octavia_cade's Reviews (2.64k)

This is very much in the same vein as the first book, but I admit to not liking it quite as much. That is entirely down to the protagonist, as Alex is far less sympathetic than Miranda. In fairness, he's a very different kid: from an extremely religious and quite conservative family, and trying to hold his two younger sisters together after both their parents die, so he lacks the support that Miranda does. He can also be, it must be said, a sexist authoritarian little shit, which is why I found it so hard to warm to him. In fairness, he does have many good qualities and he improves over time, and the situation that he's in is of the type to magnify anyone's poorest characteristics as well as their best. 

Despite this, even if I don't appreciate him as much as I did Miranda, I do appreciate that Pfeffer has tried to portray a teen protagonist who is so different from the last. I don't read many apocalyptic narratives that are focused on religious characters where religion is presented as not-evil (as in a dystopian cult, for instance), so that was an interesting change. 

I tried but I could not really get into this. There were aspects of it that I liked - the disarmament plot with Spock and Scotty especially - but it was saddled with a desperately unconvincing character that dragged down every scene she was in. Lenore Karidian, former insane murderer from the original series episode "The Conscience of the King" is brought back some decades later, having undergone treatment and with restored sanity. Supposedly, anyway, because she is deeply unconvinced of her own rehabilitation - which is quite tedious to read, but worse is the absolute hammering of Shakespeare that occurs whenever she's in a room. And yeah, Karidian is a Shakespearean actress, but does this single characteristic really have to be inserted into every other sentence she spouts?

As characterisation it comes across as very heavy-handed, and I was thoroughly sick of her by the end. I was actually hoping the angry mob would kill her, just to get her off the page, but no such luck. 

The seamstress line was the highlight of this for me! The growing relationship between Alana and her father-in-law is really appealing. The giant naked troll (? or whatever he is) and the ongoing bounty-hunter storyline is less compelling, but I appreciate that we have to go back to it periodically to keep the sense of danger going. 

Talking of the troll-thing, I am struggling to think of how the artist could have made him even more repulsive. Great - albeit disgusting - job there by Fiona Staples. I don't even want to know what the lumpy bits encrusting the testicles are, but they are - as they are no doubt meant to be - sincerely off-putting. 

I have to admit, I am in general far more interested in stories like this - domestic family relationships - than I am the hunting and chasing and weird characters with the television heads. It's more emotionally resonant, and given the weight of history on both the main pairing, it's no surprise that Marko's parents are deeply sceptical of his relationship with Alana. Not just sceptical, even... actively hostile might be a bit of an overstatement, but not by much. This is where speculative fiction can really do well, using metaphors to illuminate real life; not that anything in this particular issue is groundbreaking in that respect. It's more continuing on a tradition, but the need for the metaphor remains, unfortunately, and so we'll keep getting stories like this until it doesn't. 

I have to admit that, while reading this, I was constantly putting the book down and going online to look at pictures of Mesa Verde and the archaeological ruins there. There's such a sense of place in these books, set in national parks as they are, and being able to get actual visuals of the places where Anna is working and investigating is so useful. (Not to mention the fact that I now have another entry on my bucket list.)

That being said, while I liked this novel I did figure out what was going on relatively early - in one sense, at least. I hardly ever get the actual culprits right and didn't this time either, but so much of the problem here was based on science that I had a fairly good idea what was causing all the illnesses and deaths. It's fun to be right, although given my history with murder mysteries it'll probably be ten years before I get to be right again. 

The characterisation here is excellent, but the book moves slower than a wet week. I've finally finished the first volume and it appears that some sort of plot has actually developed - in both senses of the word. I'm interested to see what will happen, but I do wish it would happen a little faster. 

The covers on these books really are amazing - all credit to the artist, because they're doing a fantastic job!

It's in service of a fun story too. Alex heads home after the fungal nightmare of the House of Usher and gets deeply unlucky. There's a new horror to contend with, a breath-stealing ghostly creature known as a moroi that's sucking the life out of people. Alex is such an entertaining narrator, both compassionate and wry, but I can't get away from the fact that, for a horror, I was not for a second horrified. This is in stark contrast to the first book in the series, which I actually had to stop reading late one night because I was so disturbed and wanted to save the rest for daylight. 

Don't get me wrong: it's a very well-written and enjoyable book. But fundamentally I want my horror to be scary, and this just wasn't. 

I can see why this became so popular. The biggest strength, I think, is the protagonist. Sixteen year old Miranda is very human, by which I mean she experiences the apocalypse as many of us would: with quite a lot of resentment and whinging. She has many good qualities too, of course, but let's not pretend that a slow, freezing death, trapped in close quarters with family (with anyone) is something to be experienced with pie-eyed optimism. The constant focus on food, too, is realistic, as is the struggles of everyday life: how to do laundry in winter with no running water and no electricity, for instance.

I complain quite a lot, when it comes to post-apocalyptic stories, about how they tend to focus on over-the-top conflicts and - far too depressingly often - sexual assault. I'm pleased to say there's none of that here. The setting, and the conflicts, are entirely domestic and entirely small-scale. They're absolutely relatable, and if the really grim tone of the book is undercut by the sudden happy-ish ending I'm still pleased to see the main character live. 

I find the mechanism of apocalypse here generally unconvincing, but handwavium on the science. That litany of natural disaster becomes almost comical at one point - how much more could go wrong? - but the realism of the characters makes up for it somewhat. 

I read and reviewed the six issues collected here separately, so this is basically for my own records. Monstress is a fantastic series, and the absolute highlight of it, for me, is the art. There's a very art deco feel to it, which is not the first style I'd have come up with for a complex story about witch-Inquisitors in a war with magical hybrids. Yet it really works, and even only six issues in I feel as if I could be handed an illustration from any part of Monstress and immediately identify it as part of the series. It's that distinctive.

The story itself is almost as fascinating, and if I'm less enthused about the demon monster inside Maika, I love the political nature of the story: the shifting alliances and (often unclear) motivations of multiple sets of actors. Hardly anyone here is what they seem, either to the reader or the other characters, and I find that sort of thing so compelling as a reader. 

I think that the most interesting thing about this series for me - well, the second most interesting, after the art - is the constantly shifting web of allegiances that's going on both in the foreground and the background. As a reader, it really makes me wonder who can be trusted and what their ultimate motivation is, which is a type of treacherous narrative that I really enjoy. As a writer, I can only imagine the terrifying notes and drafts and flowcharts and post-its that must make up Liu's creative process... it must have been a massive effort to develop and keep track of!