The Beginning Emerges from the End

Perhaps YA simply isn't my genre. That's why I lost interest in Gayle Forman and went from greatly enjoying her books to not even reading her new works. And that's why I thought Divergent was great and Carve the Mark also but its sequel not so much--and why I have such mixed feelings about Veronica Roth's latest collection of short stories, The End and Other Beginnings.

Maybe it's because I had put too much pressure on Veronica Roth. I loved that her characters pondered morality and often, in connection to that, chose a different path to the crowd. As someone who also chooses a little differently, I connected with that. So to come and find all the usual YA references to teens smoking and exploring sex and not caring about anything other than their own happiness, well, that made me feel like I'd lost my connection to her writing. I felt like there was a new shallowness.

But I kept reading. There are six stories in this book and they perhaps do tend to get better as you go along. They are sci-fi stories set in different times and places. So every forty pages, you're jumping into a new environment and atmosphere. Veronica Roth definitely has a talent for creating places and groups of characters. Some plots are about love, some about friendship, and some about family.

All of the stories, though, are about discovery and about emotional struggles. Some characters face depression, some suicidal thoughts, some grief, some confusion, and some regret. Along the way, they discover how to make peace with their feelings and how to let others help them on their journeys. More and more, YA is focusing on such themes--which is good, though it does also mean that they're starting to feel simply like tropes. But that's a cynical perspective, I know. What I ought to say is that some of these themes are quite powerful. I definitely prefer the theme of friendship that prevailed in something like "Vim and Vigor" to the basic love story of "Inertia."

"Armored Ones" brought us back into the world of Carve the Mark, which was great to get to dive into again. Funnily enough, "The Transformationist" had what I found to be an inspiring quote--that ended up being part of the past that the main character, Otho, had to make his peace with. "'This is what we fear to admit . . . Transformation will destroy you. It will unmake you. . . And here is the true horror . . . You must let it.'" That sums up life, doesn't it? Change happens and pain happens, so it is up to us to let the changes that happen help us grow. So I wish that this story had been longer and able to cover more ground. I wish that Otho, like Tris finding a way to incorporate the values she had been raised with in Abnegation even after she joined Dauntless, had found a way to take the good pieces from the sect he'd been raised in and let all of the bad parts fall away. I don't know, maybe that's an ignorant perspective from me, from someone who wasn't raised in a traumatic way. But all I saw was who Otho wasn't; I also wanted to see who he was. But I guess even just letting go of the past is an important part of the personal journey.

And personal journeys were what these stories were all about. I still have super mixed feelings about this book as a whole (one blog post isn't really enough to talk about much), but even that is I suppose a positive effect from the reading experience. These stories were thought-provoking as a whole.

The Fates Divide

I'm already doing a terrible job at keeping up with the new books (and not new books) that I want to read, but I enjoyed Veronica Roth's Carve the Mark so much that I took the time to reread it before its sequel, The Fates Divide, came out this spring.

Disappointing thing was, I couldn't get into the new book. There was so much more focus on characters I didn't care for, namely Isae. There was more of a political side to the content this time (and mainly it was Isae and politics together, so that made whole chapters of very little interest to me). And even characters I did like or relationships I did like (like Cyra and Akos) were just dwelling in content I didn't care for (honestly, it felt "general YA" to me rather than what I had come to think of as specifically Veronica Roth). So the book sat for, well, months, with my bookmark about a third or so of the way in. I had other things to do than read and then I had other things to read.

Finally when I picked it up again, it got better. Turns out, I'd left off right at that turning point in a book when the tone and pace change. It returned to more of what I wanted. And I can't complain about the ending. There were, let's see, two main things that happened in the plot that I kind of predicted the second before they happened. Which means that they were things that the entire plot beforehand pointed toward but things that were difficult to guess before all of the pieces moved into place. So it all went in a good direction.

I can't really complain, then. And I'm not. I do think, though, that the best part of this story remained in the first book, along with certain pieces of this second book that tie it all in. (I'm being intentionally vague here rather than talk too much about plot.) The first book was the one with all of those great questions about character and guilt and justice and pain and duty and personal choice, etc. All of that came into play in here, as well, just not in quite the same way. In the first book, everything was fresh and sharp. Here, maybe it felt like most of the important character things were done; we just had to finish up some plot things. (I didn't think of this while I was reading, but I wonder if that means that this story was originally just one book instead of two and that it was the publishers who wanted it stretched out into two for obvious reasons.) Not that there was no plot: there was plot. And like I said, I like the direction it all went to in the end.

The idea of fate sounds worse than it is. Personal choice still exists. Positive and negative still exist; sometimes knowing how to be part of one or the other, well, that can be more complicated. 

To Carve the Mark

There is something in Veronica Roth's writing that I connect to. I love seeing the way her characters wrestle with questions of morality, ethics, and habits--and where the three intersect. I love seeing the ways in which they find strength and the ways in which they still feel weak. Such was the case with the Divergent trilogy, and such was also the case with her latest book (which starts a new, separate series), Carve the Mark.

That is, the types of things that I enjoyed in her writing I also found in this new book, but it was not simply a repeat of Divergent. These characters, for one, are in a completely different setting. This type we're in a galaxy of planets, each with their own culture and way of doing things. Everything is set up well, and I immediacy had a sense of a unique, lived-in environment. I liked the environment of Divergent; I like this one just as much, if not more, and it has even more detail to it because it does involve more cultures and planets.

I also love the two main characters, Akos and Cyra. They're just fascinating to watch, and their personal struggles highlight so many of the questions that we all come across as we go about our lives. Questions of weakness, of strength, of duty, of honor, of loyalty, of tradition, of home, of loss, of right and wrong, of revenge versus justice. This way of analyzing morality (if that's the best word to use here) that Veronica Roth has just draws in my attention and doesn't let go.

She is also good at portraying groups of people, while at the same time giving the very personal perspectives of just a couple of characters. We have the closest look at the two main characters and we really get to know how their minds work, but we also have a good look at the people who surround them. Friends, foes, casual acquaintances, family, etc. There is always a sense that these people are all pieces that come together to make a whole.

And that talent of portraying groups, of course, goes well with one the main themes of this book: the importance of every individual. That's why you carve the mark. But I won't explain what that means: if you've read the book, you already know. And I don't want to talk about plot details in this post.

I suppose that means that this is all, then. For me, Carve the Mark was just a very good read. Exciting and suspenseful at times, but more than that, its lasting value was in its characters and the questions that they ask of themselves and the conclusions that they arrive at. I am much looking forward to the sequel, but in the meantime I'm just enjoying what this book offered.

To the Beginning with Four

It's possibly unnecessary to do a post on this book (and I promise that I'll be resting on Divergent posts after this), since it is just a collection of four prequel stories and three short, additional scenes. But I posted on Gayle Forman's Just One Night (which finishes up after Just One Day and Just One Year). And come to think of it (though I hate directly comparing things), Four gives more to talk about than Just One Night did (it was basically the epilogue for the other two books). Four is more like the almost-book that I hate to mention out loud--Midnight Sun. Except while Midnight Sun was designed to cover all the space of Twilight (from Edward's perspective instead of Bella's), Four (from Tobias's perspective instead of Tris's) only tells some of the moments from Divergent--much of it is from before that book starts and the narrative is told in pieces with gaps in between.

It's really a book of extras, not an additional book--and that was the way I thought of it before reading, so I can't say I was disappointed. (Though I'm not sure why the knife-throwing scene wasn't included--I had to get the digital version of that one.) I kept thinking in my mind that Allegiant was the last book, and Four was just a little something to flip through afterwards. But, you know, it worked very well to have this little book to "flip through afterwards."

I've already explained how much I liked the way Allegiant ended--and how much I enjoy looking back at the good moments throughout the trilogy, especially from the first book. So it was satisfying, as a reader, to finish the trilogy and have it come to a complete ending, but then be able to take one last look (in a slightly different way) at the beginning.

Tobias, throughout the trilogy, emerges as an interesting character. Tris is there to find her strength and become herself; that's why it makes sense for her to shorten her name and stick with the shortened name. Tobias, however, is fleeing from his past and needs to make sense of who he has been and reconcile it with who he is trying to be before he can really be comfortable with himself and his decisions. So his journey is different from Tris's. And it's nice, just as an extra, to see where he began and what he was thinking at certain key points during Divergent. While these stories aren't all about finding out new things, there are several new tidbits that enhance the story or are just fun to find out.

I'm kind of sad now that I'm done (well, except for the movie companion--does that count?), but I am also satisfied by my time spent in this universe.

To What Are You Allegiant?

If you've been reading on here for a while, you'll know that I really appreciate it when fiction (whether we're talking of books or movies) sets out with a specific purpose. It usually bothers me when a series goes on just for the sake of going on, not because the story is specifically designed to continue for a certain amount of installments. But with Divergent, Veronica Roth created a complete trilogy that sets out with a certain story to tell that is told just right in three pieces. This story also rose up with one of the best themes I've read in a while, expressed so powerfully that I love this last book for it. There will be some spoilers in this post.

Now We Are Insurgent

I'm trying to just let myself read these books quickly so that I can be free from their tight grip on me--I keep thinking of these characters, this world, the factions, the movement, the pacing, the images. It's great, on one hand, for a book to have a big impact--but it's also pretty hard when you still have your daily life to continue and that doesn't include sitting around all day reading or thinking about books.

There's a certain disadvantage to reading something so quickly; it can all just become a blur. But by the time I'd finished Divergent (read that post here) and started Insurgent, this story was so much behind my eyelids that I just had to read it in every spare moment (well, maybe not every moment). Because this time, I didn't know the plot; the movie doesn't come out until March, so it was all new this time, and I had to keep flipping those pages. (There may be some light spoilers in my post this time.)

Reading Divergent

Well, I was supposed to be posting on the last Hobbit: Chronicles book, but when I was coming close to finishing it, I set it down and picked up Divergent instead and didn't go back until I'd finished the latter book. If you haven't read my thoughts on the movie from a couple of days ago (you can read those here), read them first because I'm going to build on everything I said there.

As a literature person, I would rather say that I read a book before watching a movie--and that is usually the case (except where I only watch the movie, because I'm not interested in reading the book at all). But in the cases where I've gone in the reverse order, I have found that it can often be better: you can more clearly see what the movie does have to offer without being distracted by minor things that are different from the book. If, however, the book is mediocre, the fact that you know where the plot is going will make reading it feel boring and redundant.

Maybe that's part of the reason why I hesitated to read Divergent. I really enjoyed the movie, and I knew that if I didn't also enjoy the book, reading it would lessen my positive feelings toward the movie. That, however, was not the case. Despite how close (in general) the movie was to the book, I still hated to put this book down and kept thinking about it while I was doing other things. I knew what was going to happen, so it wasn't suspense: I was just enjoying it.

I had said that the movie didn't feel as much like dystopia to me, and now I see why. This story isn't completely dystopia. I really like what Veronica Roth said in the back of the book about dystopia and utopia, about how fiction must have conflict and about how you can't really create a utopia in the first place. I remember reading Plato's The Republic in college and picking on how unrealistic his plan of the perfect society was--that's the kind of concept Veronica Roth is referring to. And so if you take what she said, about how the world of Divergent is a society that was originally built on ideals but has become corrupt because that's just what happens with flawed humanity, then you arrive at a concept that I find rather separate from dystopia. This world isn't (the way I see it) about the corrupt and oppressive government: it's about people. And people stray and wander and make bad choices and sometimes that can lead everyone to dark places--but that's why it's important that they find a way (often from the guidance of others) to get back into making good choices.

Now enough on genre. 

I was surprised, when I began reading, at how young Tris's voice sounded. I realized that she was probably a bit younger than she looks in the movie, but in the first stage of the book she reads more like a child than a teenager. And that's part of the story and the theme. She starts as a child, feeling out of place and trying to do what she is told. By making a choice that is for herself alone, she begins the path toward growing up. She is doing what everyone must do in life: creating herself, deciding who she wants to be and then working to become that, whether or not it is easy. It's a very clear portrayal of coming of age. The society, the factions, the government, and the rebellion, they're all just details, the setting of the story (I don't mean to downplay the details: I think there is some very interesting commentary surrounding the factions and what they each aspire to be).

I enjoyed watching Tris's journey again, and I still enjoyed watching all of the characters. I was listening to music earlier and "I Believe My Heart" (from an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical I've, of course, never seen--I have the version of the song that's on Keedie's album, which is named after the song) came on; I named it Tris and Four's song, though it's maybe a tad sweet for them. By the way, I'm also delighted to find that many of the songs on Veronica Roth's playlist for the book are from Flyleaf: you know how much I love Flyleaf and their lyrics. In fact, I'd say most of their songs fit this book pretty well--and maybe the reasons why they fit so well are also the reasons why I still like this story.

I don't know how much I like it. I've observed that it usually takes about a year from your last exposure to a story (whether it's the last book you'll read or the last movie you'll see in the series) to really see how much you like it. Some things are more temporary than others. Some fade more; some linger. So I can't speak to any of that. I'll just say, for now, that I'm enjoying this story.

What Just Happened

I watched Divergent. And I liked it. So I watched it again a couple days later. And I still like it.

What just happened?

Like so many other books, I've been hearing about the Divergent series and Veronica Roth for years. I knew the very basic premise, though I'm not even sure where exactly I heard about it (wait, no, I think it was on Kayley Hyde's book channel on Youtube two or three years ago). But it never interested me. I only watched the movie because I'd been working hard during the day and wanted to just sit and watch a movie, so why not this one. And then I liked it. I just enjoyed watching it, was kind of sorry when it ended, and kept thinking about it afterward. I have so much that I want to talk about as relates to this movie that I'm going to have to divide it all into sections.

I. Why I hesitated to say I liked the movie.

Why, though, was I almost ashamed to admit that I'd liked it? Why, though I felt like I would really want to read the books, did I feel like I wouldn't want to walk into a bookstore and buy them? Why is that? It has to do with two things. The first is the fact that it's YA. I'm years away from my teens now, so I don't exactly want teen fiction to take up too much space in what I'm reading--I've nothing against reading a variety of age groups (I can't wait to read Gayle Forman's new book, and Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH is probably still one of my favorite books), but sometimes I hesitate with the YA. It's been so popular lately that I kind of feel like it's easy to miss out on other things, other perspectives, and other themes by leaning too heavily into YA.

The other reason why is that I hesitate to get into things that are already popular. I know that this is terrible, just as bad as not getting into things that aren't popular. But when you pride yourself on enjoying things that you have specifically connected with without anyone else telling you to like them, it's hard to so easily take a popular recommendation. I'd been hearing about Divergent for so long that it didn't feel like anything that I would be able to make a personal connection with anymore: so many other people had already made it their own that what could it have left for me?

But the thing is, despite all of this, I did make a personal connection with this story--and it would have been a shame for me to miss out on that.

II. Why I liked the movie.

In the first stages, I was thinking of it as an action movie for the female mind. Please don't think I'm being simplistic or backward here: I know that male or female has nothing to do with what kind of movie you like, whether you like more action or drama or this or that. But we do generically refer to certain action movies as guy movies, in the same way that there are chick flicks. (For the record, I don't usually like either one.) Divergent was like an action movie that I could enjoy. It was exciting because, whatever was happening, I always felt like I was in Tris's mind. When everyone is getting ready to jump from the train for the first time, you're feeling her adrenaline and her desire to fit in with this new crowd that she's admired and to start her new life here despite any fear she still has from her old life. I feel like there sometimes wasn't much dialogue and yet I could hear so many of the characters' thoughts.

The characters are all alive, and they're all people I wanted to keep watching and learn about and see. I've fallen in love with Tris and Four, in the literary sense. I want them to find happiness in their lives, but I also want to watch them get there. I want to see their journey; I want to see every emotion, every thought, every moment, every action as it happens. All of the characters brought so much to the movie that, whatever world they were in or whatever plot was going on, the story felt full.

I also really cared for the way that the Divergents were portrayed. As someone who has never exactly fit in and has eventually come to value that trait because of everything else it expresses about me, I thought this portrayal was both realistic and hopeful, or bright. The inability to fall into a category doesn't mean that you're a rebel or that you're odd or that you're perfect; it just means that your mind pulls in many directions. When someone asks you what you value most, you have trouble answering--unless you answer something intangible, like family or morality. I never did like those tests you would take in school to see what category you fit into--whether you were organized or creative or compassionate: sometimes which category I'm in depends on a my mood in a single moment, so how can I choose just one? Anyway, Tris and Four are both wonderful; I don't know how they read in the book, but I loved them on the screen. Driven, courageous, brave, smart, and kind. There is such power, such power of humanity, in who they are.

While I'm at it, I also appreciated that there was a love story without that being the only that is important about the story as a whole. I'll enjoy a good love story and I enjoyed this one; I just don't like every story to have that as its main and sole focus. Tris also had her family and her friends and this whole other plot going on besides just the love story.

III. On genre.

I used to say I didn't like dystopia. I felt like there is already so much sorrow in the world to go and make such a terrible fictional world as dystopia. But Divergent didn't really feel like the picture I'd had in my head of dystopia. Maybe it's because this was only the first installment in the story, the part before all the corruption in the system comes to public light. Either way, I felt like there was more than just horror and the need for rebellion and hope in absolute darkness. Just in hearing how the society works, we know it's odd, so it isn't surprising to find that there is corruption. However, this story started out on a different level: it starts with one character trying to figure out who she is and be who she wants to be. And she succeeds--that was the part about the story that I liked.

IV. On predictable plots.

I realize that there are things in this story that have been done before. But is that any reason, on its own, to not like it? When you study literature, you find that things written at the same time share many traits that only grow more and more obvious with the passage of time--but that doesn't stop you from reading them. It just enhances your reading as you figure out why certain themes or plot elements or stylistic tendencies were so commonly used; it can say a lot about the society that produced these books. And when stories are similar to each other, then the subtle differences stand out more and you can maybe even appreciate them better.

If you know what kind of a plot is unfolding in a movie you're watching, that's okay as long as it's carried out well. And as I said, the characters drove this story so well for me that I didn't mind if I knew where it was all headed. I just wanted to watch them get there.

V. On fiction and entertainment.

It is unnecessary for something to be great art in order for it to be valuable--and sometimes the less that something is considered "great," the more valuable it is. Again, when you study literature, this is something you'll see. You'll slog through Paradise Lost and "The Wasteland" and say, wow, I'm glad those are so influential to literature but I'm so glad I'm finally finished reading them because I hated them. (Or movie-wise, you'll watch Citizen Kane and be bored despite it being "one of the best films ever.) Then you'll go back to Jane Eyre, which was just a piece of fiction and while it's still highly respected it isn't considered as much great art as other things--except by people who like it; and you'll enjoy it and connect with it in a way that you never could with "The Wasteland." You'll read random books that everyone else has forgotten just because they were part of a certain writing at the time or were popular in their day.

Do you see what I'm getting at? Value in fiction is personal. If you made a connection with it, that's valuable. If many people connected with it, then that's significant. Sometimes you look up to fiction because it awed you with its brilliant delivery of form and theme. Sometimes you just really enjoyed it, and that isn't something to discredit.

So there it is. I had a wonderful time with this story and I don't really want to wait until 2017 to see the end of it with the just the movies. So when I had to run into Wal-mart today for something, I picked up the first two books. And here's something entertaining: the books I'm planning to buy next time I'm in Phoenix are The Problem of Pain by C.S. Lewis, The Reason by Lacey Sturm, I Was Here by Gayle Forman, and now the last of the Divergent series by Veronica Roth.