Diabolic wasn’t necessarily bad but was also not the best. I’ve had issues from the beginning and as I continued, there seemed to be a consistent ride of good and bad.
I am a sucker for royalty, whatever fantasy or galaxy it may be set. I’ve always been interested in the dynamics of power in a monarchy and set hierarchy and how individuals either revel or begrudge in it.
At this, Diabolic did not hold back. Set in a future Empire where your wealth is in your reputation and currency is in information, things were bound to get bloody. And they were. The sword was sharp and brutal. There was a live skinning, attempted rape, actual committed rape, and of course, murder. The sadist in me loved every moment of it. How else does a world feel real without witnessing its flaws?
However, the world building did lack on many areas and it was left to the acts of the characters themselves – no matter how trivial or grand – that created this reality. The concept, although familiar, was interesting and I do wish it was given more of a fleshing out to truly immerse the readers.
"But then, I’ve always believed love is the most volatile substance in the universe. It erupts, it incinerates, and then it simply flames out..."If you’ve been a veteran of this blog, you’d know my greatest enemy in literature is insta-love. I simply cannot stand it in any way or form and Diabolic was crazy enough to be founded on that notion.
Diabolics are creatures – androids? – created and designed to protect a single person as long as possible. Apparently, that is through a “bonding” process with the master, which we act-iii-later learned was chemically involved. With Nemesis’ own words, I quote, “I wondered at the feeling inside me, which glowed like warm embers in my chest. This marvelous glow came from looking at her…This was love.” And in a world where love can’t even be scientifically explained, it just sounded ridiculous to me.
Looking back now post-reading, I am slowly understanding Nemesis’ loyalty and devotion to Sidonia. But love? Nemesis was a Diabolic bred not to feel emotion and pain, only to serve and protect. So why bother labeling it as love? Couldn’t it be just simple commitment? Love entails more than just looking after someone’s safety and reading from Nemesis’ point of view, that’s definitely not how she perceives whatever was going on.
From what we were given, it can be seen as insta-love but not really. Nemesis is Sidonia’s best friend and the heir treats her as such, with kindness, acceptance, and love. But where did this come from? There were no experiences or flashbacks of any sort that could create the history of their close and already established relationship. Yes, it was in Nemesis’ focused and stiff point-of-view but Sidonia was also a vital character to the plot and to Nemesis herself. Leaving out their childhood, their memories together and just assume their undying love for one another was a bad move. Since Diabolic was instituted from that relationship, it was critical that we know and understand these characters’ history with one another before anything else. In the end, I couldn’t care less about the naïve Sidonia because there was nothing to care about.
I could still get Nemesis’ rigid narration. She was a creature only for protective services, after all. What I couldn’t understand, however, was the need for blatant dictionary definition.
Diabolic was set in the far future where most of the rich population live in space. I admired the dynamics of it all: the throwaway and lax culture that was created, their Helionic religion, and the sheer brutality of their daily living. But apparently that also involved a definition of terms (and I’ve had enough of those from research papers). While I usually don’t mind being introduced to new or altered concepts to convey a different reality, Nemesis presented them in such a boring bomb in the face in about a paragraph or less.
“Sidonia is the Impyrean heiress. Her father is a Senator. A Senator is rich and has a position in the Senate. The Senate and the galaxy is ruled by the Domitrians.” Ugh, no. It took the fun right out of discovering their world for myself and unnecessarily dragged the plot just to explain this ritual or this tradition or this family. Memorizing the complicated surnames and positions were tedious enough then you would have to take note of the procedures for Senate voting along with it before you can continue with the story.
There are definitely better and more creative ways to present a world to the reader. I won’t take the excuse that it’s from Nemesis’ Diabolic point-of-view when these customs aren’t even foreign to her despite how she retold it as such. Kincaid have got to trust the reader to piece together events from context clues.
On the other hand, there were also ideas that were left too untouched. Such as the concept of Diabolic killing machines themselves. Are they androids capable of emotions? Are they enhanced humans? Do they even bleed? (And Neveni’s history with the Domitrians!) There wasn’t a balance between the basic information and adding depth to the world.
If there’s one thing I truly loved about Diabolic, it was Tyrus Domitrian. In a power hungry futuristic society, Tyrus was a piece curiously placed in the board. He was titled as Successor Primo, to lead the elitists and everybody else upon his uncle, the Emperor’s death. The catch was Tyrus was the resident madman – bringing shame and going against their religion, hearing voices in his head, and basking in vanity. So who would want him as Emperor?"Perhaps scorpions were the only ones who could save each other. Whatever lay ahead, it would always be the two of us above the rest of the universe, and woe to any who dared step in out path."
The moment Tyrus and Nemesis met, I basically saw a glimpse of how it’ll end. But, the journey was still enjoyable. Tyrus was probably the only character I was able to fully relish and even relate to. He was built-up well with a known reputation, a distinct personality, and a clear motive – the telltale signs of a good character. In a world of false-youths, drug addiction, Diabolics, and stiff storytelling, he felt human. He was a good anchor in the vast, new world and an intriguing read.
On the other side of the scale, Nemesis was a Diabolic who repeatedly claimed her superiority. Upon this, I immediately thought of Khan in Star Trek: Into Darkness. Benedict Cumberbatch played this truly intelligent and strong antihero, who without a doubt dominates over an ordinary man even in presence alone. He can be seen as the antagonist – a murderer, to be exact – but his personal motives place him as a hero of his own story, determined to protect his family and exact revenge on the power that hurt them. Sounds familiar?
Then we meet Nemesis. She was a vigilant hawk, always looking out for Sidonia. And yes, she may be physically dominant with a constant lust for blood but she can really be stupid sometimes. She walked into situations that screamed bad (and ended up worse) to anyone with reason, all the while convincing herself that it is part of a strategic gameplay. Equally frustrating were the instances she let herself tricked by something so common sense and by someone named untrustworthy. Don’t even try to argue that she’s blinded by love or grief or whatnot. It was so completely out of character and against what Kincaid consistently tried to convince the readers of.
Nemesis was a different point-of-view, altogether, comprising of characteristics and thoughts an android would have. I personally think that there should’ve been another perspective side-by-side our Diabolic titular character. This would differentiate Nemesis from normal humans and further build up the description of a Diabolic. It would also create a more holistic storytelling. The focus was with Nemesis the entire time even if something more important was happening elsewhere. (Yes, I am talking about a certain useless prison, self-wallowing scene here.) Lastly, it would stop the info dumping.
"It’s terrifying to realize your own decisions are shaping your destiny."
I had such a high regard for Tyrus Domitrian that the ending simply took me aback. In a raised-eyebrow way. Diabolic revolved a lot around revenge and personal vendettas. The last act definitely dealt with the final pursuit of it all although in a sudden, uncharacteristic way. It still would’ve been good and acceptable if it weren’t so rushed and of course, suddenly tied up in a pretty neat bow. It read like a grand finale, tying up all loose ends. There wasn’t anything left – no cliffhanger or suspenseful epilogue – to have our hands itching for a sequel.
Diabolic as a whole feels like it’s still in need a fourth draft. There were inconsistencies with the characters, a limiting and dragging perspective, and a great lack in the world building department. Nonetheless, I still did enjoy Diabolic despite discovering a lot of concerns with it. I can’t promise that I would be picking up the sequel, though.
If you like an R-rated sci-fi with light romance and heavy drama, then I wouldn’t take away Diabolic from you. I simply belong to the minority.
No comments:
Post a Comment