#dystopia book

[remedyxtragedy]

IDIOSYNCRATIC EXCERPT (1) --

[The first proper interaction between Calixte & Quelq'un. You will notice throughout the book that who is narrating varies from character to character, but generally speaking the narrator is either in third person with Quelq'un who will be describing events and interactions between characters without directly involving himself, or in first person with Calixte who'll narrate everything from how he sees it only. It's something I will play with quite a lot, but here it's just from Quelq'un's perspective, and this is one of the very few occasions where the readers are given a glimpse into Quelq'un's actual thoughts and feelings]

His eyes lingered on me for a moment, empty and chilled with mystery, sharp and frigid enough it could almost pierce my heart with unease, and for a moment I actually felt myself shift uncomfortably at his stare--an unprofessional response I internally scolded myself for. This continued on for disturbingly long, until finally, out of habit I forced a smile passed my cynicism in attempt to crease the invisible suspense culminating between us, and only then did his gaze falter, his focus calmly shifting elsewhere and no longer did he mutter another word or freakily bore his eyes into my very soul. In that lonesome little corner on my right, he kept to himself and continued to face the landscape that welcomed him beyond the railing, and quickly making note of his very apparent disinterest in conversation, I wordlessly shifted away from him and also returned my attention to the sunset, still slightly shaken by the man's demeanor. Or more accurately actually, how easily he unsettled me--in a way no actor has accomplished before, and believe me, right off the top of my head I can name a good couple of unpleasant characters I've grown to dislike for their just skin crawling convictions and fancies, and yet the haunting plethora of disgraceful things they've confided in me simply do not pale in comparison to Calixte's cavernous gaze. I was torn between finding that deeply alarming, and deeply, deeply fascinating.

An awkward silence roused the moment as we both suddenly went quiet in thought. Well, that much I could say for myself, Mr. Stanhope on the other hand wore such little emotion or...semblance of anything on his face that it was awfully hard to tell whether he too was lost in his own wonderings or if he truly was just mindlessly basking in the scenery. I had to say, this was becoming exceedingly unusual--it was getting to a point of oddity I could no longer dismiss as just existential whiplash. Perhaps over the years I've simply matured to unfairly anticipate a certain, might I say even rational reaction, one conglomerate of fear, denial, and the occasional repulsion, from every new actor I've ever met to aid and foster. They cry, they swear, they crash to their knees and shake their fists vengefully at the sky--it's a whole thing, not always in that particular order, sometimes I've even been met with attempts of violence, but generally there's a course to their crisis that they fall into naturally--stages to their grief that always happen in a very precise order. Humans are always predictable like that, aren't they? Well, clearly not, given Calixte's reaction to everything thus far. Was it all really just a mask of indifference? A front so brilliantly fortified to hide the true terrors restlessly raging inside him that not even I can dissect it? But damn it, I've always had a knack for reading humans! Is a human even physically, mentally, and emotionally capable of appearing so numb and dead? Surely that would cause more damage than just letting your anguish faucet out of you organically. This man knows nothing of me, nor does he know anything of this world at the moment--as far as he's concerned, he gets nothing from channeling his all into this ridiculous tough guy guise. It's a more farcical sounding scenario, sure, but next to the disturbing reality of this actually being his genuine, raw response to his situation that's objectively absurd and frightening, I am more inclined to believe that's what's happening here.

Now that I think about it, he said something odd earlier, didn't he? 'This is all so familiar to me'. The statement in itself was one I've already heard all too many times before so it easily flew over my head, but in a moment of reflection, I find myself suddenly perturbed by just what he implying through those words. I already know long before I approach any newcomer that they will always share that sentiment with all the newcomers that have preceded them--they will always feel a resonation with this world, from the great ball of light that adorns the sky to the trees that stand triumphantly on the ground, they bear vivid memories of those things, at the very least. They are supposed to. Calixte has demonstrated the same, and thensome. Hardly are actors capable of confidently stating that what this world fuels of off, weaves, and declares as indubitably right is actually fundamentally wrong--they've nothing to compare this to, after all. Well, usually. Depending on the actor, how impenetrable their minds are to psychological wiping or how receptive they are to the memory altering properties of this haven, some can be a little more sturdy with their stances, but even then there is a glimmer of uncertainty lingering in their tones I always discern no matter how hard their try to bury it beneath their persistence. Calixte has surprised me tremendously in this regard, not only has he subverted my expectations entirely with his flagrantly unbothered attitude towards just about everything, but he's also carried a firmness in his stances through and through to the extent where I cannot definitively say that he's even slightly unsure in his reiterations that this world is 'built upon the perverse articles and dogma of an even more perverse madman'. Such a strange and specific way to phrase it too. Of course, I'm not allowed to give my thoughts on the...verity, so to speak, of that belief, but as far as stances go, that's the most downright and unequivocal.

But that can't be right. When there's a Newcomer, things are supposed to follow a strict and fixed sequence, nothing should be able to intervene in or change that design. And yet, his terror and apprehension is absent, he hasn't shed a single tear or wept a single pleadful cry, hasn't flailed to his knees in dramatic display and cursed the name he may associate with the sky for his predicament, and his face since he awoke here has been as blank and lifeless as a corpse. His acumen too, is beyond exceptional for a person who should be as reliant on me as an infant is to their father. There's no possible way he can carry his perceptions with that much assurance, unless...there's a chance, he does have something to compare this world to.

"Quelq'un."

The man only called my name, barely above normal volume, and even so, I instantly jolted at the sound of his voice--another unprofessional response I cursed silently at myself for. I had grown so accustomed to the silence that I wasn't prepared for the moment when someone finally broke it and I certainly wasn't expecting Calixte to be that person. I promptly recollected myself and straightened my posture, returning to my expression the same ear-to-ear smile that's become so synonymous with me as I leaned to face the young man who was now, again, gazing intensely at me. "Excuse me for my reaction, I assumed you didn't have anything left to say, and so I let my guard down, but it seems a few questions have occurred to you since then, yes?" I ask with honest curiosity. He did after all only inquire about the more basic and rudimentary things, so I do hope that he's right enough in the head to utilize my insight to his advantage while I'm still here. I'm unquestionably his greatest asset, and so far he's been meandering around that fact like it was irrelevant to him. Being bombarded with questions from the weak and wary was a luxury I never thought I'd be robbed of by this enigma of a human being.

Calixte simply nodded, his face still placid. "Yes. I thought about it, and there are a few things I need some further clarification on. After that, however, I promise I won't need your assistance anymore."

My eye twitched at that last statement defensively, not that he could really see under my diadem, but my frustration was still evident. My voice retains its jaunty air as I reply, albeit with a little spite, "Well, now, there's no need for such promises. I'm not some...manual you use once and toss in the garbage, alright? I am a valuable hand you may reach out to and shake at whim! This place, as endlessly brilliant as it is, it can be a tricky thing to navigate all alone. Never again will that burden encumber you as long as I am here."

I narrowed my eyes and studied his features intently for some sign of reassurance, gratitude, or any hint of cognition that would confirm that he actually has a heart thumping inside him, but alas his face was not only completely devoid of all emotion but he also couldn't have looked any less interested in my heartfelt tangent.

There was a peculiar mix of sarcasm and legitimacy to his tone. "Right. It's not like I haven't heard that rigmarole before."

No matter how genuine he was being, that was all the confirmation I needed to ground my fears in reality. In my disbelief, the extent of Calixte's syndrome was beginning to dawn on me fully. And suddenly I was so much more alarmed by him than I was fascinated, his presence now more than ever before radiating a quality of error and irregularity I long since thought was a figment of fable.

Outwardly, my grin remained charming and wide, still as warm as warm gets and perfectly suited for the conversation. Inwardly, all at the same time, I was a panicked mess, my mind groveling skittishly at the notion of what this man may be and was proving to be as the seconds ticked by. Could it really be...?

There was a brief pause before he continued. "It's come to my attention that there are more of me, Quelq'un."

My eyes widened under my diadem. I held my breath anxiously. "Wha...Whatever do you mean?"

His look became impatient, as if he was expecting me to already know what he meant. "The hell do you mean, 'whatever do you mean?' Other actors, obviously."

I froze in confused contemplation. A wave of relief was about to wash over me but I quickly held it off in precaution. Either I was the silly one here for allowing wild speculations to clog my thinking or he was intentionally messing with me. Who am I kidding though? I'm probably overthinking his intuitiveness entirely and mistaking it for...something that's long since been debunked. I began to feel impatient with myself for how frantic I just got over an implausible string of worries. A response that was, yet again, incredibly unprofessional of me--and rightfully, I dug my nails through my glove and into my wrist for it. "Oh, yes, yes! Forgive me, I...often have my head in the clouds. More importantly, what is it that you would like to know about your fellow actors? There are many details about your colleagues or competition, however you wish to view them, that I can go on about, just ask."

He clearly already had his questions thoroughly planned out in his head because without sparing a single second, he replied, "How does one discern the friends from the enemies?"

I chuckle and tilt my head curiously, intrigued by his choice of question. "Well, that's, ah, very straight to the point."

His tone was blunt and abrasive. "I'm a simple man, Qeulq'un. There's something I'm meant to do here, something else besides reuniting with the very woman this world tore me away from, and therefore I believe strongly it's in my best interest that I make haste recognizing the crowds that'll bolster me farther, the ones that'll only hinder me, which people I ought to treat as targets, and which I'll properly name my enemies and keep closer than my friends. And, oh, am I certain--that I will have a lot of enemies. I can already name a couple few, starting with you."

AAAAAAAnd that's where Imma leave it off. Man, I need to do this way more. And I will. I want--no, I need to hear people's feedback. So please, share your thoughts, doesn't even need to be particularly detailed or profound. Feedback is feedback, but ta-ta for now anyways

[myjetpack]

My latest @guardian books cartoon.

[marzipanandminutiae]

me, age 11: wow an Uglies movie would be so cool!

me, age 31, after watching the trailer for the most aesthetically generic YA dystopia I've ever seen, where Tally is played by an actress ten years older than the character, the Pretties look like Instagram influencers instead of borderline-naturally-impossible anime characters, and fucking Laverne Cox plays Dr. Cable in a misguided attempt to #DiversityGirlboss that actually comes off as a The Trans Are Brainwashing The Youths Into Surgery implication holy shit who greenlit this: I take it back

[judgeitbyitscover]

Southern Reach series (10th Anniversary Editions) by Jeff VanderMeer

Cover art by Pablo Delcan

MacMillan, 2014-2024

Annihilation (2014)

Area X has been cut off from the rest of the world for decades. Nature has reclaimed the last vestiges of human civilization. The first expedition returned with reports of a pristine, Edenic landscape; the second expedition ended in mass suicide, the third in a hail of gunfire as its members turned on one another. The members of the eleventh expedition returned as shadows of their former selves, and within weeks, all had died of cancer. In Annihilation, the first volume of Jeff VanderMeer's Southern Reach Trilogy, we join the twelfth expedition.

The group is made up of four women: an anthropologist; a surveyor; a psychologist, the de facto leader; and our narrator, a biologist. Their mission is to map the terrain, record all observations of their surroundings and of one another, and, above all, avoid being contaminated by Area X itself.

They arrive expecting the unexpected, and Area X delivers—but it’s the surprises that came across the border with them and the secrets the expedition members are keeping from one another that change everything

Authority (2014)

After thirty years, the only human engagement with Area X—a seemingly malevolent landscape surrounded by an invisible border and mysteriously wiped clean of all signs of civilization—has been a series of expeditions overseen by a government agency so secret it has almost been forgotten: the Southern Reach. Following the tumultuous twelfth expedition chronicled in Annihilation, the agency is in complete disarray.

John Rodríguez (aka "Control") is the Southern Reach's newly appointed head. Working with a distrustful but desperate team, a series of frustrating interrogations, a cache of hidden notes, and hours of profoundly troubling video footage, Control begins to penetrate the secrets of Area X. But with each discovery he must confront disturbing truths about himself and the agency he's pledged to serve.

In Authority, the second volume of Jeff VanderMeer's Southern Reach trilogy, Area X's most disturbing questions are answered . . . but the answers are far from reassuring.

Acceptance (2014)

It is winter in Area X, the mysterious wilderness that has defied explanation for thirty years, rebuffing expedition after expedition, refusing to reveal its secrets. As Area X expands, the agency tasked with investigating and overseeing it—the Southern Reach—has collapsed on itself in confusion. Now one last, desperate team crosses the border, determined to reach a remote island that may hold the answers they've been seeking. If they fail, the outer world is in peril.

Meanwhile, Acceptance tunnels ever deeper into the circumstances surrounding the creation of Area X—what initiated this unnatural upheaval? Among the many who have tried, who has gotten close to understanding Area X—and who may have been corrupted by it?

In this last installment of Jeff VanderMeer's Southern Reach trilogy, the mysteries of Area X may be solved, but their consequences and implications are no less profound—or terrifying.

Absolution (2024)

When the Southern Reach Trilogy was first published a decade ago, it was an instant sensation, celebrated in a front-page New York Times story before publication, hailed by Stephen King and many others. Each volume climbed the bestsellers list; awards were won; the books made the rare transition from paperback original to hardcover; the movie adaptation became a cult classic. All told, the trilogy has sold more than a million copies and has secured its place in the pantheon of twenty-first-century literature.

And yet for all this, for Jeff VanderMeer there was never full closure to the story of Area X. There were a few mysteries that had gone unsolved, some key points of view never aired. There were stories left to tell. There remained questions about who had been complicit in creating the conditions for Area X to take hold; the story of the first mission into the Forgotten Coast—before Area X was called Area X—had never been fully told; and what if someone had foreseen the world after Acceptance? How crazy would they seem?

Structured in three parts, each recounting a new expedition, there are some long-awaited answers here, to be sure, but also more questions, and profound new surprises. Absolution is a brilliant, beautiful, and ever-terrifying plunge into unique and fertile literary territory. It is the final word on one of the most provocative and popular speculative fiction series of our time

[inact-ice]

I need people to start talking about Kathryn Lasky’s books because that woman is insane.

She asked “what if owls were put into concentration camps?” And then also “what if owls were nazis?” And then also “what if wolves practiced eugenics?” And then also “what if the only way to fight an oppressive system is through building community and educating ourselves and the people in our lives that we form relationships with?” “What if by refusing to make academia accessible, we allow nazism?” And then she targeted all of that to 8 year olds and I ate it up, at the end of her series the world fucking explodes no joke, all of the characters I got to know and love died and she just wrote that into her wolf eugenics book like it wasn’t a big deal.

Children’s dystopia is so good man

[discrotter]

Dystopian fiction: In a world, where you have to pay to breathe...

Me: Motherfucker, food costs money. Just because it kills you slower doesn't mean we're not living in a dystopia. We have simply normalized living in it.

[thingsthatcometomymindwheniwrite]

writing tips blogs: “to make your character feel real and relatable you need to take a little from them.”

dystopian writers: “On it boss!” *turns to main character and points at them with a pencil* “No bitches, no family, no limbs, no hope, no healing, no rest, no peace, no clue, no wisdom, no help, no freedom, no redemption, no happy end, no comfort, no safety, no food, no mercy, no dignity, no conclusion, no impact, ONLY WAR.”

[neonwavev1]

Neon Paradise

Ch. 1 

Part 1

Gather your thoughts

Crunching hard into the day old bread clutched in my tattered glove, I got up from the table in the back of the cafe I was eating in. 

Melanie’s was a spot I frequented regularly. There was always a seat tucked in the corner for me, where I could check my holo mail and eat in peace - you don’t get much of that in Neon City. Feeling satisfied that I had finally landed a gig, my first one this week, I continued through the unusually low and dimly lit doorway of the backroom. Melanie knew I liked to keep it lowkey, so I wrapped my black bandana around my face, nodded, and exited. The bell jingled behind me, I made sure to leave her a nice tip. She tries to make the most love infused, pretend-this-isn’t-slop slop, that you can make with the kind of food us peasants are able to get most days. 

Looking up at the towering corporate skyscrapers that seemed to go on for miles, neon lights on them casting shadows below, I wondered to myself: “How did I get here?” In fact, I often asked myself this. How did I find myself in this situation - surrounded by wealth and extravagance, yet unable to break through the glass ceiling that prevailed over most folks in the city? Would this job be the one to get me out of abject poverty? “Pfft” – I scoffed to myself. “Doubt it.” If it was even legit, that is. I was already burned twice last week by Ethan’s gang, and once the week before by the Trinity Squad. 

Before heading off down the street, I reached into my jacket pocket to grab my pack of smokes and jet lighter. The crinkled cellophane that coated the packet read “WARNING – CANCER”, as if the toxic sludge and radioactive waste dumped into our drinking water and food supply in the name of profit by PopCorp ™ and other random, insidious fledglings of the corporate hegemony totally weren’t a problem. I rolled my eyes in disdain, and lit the cigarette. Just as I reached back into my jacket to put away my happy sticks, I was jolted by a woman running into my shoulder. “Hey!”, I yelled. She didn’t stop.

I only caught a glimpse of her amber colored hair beneath the rolled up balaclava that sat atop her head before she turned a corner and was gone. I didn’t think much of it, until I looked down and saw a business card on the ground. It was a solid, matte black card on thick cardstock embellished with a simple insignia – a dark red circle with a vertical line drawn straight down the middle. In vain I turned it over, finding nothing alluding to what it meant. I shrugged it off, picked my smokes up off the ground, and shoved both into my jacket.

[lets-get-lit]

It is as inhuman to be totally good as it is to be totally evil. 

- Anthony Burgess, A Clockwork Orange

[remedyxtragedy]

I know plenty of older books about dystopias but rather curiously I have yet to see any recent stories using the concept, and I'd really like to know if there are any good ones out there. I for one love, love, love dystopias--there are virtually endless possibilities for how someone can write a dysfunctional totalitarian society, and in my person opinion it's even better when there are messages or warnings about our society buried within. That's a niche I will gladly slide right into regardless.

With Idiosyncratic my intention honestly is not that everyone in my audience takes the story seriously to the point that it's treated with some form of verity or glorification, it's meant to be outlandish and bizarre--an exaggeration, to put it simply, in a format that on the surface doesn't look profoundly deep or extraordinary, but still harbors many allegories and messages that may warp our scope of the world. I want people to read my book and immediately think word-for-word, "wow, that's completely unrealistic, but holy shit if that did happen that would be horrifying." I wanna leave people simultaneously fascinated and surprised, permanently haunted with the uneasy thought of, what if one day humans do actually reach a point where we are able to achieve the things seen in this book? And would these discoveries and inventions really lead to our laughably tragic downfall? Or would it pave the way for a brighter and altogether evolved future devoid of suffering and dysfunctionality, a utopia even? Or is something like that just completely beyond our reach, and are our failures already set in stone and woven by our own hands? As long as I get that kind of thinking going in someone's head, I'm satisfied.

[thesoulofbooks]

“I don't know. We have everything we need to be happy, but we aren't happy. Something's missing."

— Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

I hope one day YA fantasy and dystopia authors will realize just because the target audience are teenagers, it's not necessary to dumb down the concept and every aspect of war and its consequences. Yes, war is an unimaginable horror and you cannot write the gruesome and psychologically scarring details in YA, but it still should be treated as a horror and not something glorious or easily fixed. The characters cannot fight in a war in one book and be just fine in the next. You can make light of the situation without making it out to be a light situation. It's actually harmful and sends the wrong message.

If they're worried about the readers not liking it, may I remind you The Hunger Games trilogy didn't shy away from showing what war is and it's still considered one of the best YA books to this day. Harry Potter, which is considered a children's book, portrayed a corrupt government, silent overtaking of power, disappearings and mass panic fairly well.

Teenagers and young adults might not be ready for adult books, but if authors choose to write a heavy topic such as war in YA books, they should deliver it well, even if it's vague, rather than prettify the image and distort the facts.

It's insulting, even. We know what war is. We see it on the news. We see it on the internet even if we don't want to see it. Some of our loved ones have experienced it. Sometimes it's like the authors forget their books are read by people from all around the world.

"It's supposed to be an escape from the real world"- well then, give the book a happy ending. Or abandon writing war altogether and embrace the whimsy.

[aidosaur]

PIXELS OF YOU (by @ananthhirsh, @theyoungdoyley and myself) is on sale on THAT ONE ONLINE STORE for 61% off, through some bizarre trick of the algorithm!

That's $6 and change!

It's a really good time to pick it up if you want to get a holiday gift!

PIXELS OF YOU came out just before generative AI hit mainstream media and imo it wound up being pretty relevant about the ways minorities are treated by technology. But also, it's about drama between two young artists who take themselves way too seriously :)

[notedchampagne]

adapting 'uglies' from a book series is pretty funny to me. i remember when people would say it was a series thats Impossible to adapt because it was already commenting on beauty standards but you know. lo and behold

[elfminstersfromagerie]

“The whole world opened up to me when I learned to read” - Mary McCleod Bethune

[haveyoureadthishorrorbookpoll]

Have you read...

Area X has been cut off from the rest of the world for decades. Nature has reclaimed the last vestiges of human civilization. The first expedition returned with reports of a pristine, Edenic landscape; the second expedition ended in mass suicide, the third in a hail of gunfire as its members turned on one another. The members of the eleventh expedition returned as shadows of their former selves, and within weeks, all had died of cancer. In Annihilation, the first volume of Jeff VanderMeer's Southern Reach Trilogy, we join the twelfth expedition. The group is made up of four women: an anthropologist; a surveyor; a psychologist, the de facto leader; and our narrator, a biologist. Their mission is to map the terrain, record all observations of their surroundings and of one another, and, above all, avoid being contaminated by Area X itself. They arrive expecting the unexpected, and Area X delivers—but it’s the surprises that came across the border with them and the secrets the expedition members are keeping from one another that change everything.

submit a horror book!