Divergent by Veronica Roth
I’m going to level with you here: I have never read the books. I’ve only seen the films, but there’s a perfectly good reason for this, I swear! I once made a deal with my sixteen-year-old cousin. I said if she would read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, then I would read Divergent. This has yet to happen, but I can’t very well break; it’s a deathless battle for supremacy and I refuse to flinch first. That said, take my analysis here with a grain of salt, because all I know about the franchise is that trains are important and Shailene Woodley looks good with short hair.
Divergent has all the hallmarks of a perfectly livable dystopia: as long as your Myers-Briggs personality assessment says you are not Too Different or Too Special, then you will probably make it on the mean streets of post-apocalyptic Chicago just fine.
But I beg to differ. You are the kind of person who reads articles about your chances of survival in fictional dystopias, which means you are probably also the kind of person who would choose the Dauntless faction and die trying to do a kick-flip off the train on Day 1. (If it makes you feel any better, this is exactly what would happen to me.)