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just_one_more_paige 's review for:
The Book of Joan
by Lidia Yuknavitch
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
I’m not even sure what to say to where to start with this book. When I originally read the blurb about it, it sounded like a retelling of the Joan of Arc story in a wasteland future. And that sounded pretty awesome to me. I’ve always had a thing about Joan of Arc, though I’m not sure why. Maybe because she was one of the only “strong” females in history that you really learn about in school, especially Catholic school. But in any case, I did a project on her in elementary school – my dad helped me make a “spear” out of a little wooden dowel and some heavy stock paper. I remember feeling so cool. Well, I guess technically this book was exactly what that blurb made it sound like, but somehow, at the same time, it was nothing like that and I was totally unprepared for reading it.
This was an insane mix of dystopia, sci-fi, fantasy, poetry. An “elite” class of humans, led by the dictator Jean de Men, have managed to make a “life” in a sort of space station orbiting the charred remains of Earth. An earth that was destroyed by none other than our story’s “heroine” Joan, through some sort of special connection she has with the planet and living matter. But there is a lot going on that’s starting to come to the surface… Joan (who was supposedly executed years ago) is in fact still alive, saved by her partner(?), Leone, and scraping by in a sort of half-existence life on Earth. Primarily unbeknownst to them, there are other humans left alive trying to do the same (though apparently their story isn't very exciting because we really never find out more about them). And up in the space station thing, Jean de Men is losing his(?) mind, trying ever more drastic and disgusting methods of ensuring reproduction for his “people” up there that have, somehow, lost all biological ability to reproduce (due in large part to the “erasure” of sexual organs, inside and out, in some kind of bodily evolution that still makes no sense to me). And then Jean de Men finds out that Joan is still alive and somehow holds to key to reproducing, while at the same time a planned execution on the station incites a plan to overthrow him. So things come to a head.
Honestly, I mostly do not understand the science or the timeline or most of the actions (or, to be clearer, the WHY behind the actions). The story is written almost too metaphorically and ethereally. I often felt like I was drowning in words, beautiful words, but I couldn’t figure out why they were all there. So it’s a really frustrating read because of that. It feels compelling, it feels like there is something going on that is deep and meaningful and will change your entire worldview if you can just get it…but it remains completely and entirely out of reach. GAH!
Some things are super weird in a cool way, like to burning of stories into flesh, kind of a new type of tattoo. Some things are just plain weird, like the erasure of genetalia and what that meant “in practice,” if you will. And the, in my opinion, somewhat gratuitous graphic violence and sexual activity(?). Some things might have been weird or cool (or both) but were so mystifying that I couldn’t get a handle on them enough to decide, like Joan’s blue aura, her power, and what it could do. And some things, I think, were trying to make a bigger point but weren’t quite handled right, like the idea of gender (or lack thereof), reproduction, bodies becoming nothing more than just bodies (“skinsacks”). The many ideas and representations of love and connection and personhood were a necessary and difficult focal point within the context of the plot, and I feel like there was something big there. It’s just…the author was never clear enough about it or consistent enough writing about it to make it the more it could and needed to be.
But for all the faults with the story, there is nothing negative to say about the writing itself. It was stunning. It was harsh and short at times, flowery and soft at others. The exploration of love through word expression was something special. This was kind of a novel length poem. In fact, I feel like publishing this as a set of poems, a sort of epic chapbook, would have been a better, more fitting, format. Some sections, like Joan’s dreams of Christine, were so striking. The passage about the white lady in space spinning stories like spider webs, created a remarkable mental and visual connection between the recurring spider clone and the engraving/searing scarred white words into white flesh. It is super meta in an eerie and beautiful way. I stopped so many times to write down quotes to share in this review and cutting them down to my favorite few (below) was nigh on impossible.
“But not all legend becomes history, and not all literature deserves to become legend.” P.20
“In the beginning was the word, and the word became our bodies.” P.22
“It’s like we’re stars in space. It’s like space is the theater and we are the bits of stardust and everything everywhere is the story.” P.82
“…to end war meant to end its maker, to marry creation and destruction rather than hold them in false opposition.” P.105
“They’d made a life here. No. Life made itself here. They merely coexisted.” P.141
“If she feels anything about the word brother, it is here, in this space that smells of water and dirt and living things. Her memory remains loyal to all the times they played in the woods together as children.” P.166
“Joan’s head fills with all the dead people she could not save. Armies. Her eyes sting. The spider in her hand tickles. The walls whisper and creak.” P.170
“What do we mean by love anymore? Love is not the story we were told. Though we wanted so badly for it to hold, the fairy tales and myths, the seamless trajectories, the sewn shapes of desire thwarted by obstacles we could heroically battle, the broken heart, the love lost the love lorn the love torn the love won, the world coming back alive in a hard-earned nearly impossible kiss.” P.191
“Corrupted, white and wounded an unflinching. They will perform an epic poem written across their bodies.” P.201
“You deserve the word “love,” spoken over and over again and untethered from prior lexicons, an erotic and unbound universe, the dead light of stars yet aching to stitch your name across the night sky, the ocean waters singing your body hymn to shore day into night into day.” P.265
In the end, this is a masterful mash of words in homage to [the power of] and condemnation of [the abuse of] sex and people’s obsession with it – for love, for reproduction, for power - with a small, but existent, homage to the story of Joan of Arc and the strength of conviction to sacrifice yourself for a cause/world/people you believe in. I so wish I had enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed the words. I think I just didn’t follow or understand the point enough to love it, but the reading of it was gorgeous.
I’m not even sure what to say to where to start with this book. When I originally read the blurb about it, it sounded like a retelling of the Joan of Arc story in a wasteland future. And that sounded pretty awesome to me. I’ve always had a thing about Joan of Arc, though I’m not sure why. Maybe because she was one of the only “strong” females in history that you really learn about in school, especially Catholic school. But in any case, I did a project on her in elementary school – my dad helped me make a “spear” out of a little wooden dowel and some heavy stock paper. I remember feeling so cool. Well, I guess technically this book was exactly what that blurb made it sound like, but somehow, at the same time, it was nothing like that and I was totally unprepared for reading it.
This was an insane mix of dystopia, sci-fi, fantasy, poetry. An “elite” class of humans, led by the dictator Jean de Men, have managed to make a “life” in a sort of space station orbiting the charred remains of Earth. An earth that was destroyed by none other than our story’s “heroine” Joan, through some sort of special connection she has with the planet and living matter. But there is a lot going on that’s starting to come to the surface… Joan (who was supposedly executed years ago) is in fact still alive, saved by her partner(?), Leone, and scraping by in a sort of half-existence life on Earth. Primarily unbeknownst to them, there are other humans left alive trying to do the same (though apparently their story isn't very exciting because we really never find out more about them). And up in the space station thing, Jean de Men is losing his(?) mind, trying ever more drastic and disgusting methods of ensuring reproduction for his “people” up there that have, somehow, lost all biological ability to reproduce (due in large part to the “erasure” of sexual organs, inside and out, in some kind of bodily evolution that still makes no sense to me). And then Jean de Men finds out that Joan is still alive and somehow holds to key to reproducing, while at the same time a planned execution on the station incites a plan to overthrow him. So things come to a head.
Honestly, I mostly do not understand the science or the timeline or most of the actions (or, to be clearer, the WHY behind the actions). The story is written almost too metaphorically and ethereally. I often felt like I was drowning in words, beautiful words, but I couldn’t figure out why they were all there. So it’s a really frustrating read because of that. It feels compelling, it feels like there is something going on that is deep and meaningful and will change your entire worldview if you can just get it…but it remains completely and entirely out of reach. GAH!
Some things are super weird in a cool way, like to burning of stories into flesh, kind of a new type of tattoo. Some things are just plain weird, like the erasure of genetalia and what that meant “in practice,” if you will. And the, in my opinion, somewhat gratuitous graphic violence and sexual activity(?). Some things might have been weird or cool (or both) but were so mystifying that I couldn’t get a handle on them enough to decide, like Joan’s blue aura, her power, and what it could do. And some things, I think, were trying to make a bigger point but weren’t quite handled right, like the idea of gender (or lack thereof), reproduction, bodies becoming nothing more than just bodies (“skinsacks”). The many ideas and representations of love and connection and personhood were a necessary and difficult focal point within the context of the plot, and I feel like there was something big there. It’s just…the author was never clear enough about it or consistent enough writing about it to make it the more it could and needed to be.
But for all the faults with the story, there is nothing negative to say about the writing itself. It was stunning. It was harsh and short at times, flowery and soft at others. The exploration of love through word expression was something special. This was kind of a novel length poem. In fact, I feel like publishing this as a set of poems, a sort of epic chapbook, would have been a better, more fitting, format. Some sections, like Joan’s dreams of Christine, were so striking. The passage about the white lady in space spinning stories like spider webs, created a remarkable mental and visual connection between the recurring spider clone and the engraving/searing scarred white words into white flesh. It is super meta in an eerie and beautiful way. I stopped so many times to write down quotes to share in this review and cutting them down to my favorite few (below) was nigh on impossible.
“But not all legend becomes history, and not all literature deserves to become legend.” P.20
“In the beginning was the word, and the word became our bodies.” P.22
“It’s like we’re stars in space. It’s like space is the theater and we are the bits of stardust and everything everywhere is the story.” P.82
“…to end war meant to end its maker, to marry creation and destruction rather than hold them in false opposition.” P.105
“They’d made a life here. No. Life made itself here. They merely coexisted.” P.141
“If she feels anything about the word brother, it is here, in this space that smells of water and dirt and living things. Her memory remains loyal to all the times they played in the woods together as children.” P.166
“Joan’s head fills with all the dead people she could not save. Armies. Her eyes sting. The spider in her hand tickles. The walls whisper and creak.” P.170
“What do we mean by love anymore? Love is not the story we were told. Though we wanted so badly for it to hold, the fairy tales and myths, the seamless trajectories, the sewn shapes of desire thwarted by obstacles we could heroically battle, the broken heart, the love lost the love lorn the love torn the love won, the world coming back alive in a hard-earned nearly impossible kiss.” P.191
“Corrupted, white and wounded an unflinching. They will perform an epic poem written across their bodies.” P.201
“You deserve the word “love,” spoken over and over again and untethered from prior lexicons, an erotic and unbound universe, the dead light of stars yet aching to stitch your name across the night sky, the ocean waters singing your body hymn to shore day into night into day.” P.265
In the end, this is a masterful mash of words in homage to [the power of] and condemnation of [the abuse of] sex and people’s obsession with it – for love, for reproduction, for power - with a small, but existent, homage to the story of Joan of Arc and the strength of conviction to sacrifice yourself for a cause/world/people you believe in. I so wish I had enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed the words. I think I just didn’t follow or understand the point enough to love it, but the reading of it was gorgeous.