What Comes Next?: “After”

Book: After: Nineteen Stories of Apocalypse and Dystopia

Editors: Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling

Pages: 359

Copy: advanced reader copy

Read: finished September 2

Spoilers: minor details, but nothing that ruins anything

Upon first seeing this book, I had my usual, aggravated reaction to anyone who lumps apocalyptic and dystopian literature together.  Luckily, the editors anticipated me.  Windling and Datlow admit that “blistering arguments about what should and shouldn’t be labeled dystopian fiction” (which they rather annoyingly refer to as dyslit from throughout the rest of the introduction) “have consumed whole Internet forums, convention panels, and book review columns…As for us…we’ve chosen to take a broader road in the creation of this anthology, including both dystopian and post-disaster tales…”  Fair enough.  While I cling to the classic definition of dystopia, I appreciate anyone who takes a moment to explain the difference and admit they what exactly they are doing.

The collection opens with an interesting, if rather short, story by Genevieve Valentine.  While Valentine’s position isn’t precisely a new one (this story bears some resemblance to Stephen King’s The Running Man, in that both stories deal with reality TV—Valentine’s version is much more YA friendly, though, lacking the goriness of King’s novel), she does a good job introducing teen readers to this subgenre of dystopian literature.  (On second thought, anyone who’s read The Hunger Games will already know the reality TV-dystopia.  Still, Valentine’s story comes from enough of a different angle to be interesting, if slightly derivative.)

The next story, “After the Cure” by Carrie Ryan, is one of the best in the collection.  Having read Ryan’s YA book (The Forest of Hands and Teeth), I find this short story infinitely superior and far from the melodrama that deeply marred her novel.  “After the Cure” is psychologically complex and asks important questions about survivors.  Ryan’s contribution to the collection is one of the few I’ve thought about since, so interesting are the questions it asks and the answers it suggests.

Other standout stories include Matthew Kressel’s “The Great Game at the End of the World,” another deeply complex story with heavy questions; “Reunion” by Susan Beth Pfeffer, which kept me guessing with its complex post-rebellion moodiness; Jeffrey Ford’s painfully relevant “Blood Drive,” which may be a little difficult to read given current events; Steven Gould’s “Rust with Wings;” “Faint Heart” by Sarah Rees Brennan, which does joyful battle with clichéd gender roles; and Nalo Hopkinson’s “The Easthound,” which has as surprising an ending as can be expected.  That there are seven excellent stories in a collection of this sort is nothing short of miraculous.

I found three stories to be absolute failures.  Katharine Langrish’s “Visiting Nelson” has the seed of an excellent story, given that it is a melting pot of A Clockwork Orange, 1984, and other dystopias based in London, but she doesn’t accomplish enough.  She might have better luck if she extends her story, though only if she does so carefully.  Her writing isn’t so engaging that I would put up with it for long.  Gregory Maguire (whom, I will admit, I’ve never really enjoyed) offers a nearly unreadable story (“How Th’irth Wint Rong By Hapless Joey @ Homeskool.guv).  His narrators are nearly illiterate survivors, but they aren’t engaging and his story goes nowhere.  I’ll admit I was disappointed, but not particularly surprised given my track record with this author.  Jane Yolen’s boring, half-hearted contribution (“Gray”), though, is by far the greatest disappointment.  Perhaps because it is the only poem in the collection (and by far the shortest entry), it sticks out the most and fails to satisfy utterly.

Some who have read Garth Nix’s dark Shade’s Children may be interested in his story, “You Won’t Feel a Thing.”  I, though, was left a little cold.  Partly, it’s been a long time since I read Shade’s Children, but perhaps more important is the story’s uselessness to the wider story hinted at in Shade’s Children.  This short story didn’t change anything in Shade’s Children, or even deepen my understanding of that novel.  (It is perhaps a disappointment because he has accomplished what he failed to do in this story elsewhere.  “Over the Wall” explores some of the complexity of the world created in his Abhorsen Trilogy, adding something new and changing the characters just the right amount.)

This collection will be especially good for anyone searching for literature after The Hunger Games.  (Especially helpful is the “About the Contributors” at the back of the book, which makes it easy to find what else an author has written.)  This collection may not be very well-received by adult readers—the stories lack the moral complexity of truly classic dystopia.  That being said, this is a good introduction to the vastness of the genre and is an excellent book for anyone who collects dystopian books (guilty!).  This is also a useful collection for anyone interested in looking academically at the explosion of YA dystopia, because it collects many of the important themes of modern teen dystopias and lacks the annoying romantic melodrama of YA novels.

--Benvolia