A Reddit comment I made predicting Axiom's End would be bad was referenced in Lindsay Ellis's Titanic video, and so, thinking it would be dishonest to not see if I was correct, I decided to read the first part of Axiom's End & review it. Unfortunately, the section up until Chapter 9 is so mediocre that it does not give me any confidence in the rest, but criticism is criticism, and I will attempt to deal fairly *only* with what I have read.
Preceding the book is a classified letter that establishes the existence of aliens, and that a shadowy organization is attempting to extract information from them: a simple plot hook, nothing bad nor good, merely solid. As we proceed to the novel proper, we are given our first look at the main character, Cora:
"On the morning of the second meteor, Cora’s 1989 Toyota Camry gave up the ghost for good. The car was a manual transmission with a stick shift its previous owner had wrapped in duct tape years ago, a time bomb the color of expired baby food that should have gone off sooner than it did. At $800, she had paid more for it than it was worth, but back then, she had been a freshman in college and desperate for a car. In the two years since, she’d grown accustomed to the ever-loudening squealing of the fan belt, but on this morning, after she put her key in the ignition and the engine turned, the squealing turned into a hostile screech. A disheartening thunk thunk thunk followed, then a snap, then an angry whirr, all before she could react. But by the time she turned off the ignition, it was clear that the car, her first and only car, was dead forever."
Now, while this type of nonchalant opening can work if the prose is good, there is nothing here about Cora that gives deeper insight in to her character: all we are given is externals. The first line is a cliche, and this begins issues frequently recurrent in Ellis's prose: needless description & melodrama.
For example, does it matter that Cora drives a 1989 Toyota Camry, or if I spied a different color than "expired baby food" in my mind's eye? It really does not, and while I may seem to be harping on only a few sentences, the truth is that much of the book continues this pattern of describing things that are not necessary to the tale. This not only lards the book, but actually pushes the reader further out of engaging with the work, as they are not forced to co-imbue their own imaginations of settings & objects in to the story.
Nor is the prose of Axiom's End good enough to justify these excesses: it's mediocre and indulges cliches as quickly as its first line. Following this, we are eventually given more of Cora. Here is what passes for depth in her:
"A good concert was the one place she could genuinely lose herself, have an out-of-body experience and detach from the deteriorating morass that was her life."
Note the cliche: "genuinely lose herself." Her mother dislikes her, and her father abandoned her. Neither relationship rises above plot necessity, and they are not explored with any depth: they are merely ornaments strung on to the marionette of a character who follows what plot dictates to her, and no better does the genericness of these relationships show in this horrifically-written letter by her father at the end of Chapter 3:
"I write this with the hope that we might reestablish communication, perhaps even begin to rebuild a relationship. You were only sixteen the last time we spoke, and I recognize now that I should have met you where you were, not where I wanted you to be.
I hope you respond to me someday. I don’t expect you to agree with what I’ve done. I know I’ve hurt you all. I don’t ask for your forgiveness, not yet, but just understand why I do what I do.
I want a future for us, but I want it on your terms. Perhaps one day, if I earn your forgiveness, I may even earn your acceptance. I don’t want you to simply endure what I do. I want you to understand it, because I think if you understand me, eventually, you might join me."
Does any line here separate this character from the thousands, if not millions of stereotypical deadbeat dads that populate fiction? Any writer could have penned this, let alone someone experienced in film criticism who should have recognized that every single line of this letter is a naked cliche. Little is explored, or even made unique, of *any* character in the book's first 8 chapters: their politics / fears / fantasies / wants & needs never arise above their shallow personalities.
And while one may excuse that genre works, in general, are not devoted to characterization, Axiom's End does try to characterize: it's simply done badly! See the intro to chapter 4:
"She’d been trying to clear her mind and get to sleep but always came back to Nils’s letter, how it ripped open wounds she’d deluded herself into thinking had healed years ago. She didn’t know why she had kept it for the last two months; it was too uncomfortable to merit introspection. She wondered what he wanted, what he really, honestly expected her to do."
While this could be the start of something interesting, the phrasing is teeth-grinding. There is no excuse for such a shallow main character: in any genre. A good writer or editor should have, at the very least, forced this to be phrased less tritely.
Now, on to the book's plot; there is a reason I have not talked about it yet, primarily that it's, well, not very interesting. This is how Chapters 4 & 5 & 6 proceed: in-book, this is told over about 7,000 words.
Cora awakens in her home to the snippet above. Some*thing* breaks in to her home, and knocks her unconscious with a high-frequency sound. After awakening, she goes outside to search for this alien, and MIB agents show up at her mother's house. (Of course, they have memory-erasing devices.) Panicked, Cora flees to the marsh and is paralyzed by the alien after covering herself in mud: but after recovering, calls her friend Luciana, who arranges for her friend Bard to pick up Cora.
I hope it's clear why I have barely mentioned the plot: it's generic. My re-telling of it is about as interesting as it goes, and it has no real depth, let alone when it is spread over 7,000 words, in paragraphs larded by trite descriptions & predictable situations. Count the banalities in the scene where the alien paralyzes Cora:
"She tried to scream, but it was as though the air in her lungs had frozen solid, the muscles around her throat refusing to come together in the manner required of screaming. The more she tried to thrash, the greater the force that held her in place, as if her body were turned to plaster. She tried to cry out, but nothing came. She convulsed as though electricity were flowing through her, turning her nerves into jelly. She felt a deep pressure on her neck as though something were trying to burrow in between her vertebrae. Her brain demanded that her voice produce some noise, any noise, but her body wouldn’t obey."
Give or take a few, I counted 8-9. Additionally, when the plot is so shallow, good characterization can make up for it (or indeed, may even be the *primary* focus!), but with so thin a character as Cora, why should any reader care about her plight?
Worse yet is the humor:
'Bard sucked on the inside of his lips, considering. "How do you know it wasn’t a white person? Like a white human person?"
"I don’t mean white as in race; I mean white as in the color white."
"White’s not a color."'
Or, when melodrama is deployed as a joke, yet sits along melodrama played seriously:
"Cora thundered, her words reverberating through the trees, through the atmosphere, through the entire galaxy, through space, through time and into eternity."
"She knew she was capable of better self-control than this, but she’d been on the edge for a long time, she hadn’t even realized she’d flown off it and was now plummeting into the void, and there was no one to catch her."
And, while I understood most of the references Ellis makes, peppered throughout the book are references to things such as The Elder Scrolls: Oblivion, Neko Case, McMansions, and Panic! At The Disco. Even in passing, these fail for several reasons.
1 is that they exist solely ping the reader's mind if they understand if, and confuse them if they don't, to sometimes bizarrely superfluous effect. One paragraph is devoted to how McMansions are taking over the Bay Area: except, the term "McMansion" is not defined, and the few readers who do know that slang term will already likely know that these eyesores are taking over the Bay Area.
2nd is that if a reference is to have a purpose in-story, it should either be something that is not rendered irrelevant 10-20 years in the future (such as referencing a Rembrandt, or a Woody Allen), or be deployed in such a way that an ignorant reader only needs to understand the *category* of what is being referenced. For example, there is no issue with a sentence like "Jimmy sipped his Coke while his wife talked about Stardust Memories," because, readers in 2050 will most likely understand what a Coke is, and that Stardust Memories is some work of art.
But what is an issue is when a character is introduced by the third-person narrator as: "Eli was a scene kid, the type that was just a little too into Panic! at the Disco to be trusted."
"Scene" as a slang term is already on the decline, but if I do not know P!ATD, this sentence says nothing about this new character to me. This has aged poorly *currently*, let alone if someone were to come across in 2030. Worse yet is when these references replace description, such as the alien's voice being described as "the voice from a standard Macintosh."
I've laid out about all the issues with Part 1, and what I suspect continues in to part 2/3/4; perhaps I'll be surprised. If you read the sample of the book, you'll notice that the critiques I've laid out are not mere one-offs: they are consistent issues. What sticks most in my mind about this book is Nils' poorly-written letter, where he "wants a future for us", and I am hoping that writing of this quality is not in it.