I’d been quite looking forward to read Battle Angel Alita ever since seeing the film version in cinemas. Given that it’s a manga classic, there’s a part of me that’s embarrassed that it’s taken me this long to get to it.
Beneath the floating city of Zalem lies a mountain of junk known as the Scrapyard. While scavenging for parts, talented cybernetic doctor Daisuke Ido finds the still-living cyborg head. He rebuilds her body and names her Alita when they find that she has no memories of her previous life. The only clue that they have is her unexplained instinct for battle. Given that I’d already seen the film adaptation of Battle Angel Alita, I thought that I would have a pretty good idea of what was happening. I was partially correct, but it was a bit of an odd read. It’s probably the fastest paced book that I’ve read in a long time, as it seems to largely go from one fight scene to another with nary a pause for breath in between. If I didn’t know what to expect, I imagine that it would be exhausting to keep up with. The focus on fight scenes has the unfortunate side effect that there’s not a great deal of characterisation happening. Honestly, the character that felt the most fleshed out by the time the volume ended was Mukaku, the guy that Alita is attempting to take out for his bounty, which seems backwards. The main thing that saves this for me is the artwork, which is fantastically detailed and dynamic in a way that is not necessarily pretty, but definitely striking. It’s also really good for the body horror, so fans of that genre will probably have a fun time here.
Weirdly fast pacing and weak characterisation does harm an interesting story, but the art and fight choreography is striking enough that I’d still be happy to continue the series. 3/5
I realise that it’s not been long since my last LitRPG book, but I was feeling in a science-fiction/fantasy sort of mood. The Occulist looked like a fun read from the blurb, if very similar to other books and series in the genre that I’ve seen so far.
Damien Arkwright, a teenager simultaneously studying for potentially life-changing exams and acting as a beta tester for gaming company Moebius, finds his life taking a turn for the worse when his mother has a heart attack in front of him. Desperate after hearing that she is 35th in line for a heart transplant, he enters Moebius’ new MMORPG called Saga Online to try and win their Streamer Contest with the intent to pay for her medical costs. But when the top-ranked player, Aetherius, humiliates him and dumps him in a high level dungeon for a perceived slight, Damien’s only hope lies in taking the previously unknown class of Occultist. Despite the somewhat standard start to Occultist, I found myself appreciating the unexpected depth a lot more than I’d expected. This is down to two main factors: the real-world aspect of the plot and the intricacies of the Occultist character class. Starting with the real world stuff, I was pleasantly surprised at how down-to-earth and believable the goal was. Compared to the previous LitRPG novels reviewed here, Battle Spire and HOPE Engine, the real-world problems impacting the stuff in the game world in Occultist were ones that I could potentially see happening in the near future. Staying out of the foster care system and getting money for health insurance are goals that are unfortunately only too real, and the potential for gaining a massive windfall through the medium of competitive gaming is becoming more and more commonplace. The only thing missing was the main character getting SWAT called on him, although I’m sure that there’s time for that in any potential sequel. The game stuff is a bit more of a personal thing, but I really liked seeing a main character who was more summon-based. See, my main characters on Guild Wars were a Ranger and a Necromancer, and for both of them I had combat pets that would either attack alongside me or act as a constant buff. I have a bit of a soft spot for that kind of character build, but it doesn’t tend to get good press in LitRPG novels. The only other character I can think of off the top of my head is Silica from Sword Art Online, and she’s kind of the LitRPG poster child for damsel in distress. So yeah, kind of a personal thing, but it was nice to see a bit of variation from the tank/mage/healer stereotypes.
The overall story arc is not necessarily anything new, but Occultist spices up the typical genre fare by focusing on concrete, easily believable problems to deal with in the real world and by branching out the main character’s class out from the standard tank/mage/healer archetypes by throwing in pets/summons. It ends on a good final note, but I’d be happy to read more in the universe created here. 5/5
Okay, so this review ended up being way later than I had anticipated. Unfortunately, I’ve been in a bit of an emotional/motivational slump for the past couple of months and this has impacted on a lot of my more creative and feelings-intense hobbies. Of which reading and reviewing is one. So I apologise to all of those anticipating reviews from me, they are still in the pipeline. I just haven’t been in the right headspace, and might take a while to get back into the rhythm of things. With regards to HOPE Engine, I had been looking forward to it, given my enjoyment of my previous LitRPG book, Battle Spire. It seemed to have the sort of underdog main character that I’m fond of too, so that was definitely a plus starting off.
HOPE Engine follows Severo, a new graduate who has chosen to spend the majority of his life in the Fantasy MMO named Tulgutha, rather than face the real world on the brink of war. While he finds himself enjoying the game, he seems to have joined up at a time where an army of glitched NPCs is taking out player settlements. And their next target is his starter village. Banding together with some displaced player characters, he tries to ready his followers for war. On top of all that, strange things are starting to happen in the real world as well. I’m not sure quite how I feel about HOPE Engine, and a lot of that is down to events about two thirds through that are a bit… spoilery. I will discuss them, but later in the review. Given that this is a LitRPG, the actual game portion plays a big part in how it comes across. My previous experience of the genre, while limited, had made me expect something reasonably crunchy, with a lot of numbers that you could potentially lift from the book and use elsewhere. The numbers were definitely there, but they were a lot less prominent. Given that the main character is trying to speed through the whole levelling up process, it does make sense, but there are times where the combat can seem a bit arbitrary. I’ve been a low level player against enemies way above my level, and for someone who is meant to be a low level newbie he does get away with a lot more than you would expect. Some of that does get explained by the end, but it’s still distracting in the moment. The main draw for HOPE Engine‘s RPG setting was actually the NPCs. If I’m honest, the other player characters were a bit underwhelming compared to some of the NPCs, in particular Horace. Horace is the first minion that Severo finds in the game, a cultist who both believes him to be an incarnation of a dark god and is perfectly aware that he is just another player. Horace is easily my favourite part of the book, because he can absolutely be counted on to be the agent of chaos that messes up or inadvertently accelerates Severo’s plans. He tells Severo that he’ll ease up on the conversions, quite happily making alterations to new cultist robes throughout the conversation. I look forward to seeing more of Horace. SPOILERS START Right, so now to mention the part that has been bugging me, which is primarily related to revelations about what has been happening to Severo in the real world while he was focusing on taking down an army several times his size. As it turns out, an incident towards the beginning where he had to be evacuated from the game to prevent getting some kind of MMO-induced virus causes a shady group to take an interest in him, and deliberately trap him in the game while they carry out a variety of augmentations on him. So when he inevitably wakes up in the last chapter, he finds that what felt like a few weeks or months to him was actually 2 years. Which raises the question of how much of his interactions with the other players that he allies with are genuine, given that it should be pretty obvious when someone that you are spending a lot of time with gets stuck in a loading screen for a couple of months. With those interactions in doubt now, it sort of tempers whatever enjoyment I got from player interactions. Given that HOPE Engine ends on a MASSIVE cliffhanger I imagine that it will get tackled in the sequel, but for now it’s something that just bugs me. SPOILERS END
A thoroughly enjoyable read, although my thoughts on the last third or so are decidedly mixed. The RPG world is a bit vague at times, but issues with the realism of it are more than balanced out by some great characters, in particular head minion Horace. The cliffhanger ending does intrigue me enough to want to pick up the sequel whenever it comes out. 3.5/5
After the strangeness of The Automation, I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect beyond more screwed-up pseudo-family drama and weirdly intriguing metafiction. I figured that there might be some conclusion in sight with this volume too. Spoiler warnings for The Automation below.
The Pre-Programming follows on directly from The Automation, after Odissa revealed her deeper sordid connection with the last book’s mysterious villain, Leeland. And as people start to die, it starts becoming more apparent that Odissa is much more important to the plot than any of the cast had originally suspected. In addition, B.L.A. starts hinting at how they may have originally been Bulfinch, Odissa’s cat, with G.B. Gabbler about as incredulous about that notion as you would expect. Honestly, this didn’t go how I expected at all, and most of the stuff that I want to talk about is spoilers. I will start off with some more generic stuff and then have a section with spoilers. So I liked some of the character development that takes place in The Pre-Programming, as there’s a section dedicated to the Masters acting in ways that are opposite to their normal behaviour, and their various reactions and attempts to reconcile that with what they consider their true self to be. In some cases they manage the task, but in others they dramatically fail and have to face their own guilt and judgement. The development of the Odissa/Dorian relationship is interesting, but ultimately I don’t see a great deal of chemistry between them. They say that they love each other, but they only seem to alternate between bitching and sniping at one another, and Odissa coddling Dorian like he’s a small child with serious separation issues. I realise that the relationship is most likely not meant to be healthy, but there isn’t much in the way of normal behaviour that would explain why they like each other’s company enough to put up with the shit they put each other through. So, now to the spoiler stuff. If you’re still intending to read The Pre-Programming, then skip to the final summary. I’ve never read a book before that replaces a large chunk of the cast right before the end, and I don’t know how I feel about it. So by the end, all the Masters are dead by their own hand or by Odissa’s, including Odissa herself. And the Automata have sentience that is built from the souls of their past Masters, in preparation for the next stage of the series. It’s a pretty major change considering that before this point the Automata were less characters in and of themselves and more extensions of the Masters’ personalities, so what has essentially happened is a total cast kill. I’ve only ever seen that in stand-alone novels, understandably right at the end. Never in the middle of an in-progress series. There’s a part of my brain that is wondering why you would start the series where they did, rather than starting with whatever weird D&D game the gods will possibly be playing and providing The Automation and The Pre-Programming as backstory where necessary. But at the same time, I’m also kind of marvelling at the sheer brass balls that you’d need to pull off a left-turn quite that sudden and brazen. So I think I’m still interested, in spite of the critic part of my brain still trying to rationalise the complete cast replacement two thirds in.
On the one hand The Pre-Programming continues to do what it did well in The Automation, which boils down to a lot of really unhealthy relationships and interesting contemplation of the self. On the other hand, there is probably the most drastic left-turn that I have ever seen a series take, and I still don’t know quite what to make of it. I will probably keep an eye out for whatever comes next, just to figure out if that twist was worth it. 4/5
The Automation and its sequel The Pre-Programming were sent my way by the publisher S.O.B. Publishing, to try and drum up a bit of publicity for the second book in the series. Given the interesting premise and the unusual mythpunk genre, I was more than happy to oblige.
The Automation follows Odys Odelyn, a reclusive young man whose only real company is his twin sister Odissa. One day his life as he knows it is shattered after a stranger commits suicide in front of him, bequeathing Odys a tarnished penny as his last act. Odys soon finds that the penny is actually an immortal called an Automaton that runs off of a human host’s soul, and is quickly embroiled in the complex conflicts of other Automata and their masters. Throughout the book, the Narrator (B.L.A.) is simultaneously attempting to convince the reader of the story’s truth and embellish it to fit within the Epic genre, while their Editor (G.B. Gabbler) can only try and curb their wilder narrative flares. I don’t know quite how to feel about The Automation, because while there is a big part of me that was thoroughly entertained by reading it, there was also a large part of me that was thoroughly irritated by it. And I can’t really untangle the two from each other. For example, let me talk about the single worst character in the book, Mecca. He’s one of the other masters introduced in the narrative, stuck in childhood for at least the next century or so, speaks about himself in the third person, and is a thoroughly nauseating blend of childish and perverted. Every time he turned up in the narrative, I wanted someone to punt the little fucker into traffic. But during his original introduction, there was a little aside that has confused the matter somewhat for me, in which the Editor states that they too hate Mecca and only allowed him to stay in the narrative because he plays an important role in the second book. On the one hand, I kind of feel vindicated, like my rush of ill feeling towards the character is justified and shared by others. On the other hand, the writer and reviewer in me is stuck asking “Well, if he’s that important to the story, why make him so intolerably fucking aggravating?”. This keeps happening throughout the narrative, and I still haven’t made up my mind which emotion should be the prevailing one. There are two other things that I would mention that people may want to consider before picking up The Automation. The first is that it ends on a cliffhanger, one that you are literally taunted with at the end of the book, so those looking for a one-and-done sort of book should look elsewhere. Second is that the plot, while engaging, is mostly people talking. It’s especially odd considering that the narrative keeps making reference to Greek and Roman epics, in particular those of Homer, which I seem to remember being just a smidgen more violent. Not necessarily a bad thing, but after a pretty dramatic beginning, it does slow a fair bit.
The Automation is a book that entertains and vexes me in near equal measure. On balance, I think I like it enough to look into its sequel, but I would advise that this is for readers who are looking for a bit of a challenge and something a bit different. 4/5
Next review: The Pre-Programming by B.L.A. & G.B. Gabbler
I’ll admit that I was rather looking forward to Battle Spire, given that the blurb was seriously reminding me of Sword Art Online, an anime series that my partner and I have always thoroughly enjoyed watching together. So a book that looked to be a mix of Sword Art Online and Die Hard was definitely going to catch my interest, especially if I could then recommend it to my partner, who is a lot more particular about their reading tastes than I am.
Battle Spire follows a college student, Jack Kross, who is logging back into a VRMMO after a year’s abstinence from gaming. Aiming to legitimise his hobby by making money as a gold farmer, he picks the Scavenger class, which is really not intended to be used in combat, but will increase the number of interesting and expensive things that he can sell to other players and NPCs. Unfortunately for him, just as he’s finished the starter quest he finds that a group of hostile players have taken over the server and prevented anyone logging out. To make matters worse, if he’s killed in-game the VR headset will either give him severe brain damage or kill him. Faced with the prospect of either slowly dehydrating and eventually suffering organ failure in his hotel room or being killed by hostile players, Jack finds himself teaming up with the game’s AI to try and take down the players holding the server hostage. The comparison to Die Hard was a particularly apt one, considering that it’s one person trapped in a tower taking out opponents through traps and subterfuge. And it was a thoroughly enjoyable read because of it. Given that he is a very low level, he can’t engage in any direct combat, so he has to come up with a lot of out-of-the-box, game-breaking strategies to beat all of the high-level players pitted against him. I think the primary strength that makes all of the game-breaking stuff work is the depth with which the game world is described. Everything comes into play, from character stats to how the server deals with NPC respawn rate to NPC behaviours, and that level of detail really pays off. I will say that the level of detail was, at least at first, kind of disconcerting. The thing that comes to mind is when Jack is first creating his character. At this point, he has already explained to the reader what character and class he will be rolling up, so I thought that the character creation process would be more or less glossed over. Instead, all the different options that the game made available at each stage are detailed for the reader to look over, and damn if they don’t genuinely sound like something you’d get in World of Warcraft or Guild Wars. There was a part of me that worried that this might get a bit overbearing, because that level of detail is present throughout the book, as it appears with every level-up and change of weapon. I personally found that it helped with immersion, but I could possibly see people who were hoping for something a bit lighter on background flavour. In terms of characters, the main two that the reader gets are pretty good. There’s Jack, also known as Zoran, a hardcore gamer who loves the rush that he gets from an MMO, but isn’t sure that it’s healthy for him in the long run. He kind of starts out as the kind of player that I avoid in MMOs, but has a decent character arc that addresses those sorts of issues. Then there’s the game’s controlling AI, dubbed Ellie by Jack for lack of a better name. She’s probably the more interesting of the two, alternating between emotionless robot, concerned server mum and shifty, untrustworthy frenemy. I loved the interaction between the two of them, and how both keep surprising each other.
I was a bit predisposed to like Battle Spire, since it promised a lot of things that I loved about Sword Art Online. While the stakes don’t necessarily feel as high in Battle Spire, I was still thoroughly gripped and entertained by the story. The game world that has been created is interesting and definitely somewhere that I would like to see explored further. The features that define it as a video game are used really cleverly, much more than I’d expected. And lastly, the characters are solid and reasonably likeable. Overall, a thoroughly entertaining read. 4.5/5
Next review: Confessions of an English Opium-Eater by Thomas de Quincey
My thirst for new books is never-ending and probably ill-advised at this point, but it has prompted me to join a group called TBRindr, which matches reviewers with indie authors who are in need of reviews. And I was soon to get my first request, from an author by the name of G. R. Matthews. He has sent me two books to look at, the first of which is Silent City.
Silent City follows Corin Hayes, a down-and-out ex-soldier whose only remaining comfort is to be found at the bottom of a bottle. Following the murder of his daughter and a subsequent industrial accident that he was responsible for, he has been living paycheck to paycheck. One day his regular drinking spot is intruded on by Devra, a representative of the corporation running the underwater city that he lives in with a tempting offer: a regular job that makes use of the valuable skills that he came out of the military with. But on his first job with them, he soon finds things going horribly wrong.
Sometimes you hear horror stories about books that have been independently published, particularly with regards to lack of quality. So I’m quite glad that my first review for TBRindr has been such a solid entry. I’m going to start with something that I don’t usually focus on first: the worldbuilding. For me, Silent City hits pretty much the perfect note when it comes to developing his world and balancing it against the characters and plot. My main complaint with a lot of books that have very strong worldbuilding is that the characters and plot can seem underdeveloped or boring in comparison, which is rarely what you want to read. With Silent City, there weren’t the sort of long and complex information dumps that make me want to throw a book across the room. Additionally, it was a setting that I haven’t seen explored much, which makes me intrigued to see more of it. A severely diminished humanity that must hide in pressurised domes beneath the sea, with no hope of returning to a surface that has been poisoned beyond human intervention? I am so there, thalassophobia be damned.
That leaves the plot and characters. The plot is going to be rather difficult to discuss without quickly getting into spoiler territory. I will say that, on the whole, I enjoyed it and found it quite tense in places. I would have liked a few answers at the end, but as this is the first in a series I think I can forgive a bit of mystery being set up.
Which leaves characters yet to tackle. Silent City is a first-person narrative, and it definitely falls prey to one of the primary problems with this particular point of view: beyond the main character, Corin, the characters aren’t really fleshed out all that much, and what we do get is coloured by Corin’s personal biases. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it would be nice to get a better idea of who some of the other characters in this interesting world are before they get their lungs crushed by massive water pressure. As for Corin himself, he is the sort of character that wouldn’t look out of place if he were transplanted into 1930s America or other setting suited to the Noir genre. He’s hard-drinking, dour and down on his luck, but stubborn and tough enough to fight his way through the sticky situation that he manages to find himself in. Not the most original of characters perhaps, but he’s well-written and has a potential soft centre that could be entertaining to uncover.
Silent City is a thoroughly enjoyable book, and is definitely worth a look. The characterisation is a bit thin at the moment, and the plot seems to largely be set-up for later in the series, but for a first book in a series I’m willing to forgive a bit of mystery. Any flaws that the book may have are balanced out by some truly stellar worldbuilding, which combines all the griminess of cyberpunk with the majesty and terror of the sea. I’d be more than happy to continue the series. 4/5
Piers Anthony is one of those genre writers that I had heard of when getting into Fantasy and Science-Fiction, but I hadn’t really had the chance or inclination to pick up any of his series, as much because it’s difficult to know where to start with such a prolific author. But as On a Pale Horse appeared in, you guessed it, a bundle that I had picked up, it seemed the perfect place to start. Besides, who doesn’t like a good Grim Reaper story?
On a Pale Horse follows Zane, a man who, after a spectacularly bad day topping off a life of guilt and failure, decides to kill himself. When he goes to pull the trigger, he is confronted by the Grim Reaper. In a moment of horrified panic and a sudden renewed desire to live, he turns the gun on Death, and kills him. Moments later, he meets the anthropomorphic manifestation of Fate and is told that he must take over the position of Grim Reaper, and gather the souls of those whose destination in the afterlife is uncertain. On top of trying to figure out his new powers and responsibilities on the job, he finds that his appointment may be tied into a vast conspiracy by Satan.
I love a good pantheon, and On a Pale Horse looks to be the start of a pretty good one. It was kind of an intriguing set-up, combining your traditional Abrahamaic God vs Satan narrative with five semi-immortal figures acting as manifestations of themes with particular importance in human society: Death, Time, Fate, War and Nature. As God and Satan are prohibited from interfering directly with life on Earth, the Incarnations are there to ensure that both of them stick to the rules of engagement. While the interactions between the Incarnations was somewhat limited, it was great to see the duplicity and scheming that was already present. The problem that I’ve seen with a lot of pantheons is that the deities within tend to fall into either good or evil camps and then their characters are more or less defined by their moral compass and not by their personal sphere of influence or any other personal nuance.
While on the subject of the world-building, the mortal world is also pretty nicely fleshed out. It tries to combine high magic and high science, which does work for the most part, although I personally preferred the fantasy aspects if only because it fit the theological theme more. There is only one part where the science-fiction stuff is particularly egregious towards the end of the book, but all things considered it isn’t too big an issue.
I already know that I have the second book in the series queued up to read further down the line, and I’m looking forward to revisiting the world. I would be remiss though if I didn’t mention an aspect of the writing that I found both distracting and uncomfortable. There was an awful lot of male gaze stuff, and it didn’t really seem necessary. Sure, you can say that a female character is pretty within her character description, that’s fine. The problem comes up when the narration regularly brings up female characters’ plentiful bosoms and shapely legs. Hell, there’s an entire section where the main character watches the magical equivalent of American Football with female teams. Sure it hits all the typical sports tropes, but adds comments about how the protective padding emphasises their feminine qualities, a section where a spell makes it look like a player is naked and some of the most stereotypical cat-fighting that I’ve seen in a long time. It’s positively masturbatory and could have been cut quite easily. Admittedly, Zane does conduct himself in a gentlemanly manner, but even that becomes irritating with his tendency to assume that “female = purity”. It’s a shame considering that the world and the plot are really engaging. While I’m content to continue the series, I am sorely hoping that this was more an issue in the choice of main character, rather than something that is an author trait. I could see it souring my experience of what looks to be an intriguing series.
The world and plot are well-fleshed out, with some really interesting social sparring between the immortal characters. I would have rated this higher, but my enjoyment was spoiled somewhat by the egregious and unnecessary focus on cringe-worthy male gaze sections. I can only hope that it doesn’t come up in the second book. 4/5
So Found is probably not a book that I would have picked up, had I found it outside of a book bundle. While I don’t have any problem reading books aimed at children, I find that my standards for them are tougher than they are for adult books. Maybe because I grew up with things like Pixar films that can be appreciated by all ages, but dumbed down children’s fiction does nothing for me. But in this case, the premise seemed interesting enough that I could take more of a chance.
Found follows Jonah Skidmore, an ordinary teenage boy who has never thought anything about his being adopted as a baby. It is only when he and his new friend Chip, who has only just discovered that he was adopted, start getting mysterious letters of warning that he wonders whether he should be concerned about who his birth parents were. When he digs into his origins though, he finds himself entangled in a mystery that involves the FBI, a vast smuggling operation and people who appear and disappear in seemingly impossible ways. When Found started on a really intriguing scene, that of an aeroplane appearing out of thin air and containing 36 babies and no flight crew, I was really hopeful. It’s nothing if not an arresting image, so you can imagine what I hoped that it would turn into. As it turned out, I would be disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, the story itself was decent enough, but it just needed to be tighter, go through a few rewrites. As it was, Found was decent enough, but had a few things just annoying enough to ruin the expectations that I’d had for this. First of all, the characters mostly ended up being generically teenager instead of especially interesting by themselves. They were all kind of dim, overly concerned with what is and is not “cool” for their age group, and seemed to have really spotty memories about a topic that they’ve been focusing on for several weeks by the end of the book. For instance, there’s a bit where they meet a woman who saw the plane that Jonah and Chip were on as babies, and she posits that there was time travel involved. Chip’s reaction to this is to mock her relentlessly for her crackpot theories, completely ignoring the fact that one of the documents he has in his possession at that very moment contains information that they had previously established would be impossible to have without something like, oh I don’t know, fucking TIME TRAVEL! Like, if you wanted to have him be that sceptical, don’t provide him with reason to believe the theories that he mocks. Additionally, it seems at odds with his willingness to believe another character’s assertion that she saw a ghost, just because she says so. I just need consistency, please. Secondly, there seems to be this weirdly specific body language or voice tone going on throughout the book. I can appreciate communicating additional information or context with either body language or tone of voice, because that’s a thing that people do, obviously. But in Found this is made into so specific and exact a form of communication that it becomes really distracting. Lastly, it just started to drag, with little of actual substance happening between Jonah and his family meeting the FBI to discuss his adoption, and the showdown in the latter third. It’s the three main characters investigating, poorly, and getting more and more panicky because of the vague and menacing dangers around them. It did pick up at the end, but by then my experience had been tainted by the slog of the beginning and middle thirds. And if I’m bored then I can’t imagine a child or young teenager will do much better.
Found ends on a cliff-hanger, but I don’t know if I’d deliberately go out of my way to continue reading the series. The characters are pretty much just generic young teens and haven’t got much interesting about each of them individually. The writing can be distracting at times, with the sort of annoying writing tics that draw you out of your immersion. And while it did pick up towards the end, the first two thirds seemed to drag interminably through a pretty shabby investigation. Not terrible, but not particularly great either. 3/5
Finally, we come to Acceptance, the last part of the Southern Reach trilogy, and it has quite a lot to live up to and possibly explain. I was really looking forward to finding out how everything would be tied up, and tucked into this with cautious enthusiasm. Spoilers will follow for Annihilation and Authority.
Following the collapse of Southern Reach when the border of Area X suddenly expanded, Control and the clone of the biologist, answering only to Ghost Bird, travel to the as-yet-uncharted island. Together they hope to find answers about how to get back home and what happened to the original biologist. The narrative also flashes back to the perspectives of Saul Evans, the lighthouse keeper who will eventually become the Crawler, and the former director as she prepares herself for being part of the first and final twelfth expedition into Area X. I had a quick look over the reviews for Acceptance before starting my writing again, and I have just one thing to say about the main criticism that I saw levelled at this last installment. To those who have read Acceptance and were disappointed that everything wasn’t explained in minute detail: were we reading the same series? I mentioned in my review of Authority that I didn’t have more of an idea what was happening, I had a firmer grip on how the world and the people in it worked, and I’m quite happy to say the same for Acceptance. And honestly, I’m okay with that as an ending. For me, the Southern Reach series was never about explaining Area X, it was about how humans fare when they inevitably try and make it into something tame and conquerable. A novel, at it’s best, is about documenting how people react to unusual, challenging settings or situations. And honestly, it would have been more disappointing if VanderMeer had just shoved in a load of last minute, bullshit answers just to placate readers who can’t handle a bit of uncertainty. The Southern Reach series has never been super-detailed science-fiction, so why anyone would think that it would suddenly turn into that in the final installment is beyond me. For me, it was always about the journey of the biologist/Ghost Bird and Control. It was about how they both adapt to their new situation in their own separate ways. And in that sense, Acceptance more than succeeded.
For those people looking for concrete answers, look elsewhere. That wasn’t the style of Annihilation or Authority, so to expect details at this stage is just baffling. The character arcs are the most important aspect of Acceptance by far, and they are handled perfectly. This conclusion is about as open-ended as you can get, but that is just fine with me. 5/5