HOW WE BECAME WICKED

A town’s tarnished history is revealed in this dystopian tale.

The mosquitolike singer’s bite carries wickedness, turning any human into a “grinning, homicidal maniac.” Immune and purple-eyed thanks to the usually fatal—for every child in town who received it but her—vex inoculation, 16-year-old Astrid now chafes at her more-Stepford-than-survivalist life in the glass-encased, retirement village–like Goldsport. Astrid also rejects a seemingly predestined relationship with fellow 16-year-old Hank, the only other young person in town. Hank is unvaccinated and still vulnerable, a sidekick and dude in distress. He faithfully accompanies the acerbic Astrid after an encounter with an outsider inspires her to root out the (barely hidden) conspiracy, challenge a (dutifully dastardly) powermonger, and imperil (unnecessarily) her parents, Hank, and the town. Out on Puffin Island, also-vexed Natalie’s hardscrabble life gets harder when her father leaves, her mother falls ill, and her “wicked” grandfather gets loose. Through intersecting adventures, both girls learn that the “true” (uninfected) may be more evil than the “wicked” (i.e., The Walking Dead). Rather than being rotting zombies, the sentient and speaking wicked look normal but commit violent acts. Yet this somewhat novel premise can’t overcome the predictable plot arc, flat characters, and telegraphed twists or the unsettling scenes of destruction and torture.

An unnecessary and uneven latecomer to the dystopian genre, an incongruous mix of Dahl-like whimsy and Dexter-like graphic violence.