Just Starting Up

Dystopian, to me, is getting a little old hat. Maybe it's the cynical, "everything sucks and will continue to suck so bad that everything is really going to suck one day" nature that today's teen readers have seemingly adopted, or maybe it's the utopian idea of a spring-like renewal that has always pushed youth towards revolution, that made this genre a YA windfall for early adopters... but I'm getting kind of fed up with fiery femmes fighting against Big Brother in hollowed-out shells of former America (see: Divergent, The Hunger Games).

However, while there are some good adapters of this familiar set of tropes, the majority are nothing but cheap and flimsy shells of the genre (Here's looking at you, terribly constructed dystopian world of The Selection). My question is, are there any talented popular-wave-riding writers out there anymore? Where are my pro-status pop-genre-surfers?

Amy Tintera, it seems, is one of them, because Reboot is one significantly bad-ass dystopian extravaganza.

The novel follows Wren Connolly - dubbed 178, due to the number of minutes it took for her body to regenerate after her death, at the ripe age of twelve years old - who is a stoic, efficient robot of a Reboot, now at the age of seventeen, well considered a veteran, being that Reboots don't usually survive nearly as long. But other Reboots aren't Wren, someone who was dead for so long, it's almost as if she lost all threads of humanity along the way. So when Callum, with 22 minutes dead before Rebooting, shows up in the new batch of recruits, no one expects him to last very long, including Wren. But, for whatever reason, she soon finds that she wants him to; in fact, she'd do anything to make sure he isn't eliminated, because he makes her feel so... alive.

Whne it comes to giving the people what they want, Tintera scores a home run with not only a vibrant and dynamic heroine, dystopian future, and typical young-underdog story typical to YA, but with zombies, rigid class systems, super-cool tech, and a swoony guy to fight for (yeah, that's right: she's the one kicking butt here). It's like a smoothie made of all your favorite fruits, but ten times as sweet, because now you're dealing with bounty hunters, mysterious government-controlling corporations, and actual threats of death, instead of gross things, like blueberries.

The pacing is enough to give you whiplash, too, clipping along at a positively breakneck speed, and filling each second with some thing new, exciting, and awesome.  That isn't to say that it doesn't develop, however, with actions and dialogue standing in for artistry and development. In fact, the frenetic inner-workings of the novel highlight an equally dynamic shift: Wren's gradual reversion to a vaguely human state, all thanks to the return of one of the most essential things to human life, to her life... Love.

The biggest problem I had with the novel was one I've heard repeated by more bloggers than just me: when the time came to fight some battles, there was a general predilection to kiss instead. I mean, I get romance, but when there's people charging at you with guns, it's time to hustle, kids, not make out. Keep sitting there sucking face, and you might as well kiss your butt goodbye, because I think you're in trouble.

Still, improperly-timed romancing aside, Reboot is a successful and well-constructed dystopian world, unique to it's genre, with perfect pacing and solid build, as well as a very sweet romance nestled in the middle.

A Little Bit Stressed-Out and Weird

I have had a pounding migraine for the past two days straight, which has severely impacted my abilities to remove the source of the eternal damned headache: all of the stress-inducing activities which are currently leaving me with no desire to face tomorrow.

And what is tomorrow? An event for which I am NOT a planner, but a liaison, which leaves me in the unfortunate position of having to field all sorts of ridiculous demands, unabashed begging and pleading, and downright antipathy and potential sabotage, from both sides of the process.

Over the course of planning this event, various other roadblocks have also sprung up in my path, most notably, schoolwork (a constant source of unnecessary stress), my College Fashion articles (ALSO due tomorrow), and day-to-day trivialities, such as sleep and eating (which I am beginning to realize are less and less vital). In the process, I have neglected some things, like going to the gym, and completely failed at others, such as keeping this blog alive (sorry). As a result - I have already mentioned the tugging at my skull, from the less contented parts of my brain, resulting in a fresh hell of lying in bed for four hours extra every morning - I have had the weirdest dreams lately, and frequently find myself misunderstanding information.

At a stressful, insane period like this one, the only thing to do, would be to read a strange and confusing book, right? Hence, Jasper Fforde's The Eyre Affair.

The smart story, post-modern in the way that Dodos are scientifically replicable in 1985, follows the beleaguered LiteraTec agent (tasked with protecting the integrity of the world's classics) Thursday Next, as she does battle with the incredibly dastardly villian, Acheron Hades, while fielding the unwanted policing by the all-controlling Goliath Corporation. England is a police state, while Wales is a carefully guarded socialist country, the United States is still referred to only as "the colonies" and the Crimean War has been fought with Russia for over a hundred years. Shakespeare is considered a basic language, and the idea of any of the country's great works being tarnished is one of absolute national importance; hence, the job of LiteraTec agent. The only thing that can make it more wacky? Fictional characters are able to start jumping in and out of books, leading to great confusion as some are found missing, and others even turn up dead.

Who WOULDN'T love this book?

I read it for the first time in middle school, and - at the time -rejoiced in my half-way obliviousness, thinking myself terribly clever as I read about Jane Eyre and Richard III. It is only now, years later, that I recognized the sounds of missed jokes and literary references whistling away way above my eighth-grade head. However, what is essentially a high-concept book, is enjoyable to both those who have mastered the majority of BritLit, as those who barely understand Middle English. It is truly funny, as well as intelligent.

And the perfect thing is, it completely mirrors my zany mind processing right now. Someone send me an Austen when I've regained my sanity.

[Also, my next College Fashion article goes up this Wednesday, about Jane Eyre. So be on the lookout!]