Unassuming mine row worker Roger Aimes leads an ordinary life capturing geothermal energy to help power the nation of Novolica. Relatively comfortable and mostly happy, his world is suddenly upended by a tragedy that leaves him demanding justice. Ever since the Restoration War was won by the Prelican party, they’ve ruled the nation under Chancellor Prumpt for decades, employing the use of barbaric mentir-detecting machines that kill everyone caught lying. Emboldened by grief and the ideals of his ex-girlfriend Marela, Roger challenges Prumpt by submitting himself for candidacy to change the unjust, violent inquiry system. But will stepping out into the spotlight cost him his life?
THE LIAR KILLERS plays around with some really intriguing concepts within a futuristic society: geothermal energy as electricity, oxygen-producing technology on a massive scale, high-speed railway systems, hubs where people can quickly alter their appearances, and elixirs for the wealthy class that boost focus and energy and endorphins—just to name a few. It also has a lot to say about creating a fairer, more just, and inclusive world—a world built on community, even amid this often sterilized, high-tech way of life: “It only takes one—one word to take away the one you love, a friend, a family member. We should be able to focus on better things, but we can’t because of them.”
Roger’s brief meeting with the CEO of his mining company also highlights the classism and wealth disparity that still exists in Novolica. These are wonderful moral and ethical conversations, and Roger’s ambitious goal of dismantling the corruption is noble, yet the path the narrative takes to get there is often disjointed and requires too much suspension of disbelief.
This is an issue particularly based in the world-building. A lot of background talk happens about the Restoration War fought to put this new system in place, yet there’s no context of what the world was like before to provide solid backstory and no clear layout of the nation to understand its foundations. It’s all kind of vague, even the passing mention of other amalgamated countries.
Clunky dialogue often comes with awkward, heavy-handed exposition: “The same result will come from it that has happened every time a renewal comes around for the past 40 years since the Restoration started.” Another example: “You could submit your name, birth date, pod location, family relationships, everything tomorrow and you would be perfectly eligible to go up against him.” Some names for everyday things are hard to take seriously as well, almost as if they’re meant to be satiric in tone. Novolica’s digital currency, for example, are called “plinkos.” It’s never quite explained why lying is called “mentirring.” Sometimes the use of new fictional terms just isn’t necessary when the word that exists already has an impact. The culture of La Bajo (where Marela hails from) and its food are nicely written, though, with glimpses of their unique cuisine and customs. The technology throughout is well-planned and creative.
Another point-of-view character throughout the book probably would’ve helped to round out the story and follow concepts that aren’t given enough room to explore. There’s a glimpse of Marela’s work at the factory that produces these killing lie detectors, but the potential there—and Marela’s workload helping Roger’s campaign—winds up as background noise instead. The narrative attempts to redeem this in the end, but it’s an afterthought.
As a result, Roger becomes more of a passive character: a sometimes-unconvincing leader pushed around by the plot and stronger, more knowledgeable, idealistic characters working to get him elected. The use of convenient eavesdropping helps Roger with pertinent information. Other than his speeches—which are heartfelt and rather stirring, emotionally—his role isn’t exactly active, which makes his story arc stagnate at times. The plot tends to lose its sense of urgency.
The third act especially gets a bit repetitious: a cycle of abrupt time jumps, planning, and quickly-described campaign events that feel more like a synopsis than an engaging plot. A lot of the captivating developments (e.g., an uprising) occur off-page. The resolution comes across as so rushed that it’s difficult to believe it happened at all, and it occurs too easily to be realistic. The villains don’t show their teeth, so to speak, until late in the third act, so it seems like the whole convoluted system falls apart a little too hastily for something that’s been around for decades. Overall, though, THE LIAR KILLERS presents an intriguing concept: that even within this relatively utopian nation, there still exists some form of barbaric corruption and chinks in its shining armor.
While Anfernee Parker’s THE LIAR KILLERS plays around with some intriguing futuristic concepts, the book suffers from rushed pacing and a protagonist who is mostly passive for such an ambitious goal.
~Jessica Thomas for IndieReader