The Atlas Six

What a bunch of nonsense.To be fair, when this book began, I was on board. From the very first line, The Atlas Six announces itself as absolutely up its own ass. And that's fine, that's great even, I love pretentious books about magic and libraries and borderline sociopaths. But by the time I found myself somewhere in the middle, I realized the overwritten dialogue and soulless characters had long overstayed their welcome. Six young magicians are chosen by the mysterious Alexandrian Society, the holders of the lost library of Alexandria, to spend a year proving that they are worthy of the library's secrets. At the end of the year, they must choose one of them to eliminate, and drunk with the possibility of learning the long lost secrets of magic and history, they agree, not thinking about what “elimination” might actually mean. Each of them are exceptional magicians in their particular skill sets, but four of them - Nico and Libby, the physical magicians, Reina, the naturalist, and Tristan, who has the least defined abilities but can see through illusions - find themselves caught in a game between the two psychics - Parisa, the telepath, and Callum, the empath. When it becomes clear what the stakes are, they have to choose who they are going to align themselves with - and who is going to die. Granted, it's not quite balanced as that. The group takes an immediate disliking to Callum over Parisa, probably because he can manipulate their emotions, whereas as far as they know, Parisa can only read their minds, not change them. But even if she doesn't have a magical ability to do so, that doesn't stop her from doing exactly that. She's also the certified Sexy Girl, and I would like to implore writers going forward - if you are thinking of writing a female character defined by her sex appeal, please for the love of god, reconsider. It's so, so, so boring.Probably the character I enjoyed the most was Callum. Even though his chapters probably had the most florid ruminating, at least it was fucking fun. He was doubtful that Tristan would be capable of understanding that, but the sensation of being liked was extraordinarily dull. It was the closest thing to vanilla that Callum could think of, though nothing was truly comparable. Being feared was a bit like anise, like absinthe. A strange and arousing flavor. Being admired was golden, maple-sweet. Being despised was a woodsy sulfuric aroma, smoke in his nostrils; something to choke on, when done properly. Being envied was tart, a citrusy tang, like green apple. Being desired was Callum's favorite. That was smoky, too, in a sense, but more sultry, cloaked and perfumed in precisely what it was. It smelled like tangled bedsheets. It tasted like the flicker of a candle flame. It felt like a sigh, a quiet one; concessionary and pleading. He could always feel it on his skin, sharp as a blade. Piercing, like the groan of a lover in his ear.Callum is the character that is the most in tune with himself and the most in touch with his magic. In his twisted way, he's the one that actually gives you a sense of thrill and excitement about it. In every other sense, magic is mostly seen as mundane, confusing or a nuisance. (There's something in here about attaching virtue to suffering, and how only villains are allowed to appreciate their power and enjoy themselves.) Reina resents her abilities because she is essentially a battery for plants, Libby can barely control her abilities, Nico pushes himself to the point of masochism (Nico's backstory/side plot in general is extremely overwritten, like Blake was desperately trying to make him sympathetic and interesting, and it's just really hard to keep him connected to the rest of the story), and Tristan doesn't even understand what he can do. The only exception to this is Parisa, who uses her ability well and consistently, but that gets kind of ruined because of this fucking Hot Girl Who Bones Everything In Sight absurdity. Each character though feels like they have a similar voice, a similar perspective, and that turns the rhythm of the story into a dull drone. I thought Reina might be an exception to the ethical vaccum that the rest of the characters represent, if only because she's so underutilized and the few chapters she had could have provided a reprieve. But no, she's just as callous and self-centered as the rest of them, and so when little nervous Libby suddenly tries to say, “Hey, isn't this wrong?” it feels completely meaningless.I realized something when I was thinking about the books that this reminds me of. The obvious seminal piece for this is, of course, [b:The Secret History 29044 The Secret History Donna Tartt https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1451554846l/29044.SY75.jpg 221359], but the books it reminded me of more were Taherah Mafi's [b:Shatter Me 10429045 Shatter Me (Shatter Me, #1) Tahereh Mafi https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1310649047l/10429045.SY75.jpg 15333458] series. Aside from it also having a blond socipathic empath (not as novel as you might think, as The Bright Sessions does a similar thing with Damien), the Shatter Me books are characterized by over-the-top characters with over-the-top feelings and a lot of long chunks of dialogue of said characters talking about themselves, each other, and those feelings, with very little actual plot. This has a catnip-like effect on certain kinds of readers -evidenced by the extremely high ratings these books have-, who are really just looking for characters to ship in a coffee shop AU, rather than a tightly-wound story. Because what separates The Atlas Six and Shatter Me from The Secret History, a book that also has hyper-stylized hyper-real characters with rich dynamics and big feelings but is not only extremely popular but is arguably considered a modern classic, is that Donna Tartt's characters don't exist for you. They exist for the story. Henry Winter may sound like someone drawn up from a teenager's notebook, but he exists in his world, with his own secrets and motivations. He's not fan service.When Callum tells Tristan that Tristan is drawn to him because Callum reminds him of his father, yes, that's technically good character work, but you're not supposed to just say it! It's supposed to be illustrated through the story and the characters' actions. There is so much telling and so much talking in this book, that by the time it gets to the last couple of chapters, it's basically just word salad. Not to mention, the climactic reveal is mostly just confusing and overwritten in a way that makes me think that Blake didn't really figure that aspect of the plot out until the very last second, if at all.I am giving this two stars because, as stated, I like the premise and the world, but also...I got a whiff the catnip too. The meat of the relationship between Callum and Tristan is not really there - but that's not what Blake was really going for, was it? Again, it's about giving Big Feelings with Vague Circumstances, so that you can take that and run with it in your own head. Normally I would look at something like this and think - who greenlit this? But this strategy gets attention and makes money. Not a bad plan.