders and golden hair and golden eyes and Clary being all awkward and bony except then she’s not and Simon the vampire is completely friend-zoned until he falls in love with both a Shadowhunter and a werewolf, both of which are more than capable of kicking his ass. So you see, it’s not just the main character’s romance, it’s everyone else’s romance — her mother and father, her mother and mother’s best friend, Jace’s “brother” (not blood, but might as well be) and a glamorous warlock who enjoys pretty boys, as well as the people who raised Jace (they’re getting a divorce..maybe…I’m rather unclear on that) and it’s all just a big love mess. But you keep reading because you love the characters and the prose is compelling and there IS an actual plot. Clare is quite apt at keeping you rather surprised, and I appreciate and enjoy that. I think it’s important in a series, just as important as evoking strong enough responses in your readers to make them laugh, cry, get angry, throw a fit, and ultimately come back.

With as much as I enjoyed Mortal Instruments, I have enjoyed the Victorian-Era Infernal Devices even more. Yes, there is more romance with more beautiful-but-flawed boys, but there is an entirely new — and interesting — plot line that pulls the main character Tessa into the center of it. Whereas Clary was important but not the central-most ingredient to the plot, Tessa is right smack dab in the middle of it. Tessa, as with Clary, has no idea who she really is in the beginning, but unlike Clary, she doesn’t find out. She has the power to change into any person as long as she has something that is associated with their person (yep, even dead people). The plot here is that a man, quite intent on marrying Tessa for some unknown reason, is developing a clockwork army of automatons to destroy the Shadowhunters. His plan is incomplete without Tessa, and though I haven’t read the third book yet, I know she’s kidnapped. So somewhere, the s**t is gonna go down. And soon. And Tessa’s messy love triangle is…..messy. I’m intrigued how it will be resolved though I theorize that the boy she’s engaged to will die so she marry the boy she actually loves…who loves the boy she’s engaged to like a brother….mhm. Thanks, Clare.

What makes me so excited about Infernal Devices is Clare’s command of literature really shines through. I’m not a Victorian literature/poetry person, but reading these books makes me want to be. Characters are constantly referencing situations and quotes from books whose titles sit on my shelf unread, and each chapter begins with a sliver of poetry that seems, to my uneducated brain, nearly perfect for each chapter. I shall have to go back and re-evaluate once I finish my Victorian Poetry course in the Fall. I think, given a little more time and practice, Clare and her use of language and literature will become a great writer.

I just have one request:

Please, Ms. Clare, please let one of the boys be average for once.

The Uglies Series: The Uglies

I decided to pick up the Uglies in December after hearing about it from friends and consistently seeing it on lists of best YA novels on the market right now. I try to pick up on these things a little earlier, but better late than never, right? So I bought all four and sat down with the first book.

Book number one, The Uglies, was the most difficult of the four. First, let me say that Scott Westerfield is a fine writer, and he did create a magnificent world for his readers to traipse around in. The amount of detail he poured into it was astounding, and yet I never felt like it was being shoved onto me or overloading on “info-dumping”.  The story itself follows Tally, a girl about to turn 16. In a future world, once you turn 16, you undergo an operation that turns you into a “Pretty” — a refined set of features, beautiful hair and eyes, flawless skin, extra-strong bones, the perfect amount of fat, so on and so forth. Essentially, healthy supermodels. However, when Shay, a friend of Tally’s, escapes the city, Tally is forced by the city’s special forces known as the “Specials” to track Shay to the outpost where people had been escaping to for years. At this point, Tally doesn’t understand why exactly anyone would not want to become Pretty and leave the Ugly behind, and after being threatened with permanent Ugliness, Tally agrees. So away she goes, and eventually she finds the outpost (the Smoke) and Shay, but instead of turning on the tracker the Specials gave her, she waits and discovers the residents of this outpost. The leaders of the Smoke reveal a terrible secret. Having once been doctors at the city, they discovered that part of the Pretty operation left lesions on the brains of the people that took away all their desire to rebel, to fight, to hurt, to destroy, to protest, to argue, to speak out, etc. etc. Essentially, they were brainwashed in the most perfect sense.

In the meantime, Tally falls in love with David, a boy who had never lived in the city (and a crush of Shay’s), and ultimately Tally decides to destroy the tracker instead of revealing the outpost, determined to leave the city behind herself. Unbeknownst to her, destroying the tracker set it off, and soon the Specials set upon the Smoke, destroying it and either killing or capturing all the residents. Tally does manage to escape, and when she does, she leads those residents, including David, in an effort to release all those residents captured. Successful, she must then make one more difficult choice: to undergo the operation. Shay, one of those originally captured, was turned into a Pretty, and when Tally trapped her and brought her back to the new hiding place (the New Smoke), she realizes just how terrible the operation is. David’s mother, one of the doctors, believes she has come up with a cure for “Prettymindedness” but will not give it to Shay since Shay is unwilling. So Tally agrees to turn herself in and become Pretty to test the cure and see if it works. That’s where the first book leaves us.

Whew. That was quite a bit, and I didn’t even touch on some of the fascinating bits: a critique on environment, on culture, on age, desire, technology, and so on. My praise for The Uglies  lies here; these are all incredible issues about self-image, self-worth, self-esteem, environmental responsibility, knowledge, and sacrifice that are being passed down to readers about 13 and older. The readability is truly YA, though it might be hard for us older readers as the writing is, at times, almost too young.

My one big issue is that I did not feel that the change in Tally’s character was warranted. From the summary I gave above, it is hinted at and quite believable, but in the novel itself it is pretty bare. She went from wanting to be Pretty so bad, to being skeptical about the Smoke, to having a complete change of heart. I’m not sure that Westerfield made me believe that she really wanted to remain Ugly and live in the Smoke; I wanted to see more of a character arc.  Second, I would have liked more characterization of David. I felt as if his character was created in too-broad strokes, missing out on finer points of detail. In fact, I would have liked this for Shay too, but she is prominent in the following novels, and I was ultimately satisfied with her character. However, I think the empathization with her character would have come more readily if more of her was given in this first novel, especially when she runs away and then becomes Pretty. Finally, the development of Shay’s and Tally’s friendship happens over a couple of weeks, and yet Westerfield just skims through this part, hoping his reader will just go with it. While it might work for younger readers, I was quite frustrated with it considering how pivotal the development of this relationship was to the whole damn plot.

From a writer’s POV, I was impressed with his use of a new lingo throughout the novel (all four, in fact). While it was a bit hard to adjust to at first, I was able to follow along rather quickly, and the language really helped with the immersion into the world. In fact, I think that Westerfield really utilized language to his advantage in these novels, a real wordsmith. Keeping in mind that the language was meant for younger readers, I was enchanted with both diction and composition as well as his imagination. While it was rough going with the new lingo, he really refined his work throughout the novel, and the following three novels really shone in this respect.

Well this is my treatise on the first book. If you’ve read it, let me know what you think. I love the YA genre, especially futuristic stuff, and I look to these published authors as potential teachers. If you’ve noticed something I’ve left out, feel free to share!

Update 2.21.13

I’ve been meaning to write this update for a while now, but as we all know, life has a way of getting in the way. One of the things I really glazed over was the different big issues that Westerfield raised in this novel (and the series at large). Westerfield was not looking to just write a story for summertime amusement; he had goals to achieve and ideas to convey. It would be terribly disrespectful of me as an admiring reader to not treat these issues.

Environmental Responsibility.  In his novels, our current civilization is known as the Rusties, due to our fascination with using metals (esp. iron) in constructing buildings, cars, etc. Westerfield’s civilizations have moved beyond constructing with the metals that we are familiar with today, no longer cut/burn trees, use all recyclable materials, and more. It plays a rather important part of the arguments the Specials use to sway Tally to their side. The Smoke emulates the Rusties in many of our more undesirable habits, generalized as living in an unsustainable manner. It is actually one of the most thought-provoking arguments to this mind-control experiment that Tally’s city’s Specials are running (by performing lesions on the brain that take away all desire to protest or think too hard). How can we let the rebels (Smoke) continue with the same destructive activities that wiped out most of the Rusties and nearly destroyed humankind? Are we justified in performing a little brain surgery to keep our planet (and each other) alive? And, by extension, are we people naturally destructive when we have no social morality imposed upon us? Do we not have environmental stewardship built into our systems as animals that belong on this planet?

Beauty and Self-Image. This issue is a centerpiece, obviously. Uglies revolves around this idea that at the age of 16, you get a complete make-over — facial, bone structure, muscle, eye color/shape, and so on. Gals and Dudes both look forward to this operation, when they get to join the Pretties on the other side of the river and do nothing but party for the next few years of their lives. In Uglies, we are quickly introduced to Tally’s friend Paris, or rather, the absence of Paris. A friend of Tally’s, Paris was several months older than Tally and thus received the operation and transition before Tally. He promised to come back and visit Tally, but he doesn’t. When he does finally visit her, it’s to encourage her about the operation. Their lives literally revolve around this operation, around become gorgeous and meeting this pseudo-standard of beauty that is decided by a council. Difference is preserved but everyone is essentially made the same. What is the point of this? Prejudice is gone because no one is judged by their looks. All of the bullying that we associate with adolescence is based on looks and socioeconomics. In Westerfield’s world, both of these things become non-factors. Of course, there is a small matter of the lesions to the brains, but it stands to reason that we will, somehow, figure out a way to differentiate ourselves from others. If we can’t do it by looks or upbringing (everyone is brought up in a similar manner), then how do we do it?  Intelligence is one method; those like Tally who work out of the lesions (you’ll have to read the books to figure out how that happened)  become Specials — whether they want to or not, really.

But let’s look at the self-image issues the idea of making everyone beautiful brings up. No one is raised to appreciate themselves as they are. Really, in this world, even unique talents aren’t exposed or suggested (unless they make you special. Special.). Personalities are whitewashed, removing that factor of differentiation. Image becomes the clothes, the hair, the make-up, the cliques of friends — basically, less of what you are and more of what you can make yourself. If this isn’t a critique of where our culture is headed, I don’t know what is. Billboard advertisements, pill bottles, T.V. commercials, and mall stand guys all stand as testimony to “making your best self” instead of learning to love the self that was given to you. Self should not be an idea perpetuated as reflective on the outside but as a whole host of factors that are primarily internal. Anything less is to make human beings into little more than pretty bags of flesh. We deserve to be. Tally learns this lesson through her growing affections towards David, who was raised in the Smoke without any idea of Pretty or Ugly; he was all raw personality and force of will. Tally’s character growths in this first novel revolves around her trying to accept the idea that there is more to being human than being Pretty.

Social Control and Order. We are taught that the one thing we value more than anything else (in America) is freedom of speech. We allow all sorts of opinions and arguments and diatribes, often with heat or bitterness. And that means that sometimes we don’t get along. But everyone (theoretically; let’s not get into politics too much) has the right to say (or protest, or disagree, or praise) what they will. There are grey areas, times when we aren’t sure whether or not someone should be allowed to say something, whether they should be able to protest or argue. Westerfield’s society shows what the limitations of speech and opinion could look like. Granted, this is an extreme example; no one foresees brain surgery in our futures, but what if we could make everyone just…get along? If science could determine what is truth and not truth, and we voice opinions and make decisions in the same logical manner in which science comes about with the facts? We are human, not robots. That’s not possible. There’s too many minute factors such as life experiences and education that determine how any given person will form their opinions or come to their decisions. But let’s pretend for a second that all of that could be non-factors and everyone could just get along. No arguments. No judgments. No decidedly hurtful words. No bullying. No real anger. No murder. No hurt. It sounds nice in a way until you consider what you would have to give up: experience, individuality, and emotion. Westerfield brings up a very good question with his created civilization: is it worth it?

In fact, of the three issues I identified above, Is It Worth It? applies to each and every one of them. I’m not sure if I am secure enough in my own philosophies to say yay or nay on any of them. I’m caught somewhere in the gray, and it’s difficult to pull out.

What do you think? Could you make these calls?