BABEL, OR THE NECESSITY OF VIOLENCE: AN ARCANE HISTORY OF THE OXFORD TRANSLATOR’S REVOLUTION by R.F. Kuang

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“…Babel is a remarkable literary achievement that gives voice and embodiment to those paradoxical feelings born from the intersection of human cultures: the contradictions of love and loathing, power and vulnerability, respect and bigotry, joy and sorrow, admiration and hatred, creation and destruction that all coexist in colonialism (and academia). It’s a riveting story that draws readers in with a compelling pace, and fascinating nerdy factoids that will excite any lover of languages and books. This is a novel that readers will want to talk about with others, to delve into its themes and how they relate to our own personal experiences in this world, across cultures.”

Read my entire review of Babel, or The Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators’ Revolution HERE at Fantasy Book Critic.

Harper Voyager – 23rd August 2022 – Hardcover – 560 pp.

Short Fiction Roundup: July/August 2022

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Last year I ambitiously tried to include reviews of all the short fiction I had read. It quickly became too much. I hesitated doing a roundup of selections, because I often have trouble deciding whether to include a title or not. And sometimes stories grow on me, or I may think worth mentioning even if they weren’t a personal favorite. But, given that covering everything is simply out, I’m going to try this up, starting halfway through 2022 with coverage of some of my favorite short fiction reads from July/August. We’ll see how this continues.

Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine Vol. 67, Nos. 7 & 8 (Edited by Linda Landrigan)

It’s been awhile since I subscribed to the mystery short fiction magazines, but with both literary magazines I regularly read folding, I felt in the mood to fill the space with mystery. In this issue I felt drawn most to two stories that were more subtle and required some processing of information provided.

“Florence Uglietta Solari: A Full Life in 19 Fragments” by J. M. Taylor – An elderly immigrant widow passes away, and through a series of texts the reader discovers events that transpired within the building she owned: the passions, and crimes, of a life.

“Five Bullet Friday” by Mary Angela Honerman – The hard-working boss of a travel agency is killed early one morning with five shots. In a series of vignettes the reader gets a snapshot of the morning from the perspective of the victim, each of her co-workers, and the detective who arrives on the scene of the murder. The detective might not figure it out, but the reader may.

“The Confession” by Linda Mannheim – A group of South African ex-pats process the news that one of the women they worked with to fight against against Apartheid had actually been feeding information on their activities to the South African government. I wish the truth behind these events had been kept for the end of this story, rather than revealed from the start. However, the story was an excellent foray into the gray areas of politics and choice.

Analog Science Fiction and Fact Vol. XCII, Nos. 7 & 8 (Edited by Trevor Quachri)

“In Translation (Lost/Found)” by Kelsey Hutton – I love a good story about language and the complexities of communicating with one another, and this speculative use of the theme into a compelling plot works wonderfully. The indigenous Métis perspective was also both educational and organically built into the story. The Astounding Analog Companion has a great interview with Hutton that’s also worth reading.

“The Dark Ages” by Jerry Oltion – An amateur astronomer and telescope enthusiast looks to use time travel technology to escape a future Earth and visit an earlier period before light pollution. This is a ‘grass-is-always-greener” kinda story, a straight-forward fun adventure that also turns reflective, that I simply enjoyed.

“My Nascent Garden” by Melanie Harding-Shaw – There isn’t much to this story in terms of themes that haven’t already been covered by dystopian-flavored AI tales of cold logic. However, this is told in such a magnificently chilling way that I loved it all despite a lot of familiarity.

Apex Magazine, Issue 132 (Edited by Jason Sizemore and Lesley Conner)

“Have Mercy, My Love, While We Wait for the Thaw” by Iori Kusano – I am ready to read more set in the world of this short story. I can’t recall reading Kusano before, but I’ll be looking out for them now. I adored the careful world-building and delicate reveals in this story of two individuals, former enemies, linked in guilt and atonement stemming from past crimes of rebellion, and continued silence for politics. It’s a tale that resonates on scales of individuals and of colonies/empires.

Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine Vol. 46, Nos. 7 & 8 (Edited by Sheila Williams)

“Pollen and Salt” by Octavia Cade – An ecologist works at the edge of a salt marsh and mudflat, sifting through sediment and memories with microscopes literal and figurative. Cade does stunning work here connecting the biology and ecology of a littoral zone with painful transition writ large from climate change and personal loss, and the onset of loneliness in knowing what once was. Marvelous and melancholy.

“The Tin Pilot” by K.A. Ternya, translated by Alex Shvartsman – Golems were created by society to end a devastating war in space. Rather than welcomed home, they were outcast as something less than human, having served their purpose and now only wakening painful memories that should have died. But a Machine has been invented to identify the golem among society, and the hunt has gone on regularly to eradicate them. Friar Yakov has called the last hunt, for the final remaining golem. Noah looks at his life and starts to wonder if he himself might be that golem. A very interesting, enigmatic tale of politics, identity, memory, and subjugation that bears multiple reads.

“The Big Deep” by Annika Barranti Klein – All but one member of a crew on their way to Mars wakes prematurely from stasis, and things just don’t seem to be right. I love the tension in this short story, what it builds from the unconscious wariness of its main character.

Asymptote Journal (Edited by Lee Yew Leong)

“The Ayah of the Throne” by Habib Tengour (Translated by Bryan Flavin) – In very extensive translator notes, Flavin summarizes this lovely and powerful short story more succinctly and admirably than I would have. It’s an auto-fictional tale that “takes place in Tengour’s childhood near the beginning of the Algerian War of Independence in order to explore French colonial power over education and religion, as well as the power of storytelling.” A lovely complex dose of sadness and humor.

Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Issues #360 – 363 (Edited by Scott H. Andrews)

“A Once and Future Reckoning” by Rajan Khanna (Issue #361) – A version of the King Arthur myth that mixes classical elements with a cosmic horror core and a battle of wits between two mortal instruments of human control. Well composed and engaging.

“The Shapeshifter’s Lover” by Autumn Canter (Issue #362) – A disquieting short fantasy on the themes of a girl coming into adulthood and male attempts to use and abandon a woman. It’s a type of story I’ve seen plenty before, but Canter really composes a magical version of it here.

“The Death Artist” by Adam Breckenridge (Issue #363) – An imaginative and captivating fantasy on mortality and perception that merges fable with familiar tales of Death coming to call. The writing flows with lightness and wit to contrast nicely with the dark themes.

Clarkesworld Magazine, Issues 190 & 191 (Edited by Neil Clarke)

“Carapace” by David Goodman (Issue #190) – Intelligent armor suit SM-14 gains programmed sentience after the death of its human pilot and fellow soldiers during a brutal battle. However, after taking an injured enemy combatant as prisoner for questioning, SM-14 begins to learn more than its programming. AI stories are a type that aren’t an instant sell for me, yet this issue had two of them that hit the spot. The insights and sincerity of SM-14 and the story’s ending made this one stand out.

“The Sadness Box” by Suzanne Palmer (Issue #190) – Amid a future war with nanobot weapons and a dangerous biotechnology-infested environment, a young boy lives with his mother and step-father, but still visits with his biological father, an eccentric and self-occupied inventor. One day, the inventor gives the boy a box he has designed with an AI designed to be frightened of the world. When opened like a jack-in-the-box, the AI reaches an arm/hand out to close the lid and shut itself back away. While the inventor finds this a brilliantly hilarious commentary, the boy finds it a bit silly, if not cruel, and decides to just keep the box rather than giving it back. What follows is a perfect novella of friendship, family, and the risks/rewards possible amid bravery in facing a dangerous world.

“Tender, Tether, Shell” by M. J. Pettit (Issue #191) – After a human dies in an accident in space, an alien adopts her augmented space suit to survive the loss of its biological exoskeleton. It’s a very poignant tale of loss and memory from both the alien’s perspective and the human colleagues of the person whose ‘skin’ the alien now inhabits.

“The Pirate’s Consigliere” by Bo Balder (Issue #191) – An engaging and rapidly paced story about ruthless pirates that think to take advantage of the seemingly naive inhabitants of a generation ship. One of the pirates has a change of heart, and finds the intended victims aren’t so clueless as the others may think. I love the animalistic grim of the pirates in this.

“The Scene of the Crime” by Leonard Richardson (Issue #191) – A classic mystery story with a science fiction setting, and time shenanigans. I enjoyed the mashup and a bit of detective fiction thrown into the mix of this issue.

Daily Science Fiction (Edited by Michele-Lee Barasso and Jonathan Laden)

“Rummage Sale Finds” by Nina Kiriki Hoffman (15th July) – A lovely little tale of witches and sadness that illustrates how amazingly writer’s prompts can be, creating gold.

“Vs. The Giant” by Matthew F. Amati (23rd August) – Amusing and cleverly written fable with social insights that could be taken in diverse ways by different readers. Daily SF at its best.

The Dark Magazine, Issues 86 & 87 (Edited by Clara Madrigano and Sean Wallace)

“Fisheyes” by Ai Jiang (Issue #86) – A gruesome bit of prosaic horror that resonated with the quivering gut reaction I have to the texture of eyes. The story captures the rebellious, shock-inducing nature of teenage years, here with a boy feeling betrayed by his mother’s new lover.

“A Game at Clearwater Lake” by Gillian Daniels (Issue #86) – A unique twist on slasher film horror that focuses on a victim of a killer and what dares to persist even after a life is taken. The story captures the ambience of a classic horror staple while also making it much more deeply complex and humanizing.

“Shape-shifter” by Frances Ogamba (Issue #87) – Beautifully creepy and disquieting tale of a man whose body is changing in fearful and gruesome ways that serves as allegory of alienation from community and society, a life falling apart. Or perhaps other interpretations? Regardless, stunningly written and captivatingly dark.

“Father’s Flow” by Phoenix Alexander (Issue #87) – A father tries to keep an unconventional boat running to keep himself and his sons afloat after the departure of their mother. Another dark and allegorical tale in this issue. Less creepy and heavier on plot with the appearance of trouble, this story shines with rich imagery-laden language and poetic constructions.

Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine Vol. 160 , Nos. 1 & 2 (Edited by Janet Hutchings)

“Myrna Loy Versus the Third Reich” by William Burton McCormick – I’m not a huge fan of alternate reality histories in SF, but what I enjoyed about this story is that it gave off the vibe in a pure historical crime/mystery story, without the detraction of alternate mix-ups and inversions. I also adore Myrna Loy’s films, and didn’t know about her activism and the bans on her work by the Nazis.

“The Secret Sharer” by W. Edward Blain – My regrettable familiarity with Zoom and trying to teach with it during the pandemic certainly helped me connect to this story, but the building of a mystery plot behind Zoom technology/use would have succeeded for me even without the experiences. Nice tying of themes in this short story to the short story being discussed in the class as well.

“Quiet Pol” by Raoul Biltgen – A man sits on a park bench recording statistics of crows and children throughout an aging industrial German city. There is a creepiness to the story that works very well amid all the facts and figures observed: a nice subtle dark vision of crime.

Fantasy Magazine, Issues 81 & 82 (Edited by Arely Sorg and Christie Yant)

“The Memory of Chemistry” by Sabrina Vourvoulias (Issue #81) – It’s rare that I find the wonders and magic of chemistry brought out in fiction, and this is an exceptional case at that. A powerful and poetic tale of a chemist and her female friends/colleagues from youth to old age, with politics and insects and ghosts across time mixed in. It’s a poignant use of science fiction and magical realism that really makes me want to find a copy of Vourvoulias’ novel Ink that this tale connects with.

“A True and Certain Proof of the Messianic Age” by P H Lee (Issue #82) – I adored the recursive structure of this meta story, an AI fable of sorts around personhood and component identity.

FIYAH Literary Magazine of Black Speculative Fiction, Issue 23: Food & Cuisine (Edited by DaVaun Sanders)

“The Pastry Shop Round the Bend” by Makeda K. Braithwaite – A debut publication in a phenomenal issue from FIYAH. A village witch becomes concerned when a younger, rival witch sets up shop across the street. What concerns the more experienced witch is not so much loss of business or prestige, but the harmful effects the brazen and power-hungry newcomer might have on the everyday people. It’s a well done story about how the things people want for themselves may not include the wisdom of knowing what they need.

“Just Desserts” by A.M. Barrie – A historical fantasy written as the recollections of Hercules, George Washington’s slave cook. It’s a well done and engaging look at the incongruities between slavery and American ideals that the Founding Fathers well knew and its an educational read from a vital perspective (albeit fictionally portrayed.) The blend between magic and the culinary arts here is also well done. A must-read in an issue that shouldn’t be missed in general.

Flash Fiction Online, Issues #106 & 107 (Edited by Emma Munro)

“Dr Daidalo’s Kouklotheatron” by Nathan Makarios (Issue 106) – In a little alleyway theater, children are entertained by the dances of a man’s amazing wooden clockwork son. But, the magic becomes threatened by the religious hatred of a mob, forcing decisions by the wooden boy.

“No one sleeps on an empty stomach” by Lucy Zhang (Issue 107) – Eating bitterness and enduring hardship amid memories of the dead and uncertain futures during Hungry Ghost Month. Beautiful and insightful.

Lightspeed Magazine, Issues 146 & 147 (Edited by John Joseph Adams)

“Critical Mass” by Peter Watts (Issue #146) – As typical for a Watts story of any length, there’s a lot of depth here to unpack and detail to enjoy over multiple reads. The plot deals an artist whose works are being vandalized while his daughter abides in a coma awaiting cure from a disease. I was hoping for more biology in the story given it’s Watts, but the worldbuilding and characterization that is here is so rich and well-realized that I didn’t mind too much.

“Ursus Frankensteinus” by Rich Larson (Issue #146) – A very short and interesting story of an ill-advised plan to save polar bears from extinction by using genetically-engineered microbes to slow down their metabolism. A nice speculative biology.

The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction Volume 143, Nos. 1 & 2 (Edited by Sheree Renée Thomas)

[Did not receive before September]

The New Yorker (Edited by Deborah Treisman)

“A King Alone” by Rachel Kushner (July 11 & 18, 2022) – A song-writer transient drives to reconnect with his daughter, picking up hitchhikers along the way up and down the south central US. Kushner is a writer where I never have any particular draw to the subject or plot of her writing, but the characters and writing captivate. This fascinating look at a man’s connection to strangers and their allure nails tones of regret and longing.

“Perking Duck” by Ling Ma (July 11 & 18, 2022) – With a structurally meta (and recursive) narrative, Ma offers a profoundly deep take on the stereotypical first generation Asian female story of dealing with cultural displacements and generational gaps. The structure and analysis leading up to the final ‘tale’ make the whole a rich and revelatory read.

Nightmare Magazine, Issues 118 & 119 (Edited by Wendy N. Wagner)

“What the Dead Birds Taught Me” by Laura Blackwell (Issue #118) – A serial killer unwisely chooses to set his sights on a young woman skilled in necromancy. Though there are no surprises in how this story goes, the writing is great and the orphaned protagonist and her sister are a compelling twist on the familiarity.

“Skitterdead” by Mel Kassel (Issue #119) – I love a ghost stories of many varieties, and I definitely appreciated this piece of flash fiction for its take on the movement of ghostly spirits, as well as its musical text.

Omenana Speculative Fiction Magazine, Issue 22 – Positive Visions of Democracy (Edited by Mazi Nwonwu & Iquo DianaAbasi)

“Agu Uno” by Chibueze Ngeneagu – Arguments for the extension of ‘human’ rights to non-human animals have long existed, and it’s a lovely theme in this straight-forward and well constructed short story of afro futurism. A ‘masquerade’ controlled by the story’s narrator infiltrates the palace of an emir, but not for what the reader or palace guards might suspect. I love how this story doesn’t over-explain and provides just the right amount of context and clues to work.

“The Coward of Umustead” by Nnamdi Anyadu – In an urban future, a group of teens come to appreciate an odd-ball outcast who they consider distant and cowardly. The story shines with a strong voice and an argot with a syntax that bewitches in how well it fits the tale.

Strange Horizons/Samovar Magazine (Edited by various)

“Bonesoup” by Eugenia Triantafyllou (11 July) – Another story of food and magic that I enjoyed from these two months, this one with a deliciously dark twist to it. An old woman cooks enticingly sweet treats for the children in town, but insists on cooking her granddaughter only meat, specifically “the body part you want to grow stronger”. Not quite folk horror, it’s well written, subtly dark fantasy that invites interpretations on the themes of relationships with family and friends.

“A Cloudcutter’s Diary” by Chen Chuncheng (Translated by Jack Hargreaves) (25 July) – The character of this story’s title is employed by a future authoritative society to shape clouds into approved, basic shapes of non-whimsy to dissuade imagination. But this doesn’t stop him from yearning for more in his life. Stories about stories and reading always go down well for me.

“Wok Hei St” by Guan Un (29 August) – A very enjoyable mashup of fantasy, crime fiction, and the culinary. A binder called Compass works to find Aunty Ping’s missing wok before a big televised cooking competition. The non-linear narrative structure works really well here.

“Clockwork Bayani” by EK Gonzales (29 August) – A Filipina adopts a clockwork son from the Manila dollhouse where she works, but is fearful of letting him follow his wish to join the resistance against Spanish rule as her husband had. Though a straightforward fantasy, it’s written beautifully. Touching.

Terraform (Edited by Brian Merchant and Claire Evans)

“The Fog” by Elvia Wilk (1st July) – Biology in speculative fiction at its best. This story of biobots and their keepers touches on concepts of genetics, evolution, and the basic (but hard to pin down) qualities of life.

“Fostering” by Ray Nayler (11th July) – I’ve been looking forward to Nayler’s upcoming debut novel, The Mountain in the Sea, and this lovely and bittersweet story of parenting, coming to terms with hard realities, and letting go, cemented my eagerness. The well done mixture of artificial and biological into the overall tone of this story also really captured my interest.

“The Binding of Issac” by Tochi Onyebuchi (18th July) – Wow, some superb fiction in Terraform this month. Speculative horror with kink here. It’s an unsettling and disturbing look at power and the treatment of others, twisted yet woefully familiar.

Tor.com (Edited by various)

“This Place is Best Shunned” by David Erik Nelson (Edited by Ann VanderMeer) – Perfectly chilling tale that starts out with folk horror vibes that play on the dark lyricism of warnings for radioactive waste sites, but then goes into a lovely cosmic horror twist.

“Porgee’s Boar” by Jonathan Carroll (Edited by Ellen Datlow) – A gangster coerces his favorite artist into recreating an aged and fading beloved photograph from his youth as a painting. Little does he know that there is a magic to the insight that underlies her talent. It’s a great story about art, control, and fear.

Uncanny Magazine, Issue Forty-Seven (Edited by Lynne M. Thomas and Michael Damian Thomas)

“At the Lighthouse Out by the Othersea” by Juliet Kemp – Beautiful and touching. At the dangerous edge of normal space and the otherspace of a wormhole sits a lighthouse, a warning beacon for travelers, but also the last stop for thrill seekers looking to surf the tumultuous energy waves at the transition. There, the lighthouse keeper greets a visitor seeking to honor the memory of a sibling who never had the chance to brave the waves. The two learn about one another, and through the conversation, more about themselves.

“If You Find Yourself Speaking to God, Address God with the Informal You” by John Chu – A superhero story with weightlifting that is one part story of friendship and homosexual romance, and another part commentary on racism and bravery. An engaging and uplifting story.

“To Hunger, As with Perfect Faith” by Radha Kai Zan – “Every morning I clear the virgins from the stairway.” So begins a powerful a powerful and magical story full of dark atmosphere and a bold character who seizes opportunity and agency. I don’t think I’ve read anything by Radha Kai Zan before, but looking into them and their work I can tell I’ll be a fan: “As a writer, their fiction skews towards the speculative with a particular interest in exploring the macabre, erotic, and adventurous. Their first name is pronounced “row+a” from the Gaelic word radharc meaning “a vision.” Fittingly, this story is like a vivid vision.

World Literature Today Vol. 96, No. 4 (Edited by Daniel Simon)

“Penance” by Octavio Escobar Giraldo (Translated by D. P. Snyder) – This short story is the first English translation publication of a well regarded Columbian writer, and with such power in a very short length, it’s a must read about guilt and the conflicting human emotions of celebration and mourning. An extensive translator’s note gives added cultural and political backdrop to the story and Giraldo’s style to appreciate.

WITCHES by Brenda Lozano (Translated by Heather Cleary)

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Witches
By Brenda Lozano
(Translated by Heather Cleary)
Catapult Books — 16th August 2022
ISBN: 9781646220687 — Hardcover — 240 pp.

Witches (Brujas) forms through the contrapuntal voices of two women: their distinct experiences separated by time and societal position, yet united in conversation around themes of shared experience, and the haunting ghost of a memory – the murdered Paloma.

A curandera from the rural mountain village of San Felipe, Feliciana has struggled to be accepted as a traditional healer within a community accustomed to males alone serving in the ceremonies of the role. But, Feliciana herself has been trained by her cousin, the retired curandera preceding her: Paloma, formerly a curandero named Gaspar. Gaspar/Paloma was Muxe, a third gender recognized by the indigenous Zapotec people of Oaxaca, Mexico. And now Paloma is dead, a victim of prejudice against Muxe.

A journalist from the urban modernity of Mexico City, Zoe has faced her own opposition as a female in her profession, and she also has a close familial relation afflicted with intolerance: her queer sister Leandra, a non-conforming young woman with vocal far-left politics. When Zoe hears of the murder of Paloma, she journeys to San Felipe to interview Feliciana for a story.

There, she learns of what Paloma passed on to Feliciana: of the velada ceremonies with their hallucinogenic mushroom Children; the reception of the Language and the knowledge of the Book. But even more deeply, she gains insight into her own life and its parallels to a history of colonialism and oppressions, universalities that transcend education, class, or environment.

In her notes, translator Heather Cleary perfectly summarizes a thematic core of Brenda Lozano’s novel: “Witches is an exploration of the many ways that women and gender non-comforming individuals are marginalised in our hetero-normative patriarchy.” With its divergent narrators, it’s also a study of indigenous versus Western perspectives, and of the importance and variegation of language in all its diverse forms. In contrast to Zoe, Feliciana speaks only in the local traditional language of her ancestors, rejecting the Spanish ‘tongue’ of government, colonialization. Unable to read or write, Feliciana continues an oral tradition of storytelling and understanding, and the Language of her mystical healing.

Lozano accentuates the cultural and educational differences between Feliciana and Zoe through distinct styles in the chapters that alternate between their points-of-view. Whereas chapters from Zoe’s point-of-view are more conventional in grammar and related structure, Feliciana’s chapters follow a stream-of-conscience style that wends and flows lyrically in long, flowering phrases strung together with elliptical asides and conversational wit.

The precious nature of language to identity and meaning also resonates through the act of translating Lozano’s novel from Spanish. Alongside the novel, Cleary provides a thorough and fascinating discussion of her choices in translating the novel, and putting it in the cultural and historical contexts that might be unknown to readers. She also describes reasoning behind word choices in keeping, or altering, original terms from the Spanish or indigenous traditions. The fact that translation of this novel by Clearly doubles the inherent artistic themes of Lozano’s work makes the work an even more complex and layered piece of literature.

While plot may be secondary to the self-revelations of the novel’s protagonists and the sociopolitical commentaries that lie beneath the text, the discovery of two families’ pasts and secrets through the perspective of Zoe and Feliciana does give some linearity to the otherwise elliptical novel, particularly in Zoe’s relation with (understanding of) her sister Leandra.

A sub-theme of the novel within the indigenous versus Western traditions sphere that I particularly enjoyed would be the contrasting, yet unified, faith traditions of Feliciana and Zoe: the Zapotec and Roman Catholic mysticism, respectively. Colonialism has of course created countless hybrid religious systems that marry the indigenous and Christian, but what’s most interesting to compare within Witches is the ways in which separate mystical beliefs guide the lives, and hopes of the two women amid uncertainty and oppression alike.

From the novel’s description, and the categories that some Goodreads readers placed the novel within, I expected Witches to qualify as ‘speculative fiction in translation’, with magical realism. Though the novel is magical, mystical, even macabre in spots in otherworldliness, it’s decidedly not fantastic. Nonetheless, this shouldn’t be a detriment to any genre fans to checking it out.

Relatively short, Witches is paradoxically blatant about its feminist themes yet understated in its presentation of them within the lives of Feliciana and Zoe, interweaving both of their perspectives as women with greater complexities of gender diversity and colonial politics. It’s a novel of timeless ideas that gives off vibes of brimming with both modern sensibilities and ancient wisdom. The words pour over readers effortlessly, yet call for second readings beneath the surface of that flow. Read it, and reflect.

Interview with Sunyi Dean (THE BOOK EATERS)

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I had the opportunity to review Sunyi Dean’s The Book Eaters here earlier this month for its release from Tor Books, and the novel is now out in the UK from HarperVoyager. Tor and and Sunyi graciously agreed to an interview, and I’m excited to present her wonderful answers here! If you haven’t gotten The Book Eaters yet, you can check out my review at the link above to read more about Sunyi’s debut novel (including the official synopsis).

I also split this interview with my reviewing colleague over at Fantasy Book Critic, Shazzie, who interviewed Sunyi separately. You can read that coincident interview here.

Photo Credit: Richard Wilson of Richard Wilson Photography

The characters in The Book Eaters often do horrible things, but they don’t necessarily seem to be bad people. Rather, it seems as though circumstances and limitations seem to create the badness, for simple ease or dire survival. The vicar says something along these lines in the novel. Is this something fitting specifically for the novel, or would you view this as generally true for life?

It’s definitely a view I hold personally. People are complicated, life is a mess, and almost none of us are capable of being truly good all the time. The best we manage is good to some other humans. On the plus side, very few people are entirely and unapologetically bad.

One of the epigraphs appearing in The Book Eaters comes from George MacDonald’s The Day and the Night Girl (The Romance of Photogen and Nycteris). Nycteris also appears in your Twitter handle, is this all from a love of bats, MacDonald’s Victorian-era novel, or both?

Aww, that made me laugh! I do like bats, but not that much. “The History of Photogen and Nycteris” is probably my favorite all-time short-story (it’s only 16k words long, so I can’t quite claim it as a favorite novel.) He is a little obscure, but his work was enormously progressive for its time period, and he wrote one of the earliest true adult fantasy novels (Phantastes). He had a lasting impact on Tolkien, CS Lewis, and Wolfe, and also mentored the much-more-famous Lewis Carroll. It’s an astonishing literary legacy for an author who so few people have read today.

You’ve said that “This is not a novel I ever thought I’d write…” Books are also not ever for ‘everyone’. Is there are point where The Book Eaters surprised you by becoming something for you, connected to feeling a natural outcome of yourself?

If you’d told my teenage self that I’d one day have a debut novel about lesbian (book) vampires, I think she would have fainted! Epic fantasy was my childhood love, and later I obsessed over social scifi (e.g., Philip K Dick) in my twenties. I think I always assumed I’d write in one of those two genres.

The Book Eaters is rich in its physical setting of Northern England and the Scottish border. To what degree did real locations inspire the novel – or did the ideas and setting of the novel in your mind inspire you to explore the real locale more?

Both! Many of the locations are placed I’ve been to or lived in or otherwise visited. I like getting a feel for a place, and making it real for others. (Devon’s impression of Brighton is similar to my own feelings on it.) Some I visited for the book – notably Traquair House, which is a real manor in Scotland.

Did the editing of the novel prove more challenging for you than the initial writing? Were there changes that had to be made that really affected you?

I edit as I go, dipping back and forth as needed! But the book went through immense adn intensive edits after Tor picked it up. I did not mind any of Lindsey’s (my editor’s) notes on the story, and I felt like she taught me a lot. However, I did struggle with the title change. I understand why they wanted to change the title, but I’d gotten used to it being called Paperflesh.

You identify as a biracial autistic author who has lived in many spots around the world. What are some of the ways in which these aspects of your life influence your writing?

When you are mixed race, constantly moving country, and a different neurotype, being an outsider is consistently your experience. I tend to write stories with humanoid non-human protagonists, who do not fit in well or easily with humans, and The Book Eaters continued in that trend.

Where is your go-to environment for writing?

Anywhere! With small children and not much space, I learnt very quickly to not be picky about my writing conditions. Most common place is probably the kitchen table, with a laptop.

What sorts of stories do you still hunger for?

Strange, weird, liminal, surprising, subversive! I adored many of the books that came out during the New Weird wave of the 00s, and was a little sad that it seemed to have petered out a bit. Hopefully it comes back.

If I recall correctly, you had a Star Trek-related backdrop for your TorCon remote Q&A session. Is there a particular Star Trek series you’d love to write for, or a specific character?

I adore Star Trek but would be terribly unqualified to write for it! I did read some Trek novels when I was younger and liked the ones with Q in it, or any of his strange beings / race.

What would be the most delicious book you could think of to eat? Would you go for simple flavors, or crave genre mashups that combined contrasting ones?

I would try a very wide range of them, if that’s okay to say! I think poetry would probably be the most beautiful to eat, though.

Thanks again to Sunyi Dean for taking part in this interview, and to Sarah Reidy and to Giselle Gonzalez from Tor Books in helping make it possible! If you haven’t yet, please be sure to check out The Book Eaters, and be on the lookout for her upcoming short story “The Thief of Memory” on Tor.com on 31st August.

Cover art by Su Blackwell; Design by Jamie Stafford-Hill

THE OLEANDER SWORD by Tasha Suri

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The Oleander Sword
(Burning Kingdoms Book 2)
By Tasha Suri
Orbit Books — 16th August 2022
ISBN: 9780316538565 — Paperback — 512 pp.

If you haven’t yet read The Jasmine Throne, the first book in Tasha Suri’s Burning Kingdoms series, go away. Read it. One of the best epic fantasies I’ve recently read, it succeeds with powerful themes, strong characters, and a propulsive plot.

If you have read the first novel in the series and enjoyed it, you will probably love this sequel just as much, if not more. Now, readers might get a bit angry at Suri and what she does with our emotions. But it’s a love/hate kinda thing that makes readers thirst for the next installment, holding onto hope.

If you read The Jasmine Throne, but didn’t really like it much… well… you’re a mystery to me. But, to be fair, no book is for everyone. The characters and themes of The Oleander Sword resemble the first novel, most clearly feminist themes of being seen and heard (respected) and having a freedom from control by a patriarchal society. I’m glad this didn’t change, and I enjoy how Suri takes these themes in new directions from where the plot of the series left off in the first novel’s end.

Malini has now been declared the rightful Empress of Parijatdvipa, but the opposition of her despotic brother Chandra remains, and the supporters of her elder brother Aditya (who has given up a throne as a Priest of the Nameless God) seem to only warily follow a female of the royal line. When the apparent use of Mother’s Fire by Emperor Chandra’s forces begins to cast doubts of the Mother’s blessings on Malini’s position, the Empress must make difficult choices to ensure her victory and Chandra’s defeat.

Meanwhile, Priya and Bhumika serve as co-rulers of Ahiranya, thrice-borne priestesses with the powers of the Yaska. With the fanatical Ashok lost to the waters, the former rebels under his command have now taken on the role of Mask Keepers within the new freedom the Ahiranyi people have achieved. However, the return of the worship-hungry and self-serving Yaska soon darken this vision of hope and freedom for the leaders.

Malini sends for Priya’s help, also seeking a reunion and continuation of their romance. However, the sacrifices that each must make for their own goals and people may make their partnership and love impossible.

The Oleander Sword is an excellent sequel to The Jasmine Throne, and a middle entry to trilogy that reminds me a bit of the feelings that The Empire Strikes Back evokes: dark and bittersweet, yet with some little bit of hope still remaining. Suri expands the world building of the first novel with a deeper dive into the deities of the Burning Kingdoms lands, most notably the Yaksa. But, she also expands details of the world with more political machinations among the representative lands of the Parijatdvipa Empire.

Though, I obviously enjoyed The Jasmine Throne, it didn’t really surprise me much in the plot development. It went exactly as I expected. (I may not have expected all the events to happen already in the first book.) What I loved even more about The Oleander Sword is that things became complicated in ways I didn’t necessarily foresee. The first novel is a bit of an underdog story, of three relatively powerless women defiantly seizing power. The Oleander Sword shows that this was decided not the end of their fight. Their defiance must continue, and worse threats to their freedom and agency than they ever imagined are coming.

Like its predecessor, this is a novel about surviving and sacrifice, but with increasing costs and difficulty, if not regret. Suri does interesting things with this that tie nicely into the building plot and epic fantasy world she’s created here, with its inspirations from Indian history and mythology.

This is a middle chapter that really made me curious and eager to see what happens, how it could possibly conclude, both for the characters and the themes Suri is tackling. I was fortunate to finish the first novel not long before I was able to get a copy of this sequel. Now the pain of the waiting game.

THE WIND RISES by Timothée de Fombelle (Translated by Holly James)

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The Wind Rises
(Alama Book 1)
By Timotheé de Fombelle
(Translated by Holly James)
(Illustrations by François Place)
Europa Editions — 16th August 2022
ISBN: 9781609457877 — Hardcover — 410 pp.

Tucked safely on the plains of a secluded and verdant valley, 13-year-old Alma lives with her family in peace, removed from continental conflicts and European colonial powers who sail the 1786 seas and plague the African coasts with resource confiscation: elements and minerals from the soil; human lives in the slave trade.

Alma and her younger brother Lam delight in the life and landscape of their home, its familiar comfort, and the seasonal cycles that provide for them. One day, they notice a strange looking ‘zebra’ of pure white, that Alma names Cloud. Observation of the new arrival awakens a curiosity in the siblings of what other wonders might lie in the world beyond their isolated valley home. Though their father has often warned them against straying away, Alma begins to consider nevertheless going off to explore further.

However, Lam pre-empts her plans when he decides to mount the inexplicably tame Cloud, and the white ‘zebra’ takes off with him beyond the valley. With her younger brother is gone – and understanding that the current pathway from the valley to the world beyond will close back up for year with the approaching change of seasons – Alma decides to set off after her brother.

In the meantime, their father also independently sets off after Lam, fueled by a desperation borne from his secret past: first-hand knowledge of the horrors that exist outside of their valley, horrors he played a direct hand in before meeting the woman who became his wife, and they settled into their secluded home to raise a family.

As these events proceed, a young orphan named Joseph Mars plots on the other side of the world to steal aboard a slave ship, the Sweet Amelie, on a clandestine mission to find something its ruthless captain has hidden aboard, and information on a trove of pirate treasure buried somewhere in the Caribbean. But, Joseph quickly learns this might not be so easy, and that others on board might have hidden agendas of their own.

Along with these two young protagonists, de Fombelle takes a large cast of characters from very different cultures and experiences, and places them onto intersecting paths of destinies in a swiftly changing world. The result is a rollicking adventure novel that captivates through the weighty emotion of its characters, themes, and historical setting as much as its entertaining and complex plot.

Written as a middle-grade/young-adult novel, The Wind Rises reminded me of some of the best books discovered during my childhood, thrilling adventures that spanned the globe and exotic locales. The illustrations here by François Place helped in such childhood connections. Of course, that term ‘exotic’ comes loaded with some baggage, and those childhood tales I adored were certainly colored by their colonial origins, even with some scrubbing over done since their original publications. What impressed me so much about de Fombelle’s novel is how well it captured my nostalgia by keeping the best of adventure story plots and diverse settings, but casting it in less problematic terms that still maintains educative historical accuracies.

The Wind Rises succeeds with its two contrasting main protagonists, female and male, African and European. Alma comes from a more innocent and protected life whereas Joseph comes from an existence of cruel, street-wise survival. Yet, they share important traits that sit at the thematic core of the story: human compassion and personal resilience.

Of the two, Alma is an open book to readers. Her curiosity, loyalty, and bravery becomes clear from the novel’s opening. It’s fascinating to watch her journey into a dangerous new world in search of her brother, and how that parallels her father’s search for Lam. Both are unstoppable forces of will, the father from drawing upon his knowledge and abilities from his past, and Alma drawing on her heart. Though ignorant of the world, she confidently asserts herself towards her goal, utilizing her practical experience of living in the valley (and the languages her parents have taught her) to find her way in strange new cultures and circumstances.

Joseph’s story, in contrast, remains a bit of a mystery to readers, as he keeps his exact goals and details of the past closely guarded while infiltrating the Sweet Amelie. At first, Joseph seems mostly concerned with himself, and gold, but slowly the reader begins to see there is more to Joseph and his convictions than might at first be apparent.

Timotheé de Fombelle sets the stories of these two teens within a period that allows incorporation of historical events and themes that are important for people to learn and remember. The horrible nature of the Middle Passage and the slave trade of course ranks foremost here. The issue is related through the eyes of perpetrators, sympathizers, victims, and opponents alike. Sometimes a character might fall into two of these categories even. Importantly, de Fombelle handles such a difficult topic with aplomb, neither glamorizing or exploiting the issue. The ‘villain’ and antagonist of the novel appears to be the entire political/economic system of colonialism and Africa, rather than any single human. Yet, the reprehensible captain of the Sweet Amelie does fit into the villain category too, particularly for Joseph’s plotline.

Slavery is not the only societal issue taken up by de Fombelle through the plot of The Wind Rises. The entire global political/economic system that slavery fits into is a broader stroke of the historical focus of the novel, and a secondary character who stands to inherit her family’s business fortunes (though not really, because she’s a female) serves to put feminist perspective into the novel as well.

One of the largest ironies within the novel is that the plot involves pirate treasure (and hopefully not to spoil much, eventually pirates.) However, what becomes glaringly obvious to the reader through the perspective of Alma and her family, and other Africans, is how the legitimate vessels of business are really no different, plundering the oceans and a land.

As the pages of The Wind Rises pass, it’s easy to become impresses with how much de Fombelle does in a middle grade adventure novel. Moments of tranquility pass to fun and laughter, to joy, but then to agony and pain, to resilience and stubborn pride, despair to hope. It’s a rollercoaster of emotion that goes alongside the rollercoaster plot and changes of scenery from Africa to Europe to the seas and to Caribbean plantations. Through this all the writing is impeccably measured to convey informal excitement and reverential beauty each, and Holly James does a powerful job here in retaining that in the English translation from the French.

Moments of beauty in the novel mark perhaps the most memorable for me: Alma’s appreciation and wonder of her home landscape, the songs of captive slaves who communicate in support through misery, the little choices of defiance by those with some power, who look to restore some humanity to those treated inhumanely, the show of power still present in the oppressed.

Amid all that is that adventure story to keep readers hooked: the mystery of Joseph and wondering what will happen to Alma, and each member of her family. Readers can expect some answers here, but not all. The Wind Rises is the first novel in the Alma series, and I cannot wait for Europa to release the remainder in English translation. I kind of mean that literally: I can read them in French. Though, I’ll eagerly check out future releases in English regardless.

Interview with Alex White (AUGUST KITKO AND THE MECHAS FROM SPACE)

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I had the opportunity to review Alex White’s August Kitko and the Mechas from Space for Fantasy Book Critic back in July when their new novel released from Orbit Books. Orbit and and Alex graciously agreed to an interview, and I’m excited to present their wonderful answers here below. If you haven’t gotten August Kitko and the Mechas from Space yet, you can check out my review at the link above to read more about it (including the official synopsis), and you can also read a FREE preview of the novel’s first chapter at Orbit Books.

photo credit: Renee White

I believe the creative start of your Salvagers series was initially focused on the just the first novel of it, A Big Ship at the Edge of the Universe, as opposed to mapped ideas for the entire trilogy. Did August Kitko and the Mechas from Space start similarly, or were you working out all three movements of the Starmetal Symphony right from the start?

It’s actually a little of both! I don’t plot too deeply, except for the book I’m directly working on. I need to keep ideas in mind and set things up in the first books for later, but the realities of writing always change the plot for me. If I try too hard to plot the whole series, I just end up throwing a bunch of work away because of cascading changes from book one. Instead, the sequels are maybe a paragraph of intent each, whereas the first book has a 40-page synopsis.

I am, however, a plotter. I like to know everything about the book I’m about to write, even if I’m going to change it all when I get there.

How do you think your writing (or the process) has changed over time with experience (if at all)? Do you feel you write now with more confidence, or thrill at diving into new ideas or territory?

It has gotten a lot harder, honestly. The more you know, the more pitfalls you see. Gone are the days where I could crank through 3,000 words in an hour, replaced with agonizing over the tiniest details. One thing has remained, though—I believe that a writer should always be uncomfortable. You need to push yourself to go places you’ve never been, and you must do the work to make it authentic.

I’ve gotten better at story development, though! I have a lot of different creative processes and games I use when I’m planning books, mostly using sticky notes. I find that visualizing data in unique ways (emotional resonance over time, actor swimlanes, etc.) can bring a ton of insight into the plotting process. It also helps me reinforce the themes and make sure I sew up all the holes. My basement walls are so covered up with notes that it looks like I’m hunting a serial killer.

So much of writing is editing. I know you’ve enjoyed fantastic partnerships with your editors, but is there anything you’ve found challenging in that process, or have you found yourself giving more pushback to suggestions of changes over time?

A long time ago, one of my favorite editors confided in my agent that she was worried she was steamrolling me with changes. He replied that I’m easy to work with–if you don’t change the ethos of my book. I don’t personally care what shirt color someone has, or even what their name is half the time. Those aren’t core details. Hell, I’ve rewritten major plotlines on edits.

However, I’ve had editors push back on things like gender identity, claiming the inclusion of nonbinary persons would be “too political,” or that a sexual harasser didn’t deserve condemnation. Those people discovered a new side of our relationship. I’m not a pushover, and I’m not above dragging something out for the right reasons.

At the end of the day, an editor is there to protect you. Their job is to make your book amazing and sellable. If I’m going to buck an edit, I’m going to have agonized over it for days. When that happens, I’m always polite, but it’s my name going on the book. It will conform to my standards of quality.

I actually first discovered your writing with the Star Trek: Deep Space Nine tie-in novel Revenant, and you’ve written two novels set in the Alien franchise. How did those opportunities come about, and if there’s one piece of advice you’ve learned from writing in existing universes, what would it be?

I got into tie-in writing because I was afraid that my debut novel, Every Mountain Made Low, would flop. When an editor is considering hiring you, they look at sales, first. There are plenty of debut authors who never get another shot because they failed a six-figure advance. Tie-in fiction is a great insurance policy against that because of the built-in fanbase.

As far as writing for tie-ins, I have an article in Grimdark Magazine about it, but my main piece of advice is this: Fans have already seen the movie/TV show/game/comic. They’re buying your tie-in because they want more, but you can’t simply deliver what they’ve seen before. The goal is to capture the way they felt the first time they experienced the franchise. I think people miss that part sometimes, and try to write another episode, as opposed to an experience.

Music is obviously a huge creative outlet in your life as well, and you’ve composed music inspired by your fiction. Does it also go the opposite direction, or during times of writing/composing do you find the two interplaying back and forth in any unexpected ways?

Oh, my, yes. I was never able to compose music before I started imagining a story to go with it. On a broader scale, my other interests all impact one another. I learn about writing from user experience and vice versa. I learn about photography from storytelling. One of the biggest lessons I’ve taken from having diverse interests is that the more you know about everything, the more you know about everything. It’s good to get deep knowledge, but nothing compares to being a generalist.

Any master of an art has lessons applicable to mastering other arts. I think it’s important to watch demonstrations of skill and ask, “How can I apply this to my creative body?”

Could there be any August Kitko and the Mechas from Space inspired numbers to come, and what instruments would they involve?

There’s already a theme song, actually! It’s called Burn Down the Stars, and I wrote it for the audiobook. I spent the entire time I was writing the novel to practice just the piano part, then I used Ableton Live to sequence an entire orchestra for backup.

If I had more time, I’d love to do a whole album exploring the interplay of American pop, djent, bhangra and jazz. There is no doubt in my mind that a movie produced from this book would have an absolutely killer soundtrack.

How would you characterize ‘subversive’ writing, and what kinds of power do you hope that your fiction might have in that regard for readers, or in your outlook on things?

People are wired to exclude information that doesn’t sync with their worldview. It’s one of the reasons that debate rarely changes anyone’s minds. Stories, however, are magical because they skate beneath your psychological defenses. They place you in the situation and ask you to empathize with people whose views you might rather dismiss. You get to live the experiences you’d rather not accept.

To me, this means calling into question the basic premises of our society and analyzing the systems for bias and abuse. A great story should suck you in, then make you profoundly uncomfortable with the status quo. And—not to put too fine a point on it—stories without this amount of heart are just useless fluff. No truth equals no stakes and a love of the prevailing authority. Throw it all in the trash.

I realized that one common element to August Kitko and the Mechas from Space and Star Trek: Deep Space Nine – Reventnant may be the theme of consent/control in organismal pairings. There’s the human-mecha ones in August Kitko, and that biological level of symbiosis so central to Jadzia Dax’s identity and story. Is this a theme you have consciously turned to with particular interest throughout all of your work, through different directions?

As a trans person, the depersonalization of one’s form is constantly on my mind. A lot of us are consumed by society, both through fetishistic desire and bigoted derision. We’re expected to perform certain roles to be allowed to comingle with the “normal” people, but our very bodies are liabilities in the public space. Having your own identity while trying to reconcile the unwanted, even alien, standards of civilization can be quite a trip. I’m sure this feeling stretches beyond transness, and a lot of people can identify.

In the broader sense, consent is constantly on my mind because the violence done to characters is usually beyond their control. What’s interesting is how it unfolds in various contexts beyond organisms. It comes into play when discussing the role of sentient androids (though I hate the “robot rights” discourse), but also the grander application of political and economic systems. We’re all in nonconsensual relationships with our workplaces, banks and medical providers, just so we can survive and participate in society.

Staying on that subject of symbiosis in a way… Have you ever had a collaborative writing experience with another author; do you think that coauthoring a novel would work with your style and personality or would you have to run away from that prospect?

It would have to be a special circumstance, conceived as a coworking project from the start. If there are boundaries, I can do it. I’ve participated in writers’ rooms, for example, and have every intention of doing more in Hollywood. That means that I must be a good collaborator.

With novels, I do think it’s harder than scripts. Long form is closer to my heart, and a place I use to express my inner self. I think it would be tough to team up. I don’t even let friends suggest plot points to me. A quick aside, how the hell does anyone decide to plagiarize something? My ego would not be able to handle someone else’s work powering my story.

Is there any chance of you writing something outside of the science fiction/fantasy realms, like the crime genre, historical or contemporary?

Absolutely. I hope to have a long, fruitful career where I get to prove my range and continuously work in new territory. I read a lot outside of speculative fiction, and I’ve always wanted to write a historical crime novel.

What would be your favorite board game and your favorite whiskey? Are board game – whiskey pairings a thing?

Let’s go with Agricola, plus a long-sipping Islay whiskey, like a Laphroaig. I could probably drain a whole bottle in the course of a game (back when I could still process alcohol). Nowadays, I’d probably pair some kind of intoxicant, but I’m not sure I have a specific one in mind…

And finally, to circle things back to August Kitko and the Mechas from Space, what can you say about the upcoming movements of the Starmetal Symphony? In particular, will the next volumes be in a different key, tempo, or style?

The ground game in every volume will be completely different. Every single book, something is going to happen that changes everything—usually at the beginning. I won’t give you the whole picture. Suffice to say, if you thought the first book was strange, you ain’t seen nothing yet.

Thanks again to Alex White for taking part in this interview, and to Angela Man from Orbit in helping make it possible! If you haven’t yet, please be sure to check out August Kitko and the Mechas from Space and their other work.

Cover design by Lisa Marie Pompilio; Illustration by Ben Zweifel

THE JASMINE THRONE by Tasha Suri

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The Jasmine Throne
(Burning Kingdoms Book 1)
By Tasha Suri
Orbit Books — June 2021
ISBN: 9780356515649 — Paperback — 533 pp.

This review never made it up on the Skiffy & Fanty blog. The second book in the Burning Kingdoms series comes out tomorrow, and I plan to have my review of it up there then. So in the meantime, I decided to put up my review of the first book here, in case readers weren’t already aware and enjoying this wonderful epic fantasy series…

Regular followers of Skiffy and Fanty may already recognize the name Tasha Suri as the author of the well-received duology The Books of Ambha. Back in Episode 356 of the podcast, Paul picked the first novel of that series, Empire of Sand as a favorite Epic Fantasy of 2018. I haven’t gotten a chance to read those, but I was fortunate enough to discover Suri’s talent with The Jasmine Throne, the first book in her new Burning Kingdoms series. Its sequel, The Oleander Sword, is scheduled for release this August, so if you haven’t delved into this yet, let me convince you.

Ruthless and fanatical Emperor Chandra of the Parijatdvipa Empire has punished his sister Princess Malini for failing to fulfill her duty of immolation to the Mothers of Flame. Exiled to the colonized Ahiranya, under the care of Regent Vikram, Malini is imprisoned within the Hirana, a decaying temple of the Ashiranyi culture. She pins her only hope of rescue on a friend known as Rao, a noble from the Aloran realm of the Empire who worships the Nameless God – a man who is trying to unite Parijati factions under Prince Aditya, the elder brother of Malini and Chandra, who has abdicated the throne to become a Priest of the Nameless after a religious epiphany.

The site of a now lost spring of magical waters, the Hirana was once home to Temple Elders and children, whose connection to the Yaksa gods of the Ahiranyi manifested through surviving sequential baptism in those waters to become reborn twice, and thrice. The power of the Yaksa and the political domination of Ahiranya during the Age of Flowers ultimately ended with Parijati colonization: the destruction of the temple and slaughter of its adepts. As the magic of the gods has faded and the Ahiranyi culture becomes silenced, a mysterious rot forms in the surrounding forests, infecting the most vulnerable and slowly spreading to lands of the Empire beyond.

But, not all of the Temple children died in the purge. Priya escaped with her temple brother Ashok, who left young Priya at the regent’s court in care of Vikram’s Ahiranyi wife, Bhumika. Bhumika happens to be another former child of the temple, who had left to care for family before the destruction had occurred. Priya became one of Bhumika’s maidservants, suppressing her innate magic, and turning her meager life to helping the destitute whenever she could: such as taking in a young boy named Rukh who suffers from the rot.

In the meantime, Priya’s temple brother Ashok has gone on to become the volatile leader of a rebellion against the empire, and has turned his sights on using Priya to rediscover the lost waters of the Hirana and regain the powers of the Yaksa to overturn the oppressive foreign rule. The threads of Princess Malini and Priya’s lives become entangled when the two encounter one another within the Hirana, and the each realize the power of the other, and the potential they may have together to change to world.

The Jasmine Throne begins with the line: “In the court of the imperial mahal, the pyre was being built.” I’ve not read a more fitting line to start a novel. The events of the prologue truly set things up as Emperor Chandra orders a literal pyre built for immolation of Malini and her maidservants. But, this action also starts building a metaphorical pyre that will soon engulf the Parijatdvipa Empire and its colonized Ahiranyi.

Suri starts with Malini’s act of defiant rebellion against the misogynistic religious fervor of her brother, introduces the humble and compassionate Priya, and then slowly weaves the complex tapestry of characters and plot summarized above. Suri excels at revealing her world of the Burning Kingdoms series in a manner that feels effortless, natural, and engaging. I never felt lost amid the cast of characters and their disparate story lines that become increasingly entangled. Revelations are given to readers in a logical way that matches the pace of foreshadowing; the system of magic and the history of these lands becomes clear through well-placed background information given to the reader that Suri organically integrates with the plot and character motivations.

Chapters are each written with an identified point-of-view character, mostly alternating between Malini and Priya, but intermixed with others, particularly Bhumika. These three women become the central core emotional core of the novel, disparate in their temperaments, social castes, and goals, but united by their femininity and a desire to be recognized and seen as individuals of agency who can support one another.

Malini sees this, for instance, in Priya:

“Priya hated being belittled. Priya hated not being seen. Hated being made small… It was lucky, then, that it was always so easy to meet Priya’s gaze. To look into that face and give her what she wanted, simply by allowing herself to be honest. Not having to manipulate Priya felt like a small blessing.”

[…]

“I do not think you are used to being seen, are you Priya?“

It made something warm settle in her stomach, that thought. That she had recognized the value of this woman when all others hadn’t. That somehow […] she had witnessed a woman full of raw potential. Someone powerful who looked at her and looked at her, as if Malini – sick, unkempt, her curls in a snarl and her mind liquid – had the sun inside her.”

The relationship between Malini and Priya builds from uncertain alliance to friendship and on to romance, rekindling Sapphic unions that were accepted by the ancients during the Age of Flowers, but only became taboo upon colonization. This parallels the reality for cultures of Southeast Asia where homosexuality had been historically accepted, only to become suppressed in modern times. Suri addresses this type of outcome from cultural colonization throughout the novel, not just in sexuality but also at the levels of language and art. She points out the collective psychological damage that can happen to a conquered people, and what such oppression can end up inciting:

“Symbolism is important. And freedom. You will not understand this, Princess Malini. But there is a subtle pain the conquered feel. Our old language is nearly lost. Our old ways. Even when we try to explain a vision of ourselves to one another – in our poetry, our song, our theater masks – we do so in opposition to you, or by looking to the past. As if we have no future. Parijatdvipa has reshaped us. It is not a conversation, but a rewriting. The pleasure of security and comfort can only ease the pain for so long… Now bloodshed is inevitable…I gladly enter a pact that allows the death to be minimized, and even a shade of our freedom, our selves, to be saved.”

Bhumika also yearns for a voice of her own to match the power she clandestinely wields within her colonialized marriage. Just as the Ahiranyi resent the yoke of the Empire that quashes their cultural identity, so too does Bhumika become frustrated by a husband who can only see her as something to control, rather than recognizing and making use of her unique strengths and talents. She laments how perverse this is in the context of Virkam’s child that she carries within her:

“A child should not be a chain, used to yoke a woman like cattle to a role, a purpose, a life she would not have chosen for herself. And yet she felt then, with an aching resentment, how Vikram would use their child to reduce and erase here. She hated him for that, for stealing the quiet and strange intimacy of her and her own flesh and blood and making it a weapon.”

The three female characters of The Jasmine Throne have led lives where others around them have painted them as deviants, as monsters, declaring that the only purposes for womanhood are procreation and sacrifice.

“Some parts of me are monstrous,” Malini said… “You know why? A woman of my status and breeding, Chandra told me, should serve her family. Everyone told me I should be obedient to my father and my brothers and one day, my husband. But Aditya and Chandra made their choices, and I didn’t simply accept those choices. I didn’t obey. Because my brothers were wrong. But more than anything, Priya – more than that – I’m monstrous because I have desires… I’ve avoided marriage. I’ll never willingly beget children with a man. And what is more monstrous than that? To be inherently, by your nature, unable to serve your purpose? To want, simply because you want, to love simply for the sake of love?”

The novel is about these three women finding each other amid political situations that force things to a head, that force them to act. They reject the demented violence of rebellious men like Ashok. They strip the ignorant Vikram of power, and they mold the more tempered support of Rao and Aditya to their own will. The Jasmine Throne is about these women coming into power to change the world together, each to their own strengths.

“I’ve never wanted justice. Maybe I should have, but the thing I truly wanted was myself back. And now I just want to know – to prove – that the temple elders were wrong. Parijatdvipa was wrong. My brothers and sisters and I, we were never monsters. We didn’t deserve what was done to us. I want to believe that. I want to know that. I want that to be true, and if it isn’t I want to make it true. But you, Malini,” she said. “You want to remake the world.”

Though Priya recognizes this first in Malini, by novel’s end, Priya effectively states a variation of the same thing as her immediate goal, as she looks to take on the Rot. I cannot wait to continue the story of these three women, and all the other characters. (I have no room here to also go into all the interesting things she does to enrich her secondary characters, such as Rao and Rukh.) Suri’s skills here at imagining a captivating world populated by profound characters has easily enticed me to also read The Books of Ambha. She writes one hell of an engaging epic fantasy, full of entertainment, heart, and meaning.

THE WOMEN COULD FLY by Megan Giddings

/ Daniel Haeusser / Leave a comment

“…Literature drawing parallels between historical witchcraft trials and modern persecutions is hardly new, and it might be tempting to view The Women Could Fly as merely a superb, new iteration of that tradition. Yet, Giddings does something more here than offer a dystopian fantasy as standard social commentary on sexism, queerphobia, racism, and related anger/hatred-born oppressions. The novel’s title itself points to possibilities, and magic. A magic that can be reached through a rejection of unreasonable systems and foolish distraction, through an appreciation that power lies in personal daring and forging of communities, freely available to all, for the taking. As a complex and conflicted protagonist surrounded by imperfect relationships in a confused world, Jo’s life of yearning for connections with freedom captivates readers and cultivates deep reflection on the relevance of the novel’s themes in our world. The Women Could Fly conjures an itch for discussion and debate while concocting a tremendously enriching read, frightening, entertaining, and wondrous all.”

Read my entire review of The Women Could Fly HERE at Fantasy Book Critic.

Amistad Press – 9th August 2022 – Hardcover – 228 pp.

THE BOOK EATERS by Sunyi Dean

/ Daniel Haeusser / 2 Comments

The Book Eaters
By Sunyi Dean
Tor Books — 2nd August 2022
ISBN: 9781250810182 — Hardcover — 304 pp.

Scattered across the planet, living on the edges of human settlement, are the remnants of a people brought to Earth long ago by a now departed alien Collector. Their purpose: to catalog the works and thoughts of humanity and await the Collector’s return. Their ancient origin and duty misted in myth, they remain uncertain if the Collector will ever return, and worry about the decrease in females born to continue their lines.

Most of their kind are Book Eaters. After weaning off milk, they consume books of all types, able to gain the knowledge of the tome through its consumption. Their brains unable to process language through the act of writing, this swallowing of already written text is their only means of cataloging the throughs of humanity. However, some among them are born without the capacity for nourishment through books. These rare births instead wean from milk into a rapacious thirst for minds. Such Mind Eaters are born with a long tongue that can be used to penetrate into a victim to suck a brain dry of thought and knowledge, leaving shells behind.

In their varied cultures across the Earth, some of the Book Eaters choose to destroy any Mind Eaters born among them, others allow them to prey upon humanity. Families in enclaves spread throughout the UK rely on giving their Mind Eaters a drug that one family developed tto allow them to consume books instead. However, it still does not reduce their hunger for brains. Such Mind Eaters are taken as Dragons to be trained and kept in check by Knights. The Knights are Book Eaters taken as children from among all the UK Families, forming an organization that historically only served to protect women transported between enclaves for arranged marriages that allow the Book Eater lines to continue.These politics suddenly change when a revolt for control of power occurs within the Family who holds the secret for producing the drug for Mind Eaters.

Devon is a young Book Eater from a Family that has settled the wilds of the Yorkshire moors. She’s now on the run from her Patriarch, and from the Family of her last husband, searching for the survivors of the revolt and try to secure some of the now unavailable drug from them. She desperately needs the drug because she has her five year old son Cai with her, a boy born a Mind Eater, for whom she now has been forced to find prey. In roughly alternating chapters, Sunyi Dean writes about the quest for freedom in Devon’s present – her acts of love to save her son – and the events of Devon’s past, from childhood, that brought her to being a pariah.

The Book Eaters is an inventive dark fantasy that dazzles with empowering themes of devotion and defiance. It’s also a story about the monstrous things that someone could find themselves doing for survival when circumstances and systems of oppression tighten in.

As a child, Devon has a devoted reverence for her Family, her patriarch, and their rules. Such naïveté leads to disenfranchised horror when Devon discovers just how little justice there is in the political system of her people, how powerless and exploited she will be no matter how closely she obeys, no matter how meekly subservient she acts. Faced with this realization, Devon chooses defiance in every way she can, and narrows the allegiance of her devotion to only herself, and her children – who are equally taken for exploitation by the Families.

Forced into marriages and bearing children who are taken from her, Devon defies and bears punishment, up until a possible route of freedom becomes open to her from an unlikely familial source from her past. Dean’s structure for The Book Eaters makes it a compelling read for discovery of how Devon ended up in the situation she is in at the novel’s start. And there are some lovely little twists and clever double-agent-type situations that enhance the fun of the plot and its action.

Well written secondary characters also put some extra accomplishment into the novel. Cai is a perfect mixture of endearing innocent childhood and creepy terror, at one moment himself (a typical five-year-old), and the next moment one of the minds he has eaten (e.g. an elderly pastor.) Dean also creates a cast of intriguing and varied villains, from those who harm through their cultural privilege to those who have been shaped by the Knights or those who have revolted against the establishment to only form a cult of power for themselves in its place. None are purely evil, or purely good. Despite its fantastic plot, The Book Eaters is a novel rooted in a moral realism where people (even if not human) are formed by their circumstances or experiences and pushed toward helpful or harmful actions.

Born into this type of world, Devon is striving to find another option where the system no longer necessitates monstrosity. Thankfully, she is not alone on this path. Dean has two wonderful characters to help aid her journey. One, Hester, is a survivor of the revolt in the Family responsible for the Mind Eater drug. Her story is a terrific parallel to Devon’s own journey, and she develops into a perfect romantic interest for Devon. Devon is also helped by the kind hearted, video-game loving, brother of one of her husbands. He’s also a notable character in terms of being asexual, which makes sense given how closely male sexuality is tied to oppression and power in the UK Book Eater society.

I’m definitely eager to reading more in the future by Dean. Her straight-forward prose makes for a breezy read, yet is still filled with rich atmospheric imagery. The well-paced plot and shifting back and forth between times works very well, with a seeming simplicity that masterfully hides the complex execution needed to go into such careful plotting.

But I’m also really hopeful to read more from this Book Eater universe. I’m not talking about a series per se, or even a continuation of Devon’s story, or Cai’s. It would also be fantastic to see other stories and other characters around the world or time periods, built from the novel’s premise. Either way, please give us more.

The Book Eaters is now out in North America from Tor Books, and Harper Voyager will be releasing it in the UK later this month. If I still haven’t convinced potential readers out there that this should go on your to read list, go check out this second opinion from Shazzie at Fantasy Book Critic. She points out some details I wholeheartedly agree with but didn’t get into here, such as Dean’s fun use of classic and modern fairy tale passages as context for each chapter.

If you live in the US, please check out the giveaway I’m doing for a copy of The Book Eaters. Finally, be on the lookout here for an interview with Sunyi Dean, coming soon.