This sequel to Krista McGee's award-winning novel Anomaly feels at war with itself. It wants to continue the threads of the plot begun in the previous book, deepening the relationships and raising the stakes for the characters. But there's an entirely different, very intriguing story about the friction between authority and autonomy in the greater world outside. These two threads needn't clash but often do, making for a choppy read. There's a genuinely good story here; unfortunately, it's hampered by the structural needs of a trilogy's second act.
Spoiler alert for the previous book: Thalli is a young woman who, like her friends Berk and Rhen, were developed as embryos with specific skills by Scientists in an underground bunker, supposedly the last remaining outpost of humanity after a catastrophic war. But Thalli is unique in her ability to feel and think beyond what her makers intended, leading her to a survivor of the old world, John, who introduces her to a completely new alien way of life.
The fouresome escape a death sentence only to be tested by the strangeness of a barren, recovering world, including the people they encounter. One community has developed as an agrarian democracy bordering on mob rule while its neighbor is a brutal monarchical regime. The two are poised on the brink of a new war, and there is still the threat that the Scientists will recapture the escapees.
Luminary's opening begins immediately after Anomaly's close, attempting to recapture a sense of urgency. I say attempt because, having a few months between the two books, I never quite experienced the adrenaline rush McGee clearly wanted me to feel despite the rapid (almost dizzying) succession of obstacles she put in the heroes' path. Nor could I appreciate Thalli's emotional crisis, given how it zeroed in on one of fiction's most tired tropes: a misunderstanding leading to an argument leading to a love triangle.
Once the characters encountered more people the story really picked up, one not as encumbered by the need to serve as a direct sequel. The main plot about the challenges of leadership and governance proved far more interesting than the Berk/Thalli love problem, which fortunately ebbed in focus and returned the better for the distance. Here the book returned to form, exploring a new world through Thalli's unique perspective, allowing her to grow by not only making decisions but facing the consequences of them.
The Prince of one of the cities they encounter could easily have become just another extension of the aforementioned love triangle, yet he grew far beyond that into a complicated individual who at once despises brutality but is shaped by it, desiring love but afraid of its pain. Thalli's true talents blossom again in his world, including her musical gifts (the best part of Anomaly) and a deep desire for truth above mere comfort.
I found the style of writing more enjoyable the previous go round, given the stark utilitarian setting. I'd wish Thalli's growth as a character were mirrored by development in the narrative form, giving more scale to her journey. Also, while I could accept the bizarre escapes in Anomaly given the setting and premise, Thalli's hijinks in the world outside are at times harder to swallow. They're never completely unearned but the erratic pacing harms the delivery, and the novel's resolution is abruptly subsumed by the necessity of a series cliffhanger that feels completely unearned.
Parts of Luminary shine, quite enjoyably so, and delve into a good discussion about how to effectively provide true leadership. Other parts were muddled, dimmed by a desire to throw too much too fast into the reader's path. I'm still interested in reading the third book; I'm just not as excited as at Anamoly's end.
This review is also posted at Goodreads, Amazon, Speculative Faith, and the CBD website. I did not receive anything from the publisher or author for this review. The cover was designed by Dual Identity. The book is currently available from Thomas Nelson as a Paperback ($9.99) and eBook ($5.99).
