For a novel marketed as YA, this was super violent. I found it jarring to alternate between scenes of graphic sex and torture and the main character’s stammering shyness when attempting to ask out his crush. Set in Pakistan, this novel features teenager Wahid, who just wants to play D&D with his mates and get up the courage to talk to the pretty girl in his class; he doesn’t know why he can see djinn and would rather not think about that part of his life. Unfortunately, supernatural forces come after him anyway, threatening his friends, and he finds himself navigating many of Karachi’s darker and more magical elements in an attempt to save them. Many, many loose ends left dangling for the sequel.
Tag: genre-myth
Ithaca, by Claire North
The story of Penelope, told by Hera, which is an interesting choice. As in classical Greek mythology, Hera is full of rage and indignation but mostly helpless to actually accomplish anything. She skulks around the edges of events, a bitterly perceptive witness to the goings-on in Ithaca in Odysseus’s absence, affecting events as much as she dares while trying not to draw the attention of the more powerful gods and goddesses. The writing in this is pretty excellent, as is the characterization of the various mythological figures, but mostly this story is a frustrating series of examples of the lack of power and agency of women, even goddesses and queens.
The Djinn Falls in Love & Other Stories, ed. Mahvesh Murad, Jared Shurin
There are some big names in here (Nnedi Okorafor, Neil Gaiman) and some that I love but may not be so famous (Amal El-Mohtar, Claire North, Saad Z. Hossain), but for me the standout stories were by authors I hadn’t previously encountered. “Reap” by Sami Shah is written from the viewpoint of a drone operator who is surveilling the Pakistan-Afghanistan border, and who begins to witness some freaky supernatural goings-on. It’s brilliant, combining frightening djinn behavior with the weird disconnection of war at a distance, and the feeling of being under threat by forces you can’t comprehend. I’d give second place to “The Congregation” by Kamila Shamsie, a gorgeous and spiritual piece about longing and brotherhood. Honorable mention to “Duende 2077” by Jamal Mahjoub, in which an exorcist is called to visit a haunted spaceship. Mostly a strong collection, put together in a way that started out whimsical and got really creepy towards the end.
Heart of the Sun Warrior, by Sue Lynn Tan
Perfectly decent followup to Daughter of the Moon Goddess, with the same flowery melodramatic writing style. Where the first book focused on Xingyin’s fight to prove herself a worthy warrior, this one focuses outward, on politics and her family dynamic. There are a few fight scenes, but not as many as in the first book; to make up for it, we get lots of love triangle angst and tense, layered conversations. I appreciated the main antagonist, whose backstory and motivation came together to create a true monster.
The Dawnhounds, by Sascha Stronach
One of those books so wondrously weird that you really don’t know how you got there or what is even going on, but which is written with such intensity and lush detail that you can’t stop reading it. The action opens on a boat, manned by a skeleton crew and carrying a cargo crawling with infectious poisons, with references to wars long past (but with conflicts still simmering) and mysterious weapons. Then we alternate between the viewpoints of Jyn (former street rat, current disgraced constable, disgraced because of her attraction to women) and Sen (former soldier, current sergeant, world-weary but still trying to do the decent thing) as they patrol their city, in which people live in breathing cellulose houses which consume their inhabitants’ waste matter for food. There’s a mysterious religion in which priests dress up as their sacred crane (delightfully, Jyn and Sen call them “bin chickens” under their breaths; clearly the Aussie nickname extends to Stronach’s native New Zealand as well) and seem intent on gaining power. About halfway through the book we learn that there’s a very magical element going on as well, very much tied to the outsider status that is thrust upon characters who don’t fit into the mainstream. There’s a lot going on in the background that Stronach doesn’t bother to explain: what, besides a lust for power, is driving the bin chicken religion? Why do they want to infect everyone with spores? What are they trying to accomplish? How are they related to the god-like deities who grant powers to a chosen wounded few? The reader has no idea, but the writing in the book rockets along so beautifully, the emotions of the outcast characters so strong and the descriptive prose lush and vivid, that you barely have time to wonder what happened before it’s all over and you’re left blinking, wondering what the heck you just read. Stronach is a Maori author so maybe I need to read up on Maori mythology to get a handle on things. First in a series, apparently, though honestly I don’t know how much I’ll retain by the time I pick up the next.
A Thousand Beginnings and Endings: 16 Retellings of Asian Myths and Legends, ed. Ellen Oh and Elsie Chapman
This was a really neat collection. Each short story is followed by an explanation of the myth or legend that inspired it. Some authors retell a story but in a different time and place (“The Land of the Morning Calm” by E.C. Myers, which injects Korean ghosts into an MMORPG), while others latch onto a tiny detail and expand it (“Spear Carrier” by Rahul Kanakia, which imagines an entire life for a battlefield redshirt). I don’t know a lot of the stories in Asian mythologies, and really enjoyed reading both the stories and the background segments that explained the original myths.
The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea, by Axie Oh
The title is pretty, but should really reference the girl who jumped into the sea. Every year a beautiful woman is sacrificed to pacify the Sea God, whose storms ravage the villages; this year, the woman selected to be the Sea God’s bride is Shim Cheong, beloved of Mina’s brother. In anger and indignation, Mina throws herself into the sea in Shim Cheong’s place. Once in the spirit world, she finds unlikely allies who help her tell the gods exactly what she thinks of their neglect of humanity’s prayers. Mina’s narrative voice is wonderful, and the story moves along well.
Daughter of the Moon Goddess, by Sue Lynn Tan
Uses the legend of Chang’e, the Chinese Moon Goddess, as a jumping-off point. Xingyin, daughter of the imprisoned Chang’e, sets off on a quest to free her mother. I almost didn’t get past the beginning, in which Xingyin’s escape felt overwrought and melodramatic; however, as she bravely inserts herself into the court of the Celestial Empire, learns to be a warrior, and forges her own uncompromising way forward, I found myself really enjoying the story. The book reads like a wuxia drama, all silk and steel and smoldering glances, with the characters preoccupied with plotting and honor, and it’s such fun. Slow start, great finish. Apparently there’s a sequel but this book stands alone well.
The Penelopiad, by Margaret Atwood
Novella, the Odyssey story told alternately by Penelope and by a Greek chorus of maids (Odysseus and his son hanged twelve maids upon their return, for “disloyalty”). I loved the alternate perspectives and how each narrator defended their own versions of the tales, as well as the biting calling-out of double standards as relating to sex and class. Really great read.
Brown Girl in the Ring, by Nalo Hopkinson
In a future version of Toronto, where white flight and government neglect have reduced the inner core of the city to lawless violence, a young woman with oracular sight chafes under the eye of her herbalist grandmother. This book, a matrilineal retelling of “Ti-Jean and his Brothers,” mashes together many things: figures from Caribbean folktale, sci-fi dystopia and social commentary, strong female characters, and coming of age/redemption through embracing family culture. I followed the action well enough, but the use of Creole between the characters made me feel like it would have been better as an audiobook; I think I would have gotten the flow of the conversation much more easily.