One choice can transform you—or it can destroy you. But every choice has consequences, and as unrest surges in the factions all around her, Tris Prior must continue trying to save those she loves—and herself—while grappling with haunting questions of grief and forgiveness, identity and loyalty, politics and love.
Tris’s initiation day should have been marked by celebration and victory with her chosen faction; instead, the day ended with unspeakable horrors. War now looms as conflict between the factions and their ideologies grows. And in times of war, sides must be chosen, secrets will emerge, and choices will become even more irrevocable—and even more powerful. Transformed by her own decisions but also by haunting grief and guilt, radical new discoveries, and shifting relationships, Tris must fully embrace her Divergence, even if she does not know what she may lose by doing so.
After a long wait, I finally put my hands on a copy of Insurgent and I just couldn’t waste any minute after that, so I started reading it right away. 4h30 later and I found myself in shock. Insurgent picks up where we were left in Divergent, with Tris, Four, Marcus, Peter and Caleb running away. They get to the Amity compound, where they can finally rest and get medical help. This is just the beginning of a story pack with action and twists. I held my breath a lot of times while reading and didn’t even realize I was doing it! I loved the fact that we see a little bit of the Amity and the factionless, and I really enjoyed seeing Tris and Four’s relationship growing. We get to see better some characters from the first book and we find out more about how the society became divided by factions. It is longer than the first one, but it didn’t feel like it to me, the narrative gets to you and you can’t stop reading it.
I’m not sure I can talk about this one without giving away important information. It is an awesome book, even though Veronica is aware that there are some errors in the story. It’s highly addicting and you are going to suffer at the end of it—yes, I have to be honest with you, there’s a cliffhanger that’s going to make you wish it was 2013 already. I finished reading it and I was so in shock that it took me more than a week to sit down and write this review, I had to process the book, just like it happened with Divergent.
My favorite quotes on this book are bellow.
“How lucky,” says Caleb. He gives Tobias a wary look.
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Tobias says. “I only worked there because I wanted to make sure I could get out.”
“They have an equal role in government; they each feel equally responsible. And it makes them care; it makes them kind. I think that’s beautiful.”
“I think it’s unsustainable.”
He wraps his hands around my hips and presses me gently against the door. His lips find mine.
I don’t remember why I came here in the first place.
And I don’t care.
“Died” was just a fact to me then, detached from emotion. But “dead,” mingling with the churning and bubbling noises in this room, strikes a blow like a hammer to my chest, and the monster of grief awakens, clawing at my eyes and throat.
“We’re all right, you know,” he says. “You and me. Okay?”
My chest aches, and I nod.
“Nothing else is right.” His whisper tickles my cheek. “But we are.”
If this continues I will break apart, and maybe that would be better, maybe it would be better to shatter and bear nothing.
I didn’t realize until that moment that Dauntless initiation had taught me an important lesson: how to keep going.
No factions? A world in which no one knows who they are or where they fit? I can’t even fathom it. I imagine only chaos and isolation.
“Be careful though.”
“Aren’t I always?”
“No, I think the word for how you usually is is ‘reckless.’”
“I have a knife in my back pocket,” I say. “Put your hands on me, and I will make you regret it.”
I am tired of being Tris. I have done bad things. I can’t take them back, and they are part of who I am. Most of the time, they seem like the only thing I am.
But I can’t do it. My parents lost their lives out of love for me. Losing mine for no good reason would be a terrible way to repay them for that sacrifice, no matter what I’ve done.
“Yeah. She’s a big scary Divergent, and she’s going to make your head explode with only the power of her brain,” says Lynn, jabbing him between the eyes with her index finger. “Don’t tell me you actually believe all that kid stuff about the Divergent.”
“I think it would be easier to fight in a dress,” says Marlene, tapping her chin. “It would give your legs freer movement. And who really cares if you flash people your underwear, as long as you’re kicking the crap out of them?”
“Here I finally feel… sane again.”
“Which is odd, considering you are acting like a psychopath.”
“Killing you is not the worst thing they can do to you,” I say. “Controlling you is.”
“Well, half of half of our faction.”
“In some circles they call that a quarter, Mar,” Lynn says.
We both have war inside of us. Sometimes it keeps us alive. Sometimes it threatens to destroy us.
I love Tris the Divergent, who makes decisions apart from faction loyalty, who isn’t some faction archetype.
The more reckless I get, the more popular I am with the Dauntless.
Tobias is right—I’m not Dauntless; I’m Divergent. I am whatever I choose to be.
Sometimes I feel like I am collecting the lessons each faction has to teach me, and storing them in my mind like a guidebook for moving through the world. There is always something to learn, always something that is important to understand.
Blood is a strange color. It’s darker than you expect it to be.
Why I chose Dauntless in the first place: not because they are perfect, but because they are alive. Because they are free.
“Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m all right?” I say.
“No, I’m pretty sure you’re not all right.”
You made your decision. These are the repercussions.
I read somewhere, once, that crying defies scientific explanation. Tears are only meant to lubricate the eyes. There is no real reason for tear glands to overproduce tears at the behest of emotion.
I think we cry to release the animal parts of us without losing our humanity. Because inside me is a best that snarls, and growls, and strains toward freedom, toward Tobias, and, above all, toward life. And as hard as I try, I cannot kill it.
So I sob into my hands instead.
“Evil depends on where you’re standing.”
“No matter where I stand, I’ll still think mind controlling an entire city of people is evil.”
I’m going to die tomorrow. It has been a long time since I felt certainty about anything, so this feels like a gift.
“What are you, twelve?”
“And a half,” he says.
They are not characterized by a particular virtue. They claim all colors, all activities, all virtues, and all flaws as their own.
I don’t know what binds them together. The only common ground they have, as far as I know, is failure. Whatever it is, it seems to be enough.
“Relax, Beatrice (…) I’ve driven a car before.”
“I’ve done a lot of things before, but that doesn’t mean I’m any good at them!”
“Insurgent,” he says. “Noun. A person who acts in opposition to the established authority, who is not necessarily regarded as belligerent.”
“Do you need to give everything a name?” says Cara, running her hands over her dull blond hair to tuck the stray pieces back. “We’re just doing something and it happens to be in a group. No need for a new title.”
“I happen to enjoy categorization.”
“Nando?” I say to him. “I thought the Erudite didn’t like nicknames?”
“When a pretty girl calls you by a nickname,” he says, “it is only logical to respond to it.”
People, I have discovered, are layers and layers of secrets. You believe you know them, that you understand them, but their motives are always hidden from you, buried in their own hearts. You will never know them, but sometimes you decide to trust them.