The writing duo Steven Brust & Skyler White have a simplistic approach in The Incrementalists. With a plot that takes its cue from the cryptic secret society that is its namesake, there are few ups and downs. This take on sci fi is quite understated, the plotline developing as one might imagine- incrementally.
The Incrementalists—a secret society of two hundred people with an unbroken lineage reaching back forty thousand years. They cheat death, share lives and memories, and communicate with one another across nations, races, and time. They have an epic history, an almost magical memory, and a very modest mission: to make the world better, just a little bit at a time. Their ongoing argument about how to do this is older than most of their individual memories.
Phil, whose personality has stayed stable through more incarnations than anyone else’s, has loved Celeste—and argued with her—for most of the last four hundred years. But now Celeste, recently dead, embittered, and very unstable, has changed the rules—not incrementally, and not for the better. Now the heart of the group must gather in Las Vegas to save the Incrementalists, and maybe the world..
There is a lot to be said for how the entire book embodies The Incrementalists. No action is abrupt and there is no urgency to the story which unfolds. While I can respect the authors for truly committing to their namesake, I don’t believe it to be entertaining nor successful. From plot lines to characters, nothing ever feels interesting. Even the overall concept, a group of souls which change the world in small actions, seems fascinating but in reality is presented in a banal package. At no point did I ever become invested or drawn to the story and how it unfolds. This made for a somewhat dull experience.
The one highlight in The Incrementalists is actually something I usually count as a negative- a very strong romance. This brought some feeling to characters that were otherwise one dimensional. However, this romance often times felt as if it had little romance, lacking emotion, passion and chemistry. Though characters would say how they felt, it seemed as if they were simply stating a fact rather than feeling it. It’s as if the characters are in love with one another without any rhyme or reason. Even sex scenes, and the entire concept of lust, feels contrived.
If The Incrementalists was a color, I’d imagine it to be beige; somewhat boring and anything but bold. While reading, I was consistently thinking that while there was nothing quite wrong, there was rarely anything right. There is a cleverness to how the concept of self is debated and expanded on. Unfortunately, this cleverness does not make for a good read.
I didn’t feel much from the romantic pairing in this book. While it wasn’t the ultimate reading turn-off of insta-love, I thought it was very poorly done, feeling more like lust than love, and boiling down to little more than, “Looks like someone set it up that I’d fall for you and that doesn’t bother me for longer than half a page.” It felt unrealistic and shallow.
Of course, that was my experience for the rest of the book anyway, so it’s not like I was hugely disappointed by the romantic aspect of the story.