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A review by cassieyorke
The SEPA Project by J. Moody, J. Moody
5.0
Post-Apocalyptic. The term conjures barren wastelands, colorless worlds stretching into the horizon. Iron skeletons of cities with rusted metal screaming in a radioactive wind. Some ugly combination of Terminator and Fallout 3. No color, no hope, forever.
So imagine my surprise when I opened The SEPA Project and saw its first pages bloom with beauty and rich detail.
From the beginning of The SEPA Project, Moody sets to work demolishing the reader's expectation of what post-apocalyptic means - what it looks like, feels like, acts like. It opens with the novel's main protagonist, a girl we know only as 288, observing the world of New Bhutan for our benefit. She belongs to the story's titular organization, a collection of people who aren't seen as people. A Sepa is both a profession and a caste, ostensibly necessary to this country's survival but also loathed and despised by the people they're supposed to protect. Spies, assassins, saboteurs, infiltrators, soldiers, even diplomats - whatever the situation demands, sent outside the boundaries of the city state of New Bhutan on covert missions to serve their shadowy masters. New Bhutan is a paradise on Earth, or so its residents tell each other; the last green place on the planet, the last clean water, the last place to find decent food and clean air. Beyond its outer frontier lies the Banjar, an expanse of desert, disease, and death that stretches far beyond the knowledge of any living person. Nobody knows where it ends, *if* it ends; all anyone knows is that it's home to the Banjarians, desperate barbarians who scrabble their meager survival in a fiery, blasted desert that used to be a livable world. It's also home to the Banjarguay, a deadly pestilence borne on the endless burning winds of the wasteland. The Sepas are routinely sent out there to...well, no one is sure, exactly. They occasionally bring back valuable artifacts from the Old World. Occasionally they kidnap or assassinate troublesome rebels. To the residents of New Bhutan, all Banjarians are subhuman enemies, but Sepas also make...diplomatic contact with them? For some reason? There's a lot that doesn't quite add up. There's certainly more to this picture, and it's slowly revealed over the course of the story.
And that story is expertly told. The SEPA Project might be slow-paced for the first half of the book, but all truly epic tales take a while to spin into gear - powerful engines always start slowly, and once they're moving, they bulldoze everything in their path without stopping.
Moody uses so many storytelling techniques that I love and admire. One is the sense of absolute mystery just around the edges of your vision. She keeps the field of view restricted to one character at a time, giving you a series of small perspectives and leaving you to build the world around you the best you can with what scant details are available to you. She offers vague answers to certain questions, and for others, none at all. This reinforces the story's ominous tones and the deepening sense of mystery. The story's pace starts to pick up in the second half; loose ends are tied, one by one, pieces falling into place, surprises delivered. The story begins to come full circle. Backstories are woven neatly together, character arcs deepened. Most of the important questions are answered...
But what I love is that not all questions are answered - at least, not neatly. There are details about the world I found myself thirsting for. To some questions, I got vague answers at best. To others, none at all. The world outside New Bhutan is a giant Terra Incognita, dark and impenetrable. I love this sense of being around a campfire in the closing night - all you see around you is lit in the flickering glow of firelight, casting terrifying shadows, with a vast world of darkness waiting beyond the outer edges of your vision. For that matter, a lot of the world inside the barrier is dark and impenetrable, too - in a somewhat different way. There's a lot going on behind closed doors. You're given the impression of a world of smiles and so-called "plenty", but also lots of forbidden territory, lots of questions you're not allowed to ask. For all the danger in the world outside, there's just as much inside, too - at least for those who can't control their curiosity.
The SEPA Project ends on an open cliffhanger, with a loose alliance of protagonists scattered and forced to face different paths alone. Moody has laid all the groundwork for a truly massive series, worthy of a miniseries and a great deal of shelf space. SEPA is a series intro worth comparing to Eye of the World and similar epic fantasy hits. It's far grander and more ambitious than it leads you to believe at the start; a tale as good at masking its intentions as the Sepa themselves.
The SEPA Project is a novel of surprises and toppled expectations. It's more colorful than the standard post-apocalyptic fare. More vivid. More alive. More human. More complex. More byzantine. More ambitious. Just...more.
And when J. Moody promises much more in the series, we know she's good for it, after how neatly she handled herself in this opening entry.
Very nicely done.
So imagine my surprise when I opened The SEPA Project and saw its first pages bloom with beauty and rich detail.
From the beginning of The SEPA Project, Moody sets to work demolishing the reader's expectation of what post-apocalyptic means - what it looks like, feels like, acts like. It opens with the novel's main protagonist, a girl we know only as 288, observing the world of New Bhutan for our benefit. She belongs to the story's titular organization, a collection of people who aren't seen as people. A Sepa is both a profession and a caste, ostensibly necessary to this country's survival but also loathed and despised by the people they're supposed to protect. Spies, assassins, saboteurs, infiltrators, soldiers, even diplomats - whatever the situation demands, sent outside the boundaries of the city state of New Bhutan on covert missions to serve their shadowy masters. New Bhutan is a paradise on Earth, or so its residents tell each other; the last green place on the planet, the last clean water, the last place to find decent food and clean air. Beyond its outer frontier lies the Banjar, an expanse of desert, disease, and death that stretches far beyond the knowledge of any living person. Nobody knows where it ends, *if* it ends; all anyone knows is that it's home to the Banjarians, desperate barbarians who scrabble their meager survival in a fiery, blasted desert that used to be a livable world. It's also home to the Banjarguay, a deadly pestilence borne on the endless burning winds of the wasteland. The Sepas are routinely sent out there to...well, no one is sure, exactly. They occasionally bring back valuable artifacts from the Old World. Occasionally they kidnap or assassinate troublesome rebels. To the residents of New Bhutan, all Banjarians are subhuman enemies, but Sepas also make...diplomatic contact with them? For some reason? There's a lot that doesn't quite add up. There's certainly more to this picture, and it's slowly revealed over the course of the story.
And that story is expertly told. The SEPA Project might be slow-paced for the first half of the book, but all truly epic tales take a while to spin into gear - powerful engines always start slowly, and once they're moving, they bulldoze everything in their path without stopping.
Moody uses so many storytelling techniques that I love and admire. One is the sense of absolute mystery just around the edges of your vision. She keeps the field of view restricted to one character at a time, giving you a series of small perspectives and leaving you to build the world around you the best you can with what scant details are available to you. She offers vague answers to certain questions, and for others, none at all. This reinforces the story's ominous tones and the deepening sense of mystery. The story's pace starts to pick up in the second half; loose ends are tied, one by one, pieces falling into place, surprises delivered. The story begins to come full circle. Backstories are woven neatly together, character arcs deepened. Most of the important questions are answered...
But what I love is that not all questions are answered - at least, not neatly. There are details about the world I found myself thirsting for. To some questions, I got vague answers at best. To others, none at all. The world outside New Bhutan is a giant Terra Incognita, dark and impenetrable. I love this sense of being around a campfire in the closing night - all you see around you is lit in the flickering glow of firelight, casting terrifying shadows, with a vast world of darkness waiting beyond the outer edges of your vision. For that matter, a lot of the world inside the barrier is dark and impenetrable, too - in a somewhat different way. There's a lot going on behind closed doors. You're given the impression of a world of smiles and so-called "plenty", but also lots of forbidden territory, lots of questions you're not allowed to ask. For all the danger in the world outside, there's just as much inside, too - at least for those who can't control their curiosity.
The SEPA Project ends on an open cliffhanger, with a loose alliance of protagonists scattered and forced to face different paths alone. Moody has laid all the groundwork for a truly massive series, worthy of a miniseries and a great deal of shelf space. SEPA is a series intro worth comparing to Eye of the World and similar epic fantasy hits. It's far grander and more ambitious than it leads you to believe at the start; a tale as good at masking its intentions as the Sepa themselves.
The SEPA Project is a novel of surprises and toppled expectations. It's more colorful than the standard post-apocalyptic fare. More vivid. More alive. More human. More complex. More byzantine. More ambitious. Just...more.
And when J. Moody promises much more in the series, we know she's good for it, after how neatly she handled herself in this opening entry.
Very nicely done.