You know, I used to feel really, really guilty about putting a book down before I had finished it. Like I owed the author something. But after suffering through way too many terrible books with one-dimensional characters and cliche plots, I learned I only owe MYSELF the respect of actually enjoying what I read.
This book, what I was able to read of it, was boring as crap. At first, I was okay with the characters, but the more you read, the more you realized they were absolutely lacking in any depth. Elias is just the straight-A, rich jock type with mommy issues, Laia is the pretty-not-pretty girl with no spine but a world of talents and no brain.
The world, which was billed as Rome-like, didn't feel Roman at all. In fact, I didn't feel much world building at all.
The names of the people in this book were like something from a children's book. The Martials, the military types. And the Scholars, the smart ones. Really?
The Resistance uses Laia as a spy to bring down the Empire. That's the point I quit because Laia, despite her parents supposedly being huge Resistance leaders, is an idiot. What well-oiled revolution is going to use a stray they just found in the sewers as their spy? It reeks of stupidity on all parts. The girl couldn't even say a sentence without stammering and she's being sent into the Commandant's quarters.
Oh, and there's lots of mention of rape. The Masks, the really "good" assassins, really like rape.
Is this what passes as literature? This book was so fucking hyped it's all I saw on my Instagram feed for months. God, I have got to learn to trust you guys here over pretty pictures on Insta. Those people take great pics of trash writing.