I read Divergent on Sunday, because despite knowing that I tend to be disappointed by YA*, I saw the trailer and was interested. I mean, it was all right, but I get tired of the first person ‘oh i’m such a special snowflake’ narrative. Show, don’t tell. But really there’s such a huge suspension of disbelief with these dystopias - there’s no way that people would allow the systematic murder of their children on tv for almost a century, or that people would split themselves into who likes being friends and who likes to get piercings. That’s not how the real world works. The Handmaiden’s Tale, for example, is also quite hard to believe being allowed to happen (although it’s sadly more possible), but of course Margaret Atwood is Margaret Atwood and at least within the novel it feels very plausible in a visceral way.
I was - or still am, I supposed - reading the Veronica Mars novel, but out of nowhere, BAM, Mexican cartels. I see enough of that shit in real life, thanks, so I’ve sort of put it down for now. Veronica Mars just works better as a visual medium, anyway.
*It’s not so much the genre or the weird trends, but the dry writing and easy plots that usually let me down. They’re teenagers, not dumb. They can stand some pretty writing in their books.
Also in DW! http://nekare.dreamwidth.org/613365.html. comments.