How Not to Write a Series or {Put This One on Your TBR List} Book Review: The Giver Quartet by Lois Lowry, Part 3 by Karen S. Wiesner

 

How Not to Write a Series

or {Put This One on Your TBR List} Book Review:

The Giver Quartet by Lois Lowry, Part 3

by Karen S. Wiesner

 

Note: Be aware that there are spoilers for all the books in the series in this review that will span the next three weeks in order to give adequate summaries for all four titles along with in-depth individual and series reviews. 

The Giver Quartet, young adult fiction, by Lois Lowry features various places in a dystopian world that would seem to have no connection save for the map provided in the slipcase of the hardcovers and also available online. That statement is a little bit of an exaggeration but not by much, as we'll see over the next three weeks. 

 

For the past two weeks, I've provided full summaries of the four books contained in this thought-provoking series as well as individual reviews. This week, I'll conclude with a thorough exploration of the tragic, overarching themes in each book. 

Before I jump into that, I'll tell you that, in 2014, a movie was made of The Giver with Jeff Bridges, as a long-time champion of seeing the book come to fruition, playing the Giver and Taylor Swift cast as the "daughter" of The Giver, Rosemary, who wasn't a large character in the book itself. Clearly, she was expanded a great deal because it was said she (the Receiver of Memory before Jonas) died years ago in the story, requesting that she be released from the horrible memories she was given. In other words, she allowed herself to be killed so she didn't have to live with the burden of such atrocities committed in the past. 

The book and the movie are very different, as I suppose they had to be. In the book, the governing body of elders is all but faceless. Only the nameless Chief Elder is even vaguely defined there--and really not enough to form an opinion about her. No motives for why the past members created a society marching to the almost religious tune of "Sameness" are ultimately ascribed to the Elders, but there's a general assumption that the strife and division that led to violent wars were so horrible and devastating, someone decided it couldn't ever happen again. Better to be mindless, thoughtless automatons than people with differences, individuality, and free will. Remove the need for cultural memories and human connection, morality and good and evil, and life is grand. For who? Not for the majority of humanity, I'd speculate after reading all the books. 

For the story to be understood in that visual form, of course the movie had to impart the government with motives. This fact made me wonder if there was a justifiable reason for why the governing body in the book thought they were doing the right things by creating a society like this. Even if I can't imagine anything that could rationalize it, I desperately wanted to hear the explanation. In any case, the film extrapolates because there's nothing offered on that count in the book. Shouldn't it have been a thing in the book, though, as it was in the movie? In retrospect, it strongly feels like that was missing from the story, even though Lowry was clearly telling a simple story of a boy living in a complicated world (for which there is no explanation) who's had the veil lifted from his own mind. In his limited point of view, the answers to his questions couldn't be provided, nor did he have the power to change anything but his own life along with the one he chose to rescue. But it does feel a little like a lost opportunity with this series as a whole because the perspective of the characters Lowry chose to portray these individual stories through is far too limited to actually tell the full story in each book. 

Not only that but the POV characters, almost unilaterally, lack the curiosity and ambition to find out and act on the answers they discover. In most cases, they uncovered a little bit of the truth and retreated. Was flight to another place or, alternately, foolishly hoping to continue their existence as they had before in the place they call home a viable solution? Is hoping something good will come of their mere presence within the community--being the change they wanted to see--enough? Either option seems woefully optimistic, given the almost unchanging stasis the villages in this setting seemed locked into within this series. Even in the film, no lasting impact is made by the fight for justice and freedom. There, the Chief Elder refuses to provide freedom to the community, saying dismissively that "freedom is a bad idea because when they are left to their own devices, people make bad choices". The ending shatters like glass beneath a sweeping statement that sees the group as one body, not its individual parts who may or may not fit into such a generalized assessment. No, that was not remotely good enough. Nor, I say, was the ending presented in the book. 

Additionally, one reviewer aptly describes The Giver as "a story of a government keeping humanity bottled up in one man, the Giver" and comments on "how dangerous and cruel this burden can be". I do believe that's another reason why the author never told the story behind the governing body in the Community. Lowry was focused almost entirely on The Giver and The Recipient, Jonas and what they were doing to keep society in a state of cultural-memory lacking dormancy the Elders had decided was best for it. The author's scope was narrowed on that situation alone, resulting in the same kind of horror in which a train wreck is witnessed. The reader is so helpless as to wish he or she had never walked out the front door that morning. Or, more aptly, had never picked up the book in the first place. 

Not surprisingly, the anti-government themes have made The Giver a banned book for countless years. On this one point, I stand with Lowry about that situation--it's not okay for an organization (especially one with any kind of agenda) to make choices about what the population as a whole is allowed. That's ironically the theme of this entire series, and yet it wasn't something Lowry ran with in any of the books. She gives a hint at the injustices visited upon an unsuspecting population and yet nothing is done to rectify them by the main characters, who maybe should have felt much more compelled to act, either then or when they got old enough to actually deal with the corruption. 

Once I finished reading all four stories in the series, I was left with mixed feelings. Lois Lowry is an award-winning author of some of the most beloved young adult stories ever written. I have no doubt she deserves the accolades she's received. Her stories are unique, thought-provoking, and undeniably compelling--haunting even. The Giver is counted by many as one of the most important books ever written, as evidenced by the fact that it's required reading for many schools around the globe. These are the stories she felt compelled to tell. I can't claim she did them wrong. I can only admit I left them disappointed and thoroughly disillusioned. 

An inescapable problem I had with the four stories was that the author didn't seem to want to finish telling them and/or she didn't/couldn't tell the tales from all the necessary angles to make the plot feel fully realized--and all conflicts were so similar as to be nearly the same from one book to the next. An interview the author participated in on her website offers some crucial insight into why this was the case: "Many kids want a more specific ending to The Giver. Some write, or ask me when they see me, to spell it out exactly. And I don't do that. And the reason is because The Giver is many things to many different people. People bring to it their own complicated beliefs and hopes and dreams and fears and all of that. So I don't want to put my own feelings into it, my own beliefs, and ruin that for people who create their own endings in their minds… I like people to figure out for themselves. And each person will give it a different ending."

As a writer myself, this type of uncommitted withdrawal from story and character liability, frankly, horrifies me. Any book I write is my story. I own it in every sense of the word. I want to tell it in every aspect without letting someone else do that important work of development for me. I just do not want other people to have their hands in the telling of my story. In that way, I take full responsibility for it and everything involved in its creation. To do any less in my mind is lazy; at worst, it's irresponsible. Additionally, for my part, as a reader, I sure the heck don't want to write another person's story for them, which is essentially what Lowry is forcing her audience to do! I want to read what an author has conceived of on his or her own. Those who can't write a book themselves almost certainly don't want to be given only part of a story that requires them to fill in the missing pieces on their own. Beyond that, those who are capable of telling a story on their own may not feel right about finishing someone else's work, as I wouldn't. I freely admit I've never read Lowry's other books, and I'm unlikely to after completing this series, in large part because I'm afraid she won't finish the story she started, preferring to leave important details out rather than deprive readers of the opportunity to do that vital work for her. 

On top of that basic complaint, I find myself confused about the purpose in telling stories with protagonists that may become the heroes in their own lives and may even make their small part of the world a better place for a few others close to them, yet these "heroes" are completely powerless to stand against the Powers That Be while they're children and seemingly even after they get older. Point of fact, in Book 1, Jonas ran away from the sheep-like community with Gabe, essentially leaving everyone else living there to an eternity of blindness, under the moot care of selfish leaders and the one person--The Giver--who could have freed them all…yet didn't, couldn't, wouldn't…and we never find out why he prefers to be so ineffective against such horror. In Book 2, Kira had an opportunity to escape to a better place to live with her father and best friend Matty. Instead, she valiantly stays where she is, believing she can somehow make her home a better place, but how she can do that doesn't seem likely or even possible, nor is the reader told concrete ways she could attempt to make a meaningful difference in her community. In Book 3, Matty gives his life to allow Kira to be reunited with her father and to meet her soulmate. To what end? For what purpose? For the greater good? No. Seemingly just for a select few--the ones quite literally in closest proximity to him at the time--Kira and Jonas, and his dog. In Book 4, Kira and Jonas seem mostly interested in their own small world with their marriage and family. Jonas is no longer Leader. Seer is gone. While they're helpful in reuniting Claire and Gabe, and that's a good thing, the terrible world around them isn't getting any better. No one seems to care enough to do anything to deal with those who are either ignorant or arrogant. Individual lives are improved in each book, nothing more, nothing less. Is that really the overarching story that should have been told in these books? I don't discount the worthiness of making life better for yourself and the ones you love, but doesn't it seem…well, a bit selfish? In fiction, isn't the point to portray heroes who try to do more than simply exist beyond the moment? 

The major issues I had with The Giver Quartet are: 

1)    The author didn't create worthy protagonists with the drive or skills necessary to combat the evil in the world they live in. All the characters were far too young to be given the role of savior as well as too passive do what needed to be done--at that time or in the future. The adults in the story were content to live with the situations they were in. So the children cast in the starring roles either ran away from problems or learned to live with them, too, rather than confronting and revolting against them. In some cases, they were physically unable to fight injustice, especially on the large scale that was needed. To me, as n author, that speaks of not "outfitting characters properly" (as Dwight V. Swain calls it in Creating Characters) for the tasks readers want to see them undertake. In fiction, we want larger-than-life heroes who can change the world, compelled to stand up when others can't or won't. Even children's books these days have protagonists who are capable of might, valiant deeds. Lowry did give each of her characters some kind of "magic" power and yet even that couldn't save anyone but themselves for the most part. Why? Why not do more with these characters? Why not outfit them better for the task? Why focus exclusively on characters that aren't up to dealing with the conflicts? 

2)                   In some ways, the world in The Giver Quartet was simply too big. So much of each of the books was devoted to world building aspects (the first one, especially, at least three-fourths was devoted to describing the situation and setting). By the time the story actually started for these characters, it was essentially over for them. It was almost as if the author said to the protagonists: "Now that you've got a taste of the problem we're living with in this place, here are your choices, but you only get one option. And you'll have the next two minutes to decide what you should do." Readers were given a fleeting, longing glimpse of an overwhelming conflict within this shocking world that they wanted to see rectified, followed by a rushed response on the part of the protagonist, and little more to flesh out the entire scenario in the satisfying depth it needed to be in order to fully realize and resolve it. 

3)                 Similar to what's in the last point, the author didn't try to live up to the potential of the similar plots by telling the stories in their entirety. If you want to tell a story, tell the whole story. In fiction, no one wants to hear part of a story. How frustrating is that?! Essentially, too many things that felt necessary are missing from each of these books. The scope of the main character in each was too limited to provide what was lacking, so the reader couldn't see the conflict fully realized and fully dealt with. In other words, almost all across the board, the villains and the problems they caused couldn't be seen through a wide enough lens to be clear until it was far too late. The protagonists weren't up to the task of meeting the challenges before them, then they were rushed out of the book with the hounds of hell all but on their tails. All of that led to outcomes that could never be gratifying to any reader. In this way, none of the stories felt finished, the conflicts just left dangling there, unresolved by the ones readers were led to believe would be handling them. I would say most of the scenarios presented as conflicts felt abandoned--by both the author and the main characters who should have been allowed to provide resolutions for them in each book. And that was just sad. Undeniably, each book is memorable, but more so like a trauma that was so brutally scarring, healing could never be an option. 

4)                      Finally, while I think Gathering Blue, Book 2, was my favorite entry of the four, I can't help believing the series would have been better if Books 2 and 3 weren't part of it. I strongly think Son should have been the sequel to The Giver. Period. Gathering Blue and Messenger felt like distractions to the unified story being told in Books 1 and 4 and would have been better presented as completely separate and unrelated to The Giver and Son. Certainly, the story would have been much more cohesive and satisfying if readers had left the astonishingly abrupt ending of The Giver and gone straight into Son. In that way, the latter could become the companion to the first, as it was touted to be. In the author's defense, I'm pretty sure the publisher was left to decide how to package these books after they were cobbled together to become a series. In exactly the same way, the unifying story told in Gathering Blue and Messenger would have been much more effective if the two had been offered in a similar companion story unit, ascribing a different world and time period altogether to them outside of the series they were thrust into like a square peg in a round hole. In all honestly, the romance between Kira and Jonas was little more than a mention anyway, not important or particularly interesting--and yet that was the forced connection that was intended to tie all the books together. Simply put, it didn't really work. 

My overall sense is that this disenchantment I left The Giver Quartet with is what happens when a series isn't planned in advance or planned well. This isn't to say that the books aren't well-written; they are, or I probably wouldn't have pursued reviewing them at all. I guess I've always believed that if you can't say something nice in a review, it's better to say nothing at all. So I will state emphatically that these books are definitely worth reading, despite all my loud qualms. 

I'm left with the belief that the author wanted to create stories that had a message. Was the message simply to make you think about reality--that most people who existed in the past, currently live, and those to come in the future have, do, and will strongly disagree with how our leaders are running things, and yet we do nothing about it? Is the message that there are no larger-than life heroes in The Giver world nor the one we live in?  That no act is too small to be heroic? This was true in the case of Jonas, who risked his life to save Gabe; in the case of Kira, who insisted on staying within a corrupted community she hoped to make better with her gift; in the case of Matty, who gave his life to make the world better for two people he cared about; and in the case of Claire, who risked everything for the chance to know the child she gave birth to. 

Undoubtedly, this series made a lasting impact on me, but maybe not in the way the author intended. If the books had been published as two separate sets, in worlds distinctly removed from other each, and if the author hadn't limited the viewpoints or, better, chosen more proactive characters to effect actual change in their communities, I think I could have liked these stories much more and been able to recommend them wholeheartedly. As it is, my highest recommendation with what we've been given as a series is to read Book 4 directly after reading Book 1, then read Books 2 and 3 to fill in any holes. 

If you're a reader who doesn't mind "lady and the tiger" endings and being left to wonder what will happen in the future of a tragic world, or if you're looking for nothing more than a thoughtful portrayal of a realistically traumatizing scenario where bad people win and good people put up with it while trying to make their own little patch of the world a better place, then you'll find what you're looking for here. In any case, I strongly feel a warning is necessary for this series: Don't go into reading it believing the overall story will be neatly wrapped up any point, that there are any answers at all here, and that the bad guys will be soundly defeated eventually. Read it for the thought-provoking scenarios presented, and that's what you'll get, nothing more, nothing less. 

Karen Wiesner is an award-winning, multi-genre author of over 150 titles and 16 series.

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