3.5 stars.

As a sequel, this was pretty satisfying — consistent with the first book in tone and style (appropriate since it’s set just shortly after that ending), minus the paradigm shifts that came with further world-building and new ethical dilemmas. (It’s just a little disappointing that the ther kids don’t play a larger role; at the end of the first book, Matt was picturing how each of them could find a place in Opium, whereas in this book they seem more like a burden to him.) Third-person limited POV (Matt’s) can be limiting since he of course doesn’t realize which of his behaviors and thoughts are problematic; sometimes it’s easy for a reader with basic empathy to recognize, but other times it plays into a toxic status quo.

The dearth of complex female characters is mildly dismaying; admittedly the drug dystopia portrayed is extremely patriarchal, but even the women who spend most of their time offstage and might reasonably be shown as complex and independently motivated (Esperanza, Celia, Sor Artemisia, to name the most visible) are pretty flat — particularly disappointing considering what integral roles Celia and Esperanza in particular played in the first book. Mirasol’s storyline in particular is concerning in a variety of ways, consent foremost among them; the overlap with María’s storyline (yes, I do mean love triangle, unfortunately) is also dismaying, compounded by María’s extremely limited agency. Listen and Ton-Ton and Chacho were much more compelling, though the boys’ role felt more like a cameo and Listen’s like a sidekick.

Ultimately, the primary characters are just kids, simultaneously recovering from trauma yet sheltered from the world in different ways; the secondary adult characters are set in their ways but mostly not bad people. The setting is still vivid, even bigger than the first book lets on. However, the characters and plot undergo only minimal development, which I found disappointing.