The YA Dystopian Book Club discussion
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Riya
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Jul 14, 2013 11:19AM

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I'd appreciate it if you comment what you thought, whether it be praise or criticism (: if you have any suggestions for the plot, you can pm them ;D



sure! i'm glad you liked it :D

Any feedback is great!
http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/2...
And Camille's is really good! I love it. :) You should check it out.


Chapter 4: Thrift-shopping
Chapter 5: Meeting

Here's the book (dystopian of course :)
Tent City

I've posted an excerpt of a longer story, set in an alternate present.

A couple people have posted links to their stories in the Introductions thread, so I thought I'd share those with you guys!
http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/3... by Jessy
http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/3... by Asma

This isn't exactly a dystopia, but it is set in roughly the same world as the other story.

Thx a million
http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/3...

Thank u so much! ur enthusiasm is making my heart do this flip flop thing xD

I did another. This one is a bit of a weird one. A full fledged adult passes on his trade to a New Adult.
Also, don't expect to much from this.XD I wrote it in three minutes. I've just recently got back into writing.

http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/3...
Is posting here in this thread, ok?

I'll add a cover later.^^ After this I'm moving onto to the Dark Realism genre of writing. A more subtle version of Edgy Contemporary YA.
Edit: I did a revision of the excerpt for Drugs and Dreams. Changed the title and all that.^^

The Great Consequence: http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/3...
The Summer Break: http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/3...

Here's a book description:
“Upside down everything looked different, but the same. Body parts were still just body parts – dismembered and alone, functions lost, flesh hardened. Random faces spewed all across the land, lost without their bodies, eyes like marbles left buried in the dust.”
Ten-year-old Liv Raines seems fine, but inside her broken heart, Pieces of her are dying. Their homes have been obliterated by natural disaster. Wild animals have slaughtered innocent children. Darkness is all they know now and Liv’s internal tears are all they have to drink.
If the survivors stay in a hollowed tree, the one safe place they’ve found, they’re sure to die along with their host’s spirit that imprisons them.
If they venture out to save the soul they call home, they fear death will find them just the same.
Can they rescue the one their life’s purpose is to make whole and thereby save themselves from dying?
Do they even want to?
Life in Liv Raine’s soul wasn’t always like this.
What happened? Where can they go from here?
Please let me know what you think. Thank you!


Here is my experimental paranormal futurism, or Deathpunk flash fiction.

I've added two more flash fiction stories.^^



https://www.goodreads.com/story/show/...

This is my prologue and chapter 1 of my story:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_...
Please take a read :)

So, in the future things can get quite bad, as they already are in Baltimore. But this doesn't mean that you can't dress well.
Ballet, I'll confess, can be quite dull to watch. But I like the dancers themselves. Frankly, I think dancers dress better offstage than they do onstage. I think performing arts like the ballet will become increasingly popular among a subset of the globe's populations, largely as a method of creating social and psychological insulation from the harsher realities... of the streets.
Fashion has always functioned as insulation from reality, and as ugliness becomes more general the significance of fashion can only increase, yes?
An excerpt from The Cerella Occupation:
As they were settling down each of the girls trying as far as possible to be inconspicuous inspected the certified and recycled silks worn by the other two.
Hee Jung had chosen a rather modern and modish smock shaded a variety of astounding pink. The smock vaguely resembled a kimono but one which was highly structural. The dress had been constructed from an interesting but nowadays often seen digital weave that interlaced the silk fabric with meta-materials endowed with certain adaptive abilities. Though pretty with an effulgence of origami-like folds it was obviously not entirely elegant, baring Hee Jung’s unadorned throat and ending inappropriately midway between knees and ankles. The adaptive technology of the meta-material fibres caused the dress to slowly change shade, tone and saturation in response to light, temperature and other environmental conditions, including the mood of those persons within the smock’s sensor range.
But this technological trickery struck an antiquarian electronic note which was backward and seemed to ignore the degree to which the wet revolution of the Teknik, which depended on organics and biology even for formerly electronic functions, had consumed and obsessed even the fashion trades in recent years. Beyond how the adaptive function was implemented, the overall impression of the dress was that it would be perfect for a Variable girl at one of the several underground nightclubs in the Kansai region. The admittedly artful frock, which was likley the product of an enterprising but completely nameless Variable street designer, was quite out of place along the perfectly manicured banks of the Kamō for mid-afternoon tea in an exquisite OverClass ion hut.
Astarte L closely inspected Hee Jung’s deportment. Though trying to be uncritical, she thought against her will:
vachement déshabillée, une crise de la mode!
She could not recall precisely—the tonalities may have been different then—but she thought that she may have seen Hee Jung in exactly this frock on a previous outing. It had been a frightening sight to see then as well. The mood evoked by Hee Jung’s smock was in that peculiar manner so characteristic of her in recent months dramatically thoughtful, dreadfully introspective—but in a suffocating and pre-meditated way—and, worst of all, chaotically impatient. Astarte L tried for a moment to resist the momentum of her thoughts. Resistance was futile, however, against the flood of opinion that saturated her mind. Hee Jung’s deportment was hopelessly careless, inexplicably distracted and, worst of all, entirely beneath her Social Registry. Indeed, beneath all of them. This unpleasant and even shameful diffraction of sartorial mood was enhanced by the fact that Hee Jung had shaven her eyebrows without bothering to brush on a cosmetic brow as two charcoal strokes on her forehead, which was the accepted and therefore obligatory style among the OverClass and Logos of the Pacific regions.
Looking at Hee Jung, both _____ and Astarte L without meaning to raised a finger or two to their foreheads where they with greater diligence than Hee Jung had been able to muster had carefully and artfully brushed on the conventional high brows expected from young ladies of the upper range of the OverClass when in public.
_____ was the most demure among them in full-length structured crêpe silks embedded beneath a foggily translucent first layer of micro-loomed silk. The soft glow of the outer layer of micro-loomed silk created the illusion that she was floating in morning mist illuminated by the greyish, orangish light of a rising sun. The underlying silk crêpe had been intricately woven rather than merely printed with a very faint plaid of violet, beige and blue. The grid lines of the pattern were clearly distinguishable despite the complex rise and fall, the twistings and turnings of the crush of silk crêpe. The dress covered _____‘s legs down to her ankles as well as her arms nearly to the palms of her hands. Yet despite the overall feeling of comfortable and compliant decorum the dress was also provocative and coquettish. If one looked closely, as Astarte L was doing, it was plain that hints of _____’s pale flesh were visible at certain strategic points throughout the under-layer of plaid.
_____ was dressed in that semi-elegant transnational style of the OverClass and Logos in repose which could find its pampered home almost anywhere in the world, whether in Palo Alto, Beijing or, as on this particular afternoon, Kyoto in Free Japan. At her neck she wore a single blue diamond that was somewhat larger than one might expect from a girl dressed with such simplicity and reserved elegance. The diamond dangled on medium-sized links of chain—not of gold or platinum—but of SuperDuplex, which was lustrous and difficult to obtain and yet not precious in the usual and accepted way. The SuperDuplex chain was a powerful assertion of style imbued with a significant degree of defiance. The relative lowliness of the material communicated an air of provocation to all those in her company to dare—if they were prepared to suffer the consequences—to offend her by questioning her vaunted social position.
Astarte L had decided to play against type, intending to excite rather than merely to shock. Though she was a citizen of the E-Union she had chosen a style that was peculiarly Pacific in the new way that had become interesting but not yet entirely conventional among the OverClass and Logos around the Free World. Her dress was a stunning HanBok designed in the vaguely martial style considereed fashionable by the OverClass of United Korea since the end of the Green Crisis. The elaborate ensemble featured a high draping skirt of coarse silk linen interwoven with the finest, purest dark golden yarns. The billowing full-length skirt was fixed with a bejeweled salamander brooch to a white silken bodice then topped with a short structured jacket made from a composite twill of silver, graphene and nano-granulated mother of pearl. Recycled AgriCertified leather piping accented the jacket at the seams and borders, including at the sleeves. The rectilinear discipline of the leather piping balanced the poofiness of the skirt. The grey, white and golden tonalities of her necklace of rough uncultured pearls matched the outfit’s shimmer. The overall mood was rustic but with distinct undertones that suggested a baroque and aristocratic reserve. She was wearing what was easily the most elaborate and expensive costume among the three for that special afternoon on the Kamō River.
There was little to be said by way of commentary, whether critical or congratulatory. Astarte L had won the contest, though none of the girls from the TIDAO would have admitted that there had been any competition at all. Certainly Hee Jung had never had an intention of competing. To the degree it might have been possible, Hee Jung had perhaps been anti-competing with her decision to wear her origami of a pink smock.
There was by contrast no hint of rebellion in Astarte L’s far more disciplined and harmonious modalité. Her outfit captured the mood not only of the afternoon but of the Age generally. The lines of her Hanbok were efficiently decorative, never exceeding the antique bounds of what had been permitted to the OverClass of the Great Pacific for a thousand or more years. The fabrics, however, with their interlaced fibres of gold, graphene, mother of pearl and silver shimmered with a diaphanous halo of light that suggested a metallic suit of armour that would resist any and all criticism or question. Her ensemble exuded a vigilant willingness to meet fully and with a brutal elegance the many challenges of the Planet of Warre.
Books mentioned in this topic
Tent City (other topics)The Earth Girl and Queen Eliza (other topics)
Eldorado (other topics)