The Atlas Six starts out strong–a kind of Umbrella Academy meets Mysterious Benedict Society meets Gossip Girls meets Harry Potter meets The Magicians meets X-Men First Class meets… you get the idea… mash-up–with promising powers/gifts/magics and characters.
There is the requisite unknown benefactor inducting new classes of young adult magicians into a mysterious society, where only one is chosen at the end for some kind of purpose, of which much is hinted, not all of it good. Within a few chapters, the young protagonists realize that the dangers are real, with fatal consequences, and at the same time, these dangers allow the testing and development of their powers. Naturally, there is intrigue and alliances.
So what is not to love? The challenge is, having started with such a catnip plot–we’ve talked here previously about “getting the gang together” plotlines–the book then seems not to be able to figure a way through either the characters or the contrivances with purpose and direction.
The characters–or more accurately, archetypes–will be familiar to those who have read other books in this YA genre. There is the prickly one, the insecure one, the arrogant but sensitive one, etc, etc. They are mostly invincible. They are mostly beautiful. And for the most part, they follow predictable character arcs. It will likely shock no one that the insecure one builds their confidence working with the arrogant one. The prickly one turns out to have a heart of, if not gold, then at least silver. And they get on in different combinations seemingly based entirely on hormones. This in and of itself isn’t an issue, if the superpowers were interesting or if the plot particularly clever.
So the superpowers. Yes, they’re called magic, but they appear to be far closer to powers–no reagents, no learning spells, so we’ll call it superpowers. There are a couple common challenges that superpower fiction run into seemingly universally. One is the overly vague–therefore anything-is-possible–circumscriptions of power which render characters alternately useless and god-like. Some have called this “plot armor.” The second is the deliberate under-use of the appropriate power set in order to prolong the plot–this might be called the “Superman Problem” wherein the writers struggle to find novel situations where Superman doesn’t simply dominate the situation from miles away before anyone knows anything has happened. Also, this is known as the “Throw the main character” trope–featured in every movie ever.
In this case of Atlas Six, the author commits both sins. There are two physical powered folks who, in the case of vague powers, learn to stop time, among other things. There are also other characters who are able to read and/or control people’s minds. They commit the second sin, of somehow being obtuse when convenient. If one were to live with a mindreader, or alternately, if one is a mindreader, one might expect one’s relationships to be strained with one’s fellow humans. None of this is true in Atlas Six. Neither of these would be issues if the characters were interesting or counterintuitive, but see above.
Lastly, the plot. Here the sin committed is of the “Lost” variety–having set up the promise of a gobsmacking reveal, in exchange for which the reader agrees to surrender pre-judgment and enter into an implicit pact with the author to go through some degree of confusion, Atlas Six does not deliver. By the mid-point, it’s entirely unclear what the characters’ reasoning for staying in this society is, nor is it clear how they are progressing. There are stretches invested in the interpersonal relationships, which then are abruptly abandoned, not unlike an episode of reality television.
Atlas Six is marketed like a filigreed version of popcorn fare, which is not its fault. The promise of a slightly more sophisticated version of superhero fiction, something closer to Naomi Novik Scholomance series or The Magicians without the overwrought drama, is still something that feels exciting. It feels like there would be a very enjoyable book here, if it managed to buckle down and focus on characterisation, map out powers, and then proceed with a plot that really takes both seriously.
That is the commitment one makes when writing sci-fi or fantasy, not to take the un-real elements like a piece of costume, to be put on and taken off whenever convenient. If that’s possible, there could be real promise in the next few books.
File under: Mileage may vary
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