Book Review: THE KNIFE OF NEVER LETTING GO by Patrick Ness

Warning: As always, I try to stay relatively spoiler free. But it doesn’t hurt to proceed with caution.

Rating: Five Stars—ajklsdflk (when words fail to describe how wonderful a book is)

This. Book. Was. Brilliant. When I saw it in Barnes & Noble, I hemmed and hawed because I’d read the first chapter already, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to invest the money and the time into it. I guess it had struck me as a little weird, and I didn’t think I was in the mood for weird. Fortunately, my mother is brilliant and wise and she encouraged me to take the chance. Have I ever mentioned how much I love my mother?

In THE KNIFE OF NEVER LETTING GO, the men and animals of Prentisstown can hear each other’s thoughts (all their women are dead), and there’s no way to block out the constant stream of sound. The information overload is nearly unbearable. But amidst the maddening chaos, Todd Hewitt stumbles upon a patch of silence—a girl whose mind he cannot read—and soon he begins to realize he knows far less about his planet and his people than he previously believed. (I mean, how cool is that?)  

There were so many things I loved about this book, I could yammer on about it for hours and hours. But I promise, I’ll try to restrain myself.

Manchee. MANCHEEEEEEE! Oh my goodness, I am in love with that little dog, and I generally find dogs annoying (yes, I am that sort of person). But my darling baby Manchee, oh I could just kidnap him and keep him for my own. In the beginning of the book, Todd does not like Manchee, the “useless” birthday present he was given instead of the fissionbike he wanted Cillian to fix for him. But despite Todd’s grumbling, and despite the fact that he makes it clear early on that he doesn’t like Manchee (how foolishly misguided of him—for shame), Manchee doesn’t seem to notice at all. He is so happy-go-lucky, so good and loyal and innocent and adlasflkads;ladsfkl;. I LOVE THAT DOG. I doubt there are any better friends to be had, and I love how Todd begins to recognize this (albeit slowly) and to appreciate Manchee more and more. Oh, my Vulcan heart just broke.

Todd and Viola. These two are the best. They are so perfectly awkward, and Todd is pretty much my hero. Time and again he has the chance to kill his enemies, and time and again he restrains himself. Of course, HE sees this as cowardice/weakness, but I know it’s not—I know it shows a greater strength of character than he might ever realize. And despite the fact that he’s a bit of a whiner with an adorable chip on his shoulder, he bears up under his predicaments remarkably well. All in all, I was pleased with how Patrick Ness handled Todd’s character growth.

And then there’s Viola. At first I hardly knew anything about her, but that didn’t bother me since I recognized that it was a part of Ness’s genius storytelling. Because we see the world directly through Todd’s eyes, and because Todd can’t read Viola’s Noise the way he can with everyone else, both Todd and the reader know next to nothing about Viola. Like him, we only learn stuff about Viola through her speech and through her actions. Not every writer could pull off this feeling, this melding of reader and character, but somehow Ness manages it. In fact, I think that, more than anything, helped to draw me in.

Todd’s Voice. But I can’t discuss Todd without mentioning his voice. This book has to be written in the most unique style I have ever seen. Todd is basically an uneducated hick, and rather than sticking to dialogue that reveals Todd’s lack of learning, Ness has the entire narrative flow the way Todd’s thoughts would—complete with misspellings, run-on sentences, and grammatical errors. I felt like I was poking through Todd’s head (or rather, overhearing his Noise). Now, I wouldn’t recommend this style for everyone. It’s not the “mistakes” that make it brilliant, it’s the way Ness uses these “mistakes” as a tool. In almost anyone else’s hands, it would have looked amateurish and sloppy. But in this case, it worked. It just worked.

World-building. Everything about Prentisstown and the landscape around it felt so tangible, like I could just step outside and enter the swamp or find myself strolling down the road on the way to Haven with a knife in my hand and a bunch of angry horsemen after me and loyal dog named Manchee at my side. I could see everything without even trying—the colors of the countryside and the cast of the sky. It stuck with me long after I finished the last page.

Pacing. I was never bored, not even for a moment. Often, when I’m reading books I like, I’ll come across a scene or two I think could have been tightened or nixed altogether. But in THE KNIFE OF NEVER LETTING GO, everything was perfect, everything made sense, and everything worked to drive the story forward while broadening the world and ratcheting up the tension. I had to force myself to read slowly, because I could have gobbled that book up in a heartbeat.

The Noise. This is a brilliant concept. I recall seeing Ness mention that the idea came to him when he got thinking about how we live in an age of information and how information overload is a genuine concern. Or something like that—I’m not quoting him. More than anything else in the book (except MANCHEEEEE), I love how he translated this concept into a world where people simply can’t escape a constant onslaught of information. And the inexplicable grief that Todd feels when he brushes up against Viola’s Silence—when he realizes he cannot hear her thoughts, that she is an area without Noise—oh, it was the best thing ever. The despair at being trapped in a world where there is no privacy, no quiet, and then to find someone living in their own little bubble of hush—no wonder Todd originally assumed that there wasn’t anything going on inside Viola’s head. And then the anger he felt, and the way he came to terms with this—it was just brilliant. That is all.

I only had one problem with this book.

The Language. It isn’t too, too bad, I’ll admit, and usually Ness doesn’t use the actual words. But I’m not a big fan of the “f” bomb, even if it’s just hinted at, so I would have appreciated less of that. I will admit, though, that the way he uses it does help to characterize Todd (and I never use that as a justification—this is a major exception). So, six of one half dozen of another, but I’d rather have done without it.

All in all, I love this book. If I could, I would PAY people to read it. I would wrestle it from the jaws of a hungry crocodile if I had to. (Granted, I would probably lose, but I would try.) It is one of those rare stories that almost made me cry, even though I knew what was coming since I read the synopsis first (yes, I am the kind of person who will occasionally do that, when I’m not, like, you know, reading the ending ahead). And oh, THE KNIFE OF NEVER LETTING GO has a wicked cliffhanger. I got to the end and I was like, “Wait, what do you MEAN it’s over? Surely you jest.” Soon, hopefully, I will get my greedy paws on the sequels, and then my life will be complete. But in the meantime, you NEED to read it (you know, if you want) so we can all flail about it together.

Dystopian Discussion: Part Three

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

If you’re wondering why I decided to do three posts on this subject, I have two answers. The official one is that I had so much to say, I wanted to take enough time to deliver it properly without rushing things. The unofficial—and probably more accurate—explanation is that there are about a gazillion dystopian TRILOGIES out there, so I figured, why not go with the flow and write a trilogy of blog posts about it? Lame, I know, but I have to amuse myself somehow.

So, to sum up, last Wednesday I covered (briefly) DELIRIUM by Lauren Oliver, 1984 and ANIMAL FARM by George Orwell, DOVE ARISING by Karen Bao, BRAVE NEW WORLD by Aldous Huxley, WOOL by Hugh Howey, THE CITY OF EMBER by Jeanne DuPrau, FAHRENHEIT 451 by Ray Bradbury, and THE KNIFE OF NEVER LETTING GO by Patrick  Ness. Before that I discussed THE HUNGER GAMES by Suzanne Collins, BATTLE ROYALE by Koushun Takami, DIVERGENT by Veronica Roth, LEGEND by Marie Lu, THE GIVER by Lois Lowry, and MATCHED by Ally Condie (which I reviewed on Monday). All in all, I’ve discussed fifteen dystopian books/trilogies, and it’s a little terrifying to consider how many more there are out there.

As I mentioned in Part One, it’s hard to be wholly original in this and any other genre. I think it’s especially difficult when you have books that seem to stand out and define the genre, like TWILIGHT for paranormal, THE LORD OF THE RINGS for fantasy, and of course, THE HUNGER GAMES and 1984 for dystopian. (I realize there are other big names as well, but these are the ones I’ve seen referenced the most.)

I’ve thought long and hard about why books like THE HUNGER GAMES stand out while others seem to languish in relative obscurity. And I have a theory, though two days from now I may change my mind entirely and decide on something else.

THE HUNGER GAMES impacted me hugely because of the frightening (yet hopeful) picture it presents. On the one hand, you have a Capitol full of people so callous they enjoy watching children fight to the death on television (which sounds a lot like the gladiator games in Ancient Rome). And on the other hand, you have a government so precarious a handful of berries can take it down. The contrast between the poor and the rich, coupled with the infectiousness of hope, along with many other nuances, make THE HUNGER GAMES more than just an entertaining story. You have those who would watch others die, and those would die to save others, and overarching the entire plot is the question, “How did we get to this point?” Strip away the dystopian elements, and the book deals heavily in humanity.

 

 

 

DIVERGENT also delves into human nature as it introduces the crumbling faction system: Abnegation, Amity, Candor, Erudite, Dauntless—each based on a virtue, each missing the point. As Tris struggles to find her identity, she learns more and more about how it is important to be both brave and selfless, how focusing on one aspect is too narrow-minded, and how—even with the best intentions—it is impossible to escape the law of entropy which says that everything crumbles.

1984 centers on the uglier aspects of humanity—betrayal, cruelty, lies, fear, despair. But it also touches on love, hope, and wishful thinking, however futile.

I know I’m recapping a little, but only because I want to stress my point. Books that deal honestly with human nature—the good bits and the ugly bits—seem to leave a bigger impression on me (and others) than books that focus only on the coolness of a rebellion or the neatness of a despotic governmental system that no one has ever thought of before. Now this isn’t a hard and fast rule, and it isn’t the recipe for instant success. But I wonder if originality, however great an idea, is too small a goal—if depth and truth are more important.

 

For instance, MATCHED was too shallow, too unrealistic to stick with me—while it had decent aspects, the setup felt too contrived, put there mainly for the sake of the plot. I didn’t feel that I learned anything more about what it means to be a human—I didn’t gain anything from the story beyond the entertainment aspect. I wasn’t left with anything to ponder, any moral or psychological question to sort through. LEGEND, while interesting, lacks the emotional resonance of THE HUNGER GAMES, DIVERGENT, and 1984 because it dwells more on what the government is doing and less on the people. (And the character relationships, when viewed below surface level, are not overly realistic.)

Dystopias are tricky, and in a way I’m glad the genre is cooling off for the time being. George Orwell wrote 1984, not because he wanted to amuse people, but because he wanted to warn them about the horrors of the Socialist movement. He wanted to frighten people so much they would do anything to escape the grip of Big Brother. Now the smaller parodies seem to cling to the frightening image of an all-seeing government and miss the other aspects that were just as essential to the story—the potency of despair, the ugliness in the human heart, and tragedy of what has been lost, along with the burning questions that leave people searching for answers. And, if writers no longer focus on what made these books so big, I worry they might do more harm than good. After all, dystopias that inspire people to rise above the awfulness they have read about are great. But might it be dangerous when all a dystopia does is entertain? If the shock of evil wears off, will we become desensitized to the danger of a horrible government? Shouldn’t we work on improving our culture, rather than dwelling on the worst?

First and foremost, stories are important because they say stuff, because they point the finger at humanity and mirror our own lives to whatever extent. And you don’t have to write a dystopian novel to accomplish that. So, in my opinion, I think it’s time we start focusing on what makes books like THE HUNGER GAMES and 1984 so powerful, rather than what we think makes them cool. Hopefully literature will be all the better for it.

But hey, these are just my thoughts, so take them or leave them.

Book Review: MATCHED by Ally Condie

Warning: As always, I try to stay relatively spoiler free. But it doesn’t hurt to proceed with caution. Also, if you're wondering where Dystopian Discussion: Part Three is, I'll be posting it on Wednesday.

 

Rating: Two Stars—Meh

 

 

 

Oh dear, I so wanted to like MATCHED. The cover was beautiful, the premise was intriguing, and the writing was decent. It even made the #1 slot on the New York Times Bestseller List, so I couldn’t go wrong. Right?

I’ll admit, it wasn’t AWFUL awful, and literature is terribly subjective anyway. Ally Condie is reasonably good with words—that’s not why I disliked the book. And Cassia’s (our main character’s) grandfather is such a great man—even though he doesn’t have more than a few scenes, I feel I got to know him well. At the very least, I got to know the parts of his personality that mattered. On top of that, I liked Cassia’s brother and parents. While they don’t have a great deal of substance to them, they are interesting, compelling, and sympathetic.

Another aspect that interested me was the inclusion of poetry. When I found out that MATCHED features Dylan Thomas’s poem “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night”, I was all like SIGN ME UP, PEOPLE. And then, when I discovered MATCHED also mentions an Alfred, Lord Tennyson poem, I donned my party hat, tossed confetti in the air, and hurled myself at the Ally Condie bandwagon.

I was sorely disappointed. And since misery loves company, I feel inclined to share my complaints with you lovely people. You’re welcome.

The Pills. While the pills they carry around in their little cases aren’t a hugely original concept, I saw potential there, especially when the narrative hints at Em’s potential addiction to the green pill (a chill pill, if you will). However, just as Condie introduces this thread, she lets it slip through her fingers. Even though it’s a small detail, not overly essential to the plot, I think this might be what disappointed me the most.

 

In a messed up society like Cassia’s, even those who do not necessarily believe themselves to be unhappy are, on some subconscious level, bound to realize that not everything is all right. Everyone in MATCHED is sickeningly content with their lot. Apart from Cassia’s grandfather, no one even seems to consider questioning the system. So I thought it lent believability that people like Em are quietly drugging themselves, potentially trying to numb the parts of their minds that want to fight, however suppressed they might be. I wanted to see how everyone was deeply dissatisfied, despite not realizing why. If that were the case, the world of MATCHED would have felt so much deeper, so much more real. Because, really, it doesn’t count as a dystopia if nearly everyone is happy. Unfortunately, Condie doesn’t follow up on this pill addiction—doesn’t even mention if this is common, or if Em’s dependence on the chill pill is unusual. All we get is a brief scene where Em has an anxiety attack because she has become too dependent on the pills to calm her down when she’s stressed. Nothing deeper. *sad face*

At this point, all of you who disliked the book are probably wondering why on earth I’m missing the most obvious, most glaring issues. All right, all right, I’ll mention the love triangle. Happy now? (I’m just messing with you—I’ve been desperate to rant about this ever since I got, like, fifty pages into the book and saw what was coming.)

The Icky Love Triangle. So let’s break this down. In the beginning, we have Cassia and Xander—best friends since diapers, or whatever—riding on a train to their Matching Banquet where they will be assigned to their future spouses. Bascially, Cassia is over the moon, nervous and excited, but most of all happy. Then, tada! She’s matched to Xander—how lucky can you get? (Warning: The banquet scene may leave you craving chocolate cake. Read at your own risk.)

At the ceremony, Cassia is given a microcard containing information about her Match, as is customary. Later, when she finally reviews this card, something unexpected happens. At first, Xander’s gorgeous mug appears, but then (GASP), another boy’s face appears for the briefest instant before the portscreen shuts down. So what does Cassia do, once an official has come to her and explained that it was just a glitch, that the boy she saw (Ky) is not intended for her, and that she really is matched to Xander, her best friend?

Well, if she were sensible, she would just brush it off and continue on with her happy, heartsty life. After all, she has everything she could possibly want. Everything. But is she grateful for her good fortune? NO. No, she actively decides to fall in love with Ky, a boy she never thought about and hardly noticed before he showed up on her portscreen. She throws away her beautiful, shining future with both hands just for an illicit romance with a guy she hardly knows. Excuse me while I go bang my head against the wall.

Now, I realize I sound cranky (it’s because I am), so let me explain myself a little more eloquently. I would have been fine if Xander were just some snot-nosed freak or an upstart, pompous pig. I would have been fine if Cassia had already been in love with Ky, but found herself matched to Xander, a boy she couldn’t care less about. I would have been fine if she’d broken the rules, cheated on her match, and defied the government because she loved Ky too much to let him go. But I wasn’t fine with this. Xander is great for her—he is brilliant for her. Goodness, they’ve been friends their entire lives—that goes for a lot. At any point she could have decided to shrug off her passing curiosity about Ky—because, given the circumstances, it’s understandable for her to be curious. Instead, at every turn, she goes out of her way to pursue Ky.

Basically, I spent the whole time wanting to whack her in the face with a dictionary. Awful, horrendous things could have happened to her, and I wouldn’t have batted an eyelash, because she would have brought all those things upon herself (I promise you, I’m not this callous in real life). And I’m not saying I never forgive characters when they make stupid decisions, but it’s one thing for a character to flub up a little—it’s quite another when someone, like Cassia, puts on her stupid hat, buries her brain alive, and proceeds to dance on its grave for the ENTIRE NOVEL. Pardon me—I have the sudden urge to stab myself in the eye with a knitting needle.

Pacing/Tension. Unfortunately, Cassia’s nonsense is not the only issue I had with this novel. I honestly didn’t care that it was slow-moving—I don’t read books like WAR AND PEACE, ANNA KARENINA, and CRIME AND PUNISHMENT because I expect them to be fast-paced. But pacing and tension are two different things, and I prefer my reading material to have at least one, if not both. With MATCHED, there is hardly any driving force. The romance just plods along, and even the climax hardly feels like a climax.

World-building, Flat Characters, and Cruel Cassia. Furthermore, the world struck me as too small, too penned in. There are hints about unrest around the fringes of our happy little society, but since we’re reading about Cassia, we pretty much stay where we are, smack dab in the middle of a paper doll town filled with lollipop people. Like some of the other characters, both Xander and Ky are flat and far, FAR too perfect. Also, it bothered me that, while Cassia has decided to actively pursue Ky, she doesn’t have the decency to let poor Xander go. Honey, if you don’t want him, don’t keep running his poor, darling heart through the wringer. If you’ve decided on someone else, then give Xander up for goodness sakes.

My Last Gripe. On top of that, the entire book seems like a poor rewrite of Lois Lowry's THE GIVER. We have arranged marriages (which work much better in THE GIVER because emotional control smoothes out many of the hitches Condie conveniently ignores), euthanasia, nice bad guys, freakishly content people, a tight community with scheduled activities and curfews and whatnot, and etc…

So yeah, I might have had a few problems with this book, and I’m not sure whether I’ll read the sequels, CROSSED and REACHED. Who knows, maybe I’ll give them another chance, since I hate leaving trilogies unfinished. But they’re definitely not high on my priority list.

However, the cool thing about books is that, while some people will hate a certain novel, others are bound to love it. And I know at least one of my friends is head-over-heels for MATCHED. That being the case, you’re welcome to disagree with me, but if you want my opinion, I’d say you’re better off reading THE GIVER.

Dystopian Discussion: Part Two

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

 

All right, so last week I discussed (briefly), THE HUNGER GAMES by Suzanne Collins, DIVERGENT by Veronica Roth, LEGEND by Marie Lu, THE GIVER by Lois Lowry, and MATCHED by Ally Condie. Now for this week’s dystopian selection.

 

In many ways, Lauren Oliver’s DELIRIUM reminds me of both THE GIVER and MATCHED, in that the societies they present are a softer dystopian. Or, to put it another way, the bad guys look a lot like good guys which makes them—in my opinion—much scarier. As I said last time, it’s worse when you don’t even know you have an enemy.

With DELIRIUM, were you to tweak just a few details, you would find yourself in a society much like ours. As in DIVERGENT, those in charge have highlighted what they consider to be humanity’s Achilles heel—in this case love—and have discovered a way to eliminate that issue (how coldly terrifying). Unfortunately, this is like slapping a Band-Aid over a person’s eye when they really just stepped on a nail. If they weren’t cranky before, they’re cranky now. Curfew and regulations aside, that’s what this book boils down to—a failure to understand one of the most basic human emotions, and a failure to diagnose the true problem. Despite the fact that other books have used similar themes (including THE GIVER), I still feel Lauren Oliver added a unique touch.

 

 

With all this talk of dystopian literature, it’s high time that I mentioned ANIMAL FARM and 1984, both by George Orwell. (Note: These are adult novels, and 1984 contains some content inappropriate for younger people.) These books are valuable for their historical perspective, as well as for the needed dose of horror they offer as a warning for the future. Basically, Orwell wanted to depict how awful this sort of government could be—and while YA dystopian novels can be adventurous and exciting, Orwell paints a far bleaker picture than any other I have found. His society introduces the famed Big Brother (who is always watching), and delves into brainwashing, revisionist history, torture, and more.

I reviewed DOVE ARISING by Karen Bao a while ago, but it fits with the context, so I’ll mention it again. As I said before, DOVE ARISING seems to share a great deal with DIVERGENT, 1984, and THE HUNGER GAMES (though not as much for that last one, and I’m not saying all of this was intentional—but some of the similarities are rather striking). Aside from the lunar setting, it is not especially unique, and while I enjoyed it, I don’t feel it added anything to the current dystopian cannon. *sad face*

Aldous Huxley’s BRAVE NEW WORLD is perhaps even more disturbing than 1984 or THE GIVER when you consider that the characters will never have a chance to fight back. In giant labs, babies are grown in bottles and engineered for various levels in the social strata. Some are allowed to become intelligent; others are stunted—even poisoned—in order to dumb then down. As they grow up, workers brainwash and condition them until they cannot think any other thought but what they have been trained to. Humanity has sunk so low, there is no climbing out of that pit. But it gets worse. They have no regard for life, morality, or family. Those who are not promiscuous enough are frowned upon—ideas like husband, wife, father, mother, etc… are considered obscene and ridiculous. In the end, the people have nothing left worth living for, and when they are not working or enjoying entertainment, they are drugging themselves so as to escape reality. (Note: I love this book for the frightening picture it gives, and it’s definitely well-worth reading, but I wouldn’t recommend it to everyone. As with 1984, it’s an adult novel with some content that would be inappropriate for younger people.)

 

 

Both WOOL by Hugh Howey and THE CITY OF EMBER by Jeanne DuPrau deal with subterranean civilizations, yet in different and complementary ways. WOOL, an adult novel, portrays the inhabitants of a silo who live out their lives ruled by fear, protected from the polluted air but not from the secrets that threaten to destroy them all. THE CITY OF EMBER, a children’s book, follows Lina and Doon as they discover the original purpose of their underground city. I would label both these cases as pre-dystopian, because while the governments have grown a little big for their britches, the situation doesn’t feel as extreme as it does in THE HUNGER GAMES and 1984. Also, both novels delve into the various issues that arise when small groups of people are dependent upon each other for survival.

In Ray Bradbury’s FAHRENHEIT 451, the government does not bother to restrict everyone’s liberty; instead, the people have taken it upon themselves to do away with literature and wisdom and thinking and all the things that would make them truly free. So many dystopian novels, it seems, feature oppression from above, so I find it refreshing to read a story where oppression comes from within. (And Bradbury’s writing is so beautiful, I could cry.)

Finally, we come to THE KNIFE OF NEVER LETTING GO by Patrick Ness. Excuse me while I pause for a moment to contain my fangirling. When I bought it, I told myself I was going to take it slowly and make it last—you know, maybe fifty pages a day, or something. Of course, that didn’t happen—I scarfed that book up like it was the last chocolate bar on earth. Since I’ll be reviewing it soon, suffice it to say my cold Vulcan heart wept a little when I came to the end. TKONLG (not the most attractive abbreviation ever) is dystopian, but not in the way you might expect. After all, a dystopian society is just a society that is considerably less than perfect. Which means you aren’t limited to writing about a Socialistic government or a president that makes children kill each other or an emotionally-deprived people group.

In THE KNIFE OF NEVER LETTING GO, the men and animals of Prentisstown can hear each other’s thoughts (all their women are dead), and there’s no way to block out the constant stream of sound. The information overload is nearly unbearable. But amidst the maddening chaos, Todd Hewitt stumbles upon a patch of silence—a girl whose mind he cannot read—and soon he begins to realize he knows far less about his planet and his people than he previously believed. (I mean, how cool is that? If I could, I’d PAY you to read this book.)

 

I realize this post was long (actually, most of mine are), and perhaps a little dry. But now that I’ve covered all the books I’d planned to, I’m on track to wrap up this dystopian discussion next week (it’s about time). I’ve also been nominated for the Unpopular Opinions tag, so I’ll do that the Wednesday after next.  And, just as a heads-up, my goal is to post a book review each week (along with my usual Wednesday Weirdness), starting next Monday, so we’ll see how that goes.

 

All book photos from Goodreads.