Ernest Cline’s Armada - A Book Review & Comparison to Ready Player One

 

Ernest Cline is repeating himself, this time with with his new novel, Armada. I’ve never been one to write lengthy book reviews but this is a special situation. Ready Player One (RPO) is such a well received work that more often than not the true nature of the piece gets lost behind the glare of blind appreciation. I worry that Armada will be received the same way. While I primarily want to talk about Armada is this review, it helps to review Ready Player One as it makes for a good comparison point.

 

Warning! This review contains minor Ready Player One spoilers and major Armada spoilers. While neither book really has any crazy breathtaking revelations I suggest folks looking to read either from a clean slate return to this review later. Though I couldn’t fault you for skipping Armada all together...

 

If you haven’t read Ready Player One, I suggest you do so. It’s not a ground breaking book, it won’t leave you walking around in a daze, and it probably (hopefully) won’t be remembered as a classic. Yet, it is a highly entertaining work through most of it. Ready Player One is to Uptown Funk as The Great Gatsby is to Hey Jude.

Ready Player One follows the story of Wade Watts, your average highschool student who becomes involved in a treasure hunt centered around a massive online video game/life simulation called the OASIS. The treasure, an easter egg left behind by the games wealthy and deceased creator, is his vast wealth and ownership de facto ownership of OASIS. The game’s creator grew up in the 1980’s and, for inexplicable reasons, is just obsessed with all things of the era.

RPO is constantly referred to as an 80’s love letter. It’s filled with all kinds references, the easy and the obscure, from the 1980’s alongside plenty from the decade and a half that follows. It’s painfully obvious how the nerd/geek pop-culture references come to a complete halt correlating to when the novel was written. Despite the events in RPO taking place in 2044 there’s nothing of cultural relevance to the story in the past 40 years of the universe. No new movies, music, games, etc that have influenced people in anyway. I get that it makes sense for the references to center around the 80’s per the story’s main premise but that doesn’t excuse or explain this obvious vacuum.

Now, there are two basic types of references in Ready Player One. The first type are the ones that directly drive the story or the development/actions of the cast. In other words, Wade often encounters film and game references built into his quest while the appreciation and knowledge of the era play into his inter-character relationships. The second type of references are those in there just for the sake of being another reference. They don’t have anything to do with the story and only serve to pound the concept deeper into your skull.

The level of these references varies quite a bit during the book. During parts, mainly the first third or so of the novel, they’re mind numbingly obnoxious. Reference upon reference upon reference. We got it already. Eventually, once Cline runs out/thinks you’ve gotten the point, the narrative starts to drop the unnecessary reminders and lets the story unfold naturally. This is when RPO finally becomes entertaining. References aren’t in there just to be highlighted, but story driving elements with relevant story/character impacts. Of course, every now and then, sequences that would otherwise have a level of natural excitement and suspense are painfully weighed down by more unnecessary references. It’s almost as though the narrative is forcefully reigned in for reference driven filler. The use of references, in either way, are what make RPO so unique.

What is Ready Player One without all the 80’s and geek culture references? Your most basic coming of age story about and otherwise isolated teenager living in a shitty world. A shitty world that exists for no other reason than to make the rest of the story plausible (environmental hurdles are often casually stepped over when it’s convenient for the story to progress).  It’s a very one-dimensional structure that only gets its life from the references. The characters, while generally likable, don’t offer much on their own. They either exist to operate within predefined stereotypes or break out of them with eye-roll inducing pointlessness. Whether you consider the simplistic story and characters a bad thing or not really depends on your point of view.

The plot is structured like your basic action adventure game, no doubt intended by Cline. Wade must make his way through this adventure conquering challenges, completing quests, gathering rewards, and eventually facing off against a final battle. Motivations for everyone involved are pretty straight forward. The only depth we really get is from the breadth of references conveyed by the story and Wade. It may be very simplistic in nature, but it can be very entertaining as well.

At the end of the day all of the depth and conflict of Ready Player One stems from the knowledge and abilities the characters hold as directed by the 80’s references the book is filled with. It may sound shallow, and it might be, but it works. There’s just enough to make Wade relatable, drive the plot forward, and provide suspense and reward. The references are though, from my perspective, the driving force of the narrative. And they seem to be what has spurred RPO’s success. “Hey, I’ve seen Cowboy Bebop too! This is cool!”

Heading into Cline’s next work, Armada, left me with some trepidation. From Ready Player One there’s two ways to go... A) Develop more meaningful and interesting characters while improving the narrative or B) Throw more references in because that’s what everyone liked about your last work. Hey, easy money right?

If you’ve read the synopsis of Armada you may have thought, “Gee, that sounds a like The Last Starfighter.” Well, you’re right. The core story is ripped right out from those pages. Hell, the former is referenced by name so many times that people will probably think that this book is a love letter too.

Instead of looking at the story as a whole, let’s let's start by breaking down the Armada's three sections, or as they’re called, phases.

 

Phase 1

Phase 1 could have used an editor. The whole section serves to set up the rest of the novel with an often obnoxious methodology. We’re introduced to our main character, Zack Lightman, who from the very beginning figuratively screams “I’m perfect for a coming of age tale where something unexpected and improbable happens!” Sound familiar?

In this section we don’t really get to really know anything about Zack as a person. He’s in high school; has an anger problem; has friends because teenagers need friends; doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life; works at a video game store and plays lots of video games. This is all stated in a pretty matter-of-fact way. The only thing that really makes him unique is his father.

His father loved old sci-fi movies and video games. After his death he left all that behind eventually to be picked through obsessively by Zack. It’s this junk (figurative and literal) that peppers Zack’s character in a poor attempt to make him interesting. Sorry Zack, I don’t care about you because you’ve seen a bunch of stuff I’ve seen only because your dad left a bunch of VHS tapes lying around. Nor am I going to care about you because you play video games just like I do.

The weirdest thing about Zack is his mother. She’s so improbable and bland that the most confusing thing about all of Phase 1 is what the hell Cline is doing with her. Is she supposed to be a piece of fan service? Is the fact that she’s so unrealistically perfect in such a way as to have zero negative impact on Zack’s raising somehow a red herring? The narrative all but forces you to search for reasons because there are so many predictable moments and indicators of what’s forthcoming.

Worst of all, the references in this book are more painful than ever. For starters, they don’t drive the narrative. They’re just there, peppering the novel from the second page ("perhaps the sudden appearance of a band of time-traveling kleptomaniac dwraves."). All of the old games and sci-fi stuff his father liked don’t have a damned thing to do with what Zack is up to. It’s all baggage his father left behind. They don’t drive the core story element, the video game franchise that the government has been using to secretly train and test civilians with. Don’t worry though, the game’s origin is so absurd and hamfistedly delivered it was like Cline was working through a quota.

Eventually though the amount of possible references quickly becomes exhausted. Multiple things, like Star Wars, are referenced over and over. We get it, Zack is a Skywalker analog. Then there’s the amazingly infuriating reference double tap. Now when a reference is poorly tacked on, it’s tacked on in tandem, “...just as Star Trek and Star Wars used “inertial dampers” and “inertial compensators” so that Han Solo and Captain Kirk didn’t get squashed into heroic jelly every time they made the jump to light/warp speed.” Sometimes it even happens twice in one paragraph! Pick one, or the other, we got the association already. Now the references aren’t just kicking me out of the story they’re slapping me in the face with their worn out reference cock.

Phase 1 ends in such a way that I’d have a hard time believing anyone who claimed to have not seen that coming. I found myself asking what was the purpose of the last seven chapters. The most compelling thing that had happened thus far was how I found myself second and triple guessing myself over whether any of it had the least bit relevance. As it would turn out, I was wasting my time.

 

Phase 2

The second section of Armada finally starts to bring on the plot itself. The crashing waves of reference upon reference relents everso slightly. Unfortunately without this constant distraction it quickly becomes apparent what a horrible mess this work is.

It’s a damn shame because Phase 2 actually starts rather well. We’re introduced to the first character whom Zack can have a proper conversation with, the generic love interest Lex. Their first conversation, though somewhat stereotypical to the genre, actually flows pretty well. There weren’t any douche chill moments and the references were comparatively well done. One actually gets the sense that things are going to start progressing well.

During this scene we’re also given a background to video game series’ Zack & Friends are associated with and the real life reason why everything came to be. What’s presented has to be the most improbable nonsense ever that any casual reader will quickly that something’s not right here. A few pages later, so does our protagonist. And that’s how the central plot of Armada pans out. Everything is so poorly thought out and then, in case you’re in a coma, Zack outright starts pointing things out.

This, “hey, hey, look over here, a clue!” bullshit is one of three main occurrences of this flaw in Armada. The first was spoiled on the very first page when we found out that the video game we weren’t even exposed to was real. I can sort of forgive that. Sure, Armada may have been better if it had approached The Last Starfighter theme seriously, but I can appreciate the decision not to beat around the bush here. The second occurrence was with how they handled the fact that Zack’s father wasn’t dead. The novel’s characters all but broke the fourth wall and winked at the reader each time that came up. As annoying as those instances are, the one surrounding the true intent of the alien enemies is the most egregious fuckup I’ve ever experianced.

Imagine Shawshank Redemption where half way through they make it obvious that Andy is digging his way out. Or Sixth Sense where someone points out that Willis’ character hasn’t really interacted with anyone yet. A good novel needs even the most basic amount of suspense. Sometimes that suspense is twisted around in a shocking or unexpected revelation. Sometimes the authors make it too obvious and folks see things coming a mile away. Cline decided to completely do away with that most basic of writing elements and shove the hints right into your face. This is Writing 101 folks. Folks should want to reread your book to be able to catch the subtle bread crumbs they missed the first time around. They might as well have thrown the ending in the back cover synopsis.

Another way to lose your readers is to create characters no one could possibly ever care about. Toward the start of Phase 2 it’s possible you may have some connection with Zack. However, to help balance that out the novel is kind enough to introduce some of the worst characters imaginable. Everyone who Zack teams up with is nothing short of a terribly basic stereotype. There’s something here for everyone! Staunch Christian who’s also a gamer? Check. Poor person? Check. Weed smoking bro? Check. Asian? Check. Gay? Check.

On top of this, Cline gets around to demonstrating his complete inability to write good character-to-character dialog. Despite a few moments in Ready Player One, the limited dialog felt okay. Armada’s dialog reeks of someone trying to mimic the social structure of folks he’s only interacted with online or via video game chat. Poorly shoehorned references have now been painfully shoehorned into conversations. Look, Cline, everyone likes making references. Especially online. However no one uses them as constantly as you seem to think. Between the stereotypical characters and the douche chill inducing dialog it’s hard to justify continuing with Armada.

Phase 2 comes to a close with what I think was a snooze ridden battle sequence. A lot of things happen but there’s no reason to care. All the events that take place had been forecast long before. A whole bunch of characters die, but since they’re so poorly developed, there’s nary a reason give a shit. Hell, even in the book the characters react to the loss of their friends with the bare minimum of required emotion.

 

Phase 3

If you haven’t lost hope in Armada by this point, Phase 3 is where everything really derails. Before I going too far I want to backtrack a bit and discuss Zack’s father.

Father Lightman had the potential to be a game changer in Armada. He could have given the story depth, and more importantly, depth and development to Zack. Instead Cline took the whole ‘dead father’s not really dead’ trope and completely subverted it by making it utterly meaningless.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a circumstance where someone rising from the dead has had so little impact. It should be a life changing revelation for Zack and his mother. Instead they’re just confused, happy, maybe angry for a paragraph or two, and it’s as though seventeen years of loneliness and psychological trauma have never happened. I suppose that shouldn’t be too shocking, the only thing that Father Lightman’s death seems to have afflicted upon his son was a bunch of 80’s merchandise and an anger problem. Oddly enough, neither of which really come up again. Zack’s much highlighted temper eventually has nothing to do with anything.

Zack never really knew his father so there was never really a personal collection. Instead of seeing his father as a father, it would make more sense if he were seen as a mythological or iconic importance. That would’ve been more interesting, having Zack see him more as an estranged inspirational figure (from the game and materials he left behind) and unconsciously undercutting his father’s attempts to reconnect personally.

If his return from the dead doesn’t do anything, dying again a few hours later really should have. Father Lightman undergoes one the most meaningless deaths ever. It was completely unnecessary. The brief respite his final action brought about could just as well have happened a billion other ways. Worse yet is how the whole thing is mostly glossed over. The amount of psychological trauma this should’ve caused is beyond measure.

Phase 3 flies by in an inconsequential blur. Characters previously left behind are casually brought back into the fold in an effort to prop up the finale. Others are introduced simply because most casual readers will know who they are. It’s a massive triumph of deus ex machina, more pop culture references, and questionable story decisions. It actually started off well, Zack’s return home had some nice touches (hiding his ship in the gym) and one of the best lines in Armada ("Wow, really?" he said, smiling faintly. "I've never been home."). What happens is so head scratchingly awkward I’m having a tough time putting it to words. You’ll just have to experience it for yourself.

There are some odd plot holes and odd throw aways in Phase 3 as well. EDA tech is explained early on as having the ability for simultaneous communication over long distances thanks to quantum technology. It’s not explained how the world’s civilian population, with their off-the-shelf tech, is able to assist in piloting drones, millions simultaneously, without massive lag. New York is destroyed by tsunamis created inexplicably by the battles. It’s not explained how, nor is this issue ever mentioned again. We’re also left to assume that everything else bordering the Atlantic ocean is trashed in a similar method.

The final actions of the alien enemy, and how everyone involved treats the situation, is particularly troubling. Troubling in a , “someone thought this was a good idea?” kind of way. The aliens have just killed off billions of innocent people in the worst idea of a test ever. Humanity’s reaction is basically a collective shrug. This sort of global disaster would have massive social and economic implications beyond of unimaginable magnitude. Millions of people must have been left homeless and millions more likely starved due to food supply disruptions. They make up for it, what, by curing nearly all diseases? That alone would likely collapse any remaining economy and put millions out of work. At the very least Cline simply waves away the concern for the multitude of injured and powerless as the aliens dispersed "miraculous life-giving medicine and technology, along with an endless supply of clean, abundant energy."

The plot eventually wraps up with vague considerations that the aliens may still be up to something sinister. Good thing we have Zack Lightman on the case. It’s very reassuring to know that the only skill required to be an an interstellar ambassador is to be good at video games.

 

A Hodgepodge of Poorly Handled Ideas

Armada takes a lot of influence plot-wise from a lot of popular sci-fi works. Including, but not limited to: Star Wars, The Last Starfighter, Ender’s Game, The Day the Earth Stood Still, Independence Day, Childhood’s End, and Contact. Some of those are referenced at least once, if not multiple times. Star Wars is mentioned, by name, 12 times (counting the Chronology section once). If the influence had been limited to just one of the above, or even half, some of the original creativeness and heart might have been present as well. Instead we get a mishmash that both loses the charm of the source and never comes together and develop charm of its own. Stereotypical characters, poor dialog, laughable story, and an unrelenting deluge of references. In the end, Armada is a far cry from the creativity found in Ready Player One.

I don’t understand who Armada was supposed to appeal toward. Gamers I suppose? People who like the aforementioned referenced material? Or the works Armada pulls influence from? Folks who wish they would be whisked away to save the world? I fall into all those categories and felt nothing. It felt like Cline was speaking past me, at some sort of weird stereotype. Armada is definitely full of attempted gamer and nerd ego stroking which only manages to come off as condescending.

SJWs and #GamerGaters and whomever will pick up different things in this book and get pissed off about things that aren’t there. It’s full of strong (relatively speaking) male and female characters. Cline goes out of his way to placate nearly every popular demographic he could think of in a method, combined with the simplistic plot, that seems calculated to be inoffensive. Everything can’t be socially a-okay if you want to give your characters, or readers, something to work towards.

I’m rather curious as to how Armada was developed. Was it a short story first? Cline’s way of telling publishers he wasn’t interested in writing more novels? An attempt at more manageable big-screen adaptable story (less CGI, less licensable content, more people for cameo opportunities than RPO)? I just don’t understand because I don’t want to believe the simplest answer, that Cline is an awful writer. Sad thing is, that’s probably the case. It’s hard to believe this is what came out of a four year gap.

To finish my analogy from before, if Ready Player One is Uptown Funk, and The Great Gatsby is Hey Jude, that makes Armada Vanilla Ice’s Play That Funky Music.

Ready Player One, despite all its faults, was not a horrible book. Armada is.

 


TL;DR: Don’t read Armada.

 

Artists rendition of Ernest Cline's Armada (img via The Springfield Shopper)

 

 

 

 


Recent Comments