If you love books enough, books will love you back.
This book felt more like a love letter to
Jo's 15yr old former self than a novel for me to read. As one blogger I read
put it succinctly: it's an ode to SF. And that's exactly how it felt reading
it.
I just read a review by Elizabeth Bear who eloquently put my ideas into words here. Kinda tough writing amongst giants. In any
case, the story is about a young girl Morwenna or Mor and her unlimited love
for SF and fantasy books. I unfortunately hasn't read the vast majority of what
she mentions except for the Le Guin and Heinlein.
The book the diary of Mor's thoughts about her day to day life, having survived
a horrific accident that killed her sister, a battle with an evil witch of a
mother and her fractured hip that leaved her in constant pain and needing a
cane to walk. After running away from her mother's she is sent to her father
who she hasn't ever met and his three half-step sisters. They ship her off to a
pretentious English boarding school where, as a book-worm, she's bullied. I got
a kick from the class description of these silly girls.
What's surprising about our typical, manner of fact yet charming protagonist?
She can see fairies. And talk to them although they are a completely different
species of fairies we've ever seen, ugly most of the time and unresponsive
sometimes. I spent the entire book wondering: am I reading the story of a
schizophrenic? Because there is very little in the evidence of the truth of
these claims. It felt as though our Mor still hadn't woken up from a shroom
induced voyage. I was left unconvinced... Is this a case of mythopoeia or is it a modern, happy version of The Turn of the Screw..? The matter-of-factness of Mor's
writing and explanation of magic reminded me of Pratchett's headology: the
unfolding of reality can be bent to your will if you accept that your will can
be interpreted in a myriad of ways and that people will believe anything they are
told to really.
Her refuge, comfort and inspiration are the books she plunges in: "It doesn't matter. I have books, new books, and I can bear anything as long as there are books". The book for me picks up half way through when
she forms, by magic, a karass (borrowed from our dearest Vonnegut's Cat
Craddle) that finally brings her a breath of fresh air when she finds like
minded individuals in a book club, friendship, generosity and even love.
I wish I had read this book as a teenager. It would have made me dream of a
place where there are people ought there, like myself, who think books are so
much more worthwhile than people: "I care more about the people in books than the people I see every day" (Amen sister!) that despite being
slightly deformed or in a cast, others will see through that or better, not
notice, and that there is a good looking thoughtful guy at the end of the book.
As a 30 year old though, I don't know what to make of this book though I am
grateful that Mor exists as a character in my wordly world and that she is one
of the most charming, believable and thoughtful character I've had the pleasure
to encounter.
And I've gained a new favourite word:
"Bibliotropic," Hugh said. "Like sunflowers are heliotropic, they naturally turn towards the sun. We naturally turn towards the bookshop."
Spoilers!
I bought this novel after having read in a blog how few women SF writers had
been read or recognised. As a former boxer, I made the very classic and
pathetic mistake of being seduced by the title before reading the summary.
*though I did love that the main spiritual trickster of our novel is called
affectionately Jab-Jab. Only once I finished the book did I also discover it is
a classic Boney M song. We learn everyday. Doux-doux has now
become my favourite nickname.
This is Nalo's first novel, written in 1998. And I must admit, I was impressed.
The self-identified queer Jamaican born authoress is impressive in her command
of the Jamaican mythology and the lingo our main characters use to after or
before reverting to their 'English' all easily immerse you into a
post-apocalyptic Toronto. Again, I was rusty on the narrational edges and it
took me about 20 pages to set the scene in my head. The story is centred around Ti-Jeanne, a newly made mother, who sees visions of
how people will die and lives with Gros-Jeane/mami, her herbalist, healer
gran-ma. By far, the strength of the novel is the subtle description of the
relationship between the two characters and the tough-loving, rough strong
woman who Ti-Jeanne loves and is afraid of. Most of the novel describes Ti-Jeanne's
development beginning our story a frightened of the spirits and power she
hardly controls, resentful of her baby (mistreating it at time) and obsessed
with Tony, the baby's father though she walked off on him for his drug habit.
Tony could give sweet, sweet talk. Words so nice, they would charm the money
from your pocket, the caution from your heart, the clothes from your body.
Words so sweet and soothing, they sounded like love, like let me hold you the
way your mama never held you, like come and be my only special one, my
doux-doux darling. Words that promised heaven.
Though poetic, our Ti-Jeanne is selfish, and angry and petty at times and I love Nalo for having
given us an unflinching gaze at a flawed main character. Tony, good for
nothing, must find a heart for a corrupt politician who has commissioned the
gang leader of our dystopic city with finding a donor. Ti-Jeanne is at the
centre of this intrigue as Tony ends up killing her mami to provide the gang
leader with a heart, who ends up being Ti-Jeanne's evil granpa, who manipulated
his own daughter, Ti-Jeanne's ma, to do his evil biddings. The scenes described
of magic rituals and death are brilliantly terrifying and I was reminded of
Mieville's capacity to instill fear in his readers by giving them a mirror to
their unknown worst nightmare.
“But doux-doux”, Prince of Cemetery said, “Your granddaughter head full
of spirits already; she ain't tell you? All kind of duppy and thing.When she
close she eyes, she does see death. She belong to me. She is my daughter. You
should 'fraid of she.”
Two downsides noted (mainly by my Kiwi, but that I agree with
wholeheartedly). There are no redeeming or in depth male characters. Nalo
reserves her insightful character building for the women, from the insane
mother to the leader of a gang of children fending for themselves in the
anarchic city. Nalo only touched on - and left us begging for
more - some of the fascinating aspects of the various spirits that come all
together at the epic climax of the book, the final battle scene if you will, where
Ti-Jeanne summons all the spirits at her aid. It gave us a taste of a Jamaican
style American Gods. So so so much could have been weaved in the novel and I
felt a little disappointed that I was not given more. It underlined how little
SF has delivered in terms of Caribbean mythology and I hope this book will be
one amongst many others to open this much needed Pandora box.
All in all though, I devoured the book in 2 days and my Kiwi read it in one go
in a car trip.
