A review by krish_
Blood Red Road by Moira Young
4.0
Would you like to know the silly reason why I didn't want to read this book? Because I thought it'd be a Western. Yes, I did, alright? I read the summary and I thought Western. So I put it off...but something possessed me to buy this book for my e-reader and viola, me being book snob of the year.
Moira Young's Blood Red Road is an adventure. It's bleak, it's fast, it's gripping. Saba lives in an isolated barren land of dried up lakes, shifting sands, and scolding heat with nothing and no one to guide her but her vague father who stares at stars. One day, her twin brother, Lugh, beautiful and main caretaker of the family, is taken away by hooded figures. Pa is killed, and she and little sister Emmi are left to fend for themselves. And here begins a near 500 page adventure. There are cage fights, a maniacal king, a mysterious substance called chaal, flying ships, an army of women warriors, giant flesh-eating worms, a decaying town of people with even more decaying morals...a few more things.
The dialect is one of BRR's most interesting and successful peculiarities. Like the book's landscape, it's bare; abrupt and pointed yet sufficient. It's broken grammar with no punctuations. We are steered merely by the hands of expert storytelling. It might be a deal-breaker for those who like easy navigation because it tests one's ability to read dialogue cues but in all honesty, it isn't that difficult to follow. If anything, it is one of this book's finest distinctions. Saba and her companions wouldn't have been as compelling without it. A culture is defined by its language, why not in books too?
The world. Saba's world is ambiguous with Young lending us no specific geographical hints. We go through mountains, valleys, deserts, woods, waterfalls, disintegrated highways, hollowed-out buildings... That part isn't really all that important. The gist of this reality is that it is corrupt and backwards, where there are once more real life gladiators (which comes full with a cage master, a rabid crowd, and a colosseum) and where a pair of binoculars is called a long-looker. There is a king, his guards, and his subjects. This world is back to primitive territorialism, where people are hanged for simply wandering in on the wrong stretch of earth. Back to one ruler governing all. Back to losing rights and freedom. Back to slavery. Back to being in the mercy of the merciless. The concept is superb, except we're not given much to go on. And so, questions. An abundance of questions. With not much answer. This world seems ancient - the gladiators and the colesseum really dragged me through Ancient Rome, sometimes native with Pa, Jack, and the king's preoccupation with stars, fate, and the philosophy of sacrifice, and sometimes science fiction with its flying ships and carnivorous giant worms. Is this the rule of dystopia and post-apocalyptic fiction? Meaning, does anything go? Or is this world kind of a big confusionis? Okay, I can't stay here forever. Moving on.
The plot. It started off sending goosebumps all over my arms. I tingled with excitement at the epic potential of this bizarre but intriguing world. Twins born under a midsummer moon and a father who seemed delusional in his obsession with the stars...until Lugh is taken and Pa doesn't seem so crazy anymore. But it stops there. Saba's journey starts and leaves all that cosmic intuition behind. It gets down and dirty. Saba becomes involved in human trafficking, cage fighting and teams up with a group of female bandits. So the first half is Saba acquiring both information to save her brother, as well as back up for her rescue mission. It is also a severe wake up call on how the world outside her Silverlake is operating. The second half is Saba making her way to Freedom Fields towards Lugh. It's mere action from here on out and though I did still enjoy it, it was admittedly fickle. Jack (the dishy love interest) takes control of the mission, which is fine enough, but his ambush strategies were frighteningly questionable. The plot was thin, surrounded by promising subtexts...Young just chose not to explore them, like at all. Which is why it was frustrating. There were many things shown to us without explanation. They were all backdrop to Saba's single objection: finding Lugh...which is a little narrow. Entertaining, but narrow.
Characters are appealing. Mercy, Emmi, and the Free Hawks are my personal favourites. Emmi, wild and young, resolute but still so sweet. She affected me. No lie. The Free Hawks are great. Bad ass women assassins. Not preachy, not hatey. Young isn't making a point that they're women and they're fierce - simply that they are survivors. Girl Power wasn't their motto, but Justice. I liked it. It was clean of gender politics. It was there and you couldn't criticize it. Jack is attractive. Despite being arrogant, secretive, and sometimes prick-ish. I kept waiting for him to disappoint me. Kept waiting for him to turn around and surprise surprise, he's a bad guy. Because isn't that what always happens? But it didn't. He's an asshole who wants to make a difference in the world. Can't argue with that. This book is filled with characters who won't surrender to oppression. Mercy, not wanting to become another chaal-ed zombie. The Free Hawks, Saba and Emmi, Jack and Ike. Now, the twins. I found Saba and Lugh's relationship perturbing. But maybe it's a twin thing. Possibly. Or maybe Young has something in plan. A separate discussion can be made about their relationship but unfortunately, this review has no room for it. I could do with a bit more room between them though.
Now, to the nitty gritty. The psychology of Saba. I agree with other reviewers who point out that Saba's handling of her sudden emergence into society after growing up in seclusion was a touch unconvincing. What with the pressing task of rescuing her brother, and now being the sole guardian of Emmi, she seemed to handle herself quite adaptively. Because Saba should still be quite feral by nature. But there was no shock, no marvel. She was never in fear of the great big world, or ever indignant of how she was treated in Hopetown (by that I mean the bigger picture because of course she was furious about being imprisoned, etc). No question of the social system, no anger towards it, either. She observed the people, was disgusted by it, but had no inclination towards making the world "a better place". But perhaps, she doesn't know what a "better place" is. She grew up detached from society, and so society isn't anything connected to her. It might simply be none of her business. But still. It was only a hindrance because she was being delayed from getting to Lugh. I could argue that the red hot pushed Saba along. That it is precisely because she is so single-minded in her purpose, that everything else is pushed aside. Look, it's fine. I'm still rating this four stars. I just wished we'd had a more "awakening" kind of experience. We could've explored this world along with her. I think it would've been a much more effective angle, both in terms of unraveling depth within the story, as well opportunity to have fun in this landscape. It was like looking around a new store and being engrossed by everything you saw, but then suddenly mom grabs your hand and you're out the door.
This was a great book. My review points out its flaws, with little room for praise. But that's the point. If I can criticize it and still love it, then there must be something undeniable about it. I think there is.
Moira Young's Blood Red Road is an adventure. It's bleak, it's fast, it's gripping. Saba lives in an isolated barren land of dried up lakes, shifting sands, and scolding heat with nothing and no one to guide her but her vague father who stares at stars. One day, her twin brother, Lugh, beautiful and main caretaker of the family, is taken away by hooded figures. Pa is killed, and she and little sister Emmi are left to fend for themselves. And here begins a near 500 page adventure. There are cage fights, a maniacal king, a mysterious substance called chaal, flying ships, an army of women warriors, giant flesh-eating worms, a decaying town of people with even more decaying morals...a few more things.
The dialect is one of BRR's most interesting and successful peculiarities. Like the book's landscape, it's bare; abrupt and pointed yet sufficient. It's broken grammar with no punctuations. We are steered merely by the hands of expert storytelling. It might be a deal-breaker for those who like easy navigation because it tests one's ability to read dialogue cues but in all honesty, it isn't that difficult to follow. If anything, it is one of this book's finest distinctions. Saba and her companions wouldn't have been as compelling without it. A culture is defined by its language, why not in books too?
The world. Saba's world is ambiguous with Young lending us no specific geographical hints. We go through mountains, valleys, deserts, woods, waterfalls, disintegrated highways, hollowed-out buildings... That part isn't really all that important. The gist of this reality is that it is corrupt and backwards, where there are once more real life gladiators (which comes full with a cage master, a rabid crowd, and a colosseum) and where a pair of binoculars is called a long-looker. There is a king, his guards, and his subjects. This world is back to primitive territorialism, where people are hanged for simply wandering in on the wrong stretch of earth. Back to one ruler governing all. Back to losing rights and freedom. Back to slavery. Back to being in the mercy of the merciless. The concept is superb, except we're not given much to go on. And so, questions. An abundance of questions. With not much answer. This world seems ancient - the gladiators and the colesseum really dragged me through Ancient Rome, sometimes native with Pa, Jack, and the king's preoccupation with stars, fate, and the philosophy of sacrifice, and sometimes science fiction with its flying ships and carnivorous giant worms. Is this the rule of dystopia and post-apocalyptic fiction? Meaning, does anything go? Or is this world kind of a big confusionis? Okay, I can't stay here forever. Moving on.
The plot. It started off sending goosebumps all over my arms. I tingled with excitement at the epic potential of this bizarre but intriguing world. Twins born under a midsummer moon and a father who seemed delusional in his obsession with the stars...until Lugh is taken and Pa doesn't seem so crazy anymore. But it stops there. Saba's journey starts and leaves all that cosmic intuition behind. It gets down and dirty. Saba becomes involved in human trafficking, cage fighting and teams up with a group of female bandits. So the first half is Saba acquiring both information to save her brother, as well as back up for her rescue mission. It is also a severe wake up call on how the world outside her Silverlake is operating. The second half is Saba making her way to Freedom Fields towards Lugh. It's mere action from here on out and though I did still enjoy it, it was admittedly fickle. Jack (the dishy love interest) takes control of the mission, which is fine enough, but his ambush strategies were frighteningly questionable.
Spoiler
Let me remind you that his "strategies" consisted of winging it, and winging it.Characters are appealing. Mercy, Emmi, and the Free Hawks are my personal favourites. Emmi, wild and young, resolute but still so sweet. She affected me. No lie. The Free Hawks are great. Bad ass women assassins. Not preachy, not hatey. Young isn't making a point that they're women and they're fierce - simply that they are survivors. Girl Power wasn't their motto, but Justice. I liked it. It was clean of gender politics. It was there and you couldn't criticize it. Jack is attractive. Despite being arrogant, secretive, and sometimes prick-ish. I kept waiting for him to disappoint me. Kept waiting for him to turn around and surprise surprise, he's a bad guy. Because isn't that what always happens? But it didn't. He's an asshole who wants to make a difference in the world. Can't argue with that. This book is filled with characters who won't surrender to oppression. Mercy, not wanting to become another chaal-ed zombie. The Free Hawks, Saba and Emmi, Jack and Ike. Now, the twins. I found Saba and Lugh's relationship perturbing. But maybe it's a twin thing. Possibly. Or maybe Young has something in plan. A separate discussion can be made about their relationship but unfortunately, this review has no room for it. I could do with a bit more room between them though.
Now, to the nitty gritty. The psychology of Saba. I agree with other reviewers who point out that Saba's handling of her sudden emergence into society after growing up in seclusion was a touch unconvincing. What with the pressing task of rescuing her brother, and now being the sole guardian of Emmi, she seemed to handle herself quite adaptively. Because Saba should still be quite feral by nature. But there was no shock, no marvel. She was never in fear of the great big world, or ever indignant of how she was treated in Hopetown (by that I mean the bigger picture because of course she was furious about being imprisoned, etc). No question of the social system, no anger towards it, either. She observed the people, was disgusted by it, but had no inclination towards making the world "a better place". But perhaps, she doesn't know what a "better place" is. She grew up detached from society, and so society isn't anything connected to her. It might simply be none of her business. But still. It was only a hindrance because she was being delayed from getting to Lugh. I could argue that the red hot pushed Saba along. That it is precisely because she is so single-minded in her purpose, that everything else is pushed aside. Look, it's fine. I'm still rating this four stars. I just wished we'd had a more "awakening" kind of experience. We could've explored this world along with her. I think it would've been a much more effective angle, both in terms of unraveling depth within the story, as well opportunity to have fun in this landscape. It was like looking around a new store and being engrossed by everything you saw, but then suddenly mom grabs your hand and you're out the door.
This was a great book. My review points out its flaws, with little room for praise. But that's the point. If I can criticize it and still love it, then there must be something undeniable about it. I think there is.