1 Star

This book took me a full two months to read and digest, and I do not mean that in any sort of good way. I did not really think I would like this book when I picked it up, but I was abundantly curious. And I do think there are critiques to be made about some of the more "liberal" talking points out there. With a name as inflammatory as "Wokelynd," I wasn't really expecting this to be a balanced breakdown of where the liberal agenda goes too far, but I did have some hope. Unfortunately, this book was nowhere near that.

I'm going to critique this book in two ways. I do want this review to be as balanced as possible, and so I am going to highlight, first and foremost, the way that this book fails as, well, a book. That's where my rating comes from. Then, for those still somehow reading this review, I will dive into some of the more political talking points here.

Anyway, on the book itself:

<b>DYSTOPIA</b>

This book presents itself as a dystopia, and unfortunately, it really wasn't that. Or at least it wasn't a good one. A good dystopia takes a look at the contemporary day and projects our political vices (and "virtues") into what they could become, given the right circumstances. Dystopia is always exaggerated, but it is an exaggeration of very real political prospects in the current day. Nothing projected in this book lines up with any sort of real liberal agenda. I do not know a single liberal who wants anything even remotely close to what this book projects. <i>The Handmaid's Tale</i> works because it brutally twists a very real set of political ideology: there are conservative sects that we can observe (more and more, unfortunately) who do want women pushed back into the household, back into the kitchen, and back into little more than breeding stock. Though Atwood's projection is an exaggeration, it is an exaggeration of a real political bent. The same can be said of Orwell's <i>1984</i> (something this book has been compared to) when it comes to the failures of the communist states Orwell felt encroaching upon his own life. <i>The Hunger Games</i> successfully critiques not a political bent but several cultural ones--our consumption and commodification of the poor and the desperate for "entertainment," among other things. This book, however, fails to make any sort of meaningful political or cultural extrapolation. It is too on-the-nose, too buzz-word-y, and in that way, it feels more like satire. But it takes itself far too seriously to be satire, and so it fails at that, too. That is this book's biggest failure: it claims to be dystopian, and it does not in fact provide a compelling or meaningful dystopian world.

<b>YA</b>

I discovered this book on Netgalley, where I acquire the majority of my eARCs for Gateway Reviews. I exclusively review YA books at GR, so I only ever browse new and upcoming YA books on Netgalley. That is where I found this book. This book is most definitely not a YA book. The characters, content, and commentary are all meant for adults. Why, then, did it end up in the YA category? Was this a mistake? Well, my experience with small press and indie authors says it was not. One common misconception I see with these small press/indie authors is that "YA" is a potential audience and not a marketing category. YA is most certainly a marketing category. A book that might also be enjoyed by teens is not a YA book if the content is written by, about, and for adults. Just because you believe that this book might appeal to teens does not make it a YA book, and so on a marketing level, this book struggles, too. This book is sexually explicit. It is graphic. It includes sexual assault (in a very casual way; more about that later), and so it is not a "YA" book. I also don't think teens would like it, just in general. Politically. But that's also for later on.

<b>CHARACTERS</b>

In addition to having a fundamental genre and marketing problem, this book also fails to deliver in content. Most importantly, the characters here... aren't characters. At best, they are cardboard cutouts of caricatures. There are only two types of character in this book: those who reluctantly follow the ways of New California (but are secretly rebels) and those who wholeheartedly follow the ways of New California. There is no nuance, no middle ground. Everyone in the first category is ready to defect at a moment's notice. They're ready to drop the neopronouns and spout some New-California-style heresy. And in this way, all of the characters feel very much the same. Their attitudes are the same. They speak the same. They act and sound the same. A hardened war veteran should not sound like a lesbian sniper, and yet... These flat, flat characters don't make for a compelling story. In fact, the one-dimensional nature of these characters speaks to a larger problem: this book isn't so much a book as an agenda. But I'll get to that later on.

<b>PLOT ARC</b>

The stilted characters aren't enough to prop up the lack of a plot here, obviously. Our protagonist Quinceton doesn't really do much of anything. Sure, a lot of things <i>happen</i> in this book, but none of them are actively Quinceton's doing. Things just happen <i>to</i> him, and he goes along with them. <spoiler>So when the rescuers at the end say they were waiting for someone like Quinceton to emerge, I rolled by eyes. What made Quinceton special? Was it the fact that he was questioning everything around him? Because that didn't seem all that unique, given all of the dissenters he just randomly happens to find throughout the book. It felt like half the population was asking the same questions. Was it because he...? What? What exactly did he do? He doesn't do anything, so I'm not sure why he was the hero they were looking for.</spoiler> Anyway, there isn't so much of a plot arc here as a bunch of plot points tossed in together. And that, too, is a major failure.

To put it plainly, this isn't a good book. This isn't a book that knows what it is doing. It doesn't have the plot, the characters, or the dystopian worldbuilding down in a way that would make it much fun to read. Which kind of leads me into the next part of this review. This book doesn't appear to have been written as a book so much as a political statement. If you don't want to talk politics (or are tired of reading this review), you can sign off here. But I do want to talk some politics here, because sending quotes from this book to a few unlucky comrades of mine wasn't enough to satisfy me.

The following points will be listed in no particular order. These are just the notes scribbled in my electronic margins, sent to myself via voice memo, and texted at 2 a.m. to unsuspecting friends. I took my time digesting this, and so I have a lot of these musings. Not all of them will be included.

<b>MUSINGS</b>

Quinceton is Black. George Denny is not. I don't believe that Black leads should only <i>ever</i> be written by Black authors. But I do believe that publishing has a problem with Black leads. Publishing believes that Black leads don't sell (which isn't a tried-and-true fact, as far as I'm concerned; it is a lack of proper marketing). Because publishing believes that Black leads don't sell, there are limited spaces available for these books. And with so few spaces available, we should definitely be prioritizing Black authors writing their own experiences, right? But that aside, George Denny did choose to write a Black lead, and I think there's a particular reason for that in this case. And it isn't meant to highlight any sort of Black experience Denny has witnessed (or imagined up). No, it is to lend legitimacy to this story. Because having a White lead crying about how reverse racism is bad just isn't a good look, right? But having a Black lead say that, you know, it really isn't all that bad for Black boys anymore and really MLK kinda solved all that anyway, well, that just adds credibility. Because isn't Quinceton the type of person all this liberal, "woke" agenda is meant to help? So if he says it is too far, well, it must be.

This book uses sexual assault as a motivator. And that's just... icky. There's no care and consideration in the portrayal of SA in these pages. I didn't get the sense that Denny has experienced SA on any sort of personal level. It is just a plot point, and that's... no good. SA, especially SA of the random love interest Quinceton attaches himself to right at the end of the book (Natalie? Maybe? I can't remember, because she did so little and was so unimportant), as a motivator for the main character just isn't where it's at.

You know the meme that conservatives like to throw around where the liberal is a fat, blue-haired lesbian? Well, we don't really need to dissect that image at all, right? That's just how all liberals actually look. At least in this world. Because every person of power in this world is queer, obese, and a real fan of showing up to political events in bikinis for some reason? And they've got really fun hair colors, too. Because you can do that in New California.

Which does kind of lead me into my next note, which is that George Denny seems to believe that all of the agendas he has deemed "liberal" are supported by exactly the same people. Like, the people who are all about the "abolish the family" movement are also the body-positivity people and also the neo-pronouns people. Which kind of makes me think Denny's never had a good-faith conversation with someone more liberal-leaning than him. Because these groups have overlap, sure, but they are absolutely not the same people. The neo-pronoun debate is strong even within the queer community, and if there isn't a solid consensus within the community, it definitely isn't a settled debate outside of that community. Denny also seems to subscribe to the idea of a liberal academia, too--an academia that will lead the charge in sort of "woke" revolution. But as a critical theorist in academia, I can assure everyone out there that academia is much more about debate than about consensus. And it really, truly isn't as liberal as conservative groups would like to think.

Speaking of academia... Some ideas really aren't meant to be shared outside of academic circles. This isn't me trying to gatekeep knowledge. This is just acknowledging a reality. Especially within critical theory, a piece of criticism is never fully contained within itself. Everything you read is a response to something, and the essay it is responding to is also a response to something. Trying to study critical theory is like diving into an endless rabbit hole, because there will always be some reference you don't understand that makes you crawl deeper and deeper into the critical abyss. I do think these sort of critical musings are crucial to our development as a society, but they need to be carefully (and concisely! please, concisely) boiled down to be shared with the non-academic sphere, because nobody else is doing that sort of legwork. So when something like Critical Race Theory breaks containment and becomes a political buzzword, well, it gets pretty sad pretty quickly. Because these sorts of theories are 1) just theories, 2) not a matter of academic agreement, and 3) definitely not what the mainstream media thinks they are. This book really does feel like an extended case of "Oh, that's not what you think it is." This book uses a ton of buzzwords, more than just the ones the media likes to throw around. But this book--and George Denny--fail to really grasp what those words mean. I will give Denny credit for going beyond just the clickbait headlines (at least in some cases), but throwing around "hegemonic," "intersectional," and, good grief, "cisheteropatriarchy" without, in good faith, attempting to understand how such terms have been used isn't really very helpful, is it?

And you know what? This book is racist. This book is really, really racist. Oh, I know, Denny's trying to expose how things like DEI (which he rearranges to be "DIE") and various equity movements are racist at their core, but... it also just felt like he wanted an excuse to write some really, really racist things. I mean, the mocking tone whenever "St. Floyd" is brought up feels quite... evil, to be honest. Think of the man what you will; he was still brutally murdered, and we all bore witness. If your response to that is in any way mocking, I have a problem with you.

Wokelynd is a mesmerizing novel that masterfully intertwines a gripping storyline with insightful commentary on today's political climate. Set in a not-so-distant future California, the narrative unfolds with an engrossing momentum that captivates readers from beginning to end.

One notable strength of the novel lies in its richly developed characters, each exuding a profound sense of humanity and relatability. As the plot unravels, readers form an emotional bond with the characters, sharing in their journeys and experiencing a gamut of emotions alongside them. This emotional connection brings an authentic depth to the story, enveloping readers in a truly immersive reading experience.

I picked this book with my eyes wide open and part of it was exactly what I was expecting. Basically, think of your favorite libertarian decided to rewrite 1984 and that is the book you would get (the author is not shy with the connection between the two). Perhaps a modern, stripped-down Atlas Shrugged might also come to mind. The underlying premise seemed a bit overdone, and I was not keen on the connection to real life people (Saint Floyd was a bit on the nose for me). Also, I was expecting it to be more conservative (and religious) than pure libertarian.. Also the idea that the protagonist in the futuristic DEI (or DIE in the book) obsessed world ends up on a "plantation" where there are house servants and field servants again was a bit obvious. The concept seemed interesting, but the execution was a bit overwrought for my taste.

“Wokelynd” envisions a not-too-distant future where California seceded from the Union, and further divided into two separate “countries.” This occurred via a constitutional amendment, ratified in 2039. Southern California re-joined the rest of the United States, while Northern California (known as New California) became an isolationist home to mostly historically oppressed and disenfranchised people, including Blacks, Latinos, LGBTQ, and others. Ruled by the Justice of Social Soldiers, New California closed its borders and demands equity for all residents, but it is far from Utopia, with strict rules against any form of racism, favoritism, elitism or radical thought.

All this occurs because of increased polarization by politicians and elected officials, different socio-economic groups, identity politics run amuck, extremism – sound familiar? This is a scary scenario relevant not just to the United States, but other countries where the same things are happening.

The action really starts in 2066, with the main character, a military sniper named Quinceton Rift, is about to participate in a military operation against residents and soldiers in Lake Tahoe, NV. Rift, who was born in New California and knows little history, gradually learns what led to secession and that the world outside his home may be better than he has been led to believe. Lack of decent food and housing, strict laws, and fear are common with New Californians.

There is a lot to absorb in the book, and all the lingo can be confusing. Thankfully, there is a glossary and prologue before the first chapter to help the reader understand what is going on. For example, there is Anti-Racist, the dominant ideology of New California; Anti-Anti-Racist, which is a counter-revolutionary group opposed to the leadership and rules of New California; Anti-Anti-Anti-Racist, an extremely violent law-enforcement group. The word “women” is spelled “womxn,” “so as to strengthen the psychological independence from men and their associated patriarchy.” Any time you meet someone, you must identify yourself by your “Intersectional Value; for example, “Full-body privilege pansexual blandbrain half-Mexicanx feminine-leaning Latinx non-binary they/them.” Whew!

I admit I had trouble getting into the story, but I kept with it, and after the attack on Lake Tahoe, the narrative got much more interesting. With all that is going on in our country right now, it makes you wonder if something like that could actually happen. Hopefully, our citizens and leaders will eventually reject polarization and again embrace inclusion and cooperation. If not, the future indeed looks bleak for all people.