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It’s October, so of course we wanted to go with a thematic pick for this month’s book for my long-distance book club. We floated a lot of topics, but I definitely got over the top excited when “vampires” were an option, because I have always had and will always have a soft spot for vampire stories and lore. It is what it is. I’m alright with it. Anyways, this was the winning book. (Though the other recommendations, including NOS4A2 by Joe Hill and Certain Dark Things by Silvia Moreno-Garcia, have also been added to my vampire-related TBR).
The title of this book does a fantastic job summing up the contents of the plot, actually. This is about a book club in South Carolina. Patricia Campbell and a group of friends start a true crime/thriller book club to help them escape some of the pressures of life, like raising kids, keeping the home clean, caring for invalid in-laws and generally holding everything together for everyone else in domestic and overlooked ways. When James Harris comes to town though, everything is thrown out of cadence. Children start going missing, among other things, and Patricia start to suspect James is the culprit. But James is smart and his (uncountable) years of experience at weaseling his way in and outsmarting everyone around him put this book club in a tough position. And so they enter a years-long fight to help save their town and their children from this supernatural threat that no one else sees.
I have such mixed feelings about this book and it’s going to make this a very hot-cold sort of review. There were some things that I loved! I thought the portrayal of vampires in a, more or less, present-day setting was so well developed (and some of the ways it carried over from the past, too). It absolutely makes sense that people wouldn’t believe what was right before their eyes, because it’s easier to ignore things that make no sense than to try and come to terms with them. And I liked some of the spins on the traditional blood-sucking, light-avoiding, un-killable vampire mythology. It was a great nod to the classic vampire story while adding its own touch. To that end, though the creepy-crawly aspects (the cockroaches and rats and entrail eating), has me in legit grossed-out goosebumps feels, I liked the front and center role they played. It’s a well-known connection, but a horror-based one that is explored a lot less often than the immortality and blood-eating based themes. Along these lines, I felt like the ending was great. It used the best info the book club lades could find, along with a clever use of their southern/house-keeping skills, to bring James Harris’ presence in their town to an end in a very gory-campy (in the good sense) way. And the suspense/thrill of the fact that it may not be truly, definitely over, that there may still be a threat from him in the distant future, gave a perfect ending-feeling of conclusion with a side of doom. I liked that. And, for sure, I loved the way Patricia ended her personal-life story as well.
In addition, I really liked the clear (and I mean very not subtle) themes of middle-aged white men running the show and banding together to the detriment of all others, along with the general ease with which certain populations (Black people, poor people, housewives) are ignored, is some super accurate, and totally believable even in this supernatural context, current day social commentary and metaphor-y-ness. In fact, I actually liked (and was simultaneously terrified by) how on the nose it was that these men all worked and profited together while ignoring anyone else’s pain/struggle (and overlooking some very damning evidence re: the evil within them) because they were getting ahead. There are lots of these types of high society and old money undertones in many traditional vampiric stories (looking at you, Dracula and Twilight), but the way it was pulled out here added some nice extra depth.
But on the other side of things…there was a lot that I took issue with. I totally get that this was supposed to be (at least, I hope it was supposed to be) a satirical look at traditional southern female culture. And I started out really liking it. It could have been offensive, but I think reading it as dark satire helped and was the way it was meant. However, somewhere into the novel, I started to really dislike it. It wasn’t the satire itself, but more the timing of it. I get that there are still likely many suburban southern locales with this kind of living situation for “housewives,” but there were a lot of small things that read more like, to me, the 20s or the 50s or some other further distant past, and not the 90s, which is when it was supposed to be. Like, yea, the “burden of hospitality” (a major theme in this novel) is still very alive. But the number of women represented here that had no power, in so many ways (like not having any of their own financial control/awareness/confidence or the way mental health issues were treated). I actually got really angry because there were so many more legit issues, like domestic abuse, religion being used to manipulate, unequal burden for household/family tasks, and deep racial divides/inequities in housing and social treatment, that really demonstrate issues in internal power dynamic imbalances, that the other things that seemed more stereotypical of earlier decades took away from the seriousness of the rest. Maybe its my personal life experiences and backgrounds and this is all still more common than I know, but like, it ended up feeling really off and uncomfortable to me.
I also was super bothered by how certain things could happen, like very obvious things (like an ear getting bitten off by an old lady or a grandmother being literally eaten to death by rats that then all disappear suddenly), and all the men (especially Patricia’s husband) could be like “you’re making this all up and being crazy and nothing out of line is happening.” Ummmmm what?! There is not a man or husband in my life that wouldn’t be like “this needs further investigation!” if their mother was eaten alive by rats in their own home. Like, seriously. I don’t care how obsessed by work you are, that’s just abnormal. Ugh. And last, I really wasn’t a fan of what happened to one of the book club members, Slick, towards the end. Like, I really hated it. There had to be another terrible, gross way to send a message that wasn’t that, especially with all the non-traditional other vampiric aspects to this book. I just…why does it always, always, always have to come back to that. This is horror/fantasy – be more creative. That is all.
So bottom line, some parts of this were really great. But for me, in the end, I think the parts that weren’t for me just weighed stronger than the parts that were. Plus, for a novel with vampire in the title, this had less actual vampire page-time than I would have liked (because yes, I do love vampires and their legends that much) and the pacing in the middle part really struggled (as in, slowed wayyyyyy down). I’m sad I was so disappointed by this one, after I built up my love for vampires so hardcore with the book club peeps, but thankfully there are lots of other vampire stories out there for me to make up for it with!
“I am not sure what the appropriate gesture is to make toward the family of the woman who bit off your ear, but if you felt absolutely compelled, I certainly wouldn’t take food.”
“She knew what to do if too many people showed up for supper, or if someone arrived early for a party, but what did you do when rats attacked your mother-in-law? Who told you how to cope with that?”
“Everyone’s hungry for our children,” she said, and her voice cracked. “The whole world wants to gobble up colored children, and no matter how many it takes it just licks its lips and wants more.”
“He thinks we’re what we look like on the outside: nice Southern ladies. Let me tell you something…there’s nothing nice about Southern ladies.”
“They weren’t stronger than him, they weren’t smarter, they weren’t more prepared. But circumstances had brought them together and allowed them to succeed where so many others had failed. Patricia knew how they looked, a bunch of silly Southern women, yakking about books over white wine. A bunch of carpool drivers, skinned-knee kissers, errand runners, secret Santas and part-time tooth fairies, with their practical jeans and their festive sweaters. Think of us what you will, she thought, we made mistakes, and probably scarred our children for life, and we froze sandwiches, and forgot car pool, and got divorced. But when the time came, we went the distance.”
The title of this book does a fantastic job summing up the contents of the plot, actually. This is about a book club in South Carolina. Patricia Campbell and a group of friends start a true crime/thriller book club to help them escape some of the pressures of life, like raising kids, keeping the home clean, caring for invalid in-laws and generally holding everything together for everyone else in domestic and overlooked ways. When James Harris comes to town though, everything is thrown out of cadence. Children start going missing, among other things, and Patricia start to suspect James is the culprit. But James is smart and his (uncountable) years of experience at weaseling his way in and outsmarting everyone around him put this book club in a tough position. And so they enter a years-long fight to help save their town and their children from this supernatural threat that no one else sees.
I have such mixed feelings about this book and it’s going to make this a very hot-cold sort of review. There were some things that I loved! I thought the portrayal of vampires in a, more or less, present-day setting was so well developed (and some of the ways it carried over from the past, too). It absolutely makes sense that people wouldn’t believe what was right before their eyes, because it’s easier to ignore things that make no sense than to try and come to terms with them. And I liked some of the spins on the traditional blood-sucking, light-avoiding, un-killable vampire mythology. It was a great nod to the classic vampire story while adding its own touch. To that end, though the creepy-crawly aspects (the cockroaches and rats and entrail eating), has me in legit grossed-out goosebumps feels, I liked the front and center role they played. It’s a well-known connection, but a horror-based one that is explored a lot less often than the immortality and blood-eating based themes. Along these lines, I felt like the ending was great. It used the best info the book club lades could find, along with a clever use of their southern/house-keeping skills, to bring James Harris’ presence in their town to an end in a very gory-campy (in the good sense) way. And the suspense/thrill of the fact that it may not be truly, definitely over, that there may still be a threat from him in the distant future, gave a perfect ending-feeling of conclusion with a side of doom. I liked that. And, for sure, I loved the way Patricia ended her personal-life story as well.
In addition, I really liked the clear (and I mean very not subtle) themes of middle-aged white men running the show and banding together to the detriment of all others, along with the general ease with which certain populations (Black people, poor people, housewives) are ignored, is some super accurate, and totally believable even in this supernatural context, current day social commentary and metaphor-y-ness. In fact, I actually liked (and was simultaneously terrified by) how on the nose it was that these men all worked and profited together while ignoring anyone else’s pain/struggle (and overlooking some very damning evidence re: the evil within them) because they were getting ahead. There are lots of these types of high society and old money undertones in many traditional vampiric stories (looking at you, Dracula and Twilight), but the way it was pulled out here added some nice extra depth.
But on the other side of things…there was a lot that I took issue with. I totally get that this was supposed to be (at least, I hope it was supposed to be) a satirical look at traditional southern female culture. And I started out really liking it. It could have been offensive, but I think reading it as dark satire helped and was the way it was meant. However, somewhere into the novel, I started to really dislike it. It wasn’t the satire itself, but more the timing of it. I get that there are still likely many suburban southern locales with this kind of living situation for “housewives,” but there were a lot of small things that read more like, to me, the 20s or the 50s or some other further distant past, and not the 90s, which is when it was supposed to be. Like, yea, the “burden of hospitality” (a major theme in this novel) is still very alive. But the number of women represented here that had no power, in so many ways (like not having any of their own financial control/awareness/confidence or the way mental health issues were treated). I actually got really angry because there were so many more legit issues, like domestic abuse, religion being used to manipulate, unequal burden for household/family tasks, and deep racial divides/inequities in housing and social treatment, that really demonstrate issues in internal power dynamic imbalances, that the other things that seemed more stereotypical of earlier decades took away from the seriousness of the rest. Maybe its my personal life experiences and backgrounds and this is all still more common than I know, but like, it ended up feeling really off and uncomfortable to me.
I also was super bothered by how certain things could happen, like very obvious things (like an ear getting bitten off by an old lady or a grandmother being literally eaten to death by rats that then all disappear suddenly), and all the men (especially Patricia’s husband) could be like “you’re making this all up and being crazy and nothing out of line is happening.” Ummmmm what?! There is not a man or husband in my life that wouldn’t be like “this needs further investigation!” if their mother was eaten alive by rats in their own home. Like, seriously. I don’t care how obsessed by work you are, that’s just abnormal. Ugh. And last, I really wasn’t a fan of what happened to one of the book club members, Slick, towards the end. Like, I really hated it. There had to be another terrible, gross way to send a message that wasn’t that, especially with all the non-traditional other vampiric aspects to this book. I just…why does it always, always, always have to come back to that. This is horror/fantasy – be more creative. That is all.
So bottom line, some parts of this were really great. But for me, in the end, I think the parts that weren’t for me just weighed stronger than the parts that were. Plus, for a novel with vampire in the title, this had less actual vampire page-time than I would have liked (because yes, I do love vampires and their legends that much) and the pacing in the middle part really struggled (as in, slowed wayyyyyy down). I’m sad I was so disappointed by this one, after I built up my love for vampires so hardcore with the book club peeps, but thankfully there are lots of other vampire stories out there for me to make up for it with!
“I am not sure what the appropriate gesture is to make toward the family of the woman who bit off your ear, but if you felt absolutely compelled, I certainly wouldn’t take food.”
“She knew what to do if too many people showed up for supper, or if someone arrived early for a party, but what did you do when rats attacked your mother-in-law? Who told you how to cope with that?”
“Everyone’s hungry for our children,” she said, and her voice cracked. “The whole world wants to gobble up colored children, and no matter how many it takes it just licks its lips and wants more.”
“He thinks we’re what we look like on the outside: nice Southern ladies. Let me tell you something…there’s nothing nice about Southern ladies.”
“They weren’t stronger than him, they weren’t smarter, they weren’t more prepared. But circumstances had brought them together and allowed them to succeed where so many others had failed. Patricia knew how they looked, a bunch of silly Southern women, yakking about books over white wine. A bunch of carpool drivers, skinned-knee kissers, errand runners, secret Santas and part-time tooth fairies, with their practical jeans and their festive sweaters. Think of us what you will, she thought, we made mistakes, and probably scarred our children for life, and we froze sandwiches, and forgot car pool, and got divorced. But when the time came, we went the distance.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
Ahhhhhh the finale – triumphant, dark, blood-spattered and not without its share of emotions (yes, I did shed tears a few times). Again, we pick up the story exactly (like, literally in the same minute) where the last one left off. Mia’s small-chances-of-success gladiatii plan has completely succeeded (well, at least as far as she knows). As a bonus surprise, she picked up her long-thought-dead brother, Jonnen, along the way. However, of course, not all was as it seemed…and Scaeva yet lives. So in the final chapter of Mia’s story, she sets off to finally, for real this time, kill Scaeva and along the way, end the traitorous Red Church close out some family drama, settle a personal love triangle and, as a bonus, restore the balance of the gods, the night and day, the dark and light, the sun and moon, on a very un-asked-for, destiny-like, quest.
Oooof a lot happened in this final book! We set off thinking and planning one thing and are completed derailed and rerouted a number of times. It was nonstop action and I was really feeling that pacing in the wrap-up to this story. I love having to stay on my toes (or the edge of my seat) as the reader. I do have to say that the footnotes and snark were at the lowest in this volume. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they were definitely there, but as the story got more intense and serious and god-related, there seemed to be less space for that kind of vibe. However, the non-traditional approach Mia takes to being the “chosen one,” which has been refreshing from the start, stays strong. And that, that I really liked.
The was some character turnover in this last one too. I started pretty lukewarm on Jonnen (I can’t lie, young children in fantasy novels is just one of those things that really annoys me – they get in the way and/or are not developmentally appropriate and I just usually dislike them), but the way he was written honestly and centrally, but not overly much, turned out alright. And the role he ended up playing was a good one, as far as making sense and being fitting. I loved the addition of Cloud and the pirates (in opposition to my thing about kids in fantasy, I’m a huge sucker for a fantasy pirate). And the return of our favorite gladiatii from the last book was both expected and a warm homecoming. I also tend to be a sucker for a found family trope and these books really all have that in spades. We also got one surprise return character in a new form, which I loved and also was heart-broken over (and provided some of the most unique love/hate triangle situation I have ever read, murderer-murdered/dead-boy/Mia, and I was here for it). Seeing and getting to know Mercurio more/better was also a favorite part of mine. And oh goodness there were quite a few losses that got me. Some pretty big characters are brought down and some smaller ones that affected me a little more than I would have expected. And overall, there was some great character growth, relationship development and connections made/flourished.
As far as the story itself, the mythology of the fallen god and the Crown of the Moon, how that was all connected to darkin, and the role(s) Mia and Jonnen and Scaeva all played, I thought it was well done. I can’t say that it was totally original, but there are fantasy tropes for a reason. And I did like the parallels between the suns/moons/day/night god-family situation and the way Mia’s own family situation played out. It was a cool way to create and recreate it all. And, worth mentioning again, I loved the way Mia approached her role – selfish until the end, focus on the people (the familia) that mattered to her, and single-mindedly so. It showed her heart so well, so strongly, so consistently and got us to the ending the way fate/destiny needed but still in a way that was through her own choices, and that is something rarely seen in this genre. Refreshing and, honestly, way more recognizable and empathize-able, for me. And the little post-denouement ending, kinda like an epilogue, made my heart smile (and one more plug for how cool, and a fantastically normalized handling of bisexuality, I thought Mia’s romantic relationship(s) were). Last small note that I didn't want to forget to add: I loved all the nicknames and titles Mia picked up throughout this tale, from Pale Daughter to little Crow to Lady of Blades and so, so many more. They were such a great small detail.
Ahhhhhh now I have to sum it all up? All the reviewers were right – this was bloody, brutal, epic, snarky, fast-paced and totally engaging fantasy trilogy. Mia was a fantastic heroine and anti-heroine all combined into one person and her story and growth into herself and her full power and her full life was everything I had hoped for. Yet again, I was totally into Kristoff’s characters and world-building and plot unfolding and goodness this was the escapist reading I needed. So good, so entertaining, such a great adventure!
“Sometimes the past won’t just die. Sometimes you have to kill it.”
“And the more I live it, the more I realize ‘deserve’ has nothing to do with this life. Blessings and curses fall on the wicked and the just alike. Fair is a fairy tale. Nothing’s claimed by those who don’t want it, and nothing’s kept by those who won’t fight for it. So let’s fight. Fuck the gods. Fuck it all. Let’s take the world by the throat and make it give us what we want.”
“Love often rusted into hate when watered with scorn.”
“How easily a parent can make a triumph of their children, gentlefriends. And how easily they can make a ruin.”
“And some loyalties just don’t die quietly, no matter what the storybooks say.”
“A dizzying kiss. An endless kiss. A kiss full of sorrow and regret for things they might have been, a kiss of love and longing for all the things they’d had, a kiss of joy for all they were, right at that moment.”
“You never know what can break you until you’re falling apart.”
“…fear wasn’t ever a choice. To never fear was to never hope. Never love. Never live. To never fear the dark was to never smile as the dawn kissed your face. To never fear solitude was to never know the joy of a beauty in your arms. Part of having is the fear of losing. Part of creating is the fear of it breaking. Part of beginning is the fear of your ending. Fear is never a choice. Never a choice. But letting it rule you is.”
Ahhhhhh the finale – triumphant, dark, blood-spattered and not without its share of emotions (yes, I did shed tears a few times). Again, we pick up the story exactly (like, literally in the same minute) where the last one left off. Mia’s small-chances-of-success gladiatii plan has completely succeeded (well, at least as far as she knows). As a bonus surprise, she picked up her long-thought-dead brother, Jonnen, along the way. However, of course, not all was as it seemed…and Scaeva yet lives. So in the final chapter of Mia’s story, she sets off to finally, for real this time, kill Scaeva and along the way, end the traitorous Red Church close out some family drama, settle a personal love triangle and, as a bonus, restore the balance of the gods, the night and day, the dark and light, the sun and moon, on a very un-asked-for, destiny-like, quest.
Oooof a lot happened in this final book! We set off thinking and planning one thing and are completed derailed and rerouted a number of times. It was nonstop action and I was really feeling that pacing in the wrap-up to this story. I love having to stay on my toes (or the edge of my seat) as the reader. I do have to say that the footnotes and snark were at the lowest in this volume. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they were definitely there, but as the story got more intense and serious and god-related, there seemed to be less space for that kind of vibe. However, the non-traditional approach Mia takes to being the “chosen one,” which has been refreshing from the start, stays strong. And that, that I really liked.
The was some character turnover in this last one too. I started pretty lukewarm on Jonnen (I can’t lie, young children in fantasy novels is just one of those things that really annoys me – they get in the way and/or are not developmentally appropriate and I just usually dislike them), but the way he was written honestly and centrally, but not overly much, turned out alright. And the role he ended up playing was a good one, as far as making sense and being fitting. I loved the addition of Cloud and the pirates (in opposition to my thing about kids in fantasy, I’m a huge sucker for a fantasy pirate). And the return of our favorite gladiatii from the last book was both expected and a warm homecoming. I also tend to be a sucker for a found family trope and these books really all have that in spades. We also got one surprise return character in a new form, which I loved and also was heart-broken over (and provided some of the most unique love/hate triangle situation I have ever read, murderer-murdered/dead-boy/Mia, and I was here for it). Seeing and getting to know Mercurio more/better was also a favorite part of mine. And oh goodness there were quite a few losses that got me. Some pretty big characters are brought down and some smaller ones that affected me a little more than I would have expected. And overall, there was some great character growth, relationship development and connections made/flourished.
As far as the story itself, the mythology of the fallen god and the Crown of the Moon, how that was all connected to darkin, and the role(s) Mia and Jonnen and Scaeva all played, I thought it was well done. I can’t say that it was totally original, but there are fantasy tropes for a reason. And I did like the parallels between the suns/moons/day/night god-family situation and the way Mia’s own family situation played out. It was a cool way to create and recreate it all. And, worth mentioning again, I loved the way Mia approached her role – selfish until the end, focus on the people (the familia) that mattered to her, and single-mindedly so. It showed her heart so well, so strongly, so consistently and got us to the ending the way fate/destiny needed but still in a way that was through her own choices, and that is something rarely seen in this genre. Refreshing and, honestly, way more recognizable and empathize-able, for me. And the little post-denouement ending, kinda like an epilogue, made my heart smile (and one more plug for how cool, and a fantastically normalized handling of bisexuality, I thought Mia’s romantic relationship(s) were). Last small note that I didn't want to forget to add: I loved all the nicknames and titles Mia picked up throughout this tale, from Pale Daughter to little Crow to Lady of Blades and so, so many more. They were such a great small detail.
Ahhhhhh now I have to sum it all up? All the reviewers were right – this was bloody, brutal, epic, snarky, fast-paced and totally engaging fantasy trilogy. Mia was a fantastic heroine and anti-heroine all combined into one person and her story and growth into herself and her full power and her full life was everything I had hoped for. Yet again, I was totally into Kristoff’s characters and world-building and plot unfolding and goodness this was the escapist reading I needed. So good, so entertaining, such a great adventure!
“Sometimes the past won’t just die. Sometimes you have to kill it.”
“And the more I live it, the more I realize ‘deserve’ has nothing to do with this life. Blessings and curses fall on the wicked and the just alike. Fair is a fairy tale. Nothing’s claimed by those who don’t want it, and nothing’s kept by those who won’t fight for it. So let’s fight. Fuck the gods. Fuck it all. Let’s take the world by the throat and make it give us what we want.”
“Love often rusted into hate when watered with scorn.”
“How easily a parent can make a triumph of their children, gentlefriends. And how easily they can make a ruin.”
“And some loyalties just don’t die quietly, no matter what the storybooks say.”
“A dizzying kiss. An endless kiss. A kiss full of sorrow and regret for things they might have been, a kiss of love and longing for all the things they’d had, a kiss of joy for all they were, right at that moment.”
“You never know what can break you until you’re falling apart.”
“…fear wasn’t ever a choice. To never fear was to never hope. Never love. Never live. To never fear the dark was to never smile as the dawn kissed your face. To never fear solitude was to never know the joy of a beauty in your arms. Part of having is the fear of losing. Part of creating is the fear of it breaking. Part of beginning is the fear of your ending. Fear is never a choice. Never a choice. But letting it rule you is.”
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This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
And on to book two of this bloody, thrilling trilogy! The book picks up right after the last one. Mia is a full-fledged Blade and, even though everyone in the Red Church leadership hates her, they can’t change that. So, she’s well into her murdering-on-their-behalf life path when she finds out some truly shocking news (from a sort of expected, but definitely still enemy, source: Ashlinn) and realizes that maybe this murderous groups of fanatics is not quite as “on the up and up” as she’d first thought. In a giant pivot, Mia secretly (with coverage assistance from good old Mercurio) sets off on (another?) low odds of success plan to avenge her parents: getting herself sold into slavery as a gladiatii so she can enter the biggest fight-to-the-death-for-public-entertainment event in the Republic so she can have a close up shot at an unarmed Scaeva and Duomo when they crown her winner.
Well, I think I can confidently say that the snark and sarcasm of our narrator, and really many of the characters themselves (I’m looking at you Master Kindly and Eclipse), have thrived in this second installation. In fact, I think it really rubbed off on me as a reader, because that synopsis I just wrote was full of it. Anyways, that was one of my favorite parts of the first books and it remains so after finishing the second. I love some good, smart snark and I’ve rarely read better. In addition, the pacing and sex and brutality all stayed solid, if not even bigger/better, in this second book.
As far as the plot, there was just something about this updated storyline, the switch from assassin school to gladiator training, that just wasn’t quite as on point for me as the first was. I think it’s personal tough. I’d rather read about assassins. It’s sneakier bloodshed and death than spectator fights are, which just appeals to me more as a reader. However, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t just as invested in Mia and her journey. Trust me, my eyes were glued to the pages for the entirety of the book. And there were some parts of it, especially the parallel progressions within her character and the plot, that I loved. For Mia, as she steps outside into the “real” world, she starts to learn that her view of life is super skewed: from her high-born early life to her secluded years with just Mercurio to her indoctrination by the Red Church…she’s really been sheltered from the actual state of the Republic. So, her new life as a gladiatii, and the friends she makes among them, allow an opening in herself and the plot. Yes, she is still single-sightedly hell bent on avenging her parents, but she’s also realizing that like, life in her country is really terrible for a lot of people and the slave situation is (DUHHHH) horrific and awful. Her widening worldview and experiences, plus the (finally) discovery that her parents were just people, and therefore flawed (and not the perfect martyrs she’d built them up to be in memory) were growth that I was super glad for.
A few more notes. First: yet again, the brutality is REAL. No holding back or pulling punches on the violence and death. I was here for it. There was one “betrayal that wasn’t” as the end (no spoilers, as best I can) that I was really happy for but also…kinda…disappointed by. I hated and loved the ruthlessness of what I thought happened, so I’m not actually mad about what happened, but also would have been fine if it really had. Anyways, on to a less vague comment: the “romance.” Yo, I’m into the “I am completely bi but mostly didn’t realize it til I kissed a girl” rep. That is something I totally identify with and I love the way that’s going in this story. Some cringey vocabulary in the sex scenes themselves, but I think we all have individual preferences there, so I’m not mad at it. And last: the reveals! Some I saw coming and some were a surprise, but they are moved the plot along nicely and set up for I’m hoping will be a spectacular finale.
Overall, I was super pleased with this second book! This was no “bridge between intro and closing” or placeholder second book. It stands on its own as far as plot development within it and in the greater context, allows growth for Mia, deepens the mysteries around what being a darkin means, and introduces some awesome new characters (getting to know Mercurio and Eclipse more, as well as meeting Leona and Arkades and all the gladiatii was fantastic). I can’t wait to see how it wraps up (actually, Ive already started book three)!
“A child of murdered parents and a failed rebellion, she’d still walked in the boots of scholars and warriors, queens and conquerors.”
“Still, never let the truth get in the way of a good yarn, gentlefriends.”
“There’s no softer pillow than a clear conscience.”
“This is not where I die. […] I’ve far too much killing to do.”
And on to book two of this bloody, thrilling trilogy! The book picks up right after the last one. Mia is a full-fledged Blade and, even though everyone in the Red Church leadership hates her, they can’t change that. So, she’s well into her murdering-on-their-behalf life path when she finds out some truly shocking news (from a sort of expected, but definitely still enemy, source: Ashlinn) and realizes that maybe this murderous groups of fanatics is not quite as “on the up and up” as she’d first thought. In a giant pivot, Mia secretly (with coverage assistance from good old Mercurio) sets off on (another?) low odds of success plan to avenge her parents: getting herself sold into slavery as a gladiatii so she can enter the biggest fight-to-the-death-for-public-entertainment event in the Republic so she can have a close up shot at an unarmed Scaeva and Duomo when they crown her winner.
Well, I think I can confidently say that the snark and sarcasm of our narrator, and really many of the characters themselves (I’m looking at you Master Kindly and Eclipse), have thrived in this second installation. In fact, I think it really rubbed off on me as a reader, because that synopsis I just wrote was full of it. Anyways, that was one of my favorite parts of the first books and it remains so after finishing the second. I love some good, smart snark and I’ve rarely read better. In addition, the pacing and sex and brutality all stayed solid, if not even bigger/better, in this second book.
As far as the plot, there was just something about this updated storyline, the switch from assassin school to gladiator training, that just wasn’t quite as on point for me as the first was. I think it’s personal tough. I’d rather read about assassins. It’s sneakier bloodshed and death than spectator fights are, which just appeals to me more as a reader. However, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t just as invested in Mia and her journey. Trust me, my eyes were glued to the pages for the entirety of the book. And there were some parts of it, especially the parallel progressions within her character and the plot, that I loved. For Mia, as she steps outside into the “real” world, she starts to learn that her view of life is super skewed: from her high-born early life to her secluded years with just Mercurio to her indoctrination by the Red Church…she’s really been sheltered from the actual state of the Republic. So, her new life as a gladiatii, and the friends she makes among them, allow an opening in herself and the plot. Yes, she is still single-sightedly hell bent on avenging her parents, but she’s also realizing that like, life in her country is really terrible for a lot of people and the slave situation is (DUHHHH) horrific and awful. Her widening worldview and experiences, plus the (finally) discovery that her parents were just people, and therefore flawed (and not the perfect martyrs she’d built them up to be in memory) were growth that I was super glad for.
A few more notes. First: yet again, the brutality is REAL. No holding back or pulling punches on the violence and death. I was here for it. There was one “betrayal that wasn’t” as the end (no spoilers, as best I can) that I was really happy for but also…kinda…disappointed by. I hated and loved the ruthlessness of what I thought happened, so I’m not actually mad about what happened, but also would have been fine if it really had. Anyways, on to a less vague comment: the “romance.” Yo, I’m into the “I am completely bi but mostly didn’t realize it til I kissed a girl” rep. That is something I totally identify with and I love the way that’s going in this story. Some cringey vocabulary in the sex scenes themselves, but I think we all have individual preferences there, so I’m not mad at it. And last: the reveals! Some I saw coming and some were a surprise, but they are moved the plot along nicely and set up for I’m hoping will be a spectacular finale.
Overall, I was super pleased with this second book! This was no “bridge between intro and closing” or placeholder second book. It stands on its own as far as plot development within it and in the greater context, allows growth for Mia, deepens the mysteries around what being a darkin means, and introduces some awesome new characters (getting to know Mercurio and Eclipse more, as well as meeting Leona and Arkades and all the gladiatii was fantastic). I can’t wait to see how it wraps up (actually, Ive already started book three)!
“A child of murdered parents and a failed rebellion, she’d still walked in the boots of scholars and warriors, queens and conquerors.”
“Still, never let the truth get in the way of a good yarn, gentlefriends.”
“There’s no softer pillow than a clear conscience.”
“This is not where I die. […] I’ve far too much killing to do.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“‘Nothing is where you start. Own nothing. Know nothing. Be nothing.’ / ‘Why would I want to do that?’ / […] / His smile made her smile in return. / ‘Because then you can do anything.’”
“Never flinch. Never fear. And never, ever forget.”
Every time I pick up and start a new epic fantasy novel/series, it just feels like coming home. I have really spread my “reading wings” over the past years and found so many books that I have loved from so many different genres, truly. But my first love, my reader origin story, was always fantasy and it’s still my comfort reading zone. Anyways, this series really needs no intro, honestly. It’s super popular and well-known already, so my review(s) likely won’t add anything new to the table. But I am so excited that I am finally picking up these books (especially after loving the co-written Illuminae Files trilogy last year – dang Kristoff is prolific and consistently phenomenal). Bring on the binge read!
So, as a quick summary to start, I’m going to just copy and paste the little one-liner that starts the inside flap blurb. It basically sums up the entire book and, honestly, I just like the way its worded: “In a land where three suns almost never set, a fledgling killer joins a school of assassins, seeking vengeance against the powers who destroyed her family.” There you have it.
Right, so 10-year-old Mia Corvere saw her father killed, her mother and younger brother hauled away to be imprisoned for like, the rest of forever, and herself stolen away to be silently and secretly murdered. But instead of dying, Mia was found by the shadows (a little cat shadow that she named Mister Kindly, to be more specific…and let’s just take a moment to honor that nomenclature for a murderous, fear-eating shadow being), escaped, and managed to get taken under the wing of a sort of pre-assassin-in-training-trainer. When we really start taking our journey with her, she is off to find this secret school of assassins, haunted by some terrible memories of a discovery she made about her mother’s fate when she was 14, and dead set on doing anything and everything necessary to avenge her family. This, and some other plot-related parts of the novel, are honestly pretty typical of a YA/NA fantasy series. A young female protagonist fighting for something “bigger” than herself (though in this case, I do love that it’s so personal, her scruples are kinda there/not there as it serves her, and it’s not like a big “chosen one/save the world” situation), the “school” aspect, and a very intense hierarchical religious system and schism. Now, that being said, they’re sort of clichés for a reason. It’s a great staring point for a hero/story and, really, looking at Mia’s age, it does make sense that she would need legit training before taking down all these well-guarded and powerful men that she’s pledged herself against. So while they’re things I’ve seen before, they’re a part of the genre I love and they were very well written, developed and executed (pun kinda intended) so it really worked for me.
Other notes: wow can Kristoff pace a novel. I felt like I couldn’t stop reading and at the same time never felt rushed. It was perfect. Also, I loved some of the aspects that added originality to this novel. First, the use of shadows/dark and the kind of “shadow magic” Mia is gifted with. And I said she wasn’t like a typical “chosen one,” even though she’s one of the only people with this particular gift, because I thought it was really cool that the one other person she meets with this power doesn’t seem interested in explaining anything or mentoring her in it and (mini, baby spoiler), doesn’t turn out to not really be helpful anyways, once she does have greater access to him. And the ending makes it clear that she wants to know more and will work to find out, but, I don’t know, I enjoyed that there wasn’t more knowledge about it from any real source. Also, in addition to the obvious fighting and poisoning skills that the assassin students learned in their “school” experience, I enjoyed some of the other foci, like theft/pick-pocketing and seduction/secret-gathering. Those were kind of out of the box as far as assassin work, but totally make sense. Plus, the creepy but totally cool facial reworking to make them less noticeable was a nice touch. And last, possibly greatest, the plot twists! Oh goodness! When reading makes me gaps out loud, that’s a win, for me. I loved it all, even the one that kinda broke my heart a little (though I should have expected it, really, considering the author bio literally says he doesn’t believe in happy endings).
Last comments: this was bloody and bloodthirsty with no holds barred death, basically from everyone towards everyone else. The snark was real, the dialogue was smart, the narrator voice was spot on (and let me just take this moment to share that the footnotes were all spectacular; hilarious in a dark, sarcastic way that I straight loved), Mia is vicious in the best way (but had some minimal softer moments that I appreciated), and I am about to dive into book two immediately, the second I finish writing this final sentence…
“‘Nothing is where you start. Own nothing. Know nothing. Be nothing.’ / ‘Why would I want to do that?’ / […] / His smile made her smile in return. / ‘Because then you can do anything.’”
“Never flinch. Never fear. And never, ever forget.”
Every time I pick up and start a new epic fantasy novel/series, it just feels like coming home. I have really spread my “reading wings” over the past years and found so many books that I have loved from so many different genres, truly. But my first love, my reader origin story, was always fantasy and it’s still my comfort reading zone. Anyways, this series really needs no intro, honestly. It’s super popular and well-known already, so my review(s) likely won’t add anything new to the table. But I am so excited that I am finally picking up these books (especially after loving the co-written Illuminae Files trilogy last year – dang Kristoff is prolific and consistently phenomenal). Bring on the binge read!
So, as a quick summary to start, I’m going to just copy and paste the little one-liner that starts the inside flap blurb. It basically sums up the entire book and, honestly, I just like the way its worded: “In a land where three suns almost never set, a fledgling killer joins a school of assassins, seeking vengeance against the powers who destroyed her family.” There you have it.
Right, so 10-year-old Mia Corvere saw her father killed, her mother and younger brother hauled away to be imprisoned for like, the rest of forever, and herself stolen away to be silently and secretly murdered. But instead of dying, Mia was found by the shadows (a little cat shadow that she named Mister Kindly, to be more specific…and let’s just take a moment to honor that nomenclature for a murderous, fear-eating shadow being), escaped, and managed to get taken under the wing of a sort of pre-assassin-in-training-trainer. When we really start taking our journey with her, she is off to find this secret school of assassins, haunted by some terrible memories of a discovery she made about her mother’s fate when she was 14, and dead set on doing anything and everything necessary to avenge her family. This, and some other plot-related parts of the novel, are honestly pretty typical of a YA/NA fantasy series. A young female protagonist fighting for something “bigger” than herself (though in this case, I do love that it’s so personal, her scruples are kinda there/not there as it serves her, and it’s not like a big “chosen one/save the world” situation), the “school” aspect, and a very intense hierarchical religious system and schism. Now, that being said, they’re sort of clichés for a reason. It’s a great staring point for a hero/story and, really, looking at Mia’s age, it does make sense that she would need legit training before taking down all these well-guarded and powerful men that she’s pledged herself against. So while they’re things I’ve seen before, they’re a part of the genre I love and they were very well written, developed and executed (pun kinda intended) so it really worked for me.
Other notes: wow can Kristoff pace a novel. I felt like I couldn’t stop reading and at the same time never felt rushed. It was perfect. Also, I loved some of the aspects that added originality to this novel. First, the use of shadows/dark and the kind of “shadow magic” Mia is gifted with. And I said she wasn’t like a typical “chosen one,” even though she’s one of the only people with this particular gift, because I thought it was really cool that the one other person she meets with this power doesn’t seem interested in explaining anything or mentoring her in it and (mini, baby spoiler), doesn’t turn out to not really be helpful anyways, once she does have greater access to him. And the ending makes it clear that she wants to know more and will work to find out, but, I don’t know, I enjoyed that there wasn’t more knowledge about it from any real source. Also, in addition to the obvious fighting and poisoning skills that the assassin students learned in their “school” experience, I enjoyed some of the other foci, like theft/pick-pocketing and seduction/secret-gathering. Those were kind of out of the box as far as assassin work, but totally make sense. Plus, the creepy but totally cool facial reworking to make them less noticeable was a nice touch. And last, possibly greatest, the plot twists! Oh goodness! When reading makes me gaps out loud, that’s a win, for me. I loved it all, even the one that kinda broke my heart a little (though I should have expected it, really, considering the author bio literally says he doesn’t believe in happy endings).
Last comments: this was bloody and bloodthirsty with no holds barred death, basically from everyone towards everyone else. The snark was real, the dialogue was smart, the narrator voice was spot on (and let me just take this moment to share that the footnotes were all spectacular; hilarious in a dark, sarcastic way that I straight loved), Mia is vicious in the best way (but had some minimal softer moments that I appreciated), and I am about to dive into book two immediately, the second I finish writing this final sentence…
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“With insufferable vanity had she believed herself in the secret of everybody’s feelings; with unpardonable arrogance proposed to arrange everybody’s destiny. She was proved to have been universally mistaken; and she had not quite done nothing – for she had done mischief.”
Although I was one of those awesome nerds in high school that loved Jane Austen and truly read all the books by her we were assigned, I am not sure that I have actually picked up an original from her since then. I have both read and watched many adaptations and retellings (some repeatedly…2005 Pride & Prejudice, I’m looking at you), but not read original texts. So when I saw that Prompt #11 for The Reading Women Challenge 2020 was “Read and Watch a Book-to-Movie Adaptation,” and realized a new Emma film was set to be released this year, it seemed like to perfect time for a revisit.
Emma is, as you could likely guess, mainly about/from the POV of the titular Emma Woodhouse. She is rich and smart and pretty, dotes on her (particularly needy) father, and is determined to remain unmarried. However, that determination for herself definitely doesn’t stop her from getting all into other people’s relationship business. And when a scheme of her goes pretty poorly, a scheme she insists on following through with despite warnings against it from her good friend Mr. Knightley, she finds herself in the center of a whole swirl of relationship drama. A swirl that, no thanks to Emma, does end with many happy pairings…including her own, very unexpected, one.
I recently saw a meme with a really hilarious one-star review of Pride & Prejudice that, although technically for a different book than this one, really does sum up Austen’s work. It said something along the lines of “just a lot of people visiting each other’s houses.” I legitimately laughed out loud at that because it’s so freaking accurate. But at the same time, you really have to respect the depth of exploration of interpersonal relationships and the sociocultural traditions and propriety of the period. Plus, the wit and intelligence of the writing, from the dialogue to the pacing to the subtle (and not-so-subtle) calling out of some of those proprieties and traditions for their ridiculousness…it’s nicely done. Honestly, I forgot how searing and insightful, and sarcastic, Austen’s social commentary was. And she really can write an MC. I mean, Emma should truly be unlikable, for so many reasons, but somehow, by the end, you find yourself cheering for her and kind of loving her? Maybe it’s her eventual self-awareness, her willingness to both feel bad about and outwardly admit her misjudgments and mistakes, and the fact that she is open to changing her mind about (many) another character, for better or worse. I guess I don’t mind the self-importance if she also has some true moments of growth. Plus, its much more reasonable that she have so many flaws (and still have people that love her)...cause like, isn't that all of us? Also, I just have to say, I read “contemporary” literature romance for the successful happy endings, so I was definitely into the way everyone found their right match by the end, the karmically good and the karmically…less good.
So yes, this was just a very fancy romantic comedy. Lots of misinterpretations and misunderstandings that are frustrating in an amusing way because they work themselves out by the end. But it’s so smartly written and well-realized and socially discerning (admittedly for, yes, one very particular type of society). A humorous and entertaining and cozy (in a nostalgic sort of way, for me) read.
Regarding the 2020 movie adaptation…I am on the waitlist for it at the library and will update this review to include some quick thoughts on that front as soon as I have watched it!
“With insufferable vanity had she believed herself in the secret of everybody’s feelings; with unpardonable arrogance proposed to arrange everybody’s destiny. She was proved to have been universally mistaken; and she had not quite done nothing – for she had done mischief.”
Although I was one of those awesome nerds in high school that loved Jane Austen and truly read all the books by her we were assigned, I am not sure that I have actually picked up an original from her since then. I have both read and watched many adaptations and retellings (some repeatedly…2005 Pride & Prejudice, I’m looking at you), but not read original texts. So when I saw that Prompt #11 for The Reading Women Challenge 2020 was “Read and Watch a Book-to-Movie Adaptation,” and realized a new Emma film was set to be released this year, it seemed like to perfect time for a revisit.
Emma is, as you could likely guess, mainly about/from the POV of the titular Emma Woodhouse. She is rich and smart and pretty, dotes on her (particularly needy) father, and is determined to remain unmarried. However, that determination for herself definitely doesn’t stop her from getting all into other people’s relationship business. And when a scheme of her goes pretty poorly, a scheme she insists on following through with despite warnings against it from her good friend Mr. Knightley, she finds herself in the center of a whole swirl of relationship drama. A swirl that, no thanks to Emma, does end with many happy pairings…including her own, very unexpected, one.
I recently saw a meme with a really hilarious one-star review of Pride & Prejudice that, although technically for a different book than this one, really does sum up Austen’s work. It said something along the lines of “just a lot of people visiting each other’s houses.” I legitimately laughed out loud at that because it’s so freaking accurate. But at the same time, you really have to respect the depth of exploration of interpersonal relationships and the sociocultural traditions and propriety of the period. Plus, the wit and intelligence of the writing, from the dialogue to the pacing to the subtle (and not-so-subtle) calling out of some of those proprieties and traditions for their ridiculousness…it’s nicely done. Honestly, I forgot how searing and insightful, and sarcastic, Austen’s social commentary was. And she really can write an MC. I mean, Emma should truly be unlikable, for so many reasons, but somehow, by the end, you find yourself cheering for her and kind of loving her? Maybe it’s her eventual self-awareness, her willingness to both feel bad about and outwardly admit her misjudgments and mistakes, and the fact that she is open to changing her mind about (many) another character, for better or worse. I guess I don’t mind the self-importance if she also has some true moments of growth. Plus, its much more reasonable that she have so many flaws (and still have people that love her)...cause like, isn't that all of us? Also, I just have to say, I read “contemporary” literature romance for the successful happy endings, so I was definitely into the way everyone found their right match by the end, the karmically good and the karmically…less good.
So yes, this was just a very fancy romantic comedy. Lots of misinterpretations and misunderstandings that are frustrating in an amusing way because they work themselves out by the end. But it’s so smartly written and well-realized and socially discerning (admittedly for, yes, one very particular type of society). A humorous and entertaining and cozy (in a nostalgic sort of way, for me) read.
Regarding the 2020 movie adaptation…I am on the waitlist for it at the library and will update this review to include some quick thoughts on that front as soon as I have watched it!
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
Well, I knew after I had finished the second novella in this trilogy that I'd be getting to the third one sooner than I'd made it from book one to book two. Binti ended with a nice little wrap-up, making it easy to be satisfied and step away for a bit. But there was just enough of a cliff-hanger at the end of Binti: Home that I really wanted to see how things concluded sooner rather than later.
In this last installation, Binti is still on her home planet, having just learned quite a bit about her own personal ancestry, abilities and ancient aliens visitors to Earth (and what they'd left behind). She's traveling back to her people, the Himba, alongside her new friend and guide Mwinyi, to try and prevent yet another clash between the Meduse and Khoush people (her efforts from the first book not being quite enough, apparently). Between receiving some devastating personal news and being faced with severe lack of support from Himba elders, Binti does her best to prevent war on her own, with some mixed results but an overall coming together of peoples that is her specialty/trademark as a harmonizer.
There's not much more I can say, so I'll just repeat it one more time for the record, Okorafor's world-building is top notch. In such short order she sets up an environment and history and an ambiance that just feels so full. And now that we're in the third and final novella, the characters have really been more developed as well, both as far as their own selves and the way they interact with others. Binti's connection to her people, her loyalty and strength of feeling for them, which has been clear from the very first page of the very first book, is still central to the story. But as we've seen with the passing of time, her role as a harmonizer puts her in a position to reach out to, communicate with, and moderate between peoples in a way that most others cannot. it's such a difficult role for someone so young and so newly exposed to the world, and yet Binti holds her own with aplomb (and her coming-of-confidence in this way is inspiring and wonderful to witness). She is so clearly adept at her role, as we see species after species and tribe after tribe accepting and protecting her. Realistically, it only takes the one tribe/people that doesn't acknowledge her to bring things to pieces, which is both authentic and difficult to read. Despite all her efforts on others' behalf, and especially in the face of her own trauma, she is not able to achieve all the peace she wants. And yet, what she is able to do, again especially considering her own sacrifices for it, should not be minimized (and is not, by those closest to her). It's such an important message about our own efforts, in our own lives. That no matter how small or insignificant (or large and affecting, as the case may be) they may seem, or how short of the mark of our actual goal they fall, each little bit brings us closer to that better end place than we would have been otherwise, or saves something that would otherwise have been lost. And that isn't, should never be, considered failure. This moral, if you will, that is exactly paralleled in real life in so many ways, is just another example of Okorafor's genius. She is able to make such large insights into broad-sweeping and common, yet completely profound, cultural interactions. Her specialty throughout, which is on display so focally here at the finale of Binti's story, is the exploration of conflict based on perceived differences and proving the falseness of that basis/those biases, in various ways. And it's done smoothly, simply and unequivocally. Finally, I just want to applaud the ending - one that shows that while not all the conflict has been avoided, and there are still challenges and growth to come, there must also be a space for enjoyment, recovery and personal care, however that looks. There is no grand-perfect-finish line to any true issue, because there is always, and will always be, room to be even better. It's a constantly evolving goal we should all embrace and strive for, but in a way that allows for celebrations of successes along the way. And that message too is strong and beautiful in the way Binti's current tale ends.
A few other notes - there were a number of emotional roller coasters in this final book, so be ready for that. There are definitely a few plot points that, at least for me, felt like they left off a bit unsatisfactorily (mainly, the story of the reason for/purpose of Binti's edan) or just we never fully explained (or were explained away too easily). They were minor, in the overall scheme of things related to my enjoyment level with reading this story, but they were there.
Recognizable in many ways and escapist in many others, this space-based sci-fi novella trilogy is truly something special. Okorafor's imagination and writing skill are fantastic and I loved traveling alongside Binti and seeing her world expand and evolve through her own eyes, and the eyes of those who loved her. Entertaining and full of key moral lessons in equal measure, I was really into this entire trilogy and overall quite happy with the way it ended.
“Beauty does not need a reason.”
“Everything is so complicated and connected...”
“I left because I wanted more [...] I was not leaving my family, my people, or my culture. I wanted to add to it all.”
“I do not want to see my homeland and people destroyed by a stale ancient irrational fight between people who have no real reason to hate each other.”
“Death is always news.”
“But couldn’t you be broken and still bring change?”
“...so this blend is what makes you, you. So you are different from what you were born as, certainly. But as I said before, you're healthy.”
Well, I knew after I had finished the second novella in this trilogy that I'd be getting to the third one sooner than I'd made it from book one to book two. Binti ended with a nice little wrap-up, making it easy to be satisfied and step away for a bit. But there was just enough of a cliff-hanger at the end of Binti: Home that I really wanted to see how things concluded sooner rather than later.
In this last installation, Binti is still on her home planet, having just learned quite a bit about her own personal ancestry, abilities and ancient aliens visitors to Earth (and what they'd left behind). She's traveling back to her people, the Himba, alongside her new friend and guide Mwinyi, to try and prevent yet another clash between the Meduse and Khoush people (her efforts from the first book not being quite enough, apparently). Between receiving some devastating personal news and being faced with severe lack of support from Himba elders, Binti does her best to prevent war on her own, with some mixed results but an overall coming together of peoples that is her specialty/trademark as a harmonizer.
There's not much more I can say, so I'll just repeat it one more time for the record, Okorafor's world-building is top notch. In such short order she sets up an environment and history and an ambiance that just feels so full. And now that we're in the third and final novella, the characters have really been more developed as well, both as far as their own selves and the way they interact with others. Binti's connection to her people, her loyalty and strength of feeling for them, which has been clear from the very first page of the very first book, is still central to the story. But as we've seen with the passing of time, her role as a harmonizer puts her in a position to reach out to, communicate with, and moderate between peoples in a way that most others cannot. it's such a difficult role for someone so young and so newly exposed to the world, and yet Binti holds her own with aplomb (and her coming-of-confidence in this way is inspiring and wonderful to witness). She is so clearly adept at her role, as we see species after species and tribe after tribe accepting and protecting her. Realistically, it only takes the one tribe/people that doesn't acknowledge her to bring things to pieces, which is both authentic and difficult to read. Despite all her efforts on others' behalf, and especially in the face of her own trauma, she is not able to achieve all the peace she wants. And yet, what she is able to do, again especially considering her own sacrifices for it, should not be minimized (and is not, by those closest to her). It's such an important message about our own efforts, in our own lives. That no matter how small or insignificant (or large and affecting, as the case may be) they may seem, or how short of the mark of our actual goal they fall, each little bit brings us closer to that better end place than we would have been otherwise, or saves something that would otherwise have been lost. And that isn't, should never be, considered failure. This moral, if you will, that is exactly paralleled in real life in so many ways, is just another example of Okorafor's genius. She is able to make such large insights into broad-sweeping and common, yet completely profound, cultural interactions. Her specialty throughout, which is on display so focally here at the finale of Binti's story, is the exploration of conflict based on perceived differences and proving the falseness of that basis/those biases, in various ways. And it's done smoothly, simply and unequivocally. Finally, I just want to applaud the ending - one that shows that while not all the conflict has been avoided, and there are still challenges and growth to come, there must also be a space for enjoyment, recovery and personal care, however that looks. There is no grand-perfect-finish line to any true issue, because there is always, and will always be, room to be even better. It's a constantly evolving goal we should all embrace and strive for, but in a way that allows for celebrations of successes along the way. And that message too is strong and beautiful in the way Binti's current tale ends.
A few other notes - there were a number of emotional roller coasters in this final book, so be ready for that. There are definitely a few plot points that, at least for me, felt like they left off a bit unsatisfactorily (mainly, the story of the reason for/purpose of Binti's edan) or just we never fully explained (or were explained away too easily). They were minor, in the overall scheme of things related to my enjoyment level with reading this story, but they were there.
Recognizable in many ways and escapist in many others, this space-based sci-fi novella trilogy is truly something special. Okorafor's imagination and writing skill are fantastic and I loved traveling alongside Binti and seeing her world expand and evolve through her own eyes, and the eyes of those who loved her. Entertaining and full of key moral lessons in equal measure, I was really into this entire trilogy and overall quite happy with the way it ended.
“Beauty does not need a reason.”
“Everything is so complicated and connected...”
“I left because I wanted more [...] I was not leaving my family, my people, or my culture. I wanted to add to it all.”
“I do not want to see my homeland and people destroyed by a stale ancient irrational fight between people who have no real reason to hate each other.”
“Death is always news.”
“But couldn’t you be broken and still bring change?”
“...so this blend is what makes you, you. So you are different from what you were born as, certainly. But as I said before, you're healthy.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“We’re from where we’re from. Scars are a part of the deal, aren’t they?”
A few months ago, this novel blew up bookstagram - everyone was reading and reviewing it and, almost universally, seemed to be loving it. I am not really a horror person. In fact, I am the opposite of that. I'm a giant scaredy-cat and had trouble sleeping for weeks after watching The Ring in high school (and, even farther back than that, had real fear watching The Mummy as a child). So yea, not a brave reader over here. But the reviews were just so good! And then I got access to the audiobook, through libro.fm's ALC program. And it was spooky season.And November is Indigenous Heritage Month in the US. And...I caved.
The Only Good Indians chronicles the aftermath (like, 10 years later) of a violent and disturbing hunting incident for four friends of the Blackfeet tribe. Some have managed to move on/move past better than others, but a vengeful entity from that day is tracking them all down, one by one, anyways. Because in the end, they will all reap the violence they sowed years ago.
Let me just repeat, one more time, that I have not ever been a scary/horror story sort of person. My tolerance level for thrillers/fear is about as nonexistent as my tolerance for spicy foods (which, let me tell you, is something I regret much more on a daily basis). So take it with that knowledge when I say I felt alright reading this book. There is quite a bit of violence and gore, let me be clear on that (against both humans and animals), but the heart-racing, too-scared-to-sleep, impending sense of doom and personal harm, feels that have come with other horror reads/movies from my childhood, didn't get me here. Maybe I'm growing up and now I can read more horror? Or maybe this novel just didn't have as much of that, as a style. I honestly don't know, because I really have nothing to compare it to. I honestly felt more edge-of-my-seat, waiting-for-the-hammer-to-drop, reactions with a recent contemporary lit read, Real Life. Maybe being an adult means you're scared of different things: less supernatural fear and more the terror of reality. Anyways, back to this book...I think depending on what terrifies/horrifies you, there are elements of this book that absolutely meet horror criteria, like I said: blood and gore, murder, violence, weird/creepy types of violence, (minimal) psychological stress/mind-games, and just a hint of the "it's coming for me, run away, I can see it getting closer, it's gaining on me," type vibes. But I felt like it all balanced together in a way that there was never an overwhelming focus on one or the other type of horror and thus, taken all together, they sort of balanced each other out and helped make each more palatable (for lack of a better word).
Another aspect of this novel that was thematically central and, I think, mitigated the effect of the classic horror pieces, is the cultural insight and social commentary. Jones provides a really fascinating look at Blackfeet (and some Crow) culture, traditions, history, beliefs, laws, legends, etc. and I know for a fact that my interest in learning about/from that took some of the impact out of the horror. In fact, I was really into the way the legends and cultural respect played into the unfolding of the horror situation. It's a very specific sort of vengeance being sought, by a very specific monster/spirit/entity, with very specific goals, based on the traditions and rules the four friends chose to flout when they were younger. And it's a horror-plot that would/could only exist within those cultural boundaries. Similar to the mythological aspects of any culturally-specific story, like in Gods of Jade and Shadow, The Sixth World series, and many others, the fantastical elements and magic and supernatural exist within that specific population's belief system. Anyways, I love that type of fantasy story-telling, so I think those similarities drew me strongly to this narrative, despite/regardless of the horror parts of it that were played up for the benefit of the genre.
In addition, throughout the novel, Jones references the many historical injustices against Indigenous peoples in America, as well as indicating clearly (without sugar-coating and with very matter-of-fact language), the present-day socioeconomic statuses that are a direct result of that history. It's done in a way that both condemns the circumstances/situation, but that also recognizes strength and adaptability and humanity within it.
A few quick notes on the writing and general literary pieces. I thought the pacing was really interestingly done. Some of the revenge plot lines happened fast and some took much longer to unfold. It was inconsistent, perhaps not my favorite style, yet worked pretty well despite that. The writing itself had a cadence to it that was also pretty unique. I’m not sure I could put words to an accurate description of it, as it kind of changed with the particular parts of the revenge that were in focus: some building and waning with psychological breakdown and others more hectic with unknown assailants and different kinds of in-the-moment violence, some at a more breakneck pace with chase scenes and running-for-your-life vibes. I loved that the writing adjusted with the part of the story we were in. And then: the ending. I loved it! I don’t know what I was expecting, but it absolutely wasn’t that. It was heart-racing terror and wonderful moments of cycle-breaking and true fear and hope for the future and a definite aura of weird-creepy-dread all mixed up and it just felt right. I love when an ending slots in exactly right like that.
Basically, I am not sure how much you can trust my review, since this is a very new-to-me genre. There were parts of this novel that I loved and parts that were more just ok. But I flew along with the story and was definitely into this tale of cultural betrayal, revenge and healing. I don’t think I’m a convert to horror, but I am excited that I was able to read this and sleep afterwards, so I look forward to trying some other, light, books in this category and see how I do with them. There’s a few that I’ve had my eye on, but was afraid of. So maybe this is, at least, the start of a slightly larger toe-dip into a new reading arena!
“We’re from where we’re from. Scars are a part of the deal, aren’t they?”
A few months ago, this novel blew up bookstagram - everyone was reading and reviewing it and, almost universally, seemed to be loving it. I am not really a horror person. In fact, I am the opposite of that. I'm a giant scaredy-cat and had trouble sleeping for weeks after watching The Ring in high school (and, even farther back than that, had real fear watching The Mummy as a child). So yea, not a brave reader over here. But the reviews were just so good! And then I got access to the audiobook, through libro.fm's ALC program. And it was spooky season.And November is Indigenous Heritage Month in the US. And...I caved.
The Only Good Indians chronicles the aftermath (like, 10 years later) of a violent and disturbing hunting incident for four friends of the Blackfeet tribe. Some have managed to move on/move past better than others, but a vengeful entity from that day is tracking them all down, one by one, anyways. Because in the end, they will all reap the violence they sowed years ago.
Let me just repeat, one more time, that I have not ever been a scary/horror story sort of person. My tolerance level for thrillers/fear is about as nonexistent as my tolerance for spicy foods (which, let me tell you, is something I regret much more on a daily basis). So take it with that knowledge when I say I felt alright reading this book. There is quite a bit of violence and gore, let me be clear on that (against both humans and animals), but the heart-racing, too-scared-to-sleep, impending sense of doom and personal harm, feels that have come with other horror reads/movies from my childhood, didn't get me here. Maybe I'm growing up and now I can read more horror? Or maybe this novel just didn't have as much of that, as a style. I honestly don't know, because I really have nothing to compare it to. I honestly felt more edge-of-my-seat, waiting-for-the-hammer-to-drop, reactions with a recent contemporary lit read, Real Life. Maybe being an adult means you're scared of different things: less supernatural fear and more the terror of reality. Anyways, back to this book...I think depending on what terrifies/horrifies you, there are elements of this book that absolutely meet horror criteria, like I said: blood and gore, murder, violence, weird/creepy types of violence, (minimal) psychological stress/mind-games, and just a hint of the "it's coming for me, run away, I can see it getting closer, it's gaining on me," type vibes. But I felt like it all balanced together in a way that there was never an overwhelming focus on one or the other type of horror and thus, taken all together, they sort of balanced each other out and helped make each more palatable (for lack of a better word).
Another aspect of this novel that was thematically central and, I think, mitigated the effect of the classic horror pieces, is the cultural insight and social commentary. Jones provides a really fascinating look at Blackfeet (and some Crow) culture, traditions, history, beliefs, laws, legends, etc. and I know for a fact that my interest in learning about/from that took some of the impact out of the horror. In fact, I was really into the way the legends and cultural respect played into the unfolding of the horror situation. It's a very specific sort of vengeance being sought, by a very specific monster/spirit/entity, with very specific goals, based on the traditions and rules the four friends chose to flout when they were younger. And it's a horror-plot that would/could only exist within those cultural boundaries. Similar to the mythological aspects of any culturally-specific story, like in Gods of Jade and Shadow, The Sixth World series, and many others, the fantastical elements and magic and supernatural exist within that specific population's belief system. Anyways, I love that type of fantasy story-telling, so I think those similarities drew me strongly to this narrative, despite/regardless of the horror parts of it that were played up for the benefit of the genre.
In addition, throughout the novel, Jones references the many historical injustices against Indigenous peoples in America, as well as indicating clearly (without sugar-coating and with very matter-of-fact language), the present-day socioeconomic statuses that are a direct result of that history. It's done in a way that both condemns the circumstances/situation, but that also recognizes strength and adaptability and humanity within it.
A few quick notes on the writing and general literary pieces. I thought the pacing was really interestingly done. Some of the revenge plot lines happened fast and some took much longer to unfold. It was inconsistent, perhaps not my favorite style, yet worked pretty well despite that. The writing itself had a cadence to it that was also pretty unique. I’m not sure I could put words to an accurate description of it, as it kind of changed with the particular parts of the revenge that were in focus: some building and waning with psychological breakdown and others more hectic with unknown assailants and different kinds of in-the-moment violence, some at a more breakneck pace with chase scenes and running-for-your-life vibes. I loved that the writing adjusted with the part of the story we were in. And then: the ending. I loved it! I don’t know what I was expecting, but it absolutely wasn’t that. It was heart-racing terror and wonderful moments of cycle-breaking and true fear and hope for the future and a definite aura of weird-creepy-dread all mixed up and it just felt right. I love when an ending slots in exactly right like that.
Basically, I am not sure how much you can trust my review, since this is a very new-to-me genre. There were parts of this novel that I loved and parts that were more just ok. But I flew along with the story and was definitely into this tale of cultural betrayal, revenge and healing. I don’t think I’m a convert to horror, but I am excited that I was able to read this and sleep afterwards, so I look forward to trying some other, light, books in this category and see how I do with them. There’s a few that I’ve had my eye on, but was afraid of. So maybe this is, at least, the start of a slightly larger toe-dip into a new reading arena!
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
In high school, I co-wrote a full-length screenplay with a friend of mine. It was called The Five Stages of Baldness and was (very) loosely based on another friend who had shaved her head, chronicling the stages of hair re-growth alongside a number of other high school dramas. I believe there might have been a song performance in there somewhere? I was clearly very cool in high school. Anyways, I bring this up because my co-author actually went ahead and converted the script into official formatting (something I legitimately had no idea was a thing, nor really had any inclination to do). So first, all credit to her for that time (because seriously the formatting regulations are kind of intense). And second, that experience is one of the main reasons I was drawn to this novel, written in official screenplay type/setting. That’s something I’ve never seen before in a major literary release and I was super interested to see how it was executed. Spoiler alert: it was so well done.
In Interior Chinatown we are told the story of Willis Wu, Generic Asian man with dreams of one day becoming Kung Fu guy. He lives in a Chinatown SRO above the Golden Palace restaurant, which also happens to be a common set for the police procedural Black and White. Wu’s story plays out in bit role after bit role, as he tries to achieve his Kung Fu Guy end game, while he simultaneously figures out the role(s) he plays in his own life, as a son, a maybe-husband, a father and, always, an Asian man in America.
This was such a fantastic read! It moved so fast (only in part because of the format) that I almost read it in one day; I couldn’t (didn’t want) to put it down. Yu’s writing is sarcastic, dark humorous, with a detached tone of genuine social interrogation in a completely creative and easy (as in, straightforward) to digest way. At the same time, there is just enough individual character history/development (particularly in regards to our MC Willis and his parents) to make an emotional connection to “real life,” the way these laws/theories/social realities actually impact people. (However, do note that if you are a reader that loves deep character development, this may not be the book for you – I’ve said it already and will say it more, but this novel deals in the surface-level stereotypes, so you won’t get a deep individual emotional connection here.) The imagination, and small manipulations of reality versus script, that Yu wields in this exploratory look at life as a series of roles, scripted or off-script, casting/character stereotypes and plot tropes, is so freaking clever. He shows the way roles are assigned, forced on you, accepted internally as protection or in resignation, and the difficulty in breaking from them (especially after generations of ingrain-ment). On almost every page, Yu calls out the many contradictory expectations and options for Asians in this country, the formulas written into the screen and real life, with clear exactitude and an almost humorous self-deprecating awareness that make the reader sit up and pay attention.
As far as the social commentary (I would say satire, but I think by the end I decided it was too factual for that), Yu focuses primarily, and understandably, on the dual, and parallel, prejudices and stereotypes of Asians in America and in Hollywood. He talks clearly, and centrally, about the loss of individual identity characteristics in favor of archetypes in both scripted roles and “regular” public expectation of who Asians are/what Asians should be, as well as how they are reacted to as a result. This includes, in addition to a general primer, a look at the way all Asians (regardless of the many different heritages/ancestry they have) are all considered the same, a quick addressing of people who identify as multiracial (and the entirely different set of challenges and expectations that come with that), and the complex interplay of Asians with other oppressed and discriminated-against groups in America (the fallacy of comparing oppressions that create divides where there could be support, as well as general solidarity in frustration/futility in the fight against a system stacked against you). Overall, the reader gets a thorough critique of the status quo, the clear limitations on success that come from living in a place where you are legally and socially codified against, historically and contemporarily, and the internalization of those systems that end up forcing complicity with a system that you don’t support and doesn’t support you. Honestly, that so much was conveyed in such a short time, in such a strict framework for communication, and with a delivery that keeps things [darkly] amusing – I was so impressed.
Yu creates a story with such blurred lines between reality and the Hollywood performance/procedural show plot with the way he literarily wields stereotypical roles. It messes with your head and challenges what you accept in a way that truly promotes an interrogation of reality and how badly awry it’s been/remains. This novel is an amalgamation of tropes that delivers an educational message about the perpetual foreigner status for Asians in America in a most unique, dryly entertaining delivery.
“He’d played his role for so long he’d lost himself in it…”
“But the widest gulf in the world is the distance between getting by and not quite getting by. Crossing that gap can happen in a hundred ways, almost all by accident.”
“...there were limits to the dream of assimilation, to how far any of you could make your way into the world...”
“...as if nothing matters because nothing does matter because the idea was you came here, your parents and their parents and their parents and their parents, and you always seem to have just arrived and yet never seem to have actually arrived. You’re here, supposedly, in a new land full of opportunity, but somehow have gotten trapped in a pretend version of the old country.”
“The son who was born here, raised here, a stranger to his own dad for what. For this. So he could be part of this, part of the American show, black and white, no part for yellow.”
“Two words the define you, flatten you, trap you and keep you here. Who you are. All you are. Your most salient feature, overshadowing any other feature about you, making irrelevant any other characteristic. Both necessary and sufficient for a complete definition of your identity: Asian Guy.”
“To be yellow in America. A special guest start, forever the guest.”
“...telling a love story is something one person does. Being in love takes both of them. Putting her on a pedestal is just a different way of being alone.”
“You got exactly what you wanted. Didn’t you? Or did they give it to you. The thing you thought you wanted. The role of a lifetime is one you can never bring yourself to quit. […] was right: you are trapped. Doing well is the trap. A different kind, but still a trap. Because you’re still in a show that doesn’t have a role for you.”
“Location, location, location, three of them, composited into one perfect synthesis incorporated and flattening, the world as a children’s illustrated atlas, primary colors and rounded edges, smoothing out the map, blurring the boundaries and natural barriers, an optimistic amnesiac’s retelling of the age-old story of immigration, acculturation, assimilation.”
“Chinatown. A place for preservation and self-preservation. Give them what they feel is right, is safe. Make it fit their ideas of what is out there. Don’t threaten them. Chinatown and indeed being Chinese is and always has been, from the very beginning, a construction, a performance of features, gestures, culture, and exoticism. An invention, a reinvention, a stylization. Figuring out the show, finding our place in it, which was the background, as scenery, as nonspeaking players. Figuring out what you’re allowed to say. Above all, trying to never, ever offend. To watch the mainstream, find out what kind of fiction they are telling themselves, find a bit part in it. Be appealing and acceptable, be what they want to see.”
In high school, I co-wrote a full-length screenplay with a friend of mine. It was called The Five Stages of Baldness and was (very) loosely based on another friend who had shaved her head, chronicling the stages of hair re-growth alongside a number of other high school dramas. I believe there might have been a song performance in there somewhere? I was clearly very cool in high school. Anyways, I bring this up because my co-author actually went ahead and converted the script into official formatting (something I legitimately had no idea was a thing, nor really had any inclination to do). So first, all credit to her for that time (because seriously the formatting regulations are kind of intense). And second, that experience is one of the main reasons I was drawn to this novel, written in official screenplay type/setting. That’s something I’ve never seen before in a major literary release and I was super interested to see how it was executed. Spoiler alert: it was so well done.
In Interior Chinatown we are told the story of Willis Wu, Generic Asian man with dreams of one day becoming Kung Fu guy. He lives in a Chinatown SRO above the Golden Palace restaurant, which also happens to be a common set for the police procedural Black and White. Wu’s story plays out in bit role after bit role, as he tries to achieve his Kung Fu Guy end game, while he simultaneously figures out the role(s) he plays in his own life, as a son, a maybe-husband, a father and, always, an Asian man in America.
This was such a fantastic read! It moved so fast (only in part because of the format) that I almost read it in one day; I couldn’t (didn’t want) to put it down. Yu’s writing is sarcastic, dark humorous, with a detached tone of genuine social interrogation in a completely creative and easy (as in, straightforward) to digest way. At the same time, there is just enough individual character history/development (particularly in regards to our MC Willis and his parents) to make an emotional connection to “real life,” the way these laws/theories/social realities actually impact people. (However, do note that if you are a reader that loves deep character development, this may not be the book for you – I’ve said it already and will say it more, but this novel deals in the surface-level stereotypes, so you won’t get a deep individual emotional connection here.) The imagination, and small manipulations of reality versus script, that Yu wields in this exploratory look at life as a series of roles, scripted or off-script, casting/character stereotypes and plot tropes, is so freaking clever. He shows the way roles are assigned, forced on you, accepted internally as protection or in resignation, and the difficulty in breaking from them (especially after generations of ingrain-ment). On almost every page, Yu calls out the many contradictory expectations and options for Asians in this country, the formulas written into the screen and real life, with clear exactitude and an almost humorous self-deprecating awareness that make the reader sit up and pay attention.
As far as the social commentary (I would say satire, but I think by the end I decided it was too factual for that), Yu focuses primarily, and understandably, on the dual, and parallel, prejudices and stereotypes of Asians in America and in Hollywood. He talks clearly, and centrally, about the loss of individual identity characteristics in favor of archetypes in both scripted roles and “regular” public expectation of who Asians are/what Asians should be, as well as how they are reacted to as a result. This includes, in addition to a general primer, a look at the way all Asians (regardless of the many different heritages/ancestry they have) are all considered the same, a quick addressing of people who identify as multiracial (and the entirely different set of challenges and expectations that come with that), and the complex interplay of Asians with other oppressed and discriminated-against groups in America (the fallacy of comparing oppressions that create divides where there could be support, as well as general solidarity in frustration/futility in the fight against a system stacked against you). Overall, the reader gets a thorough critique of the status quo, the clear limitations on success that come from living in a place where you are legally and socially codified against, historically and contemporarily, and the internalization of those systems that end up forcing complicity with a system that you don’t support and doesn’t support you. Honestly, that so much was conveyed in such a short time, in such a strict framework for communication, and with a delivery that keeps things [darkly] amusing – I was so impressed.
Yu creates a story with such blurred lines between reality and the Hollywood performance/procedural show plot with the way he literarily wields stereotypical roles. It messes with your head and challenges what you accept in a way that truly promotes an interrogation of reality and how badly awry it’s been/remains. This novel is an amalgamation of tropes that delivers an educational message about the perpetual foreigner status for Asians in America in a most unique, dryly entertaining delivery.
“He’d played his role for so long he’d lost himself in it…”
“But the widest gulf in the world is the distance between getting by and not quite getting by. Crossing that gap can happen in a hundred ways, almost all by accident.”
“...there were limits to the dream of assimilation, to how far any of you could make your way into the world...”
“...as if nothing matters because nothing does matter because the idea was you came here, your parents and their parents and their parents and their parents, and you always seem to have just arrived and yet never seem to have actually arrived. You’re here, supposedly, in a new land full of opportunity, but somehow have gotten trapped in a pretend version of the old country.”
“The son who was born here, raised here, a stranger to his own dad for what. For this. So he could be part of this, part of the American show, black and white, no part for yellow.”
“Two words the define you, flatten you, trap you and keep you here. Who you are. All you are. Your most salient feature, overshadowing any other feature about you, making irrelevant any other characteristic. Both necessary and sufficient for a complete definition of your identity: Asian Guy.”
“To be yellow in America. A special guest start, forever the guest.”
“...telling a love story is something one person does. Being in love takes both of them. Putting her on a pedestal is just a different way of being alone.”
“You got exactly what you wanted. Didn’t you? Or did they give it to you. The thing you thought you wanted. The role of a lifetime is one you can never bring yourself to quit. […] was right: you are trapped. Doing well is the trap. A different kind, but still a trap. Because you’re still in a show that doesn’t have a role for you.”
“Location, location, location, three of them, composited into one perfect synthesis incorporated and flattening, the world as a children’s illustrated atlas, primary colors and rounded edges, smoothing out the map, blurring the boundaries and natural barriers, an optimistic amnesiac’s retelling of the age-old story of immigration, acculturation, assimilation.”
“Chinatown. A place for preservation and self-preservation. Give them what they feel is right, is safe. Make it fit their ideas of what is out there. Don’t threaten them. Chinatown and indeed being Chinese is and always has been, from the very beginning, a construction, a performance of features, gestures, culture, and exoticism. An invention, a reinvention, a stylization. Figuring out the show, finding our place in it, which was the background, as scenery, as nonspeaking players. Figuring out what you’re allowed to say. Above all, trying to never, ever offend. To watch the mainstream, find out what kind of fiction they are telling themselves, find a bit part in it. Be appealing and acceptable, be what they want to see.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“People have long and complicated lives and it behooves every one of us to understand and accept that the older we are when we meet our life partner, the more likely that each of us will be dragging baggage, and that we’ve only been able to grow into the person we became because of that baggage, by having fucked up and learned, fucked up and learned, again and again, and the graver the mistakes we made and the heavier the loads we carry, the bigger the leaps we would have been forced to perform, and it was those very leaps that made us today into better, stronger, more resilient people. Therefore, to go announcing one’s mistakes long after they’d been made, and lessons had been learned, is counterproductive to the ongoing project of creating a better or grander person out of oneself.”
I have only seen a couple reviews for this one on bookstagram (specifically from @dsweet_library and @di_good_books_dem), but both were so positive. This is a release that seems to have mostly gone under the radar. But I had my eye on it after the aforementioned reviews. When I got approved for the audiobook from NetGalley, I basically jumped right in.
Priya and Alex have been living together on an island in Canada for four or five years, enjoying the countryside and remoteness the community provides. Seemingly out of the blue, Priya invites an old friend, Prakash, one with whom she has a complex relationship history, to visit. His impending arrival brings to the surface many cracks and growing distances in Alex and Priya’s relationship. And they may or may not be able (or want) to recover and save it.
This is a book that is all about the writing and the atmosphere it creates. From the attention-getting, graphic opening scene that grabs you from the start, this Mootoo’s writing is a mesmerizing, reflective, musing, light stream of consciousness style, literary force. Although I do think there is a chance that, reading the physical book, I may have gotten slowed up, caught in the language (just personally), I felt like the audio version did a great job conveying the tense, close mood of the book in a way that carried me with it more effortlessly that reading might have. Told primarily from Priya’s point of view, with a short intercession from Alex in the middle (that honestly, personally, I could maybe have done without, because it gives context to what is otherwise a fairly “unreliable narrator” situation, and I love those), this is a pretty deep dive into the MC’s psyche. Priya’s mind is recognizable in so many ways: the way her memories change or fail her, the overthinking and dissecting and second-guessing of interactions and moments, the indecision, the insecurities, the things we feel guilt over, deep knowing, but pretending not to (not wanting to). It’s just so familiar. And that is what makes my reader-reactions while reading this, the feelings of difficulty breathing, like I’ve been stuffed into a tight, dark space, so affective.
The primary themes of the novel also play into that feeling of tightness. First, the exploration of relationships, memories of relationships and relationship dynamics and expectations vs. reality and changes (or lack thereof) and drifting apart over time and desire, are all intense and authentic in a way that’s sometimes difficult to face. There is a major focus on acceptance (or again, lack thereof), of sexuality and validation of shared racial experiences, through a lens of societal expectation and general interpersonal connection. There is looking at being a foreigner in a place, through many definitions of foreign, and how one find’s family and connection. Who has the power to define you and how you sustain the life you want to live is developed in a deeply personal, nuanced way. Along these lines, I want to mention that this book tells of immigrant experiences and communities that I have never read about before, or (for full disclosure) even considered the existence of, that of Caribbean and Ugandan Indians, as well as a general look at blended immigrant experiences in Canada. And last, there is a profound message about the way relationship needs and wants and unrequited feelings and affect a person, the way the past affects and catches up with us all, despite any and all efforts to the contrary. It’s all quite intense, but builds throughout the novel in a subtle way, until you reach the end and can finally let out a breath and are almost bowled over by how much complexity you just read. Plus, as a side note, the ending itself, while being exactly what I guessed/anticipated, was a perfect fit.
This novel is so understated in its power. The language is gorgeous and oppressive in a way that isn’t obvious, but still powerful, and makes me want to call Mootoo a master of ambiance and aura. There is really no plot, as it were, but rather the highlight of this novel is the immersive dive into the mind of a character, our MC Priya. It makes it hard to know exactly what is real, and yet knowing what’s real to her, gets the reader fully invested in the unfolding character development and unravelling relationhip(s). It’s not necessarily my personal favorite style, but I completely recognize the skill in Mootoo’s writing, and I did fly through listening to the audiobook.
“People have long and complicated lives and it behooves every one of us to understand and accept that the older we are when we meet our life partner, the more likely that each of us will be dragging baggage, and that we’ve only been able to grow into the person we became because of that baggage, by having fucked up and learned, fucked up and learned, again and again, and the graver the mistakes we made and the heavier the loads we carry, the bigger the leaps we would have been forced to perform, and it was those very leaps that made us today into better, stronger, more resilient people. Therefore, to go announcing one’s mistakes long after they’d been made, and lessons had been learned, is counterproductive to the ongoing project of creating a better or grander person out of oneself.”
I have only seen a couple reviews for this one on bookstagram (specifically from @dsweet_library and @di_good_books_dem), but both were so positive. This is a release that seems to have mostly gone under the radar. But I had my eye on it after the aforementioned reviews. When I got approved for the audiobook from NetGalley, I basically jumped right in.
Priya and Alex have been living together on an island in Canada for four or five years, enjoying the countryside and remoteness the community provides. Seemingly out of the blue, Priya invites an old friend, Prakash, one with whom she has a complex relationship history, to visit. His impending arrival brings to the surface many cracks and growing distances in Alex and Priya’s relationship. And they may or may not be able (or want) to recover and save it.
This is a book that is all about the writing and the atmosphere it creates. From the attention-getting, graphic opening scene that grabs you from the start, this Mootoo’s writing is a mesmerizing, reflective, musing, light stream of consciousness style, literary force. Although I do think there is a chance that, reading the physical book, I may have gotten slowed up, caught in the language (just personally), I felt like the audio version did a great job conveying the tense, close mood of the book in a way that carried me with it more effortlessly that reading might have. Told primarily from Priya’s point of view, with a short intercession from Alex in the middle (that honestly, personally, I could maybe have done without, because it gives context to what is otherwise a fairly “unreliable narrator” situation, and I love those), this is a pretty deep dive into the MC’s psyche. Priya’s mind is recognizable in so many ways: the way her memories change or fail her, the overthinking and dissecting and second-guessing of interactions and moments, the indecision, the insecurities, the things we feel guilt over, deep knowing, but pretending not to (not wanting to). It’s just so familiar. And that is what makes my reader-reactions while reading this, the feelings of difficulty breathing, like I’ve been stuffed into a tight, dark space, so affective.
The primary themes of the novel also play into that feeling of tightness. First, the exploration of relationships, memories of relationships and relationship dynamics and expectations vs. reality and changes (or lack thereof) and drifting apart over time and desire, are all intense and authentic in a way that’s sometimes difficult to face. There is a major focus on acceptance (or again, lack thereof), of sexuality and validation of shared racial experiences, through a lens of societal expectation and general interpersonal connection. There is looking at being a foreigner in a place, through many definitions of foreign, and how one find’s family and connection. Who has the power to define you and how you sustain the life you want to live is developed in a deeply personal, nuanced way. Along these lines, I want to mention that this book tells of immigrant experiences and communities that I have never read about before, or (for full disclosure) even considered the existence of, that of Caribbean and Ugandan Indians, as well as a general look at blended immigrant experiences in Canada. And last, there is a profound message about the way relationship needs and wants and unrequited feelings and affect a person, the way the past affects and catches up with us all, despite any and all efforts to the contrary. It’s all quite intense, but builds throughout the novel in a subtle way, until you reach the end and can finally let out a breath and are almost bowled over by how much complexity you just read. Plus, as a side note, the ending itself, while being exactly what I guessed/anticipated, was a perfect fit.
This novel is so understated in its power. The language is gorgeous and oppressive in a way that isn’t obvious, but still powerful, and makes me want to call Mootoo a master of ambiance and aura. There is really no plot, as it were, but rather the highlight of this novel is the immersive dive into the mind of a character, our MC Priya. It makes it hard to know exactly what is real, and yet knowing what’s real to her, gets the reader fully invested in the unfolding character development and unravelling relationhip(s). It’s not necessarily my personal favorite style, but I completely recognize the skill in Mootoo’s writing, and I did fly through listening to the audiobook.