Title: XVI
Author: Julia Karr
Released: January 6, 2011
Available At: Amazon * Borders * Penguin Group
If you liked: The Handmaid's Tale (Margaret Atwood)

Nina Oberon's life is pretty normal: she hangs out with her best friend, Sandy, and their crew, goes to school, plays with her little sister, Dee. But Nina is 15. And like all girls she'll receive a Governing Council-ordered tattoo on her 16th birthday. XVI. Those three letters will be branded on her wrist, announcing to all the world - even the most predatory of men - that she is ready for sex. Considered easy prey by some, portrayed by the Media as sluts who ask for attacks, becoming a "sex-teen" is Nina's worst fear. That is, until right before her birthday, when Nina's mom is brutally attacked. With her dying breaths, she reveals to Nina a shocking truth about her past - one that destroys everything Nina thought she knew. Now, alone but for her sister, Nina must try to discover who she really is, all the while staying one step ahead of her mother's killer.

Have you ever read a book and realized you'd need to reread it to know if you liked it or not? That's pretty much how I feel about XVI. I went into it ready to love it, found myself resenting most of it, and then the last thirty, forty pages made me reconsider my previous reactions.

The novel is in first person, which can be a turn-off for some people. I am not inherently against first person novels, but I am a lot less forgiving of mistakes, because the line between the character and the author is much more blurred. Reading the first chapter, I felt like world and character-building info was being dumped on me, and subsequent chapters were beating me with political views -- views which I share, but/and I don't need to be beaten with. With a third person novel, it's easier to go: "Not a great way to go about world-building" but still get invested in the character. But with Nina playing the role of museum tourguide, my resentment of the infodump rubbed onto her. (Full disclosure: I am not a very nice reader.)

I had a very hard time getting invested in the characters, especially Sal, who falls into a character trope I personally don't like. Instead of getting swept up into the story, I found myself nit-picking the world and asking questions that took me out of the story. It wasn't until the end of the story, where the drama was at its highest, that I started caring less about perceived plotholes and more about what was going to happen next.

That said, Karr's writing style is strong, and there were several times when I thought I've felt exactly that way before. Nina has complex issues with sex and identity that I think many people, especially women, can identify with. And many aspects of the book reminded me of The Handmaid's Tale, a classic of dystopian feminist literature. I can definitely recommend this book to readers less curmudgeonly than myself; if you're a curmudgeon like me, I still recommend it, but prepare to get out your cane and shake it furiously.

As for me, I plan on reading it again someday to see if I enjoy it more the second time through. Assuming my TBR pile doesn't eat me alive first.

Want to know the nitty gritty?

Sandy and Nina's friendship was very difficult for me to buy into. Sandy is clearly a foil for Nina: where Nina is thoughtful, she's a ditz; where Nina is suspicious of media culture, Sandy buys into it whole-heartedly. Where Nina is afraid of becoming a "sex-teen," Sandy is chomping at the bit. Even in her feelings about her police officer father's death, which NonCons were rumored to be responsible for, felt shallow. Her hatred of NonCons felt more like a product of Governing Council propaganda than a reaction to her father's murder. And I found it painfully pathetic when she'd chat up all the police offers she meets with "MY FATHER WAS A POLICE OFFICER." She didn't seem to have any redeeming qualities. While intellectually I can understand why Nina would consider her a friend, they never had a moment together where I felt like they actually were friends. We don't see Sandy comforting Nina after her mother's murder; we are told repeatedly that Nina can't talk to Sandy about why she's afraid to have sex. I didn't care about Sandy until she died. Nina's reaction to that felt very real to me; I reacted the same way when I found out an old friend of mine had died.

The last thirty pages of the book were where things started to get real for me. I was shocked when Nina killed Ed; although I know it's often a lethal idea to conk people on the head with metal objects, XVI wouldn't have been the first work of fiction to go for "I just knocked him unconscious." How his death plays out -- Nina running away, the kids waiting outside to see if Ed wakes up, the dawning realization that she actually killed him -- was done really well. I could feel her horror and her fear. At that moment, I really connected with Nina, and that sense of connection continued with the discovery of Sandy's death. I was finally emotionally invested. (So of course it was the end of the book.)

Before that, a lot of things seemed a little too convenient for me, especially with the introduction of Wei. Wei, whose parents are high-ranking NonCons and old friends of Nina's parents, who are fabulously wealthy and live in a house the government can't spy in. Wei, whose family can afford to send agents out to protect Nina but they don't really have to because Wei is such a badass, she can protect Nina herself. Wei, another Chinese piano-playing martial arts expert. Wei did have a charm about her, but I found a lot of things about her and her family difficult to believe. She seemed to know way too much about the resistance and her parents entrusted her so easily with a great deal of responsibility in it. Her parents came across to me more like roommates than parents. I mean, yes, she's a martial arts master at 16/17, but you'd think they would show a little more nervousness about her getting involved in dangerous NonCon shenanigans. Especially since they can afford bodyguards.

And it especially felt convenient when Derek fell in love with her and forgot about his crush on Nina, allowing her to get involved with Sal without having to break a friend's heart.

On the other hand, I do give Wei major props for telling Sal to STFU when he keeps blathering on about how he's going to kill Ed, after Ed kidnaps and beats up Nina. Sal's macho protectiveness irked me, mostly because everything about Sal irked me. He's the Good Bad Boy -- mysterious, rebellious, a little dangerous but on the side of justice, the guy who really knows what's going on. Confident in his desires but completely willing to wait.

And so I guess what bugs me the most about Sal and why I hated the romance between him and Nina is -- what does Nina get to bring to the table? The entire book is about Sal changing Nina, but how does Nina change Sal? He's already an active member of the NonCons; he's the one who pushes Nina the most to be one and gives her the most information about it. He provides enlightenment; he offers physical protection; he's wealthier; he offers emotional support. Nina seems like the Sandy to his…well, to his Nina. It's like he invited Nina to a potluck and said "I'll bring the main course, the appetizers, and the drinks. Can you bring the whipped cream?" It is absolutely lovely when one person cooks the full meal every once in awhile, but I prefer my relationships to be like potlucks, with everyone involved bringing something of equal value.

My last question, and maybe this will make sense on the reread, but why is it safer for Gran and Pops and Dee to not know that Ed was not Dee's father, after Ed is dead. Before Ed dies, yeah, I get it -- the more people knew, the more likely Ed was to find out, and the more likely he would be to hurt Dee in order to get to Nina. But after Ed dies, what threat remains? I can see being nervous about telling them, but…oh, wait, I think I get it. It would reveal that their father is still alive and that's still dangerous info. Never mind, question answered!

[/tl;dr]

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