Rating: 2 out of 5
It saddens me when a close friend of mine recommends a book to me, and I can't enjoy it no matter how hard I try. And believe me, I tried.
In this case, I was not only given Red Rising as a Christmas gift, but also the entire dystopian trilogy by Pierce Brown, and let's just say that I'm not looking forward to the sequels.
As a fan of dystopia and science fiction, I was optimistic about this novel at first, but the longer I read, the more I realized that it was a cardboard cutout of The Hunger Games on Mars.
(Not that the setting even mattered. Other than a few references to gravity, this story was just another tired war tale.)
If eye-rolling was a sport, I'd win an Olympic medal reading this drivel. It's difficult to tally all my complaints about Red Rising, so instead of trying to create full paragraphs around them, let me just list the reasons why I couldn't stand this novel.
A trite caste system based on colors, of all things. Golds are the best, Reds are angry, and Pinks are sex workers. Ho-hum, yawn.
Speaking of originality, all the Gold children are divided into houses based on Greco-Roman mythological figures. Because why bother with the hassles of world-building when you can just copy and paste?
The so-called protagonist, Darrow, is the best miner—sorry, Helldiver—there ever was. How do we know this? Don't worry, he tells us five billion times.
Helldiver is just one of countless nonsense words that Brown invents to sound cool. The jargon isn't describing anything new, so it's yet another distraction.
The misogyny and homophobia in this book abound. The only way these outer space frat bros can ridicule each other is by using pejorative terms for women or gay men, because femininity is the worst of all sins apparently.
As for the actual female characters, they all fall into these categories: martyr, love interest, backstabber or whore. The only one who can be considered "strong" is called Mustang, because it's better to be associated with horses than women.
Darrow is the absolute worst. Imagine if Ender from Ender's Game wasn't a bullied genius who just needed a few lessons in empathy, but rather a straight-up pompous asshole? I so wished that this book wasn't in first-person present, because being in that narcissistic head of his made me want to blow my own brains out.
Okay, I'm going to stop there, because although I could rant for pages, it would only make me grumpier. If I could put a positive spin on this, it's that if a piece of utter crap like Red Rising can get published, then my writing certainly can too!
Has anyone else read Red Rising? For a bestseller with its own upcoming movie franchise, I'm curious to hear whether my opinion is unpopular or right on point among fellow book bloggers. Share your thoughts in the comments!