I’ve been struggling with how to describe this novel, other than it’s often pensive and irregularly balanced for a “dystopian” story. Finally, I came to the conclusion (after 3 pages of notes) that it needs to be read because of the struggle it shows and invokes in us. That may not be very helpful, but as stubborn and intellectual Cedar says at the start, “...maybe you’ll understand. Or not. I’ll write this anyway…” I mean...what do you record for a possible life in a world unknown to you?
Unmoored by the loss of her first love, Poe Blythe has created deadly armor to protect the Outposts last dredge as it sets sail to pan for gold. Led by a man known only as The Admiral, Poe's grief and anger serves a purpose. But when her ship is attacked by drifters downriver, Poe's faith is tested. Why do the drifters hate the dredge?
Poe's survival depends on more than her engineering skills, but who can she trust?
I've come to expect a certain element of speechlessness every time I finish a Shusterman novel. A few audible gasps, some moments of gripping the pages so tightly in effort not to fall over in terror, etc. – the usual. However, I was not prepared for the thriller/urgent call to environmental action that is Dry. It's terrifyingly relevant to consider the ramifications of living in a world that's out of drinkable water. And the father-son Shusterman duo push this near-future dystopian narrative along around multi-dimensional and complex characters to wrestle with the question of how far desperation can take humans away from their humanity. It's been days since I read it, but I'm still haunted by this book.
This is a book about relationships wrapped in the a guise of apocalyptic-landscapes, strange biotech, nameless cities, and survival-horror.
Come for the 5-story tall bear and feral, ruthless children.
Stay for the soul-crushing exposition of personal connections torn apart by guilt and distrust.
Kickbutt protagonist Abbie has superpowers that get her in trouble wherever she goes, but she's trying to return her mother's ashes to her homeland. Magruder's art style shifts seamlessly from lush and expansive to quirky and expressive as she respectively focuses on world- and character-building. For fans of Marjorie Liu, Faith Erin Hicks, and those who wish Cece Bell's El Deafo was set in a dystopian desert wasteland.
