Book Review: Divergent

“We've all started to put down the virtues of the other factions in the process of bolstering our own. I don't want to do that. I want to be brave, and selfless, and smart, and kind, and honest."

I am breaking one of my rules.  I am reviewing a book before its whole series gets a review, and the whole series is out.  Tough beans, I guess.  I think it's because the movie just came out, and so we need this book review out in the universe for those who like to read books before going to movies, and for those who don't read books until I review them.  Don't lie.  I know you're out there.  Because I am just that awesome.  So, here's a book review for Divergent.

  

You had to have known that at some point, my dystopia obsesion would rear its ugly head once again.  It was, quite frankly, inevitable.  But we've also discussed that I'm kind of a dystopia snob, and this one just doesn't quite make the cut.  I saw it described as an action book with "dystopic" happenings.  I think that may even be a little generous. 

 First, let's start with a question. "Why do I like dystopia so much?"  Well, because I believe that dystopias answer questions about ourselves we couldn't otherwise answer.  It's a form of self-analysis.  Do how did Divergent fail?  Quite frankly, it didn't achieve self-analysis.  Because it fails to understand people, and its world-building isn't even internally consistent, let alone consistent with humanity.

Divergent takes place in a world where people are split into "factions," which were formed to eliminate conflict and/or human suffering.  The founders of each faction created them according to what they believed caused human suffering.  The founders of Erudite believed it to be ignorance--thus their faction cares about no virtue or pursuit other than intelligence.   The founders of Dauntless sought to eliminate cowardice, and became dedicated to the pursuit of bravery and general dare-devilry.  Candor blamed deceit and became perfectly--and painfully--honest.  Amity blamed aggression and became peace-loving hippies, essentially.  Abnegation blamed selfishness, so they are like the in-universe Amish that also do service projects.  In this universe, when you turn sixteen, you take this mind-game simulator test that says what faction you would best fit into.  And then you get to choose: stay in your parents' faction, go to your aptitude faction (which may be your parents' faction), or go to another faction entirely.  It's a little interesting that this dystopia gives you the choice, but I also see dystopian value in that, so I'll be accepting of that.

Beatrice Prior, Abnegation by birth, gets her aptitude test and learns that her results are inconclusive.  She is Divergent, and fits in more than one faction, including her birth faction.  Then she learns that being Divergent may not be a good thing and is told to tell nobody about her divergence. She rejects her heritage and joins Dauntless, but now must live through the Dauntless initiation, which isn't like Abnegations which consists of service projects, but consists of psychological torture, beating each to a pulp and "facing fears." But can the society even live through the turmoil happening throughout the city?

So here's the thing:  first of all, humans are not simple creatures.  I would say that you would be divergent from the human race if your values, virtues and impulses could be put into one of those pigeon holes.  I think it's weird to fit, not to not.  I told someone who enjoyed the book that, and she said that's because I wasn't raised in a world where you are taught that you have to choose one only.  I responded that I think our "multi-facetedness" is nature, not nurture.  She implicated later on in the series that I would learn why the people were that way--that somehow they had been genetically altered or something.  I don't know if that is true, but if it is, what's the point of this human-society analysis then, if their nature has been scientifically tampered with?

Second thing:  In this society, each faction has a role.  The Erudite are researchers; Dauntless are soldiers and cops; Amity are the caretakers, healthcare workers; Candor are the interpreters of laws; Abnegation are the government (theoretically, they're incorruptible).  But if the factions actually believed that their anti-virtues were the sole cause of human suffering, they would form their own societies and not associate at all with the other factions.  No Amity would make a society with the acknowledgement that aggression is necessary, yet they participate in a society where Dauntless are said to have value and purpose.  The Abnegation see education as a selfish form of pride, and yet, by have societal association with the Erudite, the acknowledge that it has value.

Well, you're probably thinking I'm being inconsistent.  I am saying that they're too extreme for human nature, but that they aren't extreme enough.  I am just using their logic.  And trust me, it's not one of those "which do you value most highly" things.  These people have no regard for other virtues or ideas.  The only thing that matters to a Candor is honesty.  The only thing a Dauntless cares about is "bravery."  So, why are they indirectly saying, "But we need other values, too?"

So, conclusion...how can you analyze human nature when you, the author, appear to have no understanding whatsoever of human nature?

Next on the docket:  What is with minimally likeable female leads that somehow score the perfect boyfriends?  Four/Tobias (Tobias? Really? Let's stick with Four.  Tobias is the little lackey in Sweeney Todd) is understanding, and gorgeous, and sensitive, protective, yet vulnerable, smart and basically an all-around keeper.  Tris has few redeeming qualities.  Maybe more than Katniss.  Maybe.  I will give her that.  But how come Four even likes her?  Maybe that's just a manifestation of the lifelong effects of battered children.

Then there's the obvious fact that it is a not-as-good version of The Hunger Games.  Complete with the worst part of The Hunger Games--present-tense prose!  This trend of present-tense prose really, really needs to end.  Now.

Despite all of this, I couldn't stop reading it once it got going.  I had to know what happened, even though I could predict much of it (not all, but much).  The problem is that it didn't "get going" until about page 200.  The book is 484 pages long.

One interesting thing, however.  I was driving to work, and on the radio, they had a sociologist or something like that on.  She was trying to analyze why the book was only really successful amongst teenagers.  Most YA books have equal success in the early-twenties category, and some success across all age categories.  Not Divergent.  Her theory?  Because Divergent is a high school.  You choose your clique.  That clique then becomes the only thing important to you.  More important than your family.   "Faction before blood" as they say in this world.  Then you proceed to spend the next 4 years of your life trying to convince your clique that you deserve to be in that clique at all.  And that is why Divergent is a high school.

I could continue, but let me say that we get a 2 stars, 3 stars being generous.  I will probably read the other  two for cultural literacy's sake, and because I want to know what happens later.  Perhaps it redeems itself.  But they are definitely not as smart as the Hunger Games, and don't even approach the great dystopias like Fahrenheit 451, Harrison Bergeron or Ender's Game.  For teen-girl books, though, it's not as bad as Twilight.  Sometimes you have set your standards low, I guess.