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A review by reader_fictions
Wasteland by Susan Kim, Laurence Klavan
1.0
I like to begin my reviews with the good stuff about a book in most cases, before transitioning into my criticisms. Well, here's what I can offer about Wasteland: it's an easy read. The fairly simple sentences are quick to plow through. Also, it's mostly boring, which actually ended up being a sort of good thing, since, when it isn't boring, unfortunate things are generally happening. Be warned that there will be spoilers toward the end of this review.
The World Building
The foundation of this post-apocalyptic world is shaky at best. Having finished, I have little to no idea what happened to the world or how long ago. There are a couple of vague references to some sort of climactic changes, violent earthquakes and so forth, but that's not really enough. I want to know why the rain makes people sick and how the Variants came to be. The sun shines hotter and more damaging, presumably a result of a further decreased ozone layer. While I understand that the characters might not know much, authors generally can find a way to give the readers a bit more than that.
What made me so determined to really know what had happened was a desire to figure out how things had gotten this way, because everything seemed inconsistent. The events can't have been THAT long ago or I doubt the kids would still be surviving off of supplies from the industrial age. There's even one building still using gas for power. If it hasn't been that long, then why is every single adult dead? It sounds like people die young because of how hard life is or because of how easy it is to stumble into infected water and become diseased, but a few adults should still be around, right? Yet, it seems that no one can live past the age of nineteen. WHY? You can't just set a specific age like that and not explain it!
About the supplies, Wasteland differs from every other post-apocalyptic novel I've read in that regard. See, usually, humans, at least in the years following the disaster, survive largely off of canned goods while figuring out how to subsistence farm. Here, though, the kids don't try to learn farming or hunting of animals (survivalists, they are not) and live ONLY off of supplies left from before the whatever-the-fuck smashed society. Plus, apparently all of the canned goods have spoiled and only the dry goods are edible. I was puzzled by this reversal of what I'd read before, so I went to look in my pantry. The canned goods definitely have letter expiration dates and are less vulnerable to bugs and other animals. Everything about this was just weird to me.
So these kids, right? They live in this town of rotted buildings they call Prin. The oldest ones are around 18. At the age of five, they start work. They have three jobs: Gleaning (???), Harvesting (searching far and wide for more stuff in houses and cars), and Excavation (digging). This does not make for survival, people. Even once you learn the bad guy's plans, it's only a short term solution. This whole "society" is TSTL. Any time after twelve, they start partnering off, which is basically getting married. Am I the only one who thinks it's weird that they're all settling down into monogamous relationships. It's weird if you don't, and I don't feel like that's not the most natural pattern for a bunch of teenagers to fall into, even if they would supposedly be more mature do to the brief lifespan and early age at which they begin "work."
Moving on, we're to the point where I have to talk about the last big element of the world building: the Variants. So, for no reason that is apparent, there are these Variants, insultingly known as "mutants" who are hermaphroditic, and get to choose their own gender when they come of age. They're wild and sort of live off the land, at least more than the "norms" do. I was concerned about this as soon as I read the blurb, but I really try to give authors the benefit of the doubt. I mean, WHY would you put that in for no reason? Well, I don't know, but that sure seems to be the case.
So, the Variants, for one thing, are almost NEVER actually referred to by that term, instead called "mutants" pretty much always. They're portrayed as feral and wild and lesser, but, hey, that's from the perspective of the people of Prin and they might learn something, right? Plus, Esther is friends with a variant named Skar, so surely their friendship will be the bond that helps them come to terms! Not so much. Instead, the Variants cease being peaceful and begin attacking Prin all at the behest of the bad guy (which is sort of a spoiler, but it's so damn obvious that I really don't care). When this is finally figured out by a townsperson, this happens:
For one bright, shining second there, it seems as though the light is dawning and someone has learned how horrific they've been this whole time. Then it all comes crashing down. Great, the hermaphrodites aren't evil monsters after all; they're just "poor and pathetic." That's so much better. Actually, no. Needless though this should be to say, I'll say it clearly: I find this egregiously offensive.
On the other hand, I will say that the Variants do seem much more suited to life in this world and that they have a much more intelligent speech pattern than the norms, who mostly speak in dialect. How the Variants ended up better-educated is another mystery, but we'll let that go. These things make me think that, in the end, this is intended to be a positive depiction, but it doesn't go anywhere near counteracting everything else.
Worse, the Variants hardly appear in the story, and, when they do, they take on the role of villain or pawn. Even once a shaky alliance is formed, they're compared to the Native Americans with the norms taking on the role of the more "civilized" settlers. This comparison is perhaps meant to be touching, but I find it seriously upsetting, considering how that turned out in history and the fact that the Variants aren't even invited to the meal they provided. Nor was there ever ANY reason for the Variants to be hermaphroditic, which makes everything even worse.
The Writing
I don't usually mention this, but Wasteland has a heck of a lot of telling. The only emotions I felt as I flipped through were irritation, anger and disgust, caused by the offensive nature of the world and the hackneyed romance. I should have felt fear for the characters and hope for the romance, but there's no effort made to show us how these kids really are. Everything is delineated. Esther does not fit in. Caleb is strong but tortured. They're in love now. Umm, okay. The telling is to the extent that scenes that might have been interesting are completely skipped, and the reader starts a new chapter with no idea how the characters got to where they are and has to read a short infodump to explain what was missed. None of those sections included twists or had any plot reason to be skipped. So far as I could tell, they happened solely to avoid showing things.
Kim and Klavan also made the questionable decision to use third person limited with rotating POVs. Of course, this storytelling method can be used quite effectively, but Wasteland is a good example of what not to do. The point of using a limited third person perspective is to allow for a closeness to the characters, while still being restricted to their knowledge. The characters all remain quite distant, perhaps because of how often the POV shifts. The POV moves almost at random, going into most of the named characters' heads at one time or another, and even some who don't even merit names. Several POVs show up only once, which is almost always a terrible authorial move, and certainly is here.
The Characters
As you probably expect by this juncture in the review, I was not impressed with Kim and Klavan's characterization either. The only character who is even remotely dynamic is Esther, who still remains flat and unreal. All of the others have but one motivation driving their existence and lack the complexities that make a character written on a page come to life. It's a sad day when I feel like the most realistic character is the baby, because at least they don't really have personalities yet anyway. Oh, and they all have Biblical names, even though there's nothing else said about the Bible or any reason why a bunch of teens on their own would just happen to choose Biblical names for their offspring.
The Plot
Every single bit of Wasteland felt like I had read it before, and where the book was headed always felt glaringly obvious. Now, to be fair, I've read about 150 dystopian and post-apocalyptic stories at this point, so I've got a bit more experience under my belt than the average reader. Still, I expect more from my books, and am not impressed when I read a post-apocalyptic novel that feels like it's cobbled together from pieces of what came before, a blundering Frankenstein monster of a book.
On the plus side, the plot does not focus on the romance, though it might as well have, since Kim and Klavan do not take the time to set the romance they felt compelled to include effectively and there wasn't a whole hell of a lot going on anyway. The plot consists almost entirely of the town needing to figure out that Levi, the obvious bad guy, is evil, and then figure out a way to throw off his rule. In the meantime, he hires the Variants to attack and they worry about that. Mostly, Esther runs around and thinks about how she doesn't fit in.
Then Caleb comes to town, defeats some Variants, proving what a sexy badass he is. He and Esther do not like each other on their first two encounters. On the third, they are suddenly inexplicably drawn to one another. Within the course of a handful of meetings, in which they don't do much talking or bonding, they fall in love and partner. As I mentioned before, we're told how in love they are, not made to feel it:
What makes this even more upsetting for me is that Caleb was actually partnered before, his wife murdered and child kidnapped. His sole motivation is finding his son and revenging himself on whoever did that to his family. Yet we never learn anything about his bond with his partner or even what her name was. We're told he loved Nameless but that he feels even more strongly about Esther in a matter of days. Everything about their relationship is rushed and unbelievable. Telling the reader something is true doesn't make it believable. This is lazy writing, and I'm getting really tired of seeing it in young adult fiction.
I am also getting sick of these idealized sex scenes. Caleb and Esther have kissed once, when they find each other after a worrisome separation and partner. Once they're partnered, conditions are right for making love obviously. Here's how that goes, according to Kim and Klavan: "Soon, they were moving together, awkwardly, then expertly, bright with sweat" (239-240 of the ARC). Now, I do appreciate the nod to awkwardness, but I'm seriously supposed to believe Esther and Caleb are having expert-level sex not just on their first time, but Esther's first time ever. This is not a realistic expectation to be giving to teen readers, and it's not like adding expertly to the description makes the scene any sexier, since that was the whole of it.
Then, there's the bad guy, Levi. He lives in fear of the sun and the water, never leaving the Source, his fortress. He's skinny, pale, dark-haired, and weak, but possessed of a might intellect and can make people work for him. He turns out to be driven solely by the desire to destroy the life of his brotherCaleb (SHOCK!) , because their parents didn't want the sickly kid and got rid of Levi. What is with this trend of the evil characters in dystopian/post-apocalyptic lit being related to one of the MCs? It's not surprising anymore, so can we stop? What really takes the cake is that, at the end, Levi is easily defeated by Caleb, while Esther runs off with Caleb's baby because gender roles, and commits suicide, so that Caleb doesn't have to get his hands dirty by killing anyone, except maybe some Variants at the beginning, but they hardly count. Fuck this shit. I'm done.
In Conclusion
It's not often that I say this, but I recommend Wasteland to absolutely no one. It's sole redeeming quality is that it's an easy, fast read, by nature of the simple sentences, which is no reason to read something. Every element in here has been done better elsewhere. Do yourself a favor: go read [b:Blood Red Road|9917938|Blood Red Road (Dust Lands, #1)|Moira Young|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1293651959s/9917938.jpg|14692536] or [b:Ashfall|9644151|Ashfall (Ashfall, #1)|Mike Mullin|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1301592315s/9644151.jpg|14531613] instead.
The World Building
The foundation of this post-apocalyptic world is shaky at best. Having finished, I have little to no idea what happened to the world or how long ago. There are a couple of vague references to some sort of climactic changes, violent earthquakes and so forth, but that's not really enough. I want to know why the rain makes people sick and how the Variants came to be. The sun shines hotter and more damaging, presumably a result of a further decreased ozone layer. While I understand that the characters might not know much, authors generally can find a way to give the readers a bit more than that.
What made me so determined to really know what had happened was a desire to figure out how things had gotten this way, because everything seemed inconsistent. The events can't have been THAT long ago or I doubt the kids would still be surviving off of supplies from the industrial age. There's even one building still using gas for power. If it hasn't been that long, then why is every single adult dead? It sounds like people die young because of how hard life is or because of how easy it is to stumble into infected water and become diseased, but a few adults should still be around, right? Yet, it seems that no one can live past the age of nineteen. WHY? You can't just set a specific age like that and not explain it!
About the supplies, Wasteland differs from every other post-apocalyptic novel I've read in that regard. See, usually, humans, at least in the years following the disaster, survive largely off of canned goods while figuring out how to subsistence farm. Here, though, the kids don't try to learn farming or hunting of animals (survivalists, they are not) and live ONLY off of supplies left from before the whatever-the-fuck smashed society. Plus, apparently all of the canned goods have spoiled and only the dry goods are edible. I was puzzled by this reversal of what I'd read before, so I went to look in my pantry. The canned goods definitely have letter expiration dates and are less vulnerable to bugs and other animals. Everything about this was just weird to me.
So these kids, right? They live in this town of rotted buildings they call Prin. The oldest ones are around 18. At the age of five, they start work. They have three jobs: Gleaning (???), Harvesting (searching far and wide for more stuff in houses and cars), and Excavation (digging). This does not make for survival, people. Even once you learn the bad guy's plans, it's only a short term solution. This whole "society" is TSTL. Any time after twelve, they start partnering off, which is basically getting married. Am I the only one who thinks it's weird that they're all settling down into monogamous relationships. It's weird if you don't, and I don't feel like that's not the most natural pattern for a bunch of teenagers to fall into, even if they would supposedly be more mature do to the brief lifespan and early age at which they begin "work."
Moving on, we're to the point where I have to talk about the last big element of the world building: the Variants. So, for no reason that is apparent, there are these Variants, insultingly known as "mutants" who are hermaphroditic, and get to choose their own gender when they come of age. They're wild and sort of live off the land, at least more than the "norms" do. I was concerned about this as soon as I read the blurb, but I really try to give authors the benefit of the doubt. I mean, WHY would you put that in for no reason? Well, I don't know, but that sure seems to be the case.
So, the Variants, for one thing, are almost NEVER actually referred to by that term, instead called "mutants" pretty much always. They're portrayed as feral and wild and lesser, but, hey, that's from the perspective of the people of Prin and they might learn something, right? Plus, Esther is friends with a variant named Skar, so surely their friendship will be the bond that helps them come to terms! Not so much. Instead, the Variants cease being peaceful and begin attacking Prin all at the behest of the bad guy (which is sort of a spoiler, but it's so damn obvious that I really don't care). When this is finally figured out by a townsperson, this happens:
"Mutants.
For the first time, Caleb thought of the ugly word, one he had used a thousand times without thinking, and he winced, for they, the variants, were nothing but pawns, poor and pathetic."
- Page 193 of the ARC; note that quotes could change in the finished copy
For one bright, shining second there, it seems as though the light is dawning and someone has learned how horrific they've been this whole time. Then it all comes crashing down. Great, the hermaphrodites aren't evil monsters after all; they're just "poor and pathetic." That's so much better. Actually, no. Needless though this should be to say, I'll say it clearly: I find this egregiously offensive.
On the other hand, I will say that the Variants do seem much more suited to life in this world and that they have a much more intelligent speech pattern than the norms, who mostly speak in dialect. How the Variants ended up better-educated is another mystery, but we'll let that go. These things make me think that, in the end, this is intended to be a positive depiction, but it doesn't go anywhere near counteracting everything else.
Worse, the Variants hardly appear in the story, and, when they do, they take on the role of villain or pawn. Even once a shaky alliance is formed, they're compared to the Native Americans with the norms taking on the role of the more "civilized" settlers. This comparison is perhaps meant to be touching, but I find it seriously upsetting, considering how that turned out in history and the fact that the Variants aren't even invited to the meal they provided. Nor was there ever ANY reason for the Variants to be hermaphroditic, which makes everything even worse.
The Writing
I don't usually mention this, but Wasteland has a heck of a lot of telling. The only emotions I felt as I flipped through were irritation, anger and disgust, caused by the offensive nature of the world and the hackneyed romance. I should have felt fear for the characters and hope for the romance, but there's no effort made to show us how these kids really are. Everything is delineated. Esther does not fit in. Caleb is strong but tortured. They're in love now. Umm, okay. The telling is to the extent that scenes that might have been interesting are completely skipped, and the reader starts a new chapter with no idea how the characters got to where they are and has to read a short infodump to explain what was missed. None of those sections included twists or had any plot reason to be skipped. So far as I could tell, they happened solely to avoid showing things.
Kim and Klavan also made the questionable decision to use third person limited with rotating POVs. Of course, this storytelling method can be used quite effectively, but Wasteland is a good example of what not to do. The point of using a limited third person perspective is to allow for a closeness to the characters, while still being restricted to their knowledge. The characters all remain quite distant, perhaps because of how often the POV shifts. The POV moves almost at random, going into most of the named characters' heads at one time or another, and even some who don't even merit names. Several POVs show up only once, which is almost always a terrible authorial move, and certainly is here.
The Characters
As you probably expect by this juncture in the review, I was not impressed with Kim and Klavan's characterization either. The only character who is even remotely dynamic is Esther, who still remains flat and unreal. All of the others have but one motivation driving their existence and lack the complexities that make a character written on a page come to life. It's a sad day when I feel like the most realistic character is the baby, because at least they don't really have personalities yet anyway. Oh, and they all have Biblical names, even though there's nothing else said about the Bible or any reason why a bunch of teens on their own would just happen to choose Biblical names for their offspring.
The Plot
Every single bit of Wasteland felt like I had read it before, and where the book was headed always felt glaringly obvious. Now, to be fair, I've read about 150 dystopian and post-apocalyptic stories at this point, so I've got a bit more experience under my belt than the average reader. Still, I expect more from my books, and am not impressed when I read a post-apocalyptic novel that feels like it's cobbled together from pieces of what came before, a blundering Frankenstein monster of a book.
On the plus side, the plot does not focus on the romance, though it might as well have, since Kim and Klavan do not take the time to set the romance they felt compelled to include effectively and there wasn't a whole hell of a lot going on anyway. The plot consists almost entirely of the town needing to figure out that Levi, the obvious bad guy, is evil, and then figure out a way to throw off his rule. In the meantime, he hires the Variants to attack and they worry about that. Mostly, Esther runs around and thinks about how she doesn't fit in.
Then Caleb comes to town, defeats some Variants, proving what a sexy badass he is. He and Esther do not like each other on their first two encounters. On the third, they are suddenly inexplicably drawn to one another. Within the course of a handful of meetings, in which they don't do much talking or bonding, they fall in love and partner. As I mentioned before, we're told how in love they are, not made to feel it:
"But something had shifted inside her, a strange new emotion moving into the other. Her desire to ease Caleb's suffering had been joined with another desire, one even more powerful, like two streams meeting and converging in a riverbed, mingling in a current against which she had no strength.
She had never known this feeling before."
- Page 199 of the ARC; note that quotes could change in the finished copy
What makes this even more upsetting for me is that Caleb was actually partnered before, his wife murdered and child kidnapped. His sole motivation is finding his son and revenging himself on whoever did that to his family. Yet we never learn anything about his bond with his partner or even what her name was. We're told he loved Nameless but that he feels even more strongly about Esther in a matter of days. Everything about their relationship is rushed and unbelievable. Telling the reader something is true doesn't make it believable. This is lazy writing, and I'm getting really tired of seeing it in young adult fiction.
I am also getting sick of these idealized sex scenes. Caleb and Esther have kissed once, when they find each other after a worrisome separation and partner. Once they're partnered, conditions are right for making love obviously. Here's how that goes, according to Kim and Klavan: "Soon, they were moving together, awkwardly, then expertly, bright with sweat" (239-240 of the ARC). Now, I do appreciate the nod to awkwardness, but I'm seriously supposed to believe Esther and Caleb are having expert-level sex not just on their first time, but Esther's first time ever. This is not a realistic expectation to be giving to teen readers, and it's not like adding expertly to the description makes the scene any sexier, since that was the whole of it.
Then, there's the bad guy, Levi. He lives in fear of the sun and the water, never leaving the Source, his fortress. He's skinny, pale, dark-haired, and weak, but possessed of a might intellect and can make people work for him. He turns out to be driven solely by the desire to destroy the life of his brother
In Conclusion
It's not often that I say this, but I recommend Wasteland to absolutely no one. It's sole redeeming quality is that it's an easy, fast read, by nature of the simple sentences, which is no reason to read something. Every element in here has been done better elsewhere. Do yourself a favor: go read [b:Blood Red Road|9917938|Blood Red Road (Dust Lands, #1)|Moira Young|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1293651959s/9917938.jpg|14692536] or [b:Ashfall|9644151|Ashfall (Ashfall, #1)|Mike Mullin|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1301592315s/9644151.jpg|14531613] instead.