Reading Well: The Ember in the Ashes Quadrology by Sabaa Tahir

Posted on December 8, 2022 by Daniel (@MKNN)

Yep, I’ve been quiet on here long enough to read all four of these …

Sabaa Tahir‘s debut novel, An Ember in the Ashes (2015), starts the series, and is followed by A Torch in the Night (2016), A Reaper at the Gates (2018), and A Sky Beyond the Storm (2020).

There is something oddly, irresistibly, compelling in Tahir’s writing and world. It’s a combination of a very creative–if slightly chilling–re-creation of an ancient empire loosely parallel to Rome, a collection of well-drawn characters, and enough page-turning suspense to keep you hooked through the rougher bits.

There is a lot to unpack here, and it evolves nicely across the books. We start with a militaristic, brutally unforgiving Emperor with a training school from hell designed to feed his needs and a popular resistance that is out-manned at every turn. By the end, we have added a supernatural creature responsible for the transition of souls from life to death, a series of revelations about our main characters’ lineage(s), and a battle fought by humans as proxies for both evil and good spirits, all with a loosely Middle-Eastern flair.

It’s a lot.

And, somehow, Tahir keeps the energy up. There are some highly predictable and near cliché plot points, and the usual genre difficulties with sexual attraction (it feels like the border between bodice-ripper and speculative fiction may need some tightening, and this from someone profoundly opposed to boundaries between genres), but in the end what stays with you are the moments of peril and (some) triumph, and, for me at least, the fascinating authorial choices of how to handle the series’ initial protagonists.

This last is part of the joy of reading as well: the Tahir that completes the fourth book is far more self-assured, far more willing to take risks, and far more in control of her own authorial voice than the opening chapters.

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Reading Well: Storm of Locusts by Rebecca Roanhorse

Posted on November 17, 2022 by Daniel (@MKNN)

{ Am in catchup mode here for a while, and am trying to change some of what these contain. We’ll see how it goes. }

Storm of Locusts (2019) completes the story Rebecca Roanhorse began in Trail of Lightning, and it’s a worthy successor. Much of my praise for the opening book applies here: a compelling plot, an attractively complicated protagonist, and a thoroughly indigenous setting.

Storm of Locusts is marginally more adult than Trail of Lightning, both in slight sexual content, but also in some darker themes: the stakes are higher for everyone, and that requires some moments spent in dark places.

Both books remain highly recommended for those looking for YA fantasy with a decidedly different setting and spin.

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Reading Well: Boy, Snow, Bird by Helen Oyeyemi

Posted on September 6, 2022 by Daniel (@MKNN)

Y’all know I love me some Helen Oyeyemi (surprisingly, Ginger Bread is the only of her novels I’ve written up here).

Her 2014 novel, Boy, Snow, Bird is, I think, among her best, mixing her evocative language, her leanings toward what might full under the umbrella of “magical realism,” and her exquisite probings of the intertwined impact of race, gender, and class on her characters into a lovely and compelling stew.

The novel focuses on Boy, and her two children, Snow (who is actually her husband’s child from a prior marriage) and Bird (so there’s the explanation of the title), tracing Boy’s escape from a painful youth and arrival into a New England life that is drastically changed by the mercurial, almost ephemeral, Snow. There are both social and inter-generational relationships to explore, and the upheaval caused by Bird’s arrival, and what Bird declares about the history of his family.

Oyeyemi’s debut novel, The Icarus Girl, may remain my favorite, but I suspect that is more because I was really in the mood for a Nigerian ghost story at the time. Boy, Snow, Bird may be her best.

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Reading Well: On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

Posted on August 26, 2022 by Daniel (@MKNN)

There are two competing reactions to Ocean Vuong‘s 2019 memoir, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous.

The first is that Vuong is a stunning writer, as in one whose sentences and paragraphs can literally stun you, making you look up from the book and stare into space at the beauty and power of what you just read. This is true of their poetry, and, as we find here, true of their prose as well. It’s a brilliant and beautiful book, an achievement made more special by the trauma and emotional pain that forms most of its subject matter.

The other reaction is that, at the end of the day, there isn’t a ton here. The book essentially outlines his first homosexual experiences and the deep chasm of pain that separates (and unites) him and his mother and grandmother. There is little of his emergence as a poet, and little insight into how his art emerged.

Which is, of course, fine: at the end of the day, it only means I will eagerly await his second memoir. In the meantime, the language of this and of his poetry will remain with me.

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Reading Well: The Kingdom of Copper & The Empire of Gold by S.A. Chakraborty

Posted on August 11, 2022 by Daniel (@MKNN)

I enjoyed S.A. Chakraborty‘s opening novel of this trilogy, The City of Brass, and the second (The Kingdom of Copper; 2019) and third (The Empire of Gold; 2020) were satisfyingly more of the same.

There’s not a lot to say that wasn’t said in the original review: this is swords and sorcery fluff, a romantic page-turner with enough interesting local flavor to keep it constantly engaging.

Recommended if that sounds appealing; if not, I would not suggest that this be your first foray into the genre.

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Reading Well: The Familiars by Stacey Halls

Posted on July 13, 2022 by Daniel (@MKNN)

{It has been over 8 months since I published one of these. Unsure why, but I do, at the end of the day, like having a record of what I’ve read. So over the next few months, I’ll catch up, probably one every other week or so, and then move forward “in real time” from there.}

Stacey Halls‘ The Familiars (2019) is a fictionalized account of the events surrounding the trial and punishment of The Pendle Witches (only click if you want spoilers).

It focuses on two women, the wealthy Fleetwood Shuttleworth and the somewhat mysterious healer, Alice Grey. I am unsure if it is better to be familiar with the history of witch persecution in England when reading the novel or not–as someone who is familiar, I found the portrayal of the times, including the motivations of King James I and the political maneuverings of the wealthy in his service to be nicely done.

But I think if I were ignorant of the Pendle trials, I would have enjoyed the novel even more, as Halls creates an engrossing world, and one where Alice’s fate feels always in the balance, and subject to powers far beyond her ability to control.

There is nothing very fantastical about the book, although a few encounters with Alice are sufficiently under explained to leave you guessing as to the extent of her abilities. Instead, this would appeal if the notion of historical, female-centered fiction is compelling for you.

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Reading Well: How Long ‘Til Black Future Month by N.K. Jemisin

Posted on October 30, 2021 by Daniel (@MKNN)

How Long ‘Til Black Future Month (2018) collects short stories from N.K. Jemisin‘s career dating back roughly twenty years, meaning they stretch before she was one of the faces of contemporary imaginative fiction.

It’s a fun collection to read, perhaps the introduction most of all, where Jemisin details some of the challenges she faced in the field. Challenges is too vague a term: imaginative fiction has, for decades, been oppressively resistant to anything but CIS white male perspectives (making the accomplishments of Octavia Butler, Samuel Delaney, and countless others all the more remarkable). This resistance exists at all levels: publishers, marketers, agents, writing classes. Everywhere.

Jemisin sketches her experience with great insight, and quite aware of how lucky she has been to be “selected” as a trailblazer. More interesting, for me, is the development of the stories (which are presented chronologically), which not only show her growth as a writer, but also her growing willingness to include a wider diversity of characters and topics.

Of special note is Stone Hunger, the first story set in the world that became the Broken Earth trilogy.

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Reading Well: The Book of Night Women by Marlon James

Posted on October 7, 2021 by Daniel (@MKNN)

With The Book of Night Women (2009), we’ve now gone through Marlon James‘ entire corpus (see John Crow’s Devil, A Brief History of Seven Killings, and Black Leopard, Red Wolf).

The Book of Night Women is the most explicit, direct, and difficult of them all. Parts of Black Leopard, Red Wolf are its equal along those dimensions, but are cloaked in a layer of parable that eases the reader along. The Book of Night Women is not an easy read, and at times not a pleasant read, but it is a marvelous read.

The novel centers on resistance. Specifically, acts of resistance by enslaved people on a Jamaican plantation focused on the protagonist, who is a remarkably complex character, consistently undermining her own behavior and, yes, resisting the offers of support available to her. That is a fantastic authorial choice: she is a comprised character in a horrific situation, constantly exposing herself to risk and harm above and beyond what is necessary.

But that raises an immediate question: is there anything beyond being enslaved? Once another has total agency over your body, your life, what is the meaning of additional risk? James’ answer is ambiguous: his descriptions of whippings and beatings are monstrous and impactful, and carry–for me–perhaps the most honest depictions of the depravity and arbitrary nature of plantation violence I’ve encountered.

If you’re up for it, highly recommended. Especially if you’re looking for something to deepen your understanding of methodologies of resistance, and their cost.

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Reading Well: The Illness Lesson by Clare Beams

Posted on September 3, 2021 by Daniel (@MKNN)

The Illness Lesson (2020) is Clare Beams‘ debut novel. It is set in the final quarter of the nineteenth century in small-town New England.

It’s a complex novel to summarize in typical Reading Well terms: at the most abstract, The Illness Lesson is about the role of women in early America. But that’s not a topic explicit in the plot or the characters themselves: instead, it is about a private school for women started by a free-thinker of the time. His daughter is a teacher at the school, and is ostensibly the protagonist of the tale.

There is also a bit of mystic symbolism at play: a flock of scarlet birds appear throughout the novel, and play a key role in several plot movements. The birds are–at least thematically–tied to a mysterious illness that afflicts the students, placing the entire enterprise in jeopardy, and pulling together a prior failed experiment along much the same lines.

It’s a very engaging book, and Beams’ descriptions are often stunning in their detail and impact. An aura of mystery surrounds the book at many levels, from the history of the characters to the manifestation and resolution of the illness, to the writing project itself: Beams is clearly saying something about feminism, about the constraints placed upon women by seemingly (somewhat?) well-intentioned men, and about the nature of agency itself.

The fact she offers no clear declaration on these question is, in my mind, a strength of her writing. Recommended.

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Reading Well: The City of Brass by S.A. Chakraborty

Posted on June 17, 2021 by Daniel (@MKNN)

I stumbled across a list–I believe in The Washington Post–of fantasy novels written by women with an Arabic / Middle Eastern / Indian influence (and shame on the Post for lumping all of that together in a single Orientalist vision, but at the same time, there are so few candidates that perhaps it was through necessity).

In any case, The City of Brass (2017) by S.A. Chakraborty is by far the most successful of the ones I’ve read so far–I even purchased the rest of the trilogy to read at some point. This is traditional high fantasy: magical items and smoldering glances and a deadly threat to the very existence of the world and all that. It is set in an alternate, Earth-like universe, with the cultures of Arabia, Persia, and India dominant, with a layer of magical beings, both good and evil, locked in a timeless struggle.

It works. I mean, the smoldering glances are a bit much from time to time (romance and sex tend to be the Achilles’ heel of fantasy writing–perhaps, all writing), but the rest is a rollicking good read, full of memorable set-pieces, interesting takes on things like the nature of Djinns and the source of true magic.

Recommended as a different setting for a page-turning escape.

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