The Daily Monocle

In the future world, society has divided into five factions: Abnegation (selflessness), Candor (honesty), Amity (peaceful), Erudite (knowledge), and Dauntless (courage). Everyone is born into a faction, but during the ceremony of your sixteenth birth year, you are to choose the faction where you’ll spend the rest of your life, and hope you survive the initiation.

When Beatrice Prior makes a dramatic choice at her choosing ceremony, she finds herself in a world completely alien—a world where she has nothing to rely on except her instincts. To make matters worse, Beatrice soon discovers that she isn’t like everyone else—she’s a divergent: a person who doesn’t quite fit into any one faction. And this secret she harbors could cause her death, or worse—the death of those she loves.

Debut author Veronica Roth’s inaugural offering is more than another YA dystopian. Divergent is a fast-paced thriller about finding love, finding yourself, and facing your fears.

The concept behind Divergent has been used over and over again in dystopic fiction; this illusion of freedom that comes with a predetermined “choice”. And while I could write about how this is actually an astute commentary about the notion of free will, I’ll instead say that although the concept is a bit tired, Roth’s take on it is fresh enough.

Divergent’s plot is almost colorful enough to mask its predictability. Almost. Attentive readers will know within the first fifty pages or so, who Beatrice’s love interest is going to be, and what “bad thing” is going to happen as a cliffhanger towards the end of the novel. But the nuances of the plot—the vivid images and character descriptions, are engaging enough to keep readers hooked.

Character wise, we have a few archetypes, but not enough to hinder the story telling. Beatrice is likeable as the strong in-your-face heroine, even though at times she tips over into Mary Sue territory. Likewise, Four (who has an awesome name), Beatrice’s brother, and Christina, are dimensional enough. All in all, the cast is varied, if a little flat.

My biggest complaint here is that the subject matter and the style of writing didn’t match. Divergent reads like a good film with a PG rating that would’ve been a terrific film if it had been rated PG-13. (And, even more apt, apparently Hollywood is looking at buying the rights to Divergent). Roth’s writing is very simple, and the concept could’ve been so much more complex. And with her target audience being highschoolers, Roth probably wants to consider making the next book in the series more mature.

Readers of The Daily Monocle will know that I’m a stickler for three things in fiction: writing, plot, characterization. To be honest, Divergent didn’t really stand out in any one of these respects… but I loved it, nonetheless. The writing is tangible—the scenarios, fantastic. All in all, Divergent is an atmosphere-driven novel. I finished it in one evening.

Veronica Roth’s highly stylized offering isn’t the next Dickensian masterpiece. But it’s fast, powerful and vivid, and will sit comfortably alongside The Giver and The Hunger Games on your shelf. Great for fans of dystopian fiction looking for a summer read without gratuitous fluff.

***

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Due to a flaw in the genetic engineering designed to prolong the life of the population, men only live to 25 years of age, and women only live to be 20. Because of this, teen girls are taken from their homes and given as brides to wealthy young men in hopes of keeping the human population alive.

Sixteen year old Rhine has been in hiding with her twin brother since their parents died. But when bride snatchers kidnap Rhine, she is married off as one of three brides to aspiring architect, Linden Ashby. Imprisoned in a world of illusions and beauty, Rhine's "sister wives" begin jockeying to be Linden's favorite, while all Rhine wants to do is go home. Now she's caught between a life of luxury with Linden—who genuinely seems like a good guy—and the desire to escape her gilded prison for the perils of living on the street.

Wither by Lauren DeStefano is the first in an unconventional (although predictable) romance trilogy taking place in the dystopian future. Readers will find that it lives up to the hype as one of the most anticipated young adult releases of 2011.


Like many recent, popular YA releases, Wither features a strong-willed, female protagonist. However, unlike her many peers-in-literature, Rhine's story isn't one of self-discovery. Instead, it's the story of a genuinely head-strong young woman struggling to keep hold of the person she always has been, and wants to remain for the rest of her doomed life.

Readers are presented with a skewed presentation of reality, as the story is told entirely through Rhine's eyes. This mode of narration provides a visceral, but limited representation of the world of Wither. At times readers will feel as though they're only getting a single piece of the puzzle, but of course, this may be an intentional ploy on the author's part, as it adds to the story's allure, and allows ample room for expansion.

The story itself is a bit predictable, with Rhine's romantic tendencies showing through at the beginning of the book. Attentive readers will guess the main arc of the book early on in their reading. But the nuances of the main story, and the subplots woven around Rhine's sister wives and their collective husband, keep things interesting. Not to mention the many descriptions of technological and medical advancements that seem freakishly realistic to be merely fiction.

Hidden beneath the glossy veneer of subtle science-fiction, Wither deals with human trafficking, domestic slavery, and polygamous marriage cleverly disguised as the last refuge of the human race. DeStefano has done an excellent job dealing with the delicate nature of such subjects, all while preserving the edgy and sometimes frightening reality of Rhine's circumstances.

DeStefano's writing isn't challenging, but it does help readers establish an emotional relationship to the main character and her surroundings. She is generally straightforward, without just giving a dry-cut of the story, and doesn't resort to condensation in an effort to please the younger crowd.

Wither is a story of hope and love in the face of impending death. It takes place in a world of ignorance, filled with people who thirst for knowledge. Rhine is a teen who knows what she wants, and is ready to stand up for those choices, whatever the cost, without becoming unbelievable in the reader's eyes.

All in all, DeStefano has written a poignant and satisfying teen romance that is sure to spawn many sequels. Wither is poised to take the market by storm; it's just what the YA genre needs.

Wither by Lauren DeStefano hits shelves March 22nd. Make sure to go to your local bookstore and check it out!

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This is a world where the government has absolute control; agriculturally, technologically, reproductively and culturally. This is a place where it's illegal to have children, because the elderly live forever. This is a place where people are stoned to death in the name of tradition; a place where jesters cause chain reactions just to throw the world off schedule. These places are called Brave New Worlds.

Terrifying, isn't it?

Brave New Worlds—edited by anthologist extraordinaire, John Joseph Adams—is a collection that seeks to revolutionize the definition of dystopic fiction by taking one of the oldest concepts in sci-fi, and the hottest authors to today and combining them into one, winning volume.

Adams has culled a careful selection of stories from today's market. With well-known names like Harlan Ellison and Orson Scott Card—to relative newcomers such as Paolo Bacigalupi and S. L. Gilbow—readers are treated to textured and diverse styles of writing.


Standout stories include Ten With a Flag by Joseph Paul Haines; Of a Sweet Slow Dance in the Wake of Temporary Dogs by Adam-Troy Castro, and Caught in the Organ Draft by Robert Silverberg, among others. Orson Scott Card's latest offering has his trademark characterization and personal feel, while Cory Doctorow's follows his mode of detached, technologically-based science-fiction. Each author is free to showcase his or her personal style of writing. And because of this literary freedom, there are very few stories which readers will skim or skip over.

The stories themselves are diverse in subject matter as they are in style, ranging from reproductive dystopias (Like Bacigalupi's Pop Squad), to tales of poverty and claustrophobic surroundings (Like Billenium by J. G. Ballard). Neil Gaiman treats his readers to a story of political extremism told in comic-strip form, whereas Vylar Haftan treads the boundary between "utopia" and "dystopia" with her readers in the form of a choose-your-own-adventure tale. Some concepts (as explored in Jordan's Waterhammer by Joe Mastroianni) are so far-fetched as to not seem dystopian at all. But they all share the common thread of desperation.

These stories and styles, although different in texture and subject matter, really boil down to the same message: no one can wield excess power. By taking the concepts of the perfect society—immortality, peace, happiness—these writers seek, not only to entertain and enthrall with tales of the fantastic and extravagant, but also to shock their readers. In the great tradition of near-future science-fiction, these authors (and their esteemed editor) seek to provide us with a picture of what the world could become, if society moves into any one extremity.

This stunning anthology will delight fans of science-fiction and devotees of the dystopian genre, alike. Its one major vice is, if consumed in one marathon session, readers will tire of the dystopian, and perhaps not give each story the credit it deserves. However, as one of the hottest sub-genres in sci-fi, dystopian fiction is sure to continue its ascent, and Brave New Worlds will become a treasure for years to come.

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Tomorrow's world is one where everyone can be cured of the most deadly disease: Love. Known now as Deliria Nervosa, this sickness is said to cause hardship, mental instability, debilitation, and eventually, death.

Lena is almost eighteen—almost old enough to be cured of the Deliria forever. But just months before the final procedure, she meets a boy named Alex, and, wouldn't you know it, they fall in love. Now it's a mad race against the clock: will Lena choose to leave Alex forever and have a happy, normal life? Or will she run away with him into the wilderness and leave everything she knows behind?


Delirium by Lauren Oliver is one of the most highly-anticipated YA novels of 2011. With all of the heavy marketing, it's easy to assume the book world is bracing itself to get slammed with new fangirl hysteria. Unfortunately, Delirium fails to deliver. With poor characterization, and a plot that's practically transparent, this book has little literary signifigance. In fact, I finished Delirium for the same reason I finished Twilight: to see what all the hype was about.

Oliver's writing is typical of teen novels. Probably at a third or fourth grade level. Very easy to read; easy to lose yourself in. I finished Delirium in about two hours, despite the fact that it's nearly 450 pages long. Granted, I did skim the occasional passage because there is a lot of "fluff" language describing minute details better left to the reader's imagination.

Main character, Magdalena "Lena" Holoway, seems to have a pretty pathetic existence. Taken from a mother who was unfit to raise her as a child, she grows up in the company of her aunt and uncle, with a little sister who is mysteriously mute to everyone but Lena herself. She lives for the day she will become cured, knowing things will be "different" after the procedure.

The picture of life after the cure is one of monotony; it's supposed to be frightening to us as readers, this dystopia where people spend the rest of their lives completing the same tasks with mindless devotion. But that's what Lena's life is before the procedure anyway: just a long string of events that we don't really care about. Lena is apparently clumsy, not so pretty, doesn't get great grades, worries about everything and never breaks the rules. She describes herself as an "inbetween girl"—one who is never at any extreme. The first 50-100 pages of the book are her explanation of all the things she dislikes about herself.

Love interest Alex is, by contrast, the dream guy. Smart, funny, confidant and willing to take risks—not to mention ridiculously good looking, his role in the story ultimately amounts in Lena "finding herself". Alex doesn't have a character arc at all—he is the faultless male on a pedestal for the duration of the book. And we can hardly follow poor Lena's shallow arc.

The background characters—Lena's mother, perhaps; the government; Lena's government-selected partner—could be genuinely interesting people. But we'll never know. They were completely shoved out of the picture by two main characters whose flat stories we've read time and time again.

Honestly, the concept of love as a disease sounds corny at best. But with the right writer, and the right back story, it could become a unique dystopian experience. Unfortunately, Delirium has too little development. We know from the start what the story is going to be about; it's a formula teen romance, masquerading as dystopian fiction. Lena is going to fall for Alex. The rest is just details, and therefore, isn't worth developing. Even the subplots, subtle as they are, could've added a positive element to Delirium had been properly fleshed out.

The only truly surprising bit of Delirium is the ending (which, ironically, I rather liked). It showed that Lauren Oliver has real promise, and could craft an exciting YA novel. I loved some of the descriptions she used throughout the novel, but her best sentences were far and few between. And towards the end of the book, we really did see some development in Lena. Some of the minor characters really came alive. And I wish that I had liked the bulk of the book as much as I liked the last fifty pages. Likewise, I love the chapter intros—the excerpts of government propaganda and medical texts of the future. I wished they had been used more heavily.

Also, I have to give the artist who did the cover for Delirium props. The typographical cutout book jacket that reveals Lena's face is both brilliant and striking. (You can see pics here).

I said before that Delirium is one of the anticipated hottest books of 2011. And with the marketing it's getting, I'm sure it will be. Delirium has faithfully followed the formula for a winning YA romance, but suffers for lack of originality.

If Oliver had gone with a more complicated plot, and put her secondary characters in the spotlight, rather than the main characters, Delirium could've been a thought-provoking foray into the dangers of too much government control. Unfortunately, Delirium instead comes across as a poorly developed romp in teenage fluff.

Delirium by Lauren Oliver hits shelves on February 1st.

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In the year 2013, New York City has plunged into a state of ruin. The city has fallen from its former heights, and now consists of nothing but the seedy underbelly of the world. And here, in the midst of the fashion, the lights, and the drugs, is Sixto Santiago, a taxi-driver/fashion photographer extraordinaire.


In this world, the men who drive taxi cabs are New York's law enforcement core. They're also your drug dealers—your heartbreakers—and anything else you could possibly imagine.

Rivers of Gold by Adam Dunn presents and exciting and original premise. Who wouldn't want to read about a decrepit New York—where ordinary citizens play the ultimate anti-heroes. Unfortunately, I couldn't get past the first 100 pages, because of one, simple problem:

Too much sexual content.

At the most basic level, good books are a balance of necessary elements. It's up to the author to decide what those elements are. If the author tips the scale in any one direction, they end up with a caricature of a story that could've easily been avoided with the removal of just a few things.

The thing that killed Rivers of Gold for me was the gratuitous graphic sex. As stated in my blog policy, I will always read 100 pages of the books I receive for review. However, I had a difficult time even reading that much.

I feel like if I could've spent more time with Rivers of Gold, and been able to really explore it's world, I would've been able to lose myself completely in the story. Dunn has developed a complicated world for his readers, one that is worthy of exploration. But we as readers need to see it through a different lens. I found this book confusing, muddled, and far too occupied with pleasures of the flesh. I could understand a scene or two, but when I find myself cringing on nearly every page, I know it's time to put the book down.

On Cassia's seventeenth birthday, she goes to her Matching ceremony. This is the moment she's waited for—to see her perfect Match for life. Of course, when she's Matched with Xander—her childhood best friend—it feels like a dream come true. But when another boy's face flashes across the screen for just a second, it plants the seed of doubt in Cassia's mind. After all, can anyone truly be perfectly matched?

Set in a true dystopic society, Ally Condie's Matched is undoubtedly one of this year's hottest reads, sure to gather comparisons to the work of Lois Lowry (The Giver; Gathering Blue) and Suzanne Collins (The Hunger Games).


While some readers will be tempted to group Matched with one of the aforementioned titles, discerning readers will hesitate to do so. Simply put, Matched isn't like other dystopias on teen shelves today. Where most dystopic fictions emphasize the differences from the elusive time before and the jarringly perfected now, Condie's debut novel instead offers a story that is eerily similar to the world we already know; a hallmark of a complete dystopia.

The plot is simple enough. In fact, 50 pages into the book, one may still wonder where the story is going. What casual readers won't realize is the fact that Matched is a subtle story; a hidden story. One with different emotions, and gentle characters that carry the reader from page to page, not with their mind-blowing actions and larger-than-life personalities, but with their sheer humanity. The characters are not extremes of each other; every attitude and action is measured and temperate. And yet, they are distinct; each acting in their own way. Each element of the story is built on a previous—or future—element. Everything falls neatly into place.

It's a bit eerie. The writer, clearly in control of her characters, allows herself to play God to the highest level. She allows herself to know and think and feel with her characters, and successfully translates this onto the page. In a way, it's almost too easy to fall into the writing; the prose could've been more enjoyable, had it been more complicated. But for this particular story, the simplicity works.

And here is where this book strays from the norm of dystopic fiction. It's only been about 70 years since the world of Matched became a dystopia. Old habits die hard, and clearly, the discontent, the cruelty—the desire and the real human emotions—have not yet been bred out of the people. The world of Matched is a world still teetering on the edge of what was, and what could be.

While dystopias threaten to become the next super genre fad like quest-style fantasy, paranormal romance, and zombies, there of course, will still be books that stand out from the crowd. Matched isn't a colorful book. This isn't a book that will make you smile, or ache, or really evoke any extreme emotion. Instead it settles into you; lingers with you. It requires you to think.

And sometimes, those are the best books of all.

Make sure you mark your calendars for November 30th when Matched hits the shelves!

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The Daily Monocle is offering Matched as our November giveaway! To enter, just fill out the form below. Open to residents of USA and Canada only. Contest ends on November 30th

She triumphed in The Hunger Games. Against unspeakable odds, she returned victorious in Catching Fire. She is the face of a rebellion she never dreamed existed, and carries the weight of her people on her shoulders.

She is Katniss Everdeen, and she's back in Mockingjay, the third installment of Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games trilogy.


In this dark conclusion to the series that captivated the young adult audience at large, we find Katniss in a situation that is hauntingly foreign. As the mockingjay—the poster child for the District 13 rebellion—Katniss tries to live her life as it was before she participated in the hunger games. But with Peeta captured by The Capitol, and Gale attempting to forge a tentative romance, she finds solace only in solitude. To make matters worse, political tensions are mounting in District 13, and full-on war is progressing against The Capitol.

The foreign element from this story comes from the lack of the hunger games themselves. Many readers felt like Catching Fire simply rehashed its predecessor, but I think that "the games" was this element I was looking for in Mockingjay. The games themselves—as twisted and askew as they may be—are what initially drew readers to Collins' trilogy, and without them, Mockingjay is, admittedly, weaker.

Instead of the slightly off-kilter dystopian of the previous books, Mockingjay is a dark tale of post-war trauma. Of people who die a little inside, and never completely live again. Katniss finds herself thrust time and time again into situations where she could be happy, but she finds it impossible to rebuild her life. The only time she feels like herself is when she's in the middle of the war.

Collins' characterization is… difficult to define, mainly because the characters have changed so much between Catching Fire and Mockingjay. Prim is no longer the naïve thirteen year old; Finnick isn't the falsely arrogant Adonis; Peeta isn't the sweet, if misguided boy we've come to love, and Katniss herself is raw. Hollow. And yet she trudges on. These new qualities in her behavior are exhibited especially towards the end of the novel when she makes decisions that the reader will doubt. She acts as our all-too-human narrator.

The prose in Mockingjay is in the same style as the other books—very simple, first-person, present tense, but not condescending. However, the story goes from merely violent and fantastic, to dark and foreboding. This is not a kid's story anymore. This is something darker. Grittier. This is, for all intents and purposes, the story of a young soldier who is suffering from post-war trauma.

I'm afraid that Collins will lose some of her readers with this novel. However, at the same time, I think she'll gain a new audience. Mockingjay is more of a post-war story of existence, than a conclusion of redemption. And the bittersweet taste that it leaves behind will linger.

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This is a world where calories are more precious than gold—where crops are engineered sterile by the titans of the industry, and the side effects of their genetic mistakes afflict the world at large. This is a world where bio-terrorism is a casual business transaction. Welcome to the world of The Windup Girl.

Emiko is a windup—a humanoid, genetic hybrid programmed to obey, and misused as a slave on the streets of Bangkok. Here she encounters Anderson Lake, a man who seems all too interested in the seedbank information one of her clients has shared. As compensation for this information, he gives her something she's never imagined: news of a place where windups live in harmony without masters; a dream which consumes her, and drives her to act as no domestic windup ever should.

Anderson Lake is a wealthy, if despised, foreigner looking for access into Thailand's coveted, unmodified seedbank. He uses his work as a kink-spring factory manager to cover up this mission. His secretary, Hock Seng—a refugee of the destroyed Malayan Chinese—has no love for his employer, and is constantly looking for ways to steal plans to the factory's most lucrative product, in an effort to secure for himself the future he's always wanted.

But as political pressures begin to rise, suddenly a bribe isn't enough to keep Anderson's problems as bay. Filled with gang lords, corrupt politicians, and men who live as gods, The Windup Girl paints a violent picture that is difficult to forget.

From the first page, Paolo Bacigalupi establishes a world so vividly different from our own, that we as readers are forced to accept it as truth. Instead of wasting time on tedious back story, the author plunges headlong into what could be called one of the most well-developed worlds in science-fiction today. This world is complete with a new political structure, social customs, history and slang.

The Windup Girl hosts a diversity of characters, each with their own agenda, operating as separate entities, rather than as a whole cast working towards a sole objective. Because of this, they act more like people than characters, and behave in an accordingly human fashion that can only be described as predictably unpredictable.

Bacigalupi's prose is very fine, having been whittled down to a dramatic, yet succinct, style that is as unique as the storyline it presents. And although the author is prone to repeating himself, this flaw stands as a way to acquaint the reader with particulars of the story that would have otherwise been lost to all but the most keen.

Unfortunately, The Windup Girl is a story so complicated, it will easily alienate casual readers. Even those more experienced within the genre may feel as though they are floundering for the first hundred pages. Much of this is due to the fact that, because of the nature of this novel, the reader will miss important details if their attention wavers for even one paragraph. And because there is no familiarity in Bacigalupi's prose, the reader may have difficulty following, or identifying with, any one thing. Add to this the often unexplained Thai words and slang terms, and newcomers to science-fiction will most likely feel compelled to stop reading early on.

Aptly classified as 'biopunk', The Windup Girl fills the earthen gap in a world of technologically-based science fiction. And with its sweeping plot, and an ending that proves thought-provoking to even the most cynical of readers, Paolo Bacigalupi's award-winning offering will intrigue devotees of the genre for years to come.

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Part of Dystopian August

Years ago, Kathy and her two best friends, Ruth and Tommy, were students at the elite Hailsham boarding school. Nestled in the British countryside, and isolated from most of the world, the children of Hailsham were always told they were special, and from their youngest days, always knew they would grow to become something different from the 'normals' outside their school.

Now grown, Kathy finds herself on the cusp of beginning a new stage in her life; of transitioning from a 'carer' to a 'donor'. With this change quickly approaching, she decides she needs to share her memories with someone, and in this case, that someone is we readers.

If this summary seems vague, or some of those terms don't make any sense, I cannot, in good conscience, apologize. Kazuo Ishiguro's fabulous Never Let Me go is best read if you know very little about the book itself (so don't go look it up on Wikipedia). Suffice to say that it is soft sci-fi, one of the best dystopian novels I've ever read, and I'm not sure why I haven't heard about it before now.

The plot is straightforward enough. Not simple, mind you; merely straightforward. It basically chronicles the life of the Hailsham students from their time at the school itself, to The Cottages—which is a transitional period between school and adulthood—into pseudo-members of society. But just as they've always been told they were 'special' at Hailsham, they are also 'special' in the world outside, albeit in a very different way. In Kathy's words:

"…she was afraid of us in the same way someone might be afraid of spiders. We hadn't been ready for that. It had never occurred to us to wonder about how we would feel, being seen like that, being the spiders".

The characters are well-defined, if very flawed. At times the characterization seems a little shallow, but I think that's a good thing. It emphasizes the larger aspects of the book. There is a lack of familial love at Hailsham, and so the characters make up for this by establishing strong, if immature, relationships. These close ties serve as a magnifying glass for every act of spite or jealousy; every kind word or work of friendship.

Never Let Me Go is a first person narrative, so most of what we see is through Kathy's eyes. Ishiguro did a marvelous job of not gender-typing Kathy, or any of the other characters in his novel. It isn't often you come across a male author who writes convincing, first-person, female characters (or vice versa).

But much of the praise I have for this book stems, not from the characterization or plot, but from the writing itself. Or perhaps, more precisely, how it was written. The students describe Hailsham as having an attitude of, "knowing but not knowing". This same attitude establishes the atmosphere for the rest of the book. Ishiguro's writing is subtly powerful, making you melancholy without your knowing why. He drops hints and skirts the heart of the matter with such skill, it feels as though you're slowly pulling back the prose one word at a time, in order to expose the stark truth underneath. His word choice is spot-on.

Never Let Me Go is written in a very 'English' dialect—that is, I could practically hear the English accent while I was reading. His meandering style of interlocking memories takes about 40 pages to get used to, but once you accustom yourself to this intimate prose, you begin to feel as if you're actually there, remembering Hailsham and reliving the characters' pasts.

You could classify this book as just another soft sci-fi/dystopian book, but more than that, it's a novel about innocence, knowledge, loss and being satisfied with the cards you're dealt. From page one, I was roped in by an unspeakable heartbreak borne out of a tragedy that hadn't happened yet, and I knew nothing about. On the last page, I had watched the tragedy unfold, and was left behind as the characters marched on.

Never Let Me Go is poised to become a modern-day classic. And if all of Kazuo Ishiguro's writing similarly evokes such bittersweet emotions, he will be a writer remembered for a very long time.

But it/read an excerpt on Amazon
Author's Website (He doesn't have a website, amazingly, so here's his Wikipedia page)