Review of Redes (Invisible #2) by Eloy Moreno
As a long-time admirer of Eloy Moreno’s work, I was eager to dive into the much-anticipated sequel, Redes (Invisible #2). The first book in this series, Invisible, left a profound impact on me; it’s a novel I’ve cherished since its release four years ago, so I had sky-high expectations for this continuation. My dog is even named Zaro after a character from that book! However, it’s painful to admit that Redes didn’t quite resonate with me in the same way.
At its core, Redes maintains Moreno’s knack for tackling challenging themes like grooming, sexting, and familial abuse, while employing a more youthful writing style that makes for a quick read. Yet, unlike its predecessor, its impact seems diminished. The narrative focuses on new characters, Betty and Alex, who brightly emerge but lack the depth and familiarity I yearned for from the original cast—particularly the boy, Kiri, Zaro, and MM. Their mere cameo appearances felt like whispers in the background of a much larger stage where I wanted to hear their full story.
What I appreciated about Redes was witnessing the evolution of the world around our characters; it’s intriguing to see how they navigate their relationships and confront the digital age. The story acts as a crucial reminder of the complexities of social media—how it can be both a tool for connection and a source of distress. However, this sentiment sometimes veered towards a heavy-handed moral, casting the internet as ‘the villain’ rather than a multifaceted reality. I found myself craving a more balanced exploration of technology’s role in our lives instead of a simplistic critique that felt somewhat artificial at times.
The pacing, while swift, lacked the emotional gravity that marked my experience with Invisible. I remember closing that book in tears, overwhelmed by its emotional weight. Despite being immersed in Redes, I found myself merely nodding in recognition rather than diving deeply into empathetic engagement. The stakes felt lower, and the repetitiveness of the message—it’s a scary world out there online—distracted from the intricate storytelling I so adored in the first installment.
Yet, despite these critiques, I can’t overlook the nostalgic joy I felt revisiting the world Moreno crafted. There were beautiful moments that made me smile, such as the small nods to the past and the intricate details sprinkled throughout. It is a testament to Moreno’s mastery that even in disappointment, there remains an undeniable connection to the narrative and characters I once loved.
In conclusion, I find myself torn in my recommendation. If you’ve enjoyed Invisible, Redes is still worth a read—if only for the journey back to that beloved universe. However, temper your expectations, as it doesn’t quite soar to the heights of its predecessor. For new readers exploring this series, I would suggest starting with Invisible for a more poignant introduction. Despite its flaws, my experience with Redes has undeniably deepened my appreciation for Moreno’s work, reminding me of the power of storytelling—even when it doesn’t unfold exactly as one hopes.