Bookish Discussion #4 // Libraries vs. Ownership

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Over the past three blog posts, I’ve covered my opinions on the issue of bookish aesthetics and whether caring about a book’s appearance makes a reader shallow. (You can find the links here, here, and here.) If you’ll recall, I’ve written these posts in response to some negative opinions on BookTube, and now I want to tackle another issue: the fact that some bookworms get judged for buying a lot of books. 

First of all, let me just say, I do think it’s possible to buy too many books, but only under certain circumstances. If you’re having trouble making ends meet, for instance, spending a hundred dollars on books is not a wise choice, and you would be buying too many books for your situation. On top of that, there is also the issue of space. Sometimes you just don’t have enough room to store your books, and it would be unwise to buy more, as you could suffocate under a pile of books and die. And we can’t ignore that books can become a status symbol, and that those with larger collections can forget why they buy those books in the first place. No one likes a snotty bookworm who lords their book collections over the less fortunate. But aside from a few exceptions, I don’t think you can buy too many books. So let’s talk about why I'm always growing my collection. 

When I was young, I frequented the library, and I eventually reached a point where I had read the majority of the interesting-looking selections on the YA shelf. (It wasn’t a huge shelf, but it was still a grand achievement in my eyes.) At that time, I didn’t own too many books of my own, and it was perfectly natural to borrow the books I wanted to read. But then I got one of my first introductions to the frustration of libraries. After reading and falling in love with THE HUNGER GAMES, not only did I have to wait for CATCHING FIRE to come out, I also had to wait for everyone and his uncle on the waiting list to read it first. It was horribly inconvenient, and I still haven’t recovered from the shock of it (okay, that’s a lie, but hopefully you get the point). Then there was the matter of those books never being on hand again when I wanted to reread them. Consequently, my then-minuscule book collection got its first major kick start when I asked for THE HUNGER GAMES and CATCHING FIRE for Christmas. 

Suddenly my reading life was so convenient. I could read those two books as often as I liked. I could finish THE HUNGER GAMES and then read it all over again if I wanted to. There was no one to complain about due dates and late fees and all that lame stuff. Furthermore, I didn’t have to worry about whose grubby hands had touched those books before me (because I can be a bit of a germaphobe). They were mine, and mine alone. And during that glorious time, I began to realize how important ownership was to me. When the physical copies because truly mine, so did the stories themselves. They became more a part of me than I could have ever thought possible. 

So many of the books I libraried during that time have faded from my memory, and if I hadn’t kept detailed records of my reading habits, I wouldn’t even be able to tell you the titles of some of them (and I have a really good memory for book titles). 

Nowadays, with the benefit of hindsight, this feels like a loss. There were so many stories that I read and loved, and I didn’t get to keep them—I didn’t get to cherish them. I feel their absence. One of my biggest goals is to buy copies of all the books I loved during that time so I can remember those parts of myself. 

See, the thing is, when I read stories, I like to absorb them and allow them to shape me (or not, if they’re awful). They become mental scrapbooks for my thoughts, and rereading them strengthens my memory. However, that doesn’t happen with library books anymore. Instead, I feel like I’m reading them with gloves over my mind. I can enjoy the stories, and even engage a little, but they don’t touch me in the same way. I feel more like an observer than a participant, and that bothers me. But I can’t seem to allow myself to experience them in the way that I would like to because, in the end, I have to return them. And it hurts so much more when it feels like I’m returning a piece of myself. As strange and lame as it sounds, I find greater peace and comfort in reading something I know I can keep for the rest of my life. I can allow it to effect me, because I know I won’t have to give it up. I won’t have to feel like there are slices of my soul, lined up on shelves for strangers to paw through and wear out. 

Not to mention, we eventually switched libraries, and our new library didn’t have as great a selection. Sure, we could use interlibrary loan, but we had to pay about three dollars shipping for each book we borrowed that way, and it just seemed more logical to pay money for books I could keep instead of books I had to return. Now that I’m in Virginia, I have a relatively large library with a great book selection at my disposal, and I have been using it. In fact, I prefer to borrow books I’m unsure of, so I don’t have to regret buying them if they’re awful. But if they’re great, I’ll still end up wanting to buy them. 

On top of that, there’s another, larger reason why I prefer to buy books. Authors must eat (strange, I know). They must provide shelter for themselves, and they must wear clothing (unless they are nudists). Not to mention, they sometimes like to go out to the movies, or eat at restaurants, or buy books for themselves, among other things. In order to do all this, it helps if they get payed for the books they write. (You can call me Captain Obvious, if you’d like.) While I realize that my book orders won’t buy an author more than a candy bar, if that, I know that sales add up. And I want to support authors and the industry I love, even if I can only do that in small ways. Libraries are wonderful, yes, and I highly recommend them. But it has always bothered me that, when a library is concerned, an author only gets payed once for something fifty or a hundred people will read. Wouldn’t it be better if they got payed fifty or a hundred times, instead? I would rather pay for my admission to a story, so to speak, even when there is a free ride available. I want to do my own small part to help the publishing industry thrive. 

I could go on and on about my other motivations for buying large quantities of books. But I’ve taken enough time as it is. In the end, regardless of my many reasons, it all boils down to this: buying books is a good thing. Some people don’t have the money, and they shouldn’t feel bad. Some people prefer to avoid clutter, and that’s fine. Some people don’t reread, so buying books feels extraneous. That is okay. Some people just really love libraries, and I support that. I won’t judge you for your book buying choices. They are yours. But I would also like to enjoy my own large book collection without feeling like that makes me shallow, just as you should feel free to enjoy your stamp collection or your bowling ball collection or your taxidermied fish collection. 

What about you, my little coffee beans? What are your book buying habits? Do you prefer to keep your collection small, or are you growing your collection? Do you like libraries, or do you prefer to read books you own?

Books that Shaped Me // Round Two

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Two Mondays ago I began my nostalgia tour by listing seven books that impacted my younger self and sharing my reading/rereading goals for the year. This week I want to list a few more books that helped shape me. 

THE HUNGER GAMES

THE HUNGER GAMES blew my little eleven-year-old mind (at least, I think I was eleven when I read it). It was cozy and scary, deep and thoughtful, fresh and interesting. When I finally got a copy of my own for Christmas, I’m fairly certain I spent the majority of the next several months reading it over and over again. The idea of children and teenagers being forced to fight to the death for entertainment was so bizarre to me. Yet at the same time, it felt like something that might actually happen—like we had the potential to bring our society to that place one day if we weren’t careful (after all, Rome had popularized gladiator games). Of course, it wasn’t my first taste of the dystopian genre, but it was definitely the one that got me hooked for life, and I will defend it to my dying breath. (You can find my review here.)

THE ROOK

THE ROOK is the second book in the Patrick Bowers Files, and I would not recommend giving this series to small children (unless those children answer to nicknames like Little Miss Morbid, in which case they’re probably fine). My sister got me a signed and personalized copy of THE ROOK when Steven James visited her university, and it’s one of the best Christmas presents I’ve ever received. The main detail that grabbed me was that the author allows his main character, Patrick Bowers, to struggle with belief in God and His goodness. In my previous experience with Christian novels, the subject of doubt/bitterness often gets treated like a taboo topic. Christian novelists seem willing to represent these sorts of negative views of God only if the character is made to see the error of his or her ways by the end of the story, even if that means a rather unbelievable change of heart in the climax. That line of thinking does not naturally lead to any sort of honest discussion, and it can make those with struggles feel shamed, marginalized, and misunderstood. That is why I so respect Steven James—instead of writing bad sermons, he writes honest novels. 

I'D TELL YOU I LOVE YOU, BUT THEN I'D HAVE TO KILL YOU

No matter how old I get, I will always be fond of this series. One of my best and oldest friends is not much of a reader, so when she bought a copy because the cover looked cool, and then fell in love with the story, I was excited to have something more to discuss with her. (I think I was thirteen at the time.) My sister and I really hit it off on this subject as well. To this day, we still throw random spy tests at each other, like, “Quick, how many grocery bags was that man back there carrying?” And the funny thing is that, at this point, we can usually answer the question correctly. 

THE TWO PRINCESSES OF BAMARRE

This was the first book I remember reading that had a truly bittersweet ending. Up until that point, I had been a little naive in believing that nothing huge can go wrong in stories and that conflict can happen but, in the end, everything has to go back to the way it was. (I know, I was adorable.) Fortunately, THE TWO PRINCESSES OF BAMARRE showed me the beauty and symmetry of a different sort of ending than what I was accustomed to, and I appreciated that. 

PRINCESS ACADEMY

Because I read this book (only once) a long while ago, I don’t remember much about the plot. All I know is that it made such an impression on me I tried to write stories set in stone quarries for at least a year afterwards. This one is very high on my reread list. 

THE HOUSE OF THE SCORPION

THE HOUSE OF THE SCORPION was one of the most disturbing books I read when I was a small thing. Not only did it cover human exploitation and other fun stuff, it also dealt with the moral issue of doing something really bad for really good reasons. Before then, I’m not sure how much I’d been introduced to the concept of moral ambiguity. (I've not read the sequel, THE LORD OF OPIUM, so I need to tackle that one as well.) 

THE SHADOW CHILDREN SERIES

This series was another big eye-opener for me. Even though THE HUNGER GAMES was the story that got me officially hooked on dystopian literature, The Shadow Children Series was what primed me for it. It introduced me to the idea that things could go really wrong—that the people in charge could make rules that were beyond cruel and unreasonable. It also introduced me to the idea of fighting back against injustice. 

A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS

I just spent five Mondays discussing this series, so hopefully I already got my point across (you can find the posts here, here, here, here, and here). Boiled down, I loved these books because they treated me like my thoughts and emotions and opinions mattered. For once I felt as though someone understood me. 

ENDER'S GAME

Every time I think of ENDER’S GAME, my mind starts to explode all over again. Unlike most of the other books listed in this series of posts, I read this novel when I was closer to seventeen (I think), so I was able to process it more the first time. It showed me how wise and capable children can be—that young people can be so much deeper and more complex than we often realize. It also highlighted how sometimes we do stuff that feels meaningless and unimportant without realizing that we’re changing our world in the process. 

FAHRENHEIT 451

Through the eyes of a society that burns books, I learned to love books with an even greater passion. I learned to value them for what they were—more than just mindless entertainment. Alongside Montag, I learned that stories are ideas, ideas are powerful, and any society that fears ideas is something to be resisted. 

TURNABOUT

While the concept of aging backwards may be scientifically impossible, I wasn't all that concerned with scientific realism when I first got my grubby paws on this gem. And I was already interested in science (in the abstract) and science fiction at the time, so TURNABOUT just clinched it for me. TURNABOUT also helped fuel my interest in keeping journals because, even though I wasn't growing younger and losing my memories slowly but surely, I figured it was still a good idea to document my existence. (I have such fond memories of this book, I almost freaked out a teeny tiny bit when I momentarily thought I hadn't brought my copy with me to Virginia.) Aside from Lemony Snicket, I don't think any sole author influenced my childhood quite as much as Margaret Peterson Haddix did. 

Well, that’s it for today, little coffee beans. What are some of the books that shaped you? What are some of your all-time favorites? Do you plan to reread anything this year? 

Books that Shaped Me // Round One

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I don’t reread books often enough. Out of the 118 books I read last year, only 48 were rereads. Now, before you start squinting at me like I’m crazy (which I am) or really bad at math (which I also am), let me just say that I realize 48, in comparison with 70, is not a pathetically small number. But it’s not a large enough number for me either. I love rereading books. In fact, I love rereading books even more than I love reading them the first time around. Each time I reread a story (unless it’s poorly written and not worth a second glance), it gains more meaning and more emotional significance because, for me at least, stories are like scrapbooks for thoughts. Scrapbooks aren’t worth much if you don’t revisit them from time to time and pore over the pages to reacquaint yourself with all the memories you’ve preserved there. 

So I have decided to go back and reread all the books that helped form me—the ones that shaped my childhood self, opened my mind, and taught me to love imagination. I think it’s valuable for me to come full circle. 

As I take this nostalgia tour of my life, I want to share at least a part of it with you. Which means, over the next few months or so, I’ll post more about other books that shaped me, and I’ll review some of them here. I will also try to review the rest of them on Goodreads  because I’ve made an impromptu resolution to post more reviews there. (My Goodreads account has been sadly neglected.) But, as I do this, I don’t want to take credit for the idea of a nostalgia tour. A while ago, Victoria at Stori Tori’s Blog wrote a lovely post on her top ten most influential books (which you should check out). And even further back, Veronica Roth did her own nostalgia tour which struck me as a brilliant idea (before you ask, yes, I love her blog, and I’ve probably read the whole thing five times). 

All that being said, I’ve set my Goodreads 2016 reading goal to 175 books. If I can do more, that’s wonderful, but I want to read at least 175. And, more importantly, I want at least 88 of those books to be rereads. I could talk forever about the value of rereading, but I plan to do a post on that subject soon, so right now I’ll just share with you seven of the books that impacted my younger self. Who knows, maybe some of these were important to you as well. 

A WRINKLE IN TIME

Before I read the book, I watched the movie several times and fell in love with the feel of it. In fact, the only reason my younger self even touched the book (the edition my mom owns has a seriously ugly cover) was because I loved the movie so much. Although the movie and the book are different in terms of smaller plot points (as far as I remember—it was a long time ago), I still recall them both sharing the same tone—the same deep, inexplicable sense of unease. The best way I can describe the atmosphere is as a darker, more concentrated form of that spine-tingling coziness I feel when the rain is falling hard outside and the wind is shrieking around the corners of the house. (Here’s a link to Veronica’s lovely, but spoilery, review.)

THE GIVER

This was another book that felt heavy with a deep sense of unease (although it’s a different sort of unease). It was the book that taught me not to take people and society at face value—it taught me to distrust the appearance of beauty and peace and perfection until I’ve seen beneath the surface. I don’t remember much of the actual events, beyond the major plot points, but I do remember Jonas’ conversation with his parents about love and how they only understand love through selfish terms. (Veronica discusses this same conversation in her review, so you should totally check that out.) In this story world, true love has become a foreign concept, which is terrifying to put it mildly. More than that, the sterility of the environment branded itself on my mind—the way these people are basically cattle, and the way they celebrate their bondage. In other words, this book is one of my top priority rereads. 

THE HOST

I reread and reviewed this one last year, so my memory is a lot fresher on the details (I still plan to read it again this year). It’s one of the few books that has kept me up past my self-appointed bed time. It is also one of the very few books that can lay claim to making me cry. The aspect of this story that grabbed me the most is the way it handles the question of what it means to be human (and the way villains can be genuinely nice and considerate but still do awful things). 

THE TALE OF DESPEREAUX

This book is one of my most beloved childhood stories. On some deep level, I felt that I really connected with Chiaroscuro and the way he has an ugly heart because it’s been broken and he’s had to stitch it back together (metaphorically speaking, of course). As a young thing, I also wanted to be like Despereaux—someone brave enough to break the mold and do noble, courageous things in the face of a society built on fear. 

WATERSHIP DOWN

I reviewed this one just recently, so I may or may not reread it this year. We’ll see. But this list would be missing an important element if I didn’t include it. After all, Hazel taught me a lot about good leadership skills. 

Z FOR ZACHARIAH

Growing up, I often fantasized about what it would be like if everyone else on earth were to disappear suddenly and leave the world to me, myself, and I. Aside from the danger of wild animals (if those were still around), this thought was very appealing to me, and it was especially fun to imagine ways to stay alive. (My plans involved eating all the perishables in the abandoned grocery stores and gas stations first, and then rationing the other stuff, like flour and canned goods. For shelter, I figured a grocery store would make the best living arrangement because I could build walls of cans and have plenty of room to store all the food I’d scavenged in my travels.) Z FOR ZACHARIAH was a way for me to appease that desire for solitude in a harmless way—to experience what it feels like to think you’re the last remaining person on earth. So many fond memories. 

I’m also very upset about the movie version that just came out because, from what I’ve seen in the synopsis, they kept approximately two of the major plot points, chucked everything else, introduced a new character and a love triangle, changed Ann’s relationship with Mr. Loomis, altered the ENTIRE point of the story, and just generally did their level best to ruin it. Like, I can’t even tell you how upset I am. As much as I would love to see one of my all-time favorite books played out on the big screen, I think it will be better for my blood pressure if I just skip this one and wait until someone honors the actual story. Although, come to think of it, it might be satisfying to watch the movie just so I can rant more effectively about it. *sulks*

LIFE AS WE KNEW IT

You can read my review for this one here. LIFE AS WE KNEW IT appealed to me in the same way that Z FOR ZACHARIAH did. It has the same sort of idea—a worldwide catastrophe has culled the population (though potentially not as much, in this case), and survival is now a higher priority than entertainment and culture. (I have only read one of the sequels, and I only own LIFE AS WE KNEW IT, so I want to get my hands on the rest of the series this year, if I can.) This story also has somewhat symbolic significance to me in that I read it during my biggest library binge phase. At that time, I didn’t own all that many books, and I hadn’t read all that many either. Sure, I had had my school library before that, but this time I felt freer and wilder, like the world was opening up before me. I think that’s really when my love of reading turned from a little candle to an unfortunate but beautiful house fire. (Saying this, I realize I should probably, at some point, write a post explaining why I’m no longer quite so enamored of libraries.) 

Well, that’s it for today, little coffee beans. What are some of the books that shaped you? What are some of your all-time favorites? What are some books you plan to reread this year? If you’ve watched Z FOR ZACHARIAH, what is your opinion of it?

BATTLE ROYALE vs. THE HUNGER GAMES

Caution: This post contains spoilers for BATTLE ROYALE, THE HUNGER GAMES, and CATCHING FIRE.

So, I’ve seen a good deal of debate as to whether or not Suzanne Collins copied Koushun Takami’s cult classic BATTLE ROYALE when she wrote her immensely popular HUNGER GAMES trilogy. Earlier, I was hesitant to weigh in with my opinion, since I hadn’t read the book. So I quickly remedied the situation.

Before I hop into this discussion, though, I’d like to point out that Collins claims she had never heard of BATTLE ROYALE until she turned in the final draft of THE HUNGER GAMES. And who am I to call her a liar? That said, I do intend to compare and contrast the two books, but only for fun, not to make any judgments.

There are, however, some strong similarities, so I’ll start by taking a look at those.

 

THE HUNGER GAMES and BATTLE ROYALE parallels:

A girl and a boy pair up—one has a crush on the other, and the other isn’t sure what to think of the one with the crush. The one with the crush has an injured leg and gets very sick, possibly with blood poisoning.

 

When separated from a potential ally, the characters plan to contact each other using smoky fires and bird calls. (However, in THE HUNGER GAMES, the smoky fires are supposed to be a distraction, rather than a means of communication.)

 

One psychopathic, slightly crazy guy goes around mowing people down while a ferocious, evil girl takes the award for Second Most Terrifying Character.

 

In BATTLE ROYALE, the results of the fight are shown on TV as an intimidation tactic. In THE HUNGER GAMES, the entire event is televised (again, to scare people), and the final cut is aired after the Games.

 

***SPOILER: The main characters have to face-off against the psychopathic dude in order to win. In the end, we have two victors instead of one.***

 

CATCHING FIRE and BATTLE ROYALE parallels:

In BATTLE ROYALE, one student is a victor from a previous game, while in CATCHING FIRE, all the tributes are victors.

 

Some students plan to blow up the school where those in the charge of the games are located (similar to the tribute’s plan to blow up the arena).

 

As you can see, we have some distinctive similarities.

So, on the one hand, I want to respect BATTLE ROYALE because it came first. However, I also don’t see any reason to change my opinion of THE HUNGER GAMES as a piece of literature just because it may or may not be a rip off.

In my review, I mentioned I liked several aspects of BATTLE ROYALE, but I’ll include them here just so we’re on the same page. In BR, we get to see into everyone’s minds, so we get to experience the games through various viewpoints, various emotions, and various personalities. We get to understand most everyone’s hopes and fears, what they plan to do if they survive, how they intend to justify killing others, etc…

With THE HUNGER GAMES, we are limited to a single, first-person point of view. We don’t get to watch Cato as he goes around killing people—we don’t get to peek over Foxface’s shoulder as she works out her strategies, follows people around, and navigates the minefield to steal food. We don’t get to experience what Rue feels as she travels alone to light the fires Katniss has set up. We don’t get to camp out with Thresh as he hides and waits for everyone to kill each other. With all these different viewpoints, the book would have been much longer, and perhaps richer, but I don’t know if it would have been better. For that matter, I actually enjoy it when some things are left to the imagination.

On the whole, I feel that THE HUNGER GAMES does more with the idea. BATTLE ROYALE is, first and foremost, pulp fiction. It lingers more on the action and the gore, the violence and the fear. Sure, it has a deeper message—that the government is messed up—and it takes time to explore human responses to situations like this. But it doesn’t go a whole lot further than that. Most of what we see is what happens in the arena, along with tidbits about the kids’ pasts.

With the HUNGER GAMES trilogy, in essence we get to see the whole of Panem. Though we don’t actually visit each and every district, we get a pretty good understanding of what they and their people are like. We get to see the stunning contrast between those in the Capitol and those throughout the rest of the country. We encounter all the unfairness, the injustice. And we get to meet the man behind the madness—President Snow himself. But more than that, we get a vivid picture of how the Games have impacted the culture over the decades, how they have become ingrained in the general psyche, and how they have become a constant shadow hanging over everything.

In BATTLE ROYALE, the games are not as established. Junior High classes are picked at random and without warning, and the rules of the games are explained when the kids wake up in the arena. Also, this isn’t just a matter of 24 tributes—there are 42 kids in the featured class, yet about 2,000 kids are claimed by the games every year. I’m not terribly great with statistics, but with the reference to a falling birthrate in Japan, I have to wonder how many generations it will take before the government doesn’t have any more new legs to stand on.

But the main thing is that the games in BATTLE ROYALE are more like a viper—you could end up as a random victim, and you never know when the snake is going to strike. Whereas, with THE HUNGER GAMES, the Games are so embedded in the culture, they dominate everything. And I feel like that’s, if not more realistic, at least more powerful. It comes across as more calculated and less reckless.

THE HUNGER GAMES gives us more emotional depth because we get to feel the fear as the Games and the Reaping approach. We get to witness the painful goodbyes, the seemingly pointless training, the build-up and the fanfare that would make for great Reality TV. But we also get to experience the aftermath—how, for the survivors, the Games are never over. How even when you win, you still lose.

So, while both novels are good in their own right, I prefer the HUNGER GAMES trilogy, because it’s not just about the blood and guts. To me, BATTLE ROYALE focuses too much on the body count and too little on what makes the killing awful and important. I guess what I’m trying to say is that, BATTLE ROYALE contains a lot of potential, and THE HUNGER GAMES realizes that potential. But you’re welcome to disagree with me, and I’d love to hear your thoughts on the issue.

Dystopian Discussion: Part One

Disclaimer: I do not necessarily recommend every book I discuss.

I could be wrong, but it seems that when dystopian literature is mentioned, the first example that comes to mind for many people would be THE HUNGER GAMES by Suzanne Collins. Even almost seven years after its publication, I still find it stocked in the highly selective Walmart book sections. But there are so many other dystopian novels out there, the market has become flooded, and publishers are less willing to buy these works unless they stand out above the rest. Let’s face it—it’s a small subgenre with only a limited amount of room to breathe—even the most creative specimen is going to share traits with its fellows. So the goal, for writers, is to give their work a fresh twist that makes it unique.

 

 

In THE HUNGER GAMES, every year the government mandates that twenty-four kids (a boy and a girl from each of the twelve districts) must be forced to fight to death in an arena until one survivor remains. These Hunger Games are televised for all to see—both to entertain those in the free capitol, and to intimidate those who live in the oppressed districts (in order to prevent another uprising).

I have heard and seen many people speak of THE HUNGER GAMES as though it is the end all be all of dystopian literature. I agree that it is a remarkable piece, and I have read it multiple times. I’m desperately in love with the feel of it, especially the arena itself. However, staunch supporters of the HUNGER GAMES trilogy who claim that Veronica Roth borrowed from the series when she wrote DIVERGENT, INSURGENT, and ALLEGIANT, might want to pause and think before complaining too loudly. Because, unfortunately for Suzanne Collins, fans of Koushun Takami’s BATTLE ROYALE may have the same thing to say about THE HUNGER GAMES. And rightly so.

 

 

 

While BATTLE ROYALE is much gorier (and I’m going on summaries here, like this one, because I haven’t read the book yet), and while it is set in Japan rather than North America, the basic premises are shockingly similar. After all, BATTLE ROYALE centers around a bunch of school children forced to fight to the death in an arena—a fight that is eventually televised in order to intimidate those who might have considered rebelling. Sound familiar?

Now, Collins claims she had never heard of BATTLE ROYALE before she turned in her own story to the publishers, and I know that it is very easy to rip off another writer’s work without realizing it. After all, we’re swimming in a vat of idea stew, and there’s more than one chunk of potato floating in here with us, so let’s not hit each other over the head with our soup spoons until we find the facts. Personally, I have no opinion on whether Collins is being perfectly forthright or not, because it really isn’t any of my business, and I’m not sure we’ll ever know for certain either way. I’m only mentioning this because it annoys me when people call DIVERGENT a rip-off and act as if THE HUNGER GAMES is the last word in dystopian originality.

Speaking of DIVERGENT.

 

 

In the world of Veronica Roth’s DIVERGENT, we don’t have the Big Mean Government breathing down everyone’s necks. Instead, we have a system devised by flawed individuals in an attempt to fix the human race. By splitting society into five factions, each based on an important virtue, people believe they can maintain peace and harmony. Unfortunately, human nature has begun to exert itself.

What I like about DIVERGENT is that, while it’s based in a dystopian setting, that isn’t the main point. Boiled down, the story is really just about a girl trying to find her place and discover who she is. And I appreciate Roth’s originality in not succumbing to the Big Brother theme. While I enjoy novels that delve into the repercussions of a Socialistic construct, I dislike the tunnel vision of so limited a focus. There are hundreds of ways for us go wrong, and Socialism is only one of them.

Another set that came out around the same time as the DIVERGENT trilogy is the LEGEND trilogy by Marie Lu.

 

 

 

 

LEGEND centers around a boy accused of murder and the girl assigned to track him down. Both are horrendously smart, and both are on different sides of the law. Though I felt the LEGEND trilogy shared too many themes with some of its forebears regarding the construct of the government itself, I appreciated the whole LES MISERABLES vibe I got from the first book, as well as the inclusion of the plague (because I like stories that feature some sort of plague). Also, I expected the sequels to leap onto the “let’s take down the government” train that seems to wend its way through many dystopian novels (see what I did there?). But instead, Lu threw me when she took a different direction altogether (but I won’t tell you what happens because that would ruin the surprise). So, while I would only give that trilogy three stars over all for various reasons I won’t go into for lack of space, I wouldn’t say LEGEND was a cheap knock off.

But now let’s look at Lois Lowry’s THE GIVER and Ally Condie’s MATCHED.

 

 

 

In THE GIVER, we have a different sort of dystopian construct, one I find even more delightfully disturbing than the Roman-inspired gladiator-style fights of THE HUNGER GAMES and the Big Brother style government of LEGEND and the faction system of DIVERGENT. In the GIVER, the evil of tyranny is masked as kindness. In blatant dystopian governments, it’s all out there; you know, for the most part, who your enemy is. But at first the characters of THE GIVER don’t even know they have an enemy. In fact, from the outside looking in, this close-knit society could be viewed as a virtual paradise. Until you look closer, that is. Rather than rebellions and massacres, we’re dealing with things like euthanasia, emotional control, etc. While the higher ups are always watching, people don’t necessarily live in fear since they have been led to believe this is for their own good. (Also, they can’t see color, so now you know you HAVE to read the book. See, I can be very persuasive.)

Unfortunately, it would seem Ally Condie decided to paint a strikingly similar portrait when she wrote MATCHED. While the idea of arranged marriages as a way of life is interesting, it’s hardly original. Aside from the love-triangle, MATCHED uses multiple themes from THE GIVER, it would seem, including euthanasia and constant surveillance—not to mention, the bad guys appear nice, and the society looks the picture of perfection. (Too much happy!) There are other parallels, I realize, and other reasons why MATCHED didn’t feel fresh and exciting, but I’ll get into them later when I actually review the book.

 

So there you have it. I’ve covered the first five books/trilogies on my list, and next week I’ll discuss the next bunch (plus, if all goes well, I’d like to share a few more thoughts concerning dystopian literature in general). Also, just as a heads up, I can’t promise anything but I expect to be a little less busy starting in late July/early August, and I hope to write a bunch of book reviews during that time (my regular content won’t change; you’ll just get to read my yammering more often).

 

All book photos from Goodreads.