Elephant Company was a book for a local book club. To be blunt, it's blisteringly racist. As a wildlife journalist, Coke was probably just searching around for a new, heartwarming animal-human friendship story for her next book when she chose James Williams. What she in no way accounted for is that she is an American Westerner writing about a former colonized SW Asian country. She only refers to Myanmar by its colonized name, Burma. One could argue that "Burma" is in period for Williams, but Coke isn't writing in period, with Williams' limits. She demotes Myanmar culture's gods, the nats, to "sprites." The Naga people are "notorious head-hunters," with zero authorial acknowledgement that it's British propaganda. The Myanmar people are props and unnamed helpers in her narrative about Williams, who she breathlessly narrates with starry eyes. Elephant Company honestly felt like a historical fiction novelization of Williams' journals. It's definitely not a nonfiction investigation and intelligent, nuanced accounting of a historical event. Coke ignores the socio-political context of Williams' journey, what it means that White people came into a jungle, extracted cultural knowledge at gunpoint, and ordered an indigenous tribe to call them "master."

I was shocked that a book published in 2014 was so pro-colonialization, with how much Coke didn't care about Mynamer and its people. I don't recommend this book to anyone. If you want a pleasant story about White people flailing around in Myanmar, try Saving Fish from Drowning by Amy Tan.

After enjoying Winter’s Orbit, my book club picked up Ocean’s Echo. Since other book club members enjoyed this second adventure in the Resolution Universe, it might be a case of “it’s me, not you,” but Tennal and Surit’s stories made me want to pull out my hair. I did not finish at around 75%.

A big source of my grumbling is the shifted focus. I liked Winter’s Orbit because it focused on intra-empire diplomacy. Ocean’s Echo fully dives into imperial military and its toxic culture, with lots of proverbial looking into the camera and asking if I’m aware imperial militaries commit atrocities. I live in the USA. What do you think? The book died before my eyes, becoming boilerplate moralizing that military = bad. I agree, but I didn’t come to this book to be reminded of state-sanctioned violence. These reminders of banal atrocity were coupled with superfluous world-building and character work. Orshan’s militaristic society isn’t very different from Iskat’s militaristic society as we left it in Winter’s Orbit. The pacing dragged something wonderful as we re-tread ground.  Tennal and Surit didn’t feel very different from Kiem and Jainan: they’re the same character dial knobs twisted slightly. The same-ness extended to Istara, Vinys, Oma, and Legislator, who all felt like the same character on different points in one life. I guess the point was to say that the military will corrupt even the most moral person? No matter a person’s intentions, it will corrupt them. The only way to avoid corruption is

to be like Istara and leave.

My boredom reached critical mass. Small annoyances collected until they became Big Deals to me. The “readers” and “writers” euphemisms were tedious. The romance was slow-burn, but I grew irritated how often the love plot was set aside for yet another human rights violation perpetuated by somebody in uniform. For a book that touts the soulbound trope, the narrative concludes

that soulbinding is awful and unethical. The ending goes so far as to eliminate it completely, which felt like a trite, unsatisfying solution. Surit is the noblebright archetype, but what is the point of noblebright if there’s no moral quandary to struggle against?

Ocean’s Echo is marketed as Adult, but seems to forget the adult reality of nuanced moral landscapes and lack of neat solutions.

Last, I want to talk about Tennal. It was very hard to watch Tennal engage in self-harm and swirl on a destructive spiral. I had a lot of room in my heart for his aunt, who did not want to be a parent and inherited two children, one of whom already had severe behavioral problems. She’s tried everything and nothing is convincing Tennal to care about himself:

Honestly, I would be at a loss here too. From the above paragraph, she’s tried everything. Her “solution” that kicks off the book shouldn’t have been considered, but I empathized with a person totally at the end of their rope. To end on a high note, Tennal’s issues pushed Maxwell into nuance (until the end) and reminded me of the times when my brain just utterly hates me. Sometimes it do be like that. The description of Tennal’s abilities were among the most beautiful prose in the book, making me wish we saw more of it. 

Ocean’s Echo and I are like baking soda and vinegar. Apologies on the explosion of a review. Many other readers enjoy Maxwell’s second foray into the Resolution Universe. 

Last True Poets of the Sea was a sapphic book club pick for June.

I wasn't in the right place to read this book. Both in terms what happening in my life this year and in terms of my expectations going in. Going by the blurb, I was expecting a Twelfth Night retelling with some light personal reflections and, overall, a romantic beach read. Nope. Last True Poets of the Sea is nowhere near a heartwarming comedy! More to my own fault, I thought this was an Adult book, and teenagers going through these heavy, intense mental health troubles squicked me out at times. Heed the content warnings! They're not kidding with this one!

To the book's credit, it's indeed beautifully written. On a sentence level, the novel is ornate without being overwrought, and the teenage voice is believable. Friends noted that their teenage selves would have appreciated this book so much.