2.5 stars
"Dark Inside" and I got off to such a good start. It's the kind of book that I have a great love/hate relationship with: the premise is so chilling and frightening but in an addictive, fast-paced way, but, like most people, I'm terrified of something so huge and inexplicable happening to my friends and family on a mass scale. In the opening chapters, "Dead Inside" lived up to its potential, with a hurtling, nauseous description of the four main characters getting into accidents, having their schools blown up, being randomly attacked and their families dying brutally. Like most people, this is pretty much all of my worst fears packed into several horrifying setpieces. As you can see, I read this long book in one day, probably my fastest read of the year, but, despite the fairly good pacing and the wince-inducing occurrences, looking back on the plot, I can't help but think that it's all a little...boring.
Don't get me wrong. It isn't, at first. At first, it's fucking terrifying. Law and order breaks down totally, utterly and immediately in a realistic and making-me-rock-backwards-and-forwards-in-my-chair way. Good people die badly. People turn on each other in the most vicious ways possible. And while I know that YA couldn't really go all-out with the nasty violence and that it would have all felt like overkill by the end of this book and I don't object to some off-screen action - Greek tragedy shows us that sometimes what happens out of the audience's sight is far more awful than anything a writer could pull on them - it all becomes more than a bit samey by the end of "Dark Inside." That, of course, makes me a horrible person, because a pregnant woman gets dragged away in the beginning and a little boy is almost murdered in the middle. Buuuuut it's all dampened by the fact that we know nothing about these people. Nothing. Not their names, not their families, not even their fate! By the end, it felt like shock value over substance.
Although, in all fairness, Roberts treats all her characters the same, even her main ones. Maybe it's just me, as an English person (we prefer our mundane names over here), but "Clementine" and "Aries" (especially the latter) bugged me throughout. Third person is effective in these kind of novels because it allows for a greater sense of world-wide breakdown (which is sort of used well within the narrative), and gives unpredictability (which really wasn't). We don't know much about these characters, and even what we do know is pretty stock. Mason (who I will mess up with Michael liberally throughout this review; I really struggled with which was which) suffers from archetypal Survivor's Guilt because his mother's death is what caused him to escape the bombing of his school in which all his friends died. Daniel is the hot, brooding, unlikeable boy with A SECRET!!! Clemetine has someone to live and look for. Aries is our archetypal moron. Third person, which could have been perfect for this novel, was used monotonously and repetitively so that none of the rhythm of the fight scenes were really felt.
Most of the characters were passable on the scale of Moron-->Genius scale. Mostly everyone was unrealistically lucky rather than totally moronic, with one very large exception: Aries. At first, she was understandably terrified and out of it. That is all fair enough. (I would be such a shivering, dribbling wreck in the sort-of-but-not-really zombie apocalypse that I can relate.) But, later in the book, when Aries is supposed to have got more clued up on survival tips to the point where she's actually the leader of her little group - right up until Daniel, the prick brooding hot boy who sort of saved her life by telling her to go to the high school at the beginning. Given what a mess she was, I can sort of understand being indebted to him. To me, the debt would have cleared once Aries risked her own life taking care of him for two days (a lifetime in the apocalypse). But oh no no. Apparently this not-very-special act of life-saving earned Daniel Aries's undying devotion, despite the fact that he is very shifty, has a habit of abandoning her and doesn't seem all that trustworthy. This gets to the point where she endangers all their lives - including her entire group's - by refusing to leave Daniel when he's essentially telling her to get the fuck out? He didn't want her, but ooohhhh noooo, Ariel thinks because she likes being in a group so much that Daniel will like it to. Ummm, what? Has she not seen what can happen to survivors in this apocalypse? Does she really want to pair up with a guy who doesn't seem all that fond of her? I can only assume by the description of her stroking his cheek and her heartbeat quickening that he is the Obligatory Love Interest. Shudder.
The thing is, the plot is nonsense. We don't know why this virus/disease/personality disorder/THING has come over these people, or why it only affects some people. And that's okay. It fits very well for the book to evoke the chaos and confusion that can come with true, absolute ignorance, and fits so well with Roberts' horror mould of things that are beyond our control (total? EVERYTHING). It's totally fine. But accepting that the entire plot is based around very unlikely contrivance comes, to me, with the unspoken promise that the rest of your plot will concern very likely events. Roberts is good at this to begin with, what with society crumbling in an inevitable, horrible way, but, as time goes on, she seems to throw any mini semblance of logic to the wind in an attempt to craft surprises. For example: to begin with, the virus seems to be more or less uncontrollable, a brain-eating disease that takes away everything about you, including your free will. Then suddenly it's possible for some people to retain their (amazing) intellect and articulation, despite the fact that these zombies are supposedly governed by nothing but pure bloodlust-rage. Why? Who the hell cares. It just makes a good twist. My next point is a fine line to walk but it did bug me that every single one of the survivors'...survival skills were based on 99.9999999999% (more often than not, 100%) luck. Of course a massive degree of luck is required to survive any major disaster, and I could forgive all of the luck that happened in the immediate aftermath of the apocalypse, but afterwards, it was stretched to breaking point. Aries's team manages to collect an amazing amount of supplies, including stuff like bicycles, despite the fact that most of the zombies seem to be at least a little logic and capable of plotting, as the killing technique of most of them seems to be surrounding buildings and setting them on fire, to either burn everyone inside or catch them as they ran out. If the zombies are at least pretty smart - and some of them are shown to be incredibly so - why wouldn't they burn down all the supply shops to kill off any remaining humans? Well, because then it wouldn't be possible for Roberts' characters to survive. I swear this pattern repeats itself about a thousand times in the novel:
1. Get attacked by 'bagger'
2. Fight off 'bagger'
3. Do something incredibly stupid
4. Amazing luck and/or the 'bagger's' amazing stupidity facilitate escape that previously seemed totally impossible.
This leaves "Dark Inside" with a grand total of Not Much Plot At All. I sort of think I should stop reading books that are going to be the first in a series/trilogy. Because, I'm sorry, this was not a story at all. This was a thorough exploration of the jumping-off point for a story, i.e. the beginning, so this wasn't even a novel. It was a third of a novel. I have no idea what the next book will be about; sure, we left our characters hanging - not the cliffhanger kind - but I can't see where "Dark Inside" could next go except for a lot more of the "walking for miles and miles" and "repetitive fight scene" combination. There is no intrigue, no sequel hook, no real reason why I should read on except for the world-building (which was good!) and the fate of the characters (who were skimmed over, bland and not remotely interesting enough to pull me back in). Ultimately, nothing really happened. Oh, sure, there were a lot of fight scenes, and lots of minor secondary characters got killed off. But I honestly can't think of one plot thread that I am excited to read about in the next book, or one revelation of importance that could tie the 'arc' (this is a trilogy, right? Surely it has to have an arc of some sort?) together.
The most annoying thing about all of this is that the best moments of "Dark Inside" come when Roberts injects a cold syringe of substance into her ass-kicking plot. Twiggy, a Sociology professor turned zombie, theorises that the virus comes about because of the '"push-button" generation', and the innate frustration and repressed loathing - both of self and particularly others - are freed by the virus, but that they were also there are all along, as a product of urban rage and hatred. Twiggy's speech about how all great civilisations destroyed themselves from within eventually, and now it was our turn, was chilling and amazingly fascinating. Maybe it's a little trite, but that kind of widespread emotion is a dark and almost endlessly interesting place for a YA zombie novel, of all the things, to mine. Best of all, it's amazingly plausible; in a hyperbolic, science-fictiony way, there it's a wild but not stratospheric leap between road rage/the race of people who will kill each other over something as mundane as Thanksgiving turkey and the rage-fuelled automatons that mostly populate "Dark Inside." It's just a shame that this dark gem is hidden inside such a bloated, monotonous plot.