(Click the links to read Favorite Fictional Guilty Pleasure #3, #4, and #5).
And now, number two on my list of works I can’t call good but also can’t help enjoying in a mostly intentional way….
Wait, this one needs some additional disclaimers. I'm a huge defender of YA dark sci-fi and dystopia. I love them for being an influential, largely female-led fictional subgenre that doesn't revolve entirely around romance. I love them for being action-packed adventures and for often having well-executed, heavy, emotional character storylines. I'm a proud fan of The Hunger Games (in spite of its notable worldbuilding flaws and the multitude of pointless new characters in book three), and Delirium and Uglies may be my two favorite book series yet to be brought to every non-reader's lips through the magic of screen.
...And then there's Divergent.
Why it's guilty:
In this specific, narrow subgenre where everything is accused of being derivative, poorly contrived, or both, the Divergent series is one of the most derivative and poorly contrived of the well-known examples.
(You can check out my full reviews of the Divergent and Insurgent books and the Divergent movie, should you so desire).
If you don't know, this particular dystopia revolves around people being divided into five factions according to their most dominant personality traits.
And now, number two on my list of works I can’t call good but also can’t help enjoying in a mostly intentional way….
Wait, this one needs some additional disclaimers. I'm a huge defender of YA dark sci-fi and dystopia. I love them for being an influential, largely female-led fictional subgenre that doesn't revolve entirely around romance. I love them for being action-packed adventures and for often having well-executed, heavy, emotional character storylines. I'm a proud fan of The Hunger Games (in spite of its notable worldbuilding flaws and the multitude of pointless new characters in book three), and Delirium and Uglies may be my two favorite book series yet to be brought to every non-reader's lips through the magic of screen.
...And then there's Divergent.
Why it's guilty:
In this specific, narrow subgenre where everything is accused of being derivative, poorly contrived, or both, the Divergent series is one of the most derivative and poorly contrived of the well-known examples.
(You can check out my full reviews of the Divergent and Insurgent books and the Divergent movie, should you so desire).
If you don't know, this particular dystopia revolves around people being divided into five factions according to their most dominant personality traits.
The factions determine their jobs and basically every aspect of their lives, and the evil government wants to hunt down and kill anyone found to be "Divergent," meaning they have multiple dominant traits, because such people threaten the current balance of power. Tris, our hero, is one of these Divergents in hiding.
So, basically, it's a somewhat less hardcore and more convoluted Panem from The Hunger Games, with a Sorting Hat.
So, basically, it's a somewhat less hardcore and more convoluted Panem from The Hunger Games, with a Sorting Hat.
“Gryffin- I mean, Dauntless!”
Then there’s how particularly forced the standard chosen one scenario and the personal relationship between hero and dictator-villain are in the Divergent series.
Tris starts foiling evil plans and making herself a special favorite nuisance to the bad guys long before it's revealed what an ultra-Divergent she is, and in ways that aren't caused by her ultra-Divergence among Divergents, which isn't even particularly special if you really think about her secret heritage backstory. Yet it manages to force later plotlines to revolve around her through increasingly conspicuous coincidences.
"Only YOU can open the box, because..." Okay, this plotline is simplified from the book version, but still.
Now, if you’re thinking, “I’d be difficult to sort, what’s so unusual about that?” or, “What’s so dangerous about some confused kids who have no idea what’s going on and no particular urge to overthrow anything until you started trying to exterminate them?” well, the good news is that these questions will eventually be answered pretty well.
The bad news is that once the nonsensical fake-out principles of this dystopia, which we were supposed to accept as the real ones for the whole first book, start getting picked apart and explained in the later books, it's like trying to watch a political thriller serial starting in the middle, with all the subgroups suddenly vying for power.
Then there are the more general problems. Characters are largely defined by faction, with side attributes more told than shown and side plots that are unsatisfyingly resolved, the story is cluttered, the accept-yourself message gets corny especially in the movie version, and the romance with the mysterious and brooding instructor, Four, borders on sleazy.
And yet...
Why it's a pleasure:
There are a few noteworthy redeeming qualities I could go into here. There's the way the series actually sort of turns the trope of the ordinary protagonist being the most special person in the world on its head, by revealing that Tris's specialness is that she is a normal, whole person, and it's the rest of her world that's messed up.
Then there are the great performances in the movieverse, and the surprisingly merciless stakes of the bookverse (characters do die, unexpectedly, sometimes important ones, sometimes senselessly).
But it really it comes down to two things for me.
First, I have a soft spot for surreal adventures through the psyche, which is one of the Divergent series’ recurring devices. They're not the deepest of surrealist sequences, but they're decent, plentiful, and not dull.
The bad news is that once the nonsensical fake-out principles of this dystopia, which we were supposed to accept as the real ones for the whole first book, start getting picked apart and explained in the later books, it's like trying to watch a political thriller serial starting in the middle, with all the subgroups suddenly vying for power.
Then there are the more general problems. Characters are largely defined by faction, with side attributes more told than shown and side plots that are unsatisfyingly resolved, the story is cluttered, the accept-yourself message gets corny especially in the movie version, and the romance with the mysterious and brooding instructor, Four, borders on sleazy.
And yet...
Why it's a pleasure:
There are a few noteworthy redeeming qualities I could go into here. There's the way the series actually sort of turns the trope of the ordinary protagonist being the most special person in the world on its head, by revealing that Tris's specialness is that she is a normal, whole person, and it's the rest of her world that's messed up.
Then there are the great performances in the movieverse, and the surprisingly merciless stakes of the bookverse (characters do die, unexpectedly, sometimes important ones, sometimes senselessly).
But it really it comes down to two things for me.
First, I have a soft spot for surreal adventures through the psyche, which is one of the Divergent series’ recurring devices. They're not the deepest of surrealist sequences, but they're decent, plentiful, and not dull.
Second, Divergent and even Insurgent, the installments before the political intrigue really flies off the rails, are pretty tightly turning thrillers on both page and screen, with a likeable enough hero to make those turns felt.
And if I can get an evening's fun out of fast-paced, semi-nonsensical action when it follows an ordinary male hero, motivated and maybe occasionally assisted by female eye candy, as long as there are enough entertaining elements mixed in and my brain is on half power, then...
And if I can get an evening's fun out of fast-paced, semi-nonsensical action when it follows an ordinary male hero, motivated and maybe occasionally assisted by female eye candy, as long as there are enough entertaining elements mixed in and my brain is on half power, then...
