Review of Specials (Uglies, #3) by Scott Westerfeld
When I picked up Specials, the third installment in Scott Westerfeld’s Uglies series, I was both excited and apprehensive. Having followed Tally’s journey through the beautifully perverse world where beauty is enforced, I hoped Westerfeld would offer a satisfying continuation of her story. However, as I delved deeper, it became clear that this series had taken a curve I wasn’t prepared for.
At its core, Specials wrestles with concepts of identity, conformity, and the disturbing lengths society may go to in pursuit of an idealized version of beauty. Tally emerges as a "Special," this new breed of enforcers that embody both the power and the pitfalls of their society’s obsession with aesthetics. I appreciated Westerfeld’s exploration of gender roles and the flip side of beauty—which often falls under a dark lens—but I couldn’t help but feel disappointed by how our heroine strolled through this murky moral landscape.
In my reading, Tally’s character felt flatter than in previous books. While I was hoping to see her grow beyond the superficial desires that had long driven her, she remained trapped in a cycle of insecurity and shallow relationships. One particularly jarring aspect was her connection with Zane. The relationship, built on nothing more substantial than a few shared experiences and jaw-dropping surface appeal, felt entirely unconvincing, leaving me questioning the stakes. “Was her affection for Zane really based merely on his looks?” I wondered. This superficiality seemed emblematic of the world Westerfeld had created—compelling in its dystopian critique yet lacking in emotional depth.
Westerfeld’s writing style has improved, sporting fewer "purchases" than in previous books, and the pacing remains brisk, allowing readers to hurtle through the plot’s twists and turns. However, the plot itself often felt like it was running on empty, with significant events occurring offstage or glossed over. As a reader invested in the intricacies of Tally’s world, I longed for more detail—more weight behind the decisions made by characters who, frankly, felt underdeveloped.
Another standout aspect was Westerfeld’s continued engagement with pressing themes: the body as a battlefield, the grotesque allure of cosmetic surgery—issues that resonate deeply in our age of influencers and filter-facade. Still, the dialogue felt like a missed opportunity for exploration. I was left with more questions than answers regarding societal values and the dire implications of pursuit of an unattainable aesthetic. For instance, a character like David, once a strong presence in Tally’s life, seemed to vanish; where was the depth those earlier connections promised?
As I turn the page away from Specials, I must share my reluctance to continue with the series, especially with a fourth installment promised. The notion of a spinoff filled with obligatory cameos feels like a marketing ploy rather than an organic continuation of a thought-provoking narrative. As another reader pointed out, it could easily mirror the letdown of series conclusions like Breaking Dawn, leaving readers tainted by their experience.
In conclusion, while I recognize Westerfeld’s ambition in tackling significant social issues head-on, the lack of character development and emotional grounding left Specials feeling like a missed opportunity. If you’re a fan of dystopian tales laden with social commentary, you might still find value here, but for me, this was where I gladly abandoned ship. I’m ready to seek out new worlds that resonate more profoundly with the intricacies of humanity—perhaps something like Pure by Julianna Baggott, which I recently discovered and adore. If you’re seeking a satisfying emotional journey, I’d recommend heading in that direction.