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I wanted to like this book more. A brash young woman challenging racism and sexism while trying to simultaneously conceal and learn to use secret goddess-given powers? Advanced technology along with gods and goddesses answering prayers or creating monsters? Sounds great in theory. The problems arise with the execution.

First, the protagonist, Ikenna, is exceptionally dense. OK, she's grieving the unexpected death of her grandfather, but that's no excuse to simply take the word of the very first person who suggests that his death wasn't accidental as to who the responsible parties might be and fixate on murdering those people for the first 2/3 of the book. She repeatedly misses obvious clues that she's being played. I am not one of those people who solves mysteries ahead of the conclusion of a mystery book, but even I could see it coming. She trusts and distrusts completely and suddenly, based on little to no evidence, and with predictably bad results. It was frustrating.

Second, there's a jarring contrast between the book's YA tone and its horribly brutal events - Mareen, the republic that Ikenna reveres even though she wants to reform it--wantonly slaughters its would-be soldiers in training in the name of making those left at the end more fit to fight.

Third, the heavy-handed nature of the social critique of racism and sexism. An odd choice was the author's seemingly deliberate avoidance of the words "race" and "racism" to describe how the light-skinned Mareenians view the dark-skinned Khanaians with contempt and hatred--only to throw the word "racism" right in there close to the end.

With all that said, the inventive setting and the fast-paced action are lots of fun. And when the plot stops dragging and we finally get the big twists at the end, Ikenna did manage to surprise me with her avoidance of the traps laid out by her many enemies. Read it, but keep your expectations low and you'll have a good time.

Somewhat drily written, not to the extent of an academic paper but long sentences and some with semicolons, so this was a long bit by bit read for me. The authors are anti-indoor cat (which I gather is the general sentiment in England, but maybe living by an LA freeway will change your mind) and, somewhat interestingly but kind of bothers me, propose more selective breeding for cats to tone done their hunting instincts. Admittedly, they are experts who cite a lot of research (and point out the lack of some, e.g. with the accusations that cats are decimating endangered species), have actually trained their cats in a non-forceful manner that respects their independent and paranoid natures (the elaborate training prescriptions may have you thinking might as well get a dog instead), and obviously love their cats. I could have used this book two cats ago, and if I break down and get another one I'll give this a refresher read.

It's certainly not a fun book, but it's extremely engaging, despite the bleakness of the slow-apocalypse setting and story.

What makes this apocalypse so horrifying, and the story so engaging, is how matter-of-fact Lauren is in describing everything in her diary. It's the world she grew up in, so it's normal to her, though she can see clearly even at 14 that it's unsustainable. There's a sharp generational divide between those who remember what things were like before, but all that is just history to her.

Lauren's present is hopeless and brutal, but her diary doesn't linger on the ever-present brutality like a horror novel would. She acknowledges it, of course, but she's focused on how to survive it so she can build something better.

The setting resonates so well today in part because the societal fears of the 1980s that Butler was extrapolating from are the same fears that have been re-stoked to create our modern political moment, and the problems she focused on remain unsolved. (I go into a bit more literary analysis on my website if you're interested in that sort of thing.)