N.K. Jemisin, The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms

“I would have expected the Darre to do a better job of preserving the truth.”  He leaned closer, slow, subtle.  Something predatory was in his eyes – and I, entranced, was easy prey.  “Not every race of humankind worships Itempas by choice, after all.  I would have thought their ennu at least would know the old ways.”


I would have thought so, too.  I clenched my hand around the silver fruitstone, felling light-headed.  I knew that once my people had been heretics.  That was why the Amn called races like mine darkling:  we had accepted the Bright only to save ourselves when the Arameri threatened us with annihilation.  But what Nahadoth implied – that some of my people had known the real reason for the Gods’ War all along and had hidden it from me – no.  That I could not, did not want to, believe. (pp. 119-120)

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, the opener to the other The Inheritance Trilogy and author N.K. Jemisin’s debut novel, is a novel that contains as seeming contradictions as its characters.  From the first lines of this first-person narrative through to the end of this trilogy opener, there are surprises coexisting with some rather awkward narrative elements.  The beginning chapters in particular highlight the novel’s unevenness.  The very first paragraphs of the book, pregnant with foreshadowing:

I am not as I once was.  They have done this to me, broken me open and torn out my heart.  I do not know who I am anymore.


I must try to remember. (p. 1)

have the force of this mystery and hint of the unreliable narrator blunted by indulging a bit too much in expository explanation of who the first-person narrator (the nineteen year-old bi-ethnic (racial?) princess Yeine Darre) is and what she is doing.  Throughout the first half of this debut volume, it seemed at times that Jemisin could not decide whether to let Yeine act more as a portal through which the readers could experience the intrigue Yeine was embroiled in or if Yeine’s character ought to be shown as an active, dynamic force whose actions would shape her reminiscences.  This apparent indecision led to a few dead moments for the first few chapters until the novel’s central conflict began to overwhelm the first, lesser confrontation that the opening chapter established.

Yeine’s character twists earlier epic fantasy staples such as the overlooked, rustic farmboy rising unexpectedly to claim a largely-forgotten regal inheritance, not to mention the sometimes irritating spunky young woman character type.  Yeine begins her reflections by relating why she was traveling to the court of the Arameri to meet long-sundered relatives and to discover that she had been named by her hitherto-now distant grandfather as heir, four months after her mother’s murder (itself a plot device that is left rather underdeveloped here). There she discovers she is one of three heirs named, with the expectation that the three would battle it out for control of the court and of the so-called hundred thousand kingdoms under Arameri suzerainty. 

This conflict, although at times well-illustrated, is neglected, rightfully so, for the larger conflict mirrored by this smaller, mortal clash.  It turns out that the source of Arameri power are enslaved god-children, as well as one-third of the original triumvirate that ordered and shaped the universe.  It is this ancient conflict between brother-sister-brother/lover-beloved-envious ones that drives the narrative for the second half of the novel, as the court intrigue falls into the backdrop.  It is here here Yeine as a character begins to come into her own, as she begins to reveal more of herself than had been seen in the opening chapters.  It is this plot and character development that gives the novel a powerful, surprising conclusion that more than makes up for the tentative, hesitant first half.

There are several things to praise about The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms thematic elements.  Jemisin plays upon reader expectations of clashes between Light/Dark by creating a third, mediating element that forces readers to reconsider any previously-held preconceptions they may have held about the two (male) gods that still exist when the novel opens.  Furthermore, by having this third, mysterious goddess/element in the background, Jemisin creates a plausible mythology that not only is explored within the narrative, but which provides an interpretative scheme for the novel that may satisfy those such as myself who like multifaceted, challenging narratives.  As noted above, the three god/forces dominate the novel and Jemisin’s skillful exploration of their motivations and their roles that infuses The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms with a compelling storyline which concludes strongly at the end in a fashion that will be simultaneously surprising and long-expected.  Love is such a strange creature and its mutations can affect so many.

Although The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is but the opener for a trilogy, it is virtually self-contained.  There is a definite, full narrative arc executed over 400 pages with a conclusion that brings all storylines but one introduced here to a close.  The only open arc is introduced in the closing chapter and it sets the stage for a completely different sort of story to be explored in the second volume.  It appears this trilogy may rely more upon thematic cliffhangers than narrative pauses to keep readers anticipating the next volume.

So how well did I like The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms?  For the first half, as I stated above, I found myself being annoyed slightly by things such as Yeine’s seeming digressions, the perceived lack of focus on what might be the book’s central element, and the sometimes-distant, passive point-of-view character who sometimes failed to make what was transpiring vivid.  But by the time that the gods’ conflict emerged as the central focus, Jemisin’s prose became more taut and the sometimes languid pace of the earlier chapters picked up in such a fashion as to make the final ten chapters or so very riveting.  The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is not a perfect novel, but it certainly is a very promising and intriguing debut novel, one that despite its flaws felt more polished and nuanced than the vast majority of debut novels I have read in recent years.  Jemisin has set the stage for what appears to be a redemption story and that alone would make me want to read the sequels. Knowing that, minor stumblings aside, that she has the writing chops to accomplish this leaves me anticipating the next volume more than I do most pending volumes.  Likely one of the better 2010 debuts.  Highly recommended.

Best American Fantasy 4 readings plus assorted Book Porn

Today I received a large box full of lit journals, genre magazines, and all sorts of fictions in-between that straddle those invisible borders between the Fantastic and the Speculative.  Best American Fantasy co-creators Ann and Jeff VanderMeer sent to me over two dozen magazines and journals that are eligible for consideration for Best American Fantasy 4.  As new series editor, I get the fun task of reading through each of these (and several more) to narrow it down to 75-100 possible stories for the guest editor, Minister Faust, to select from for final addition to BAF 4 (which will be released in early 2011, for those who are eager to place their pre-orders).  I thought it would be a good idea to highlight the magazines and journals being considered with pictorials and name references.  So here goes:

On Spec, Fall 2009; The Mississippi Review Poetry Series (2010); Catherynne M. Valente, Under in the Mere (2009; short fiction); Green Mountains Review (vol. XXII, no. 1, 2009); American Short Fiction, Spring 2009; New Genre, Issue Six (2009); The Florida Review, Summer 2009; American Short Fiction, Winter 2009.

Harvard Review, 36 (2009); Witness, vol. XXII (2009); New England Review, vol. 30, no. 3 (2009); The Southern Review, Summer 2009; The Kenyon Review, Fall 2009; The Kenyon Review, Winter 2010.

Electric Velocipede, Fall 2009; Glimmer Train Stories, 73 (2009); Ecotone:  The Brutality Issue (2009); The Cincinnati Review, Winter 2010; Stefanie Freele, Feeding Strays (2009).

Here are some “extras” that the VanderMeers sent me (well, one is a duplicate copy of what I received from F&SF a couple of weeks ago) for my “leisure reading,” if such a thing will exist before June.  Several of these certainly will be read in short order and will be listed in my magazine/journal reading list (said list excludes my readings of various non-fiction magazines, I ought to add).

Here are several books that I received from the Penguin Group/DAW and from Night Shade Books.  Will browse through the Datlow anthology (which appears to be a reprint one) to see if any stories are eligible for BAF4, but the others will have to await a free weekend, if that, for reading.

More books from the Penguin Group/DAW and one from Orbit US.  Like I said above, if read, these will have to await a weekend free from BAF4 readings.

Offerings from Night Shade and from Tor/St. Martin’s Press.  The New Dead will be read for BAF4, the Erikson I read last year when I imported the book in hardcover form from the UK, the Teppo books will be read in my free time, and I have no idea when or if I’ll get to the Maberry book.

Recent purchases (or at least those I had on hand).  Learning both Serbian and Attic/Koine Greek, thus the grammar, as well as The Septuagint translation of the Old Testament (and the deuterocanonical works).  Oh, and some Calvino and Eco in Italian to balance out the Aristophanes in dual Attic Greek/English translation.  Not a bad haul.  These are to be read/studied over several months.

Think these are enough readings to occupy me for a couple of weeks at least?

Blogger reviewing writers reviewing bloggers reviewing writers who may or may not be writing about bloggers

I like to think that the overly-long title captures the essence of what’s been transpiring over the past week or so on a relatively new spec fic blog, The Speculative Scotsman.  Although the subject matter (negative reviews and the possible impact they could have, as well as writers who value/discount such reviews, among other things) is rather well-trod, I found the wit and humor contained in not just the original review (of Paul Hoffman’s The Left Hand of God), but also in the follow-up and in author Sam Sykes’ response to be entertaining reads. 

But I cannot help but to think that something is missing from all this.  Perhaps what is needed is another blogger grading the review and its responses….no, wait, that would make it sound as though the blogger proposing to do this would have megalomaniac tendencies and/or may be a frustrated English teacher.  Not that there’s anything wrong with being a frustrated English (or History, Geography, and US Government/Civics) teacher, mind you, but some might find some fault in all this and choose to focus on the real and perceived faults of said reviewer of another blogger’s review of a writer who may or may not be funky in a totally non-George Clinton sense and whose prose may be as ripe as that of the hobo who swore off bathing during the Reagan administration.

Humor (or its failed attempt at such) aside, I suppose some of the issues hinted at or half-raised in this latest round-robin affair of Reviewer/Author Tag would be those of how well does the reviewer establish his/her “voice” for the audience to consider and how little shrift the “essay” part of a review essay gets in these times and locales.  Voice is very important.  Just as authors are judged on narrative voice and how coherent and noticeable this said “voice” might be, so too are reviewers judged, at least those who post regular reviews.  Voice is what makes the reviewer distinguishable from the crowd, something that provides that X factor that allows for the audience to presume that they can gain not only some insight into the work being reviewed, but also into the person who has decided to spend some time interpreting just what that tome might have meant to them. 

Although I’ll cop to not being that familiar with Niall Alexander’s blog (although he’s commented here on occasion and always has interesting things to add – the fault is purely mine, which I’ll correct in the near future), based on that review (and later on the follow-up posts) I believe I have a greater feel for his “voice” and I find it to be distinctive, even if I don’t have a large enough “sample size” yet to determine just how much insight he brings to all of his reviews.  Certainly is promising so far and the way he approached reviewing a book that did not appeal to him definitely is a good one in my opinion:  gentle skewering with humor more than with raw invective.  Hopefully, that “voice” will continue to develop with time and not atrophy, like certain bloggers who changed their color scheme in the past year to refer to the 2009 Iranian protests might have done…

An important element that often is overlooked when considering reviews is the essay form itself.  Perhaps I’m too much of a language nut now, but “essay” used to carry two meanings in English (just as it still does in most Romance languages today), that not just of the writing form, but of the attempt to establish/create something.  In particular, I am thinking of the attempt to write a short narrative that not only analyzes, but also compares, contrasts, and ultimately judges a work/idea on the basis of pre-determined criteria (although these criteria may vary from work to work being considered).  A well-written essay that essays to transliterate the reviewer’s thoughts into a cogent written piece can have a value worth more than whether or not someone agrees or disagrees with that reviewer’s tastes in literature (or other matters).  A well-constructed review essay can give insight not just into that particular reviewer’s mindset, but also into how that reviewers and perhaps others understand and apply concepts related to the art of writing itself.

Jorge Luis Borges is one of my favorite writers but, along with H.L. Mencken, he is also one of my favorite reviewers/critics to read.  Although most of his ensayos are not able in English translation, in reading his thought on Martín Fierro and other novels of the 19th and 20th centuries (all these I read in Spanish) I gained valuable insight not just into how Borges approached writing a review essay, but also in how the review essay could be utilized as a tool to help the reviewer and others to devise more interpretative measures for gauging a story’s worth.

So perhaps in the debate (friendly, bantering as it has been) these issues ought to be raised.  It isn’t just how in tune a reader might be with a reviewer’s review (positive or negative), but perhaps it is (or at least should be) more about how well such thoughts are conveyed and how willing the reader is to process and to question what is transpiring in hopes of garnering more insight into book, reviewer, and (ultimately) one’s own self.

And while I’ve been away…

So yeah, five days of near-total silence on this blog, longest in a couple of years, I think.  Nothing bad, just nothing much worth posting yet.  I know I need to write reviews of the new DeLillo and Jemisin books, but I’ve been consumed with reading for BAF (picture updates later in the week, perhaps), a new (re)reading project involving Roberto Bolaño’s works (I’ll be reading/reviewing El Tercer Reich when it is released in the US at the end of the month), reading Eco’s Baudolino in Italian, and continuing my self-study of Attic and Koine Greek.

Needless to say, something has to give and that’s been blogging.  After all, who cares that much about Bolaño, Eco, or yet another foreign language that I’m learning?  Just know that I’m not in a bad place, but rather in an almost-blissful state of learning too much to have the energy/desire to say things right now on what exactly is being learned.  Although there is the possibility of an essay in the coming days on precisely that topic…

This probably won’t win me many new friends

Just a few random thoughts, in lieu of a proper reflective essays:

In all the talk about the Amazon/Macmillan struggle, I find myself wondering in this titanic struggle of the capitalists, who really is concerning themselves with the proletariat?  Seems that boycotts and protests are a bit misguided, in that I see little good that can come out of it, other than those frustrated with one side or the other can feel good about voicing their frustrations.  Vast majority of the consumers (that bland, faceless, nearly formless writhing mass that wriggles its way through all economic matters like a blind, questing maggot) are totally unaware and/or uncaring about all this – matters of pricing/control are of little import to them.

I once joked there should be a Goodkind corollary to Godwin’s Law.  I’m beginning to think that I might have to write another such post in regards to George R.R. Martin and those who bash/defend him.  I feel dirty even mentioning this here, since it just keeps the name and the ugly discussion memories alive, but I really don’t care whose bitch is whose.  I’m left wondering if the circular nature of these defenses/bashings are little more than attempts to draw traffic.  Like I said, I feel dirty mentioning this, since even mentioning it contributes to the feeding of the evil machines.

On nights like tonight, slightly feverish and coughing frequently, I find myself reflecting on how privileged I’ve been throughout my life.  Whether it’s ethnicity, gender, social class, or education, rolled quite a few 5’s and 6’s, with little more than blind luck involved.  What right do I have to talk about the struggle for social rights?  Thought that came up again after debating whether or not to lend a student W.E.B. DuBois’ The Souls of Black Folk.  Answers to that question still being worked out.

Watched We Shall Not Be Moved on Monday with my students.  MLK died fighting for the economic rights of garbagemen.  Who today is fighting for the rights of the salt of the earth?  Or are we just more concerned with fighting for the rights of our self-convenience and leisure?  Do group identities trump beliefs in a common hope and future?

Can’t decide if this is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen or the most disturbing

And since it might be the latter for several, link only, with a warning applied (as if that would stop anyone):

It’s so life-like!

And in other news, there really is no news worth sharing.  Did re-read David Foster Wallace’s This is Water.  It still moves me.  Shame he felt compelled to take his own life, especially after the beauty found in this commencement speech from 2005.

Disconnect

Quick observation before I crash and try to make it through the ice, snow, and slush to work in the morning:

The past month has seen me become even less “connected” with what is being discussed elsewhere.  Apparently Amazon and a major publisher had a spat over e-book pricing.  Apple’s releasing some new device (OK, that one actually interests me, but that’s a purchase a year or two down the road and perhaps for classroom purposes).  Lots of reviews have been written about “hot new releases.”

And for the most part, I found myself shrugging and not feeling the urge to comment.

Between the usual work uncertainty, working extra hard to get back in shape (lost nearly 5 lbs. for the month), and reading for Best American Fantasy 4, I just don’t have the time, energy, or desire to keep abreast of what is being discussed in various online locales.

And ya know what?  I don’t mind that one bit.

Sometimes, being disconnected for a while does wonders.  Don’t have to worry what X, Y, or Z are saying about books A or B.  Don’t feel compelled to get into a debate that much about the merits of authors C or D.  Don’t hear that “white noise” so much.  Other shiny things out there that serve to put my love of reading into perspective.  Oh, and deciding to learn one new language (Attic Greek) this year is part of an overhaul I’m doing to both increase my focus and to help expand my creativity.  Maybe in a few months, once the BAF4 reading cycle subsides and once I know more about where I stand in terms of my current day job, I’ll be more curious about online matters.  But right now, disconnected is a great way to go.

January 11-31 Reads

Books

15 David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas (this 2004 Booker Award finalist was certainly worthy of the praise it’s received over the past 5-6 years. Will have to re-read before I could hope to write anything approaching a formal review, though, as I read it while waiting to see the doctor and that tends to cloud memories somewhat…)

16 Graham Greene, The Quiet American (scary how prescient Greene was about how Vietnam would affect those involved in it. Very good read.)

17 Juan Filloy, Op Oloop (Spanish; very odd story, but ultimately enjoyable)

18 Alexandre Dumas, Le Comte de Monte-Cristo II (see comments about part I)

19 David Soares, A Conspiração dos Antepassados (Portuguese; going to be writing a feature about his works in the next week or two. Very good story that involves Fernando Pessoa, Alastair Crowley, and one of the more enduring tragic myths/legends of Portuguese history)

20 George R.R. Martin and Gardner Dozois (eds.), Warriors (review forthcoming; very strong anthology)

21 Lisa Tuttle, My Death (re-read; very good)

22 Maureen F. McHugh, China Mountain Zhang (one of my regrets now is that I procrastinated on reading this until now. Damn fine story.)

23 Terrence Holt, In the Valley of the Kings (re-read; one of my favorite 2009 collections)

24 Rick Moody, Demonology (collection; very good)

25 Chang Hsi-Kuo, The City Trilogy (this omnibus of Chinese SF was odd to read, as certain plot developments seemed a bit unnatural for me, as one used to Western cultural expectations more or less, but the three stories, taken as a whole, were worthwhile reading ultimately)

26 Italo Calvino, Le città invisibili (re-read; Italian; classic)

27 Sergio Toppi, Sharaz-De (re-read; Italian; graphic novel; first of two volumes recasting tales from Arabian Nights. Highly recommended)

28 Sergio Toppi, Sharaz-De Volume 2 (re-read; Italian; graphic novel; see comments above)

29 J.W. Wenham, Elements of New Testament Greek (interesting overview of Koine Greek as found in the New Testament)

30 H.H. Munro, The Complete Works of Saki (review forthcoming)

31 David Soares, Lisboa Triunfante (Portuguese; feature forthcoming; enjoyed this novel almost as much as the first one of his)

32 Don DeLillo, Point Omega (had intended to have a review posted on Sunday, but reading got in my way. Perhaps in the next few days)

33 Pedro Calderón de la Barca, El médico de su honra (Spanish; classic 17th century play)

34 Chrétien de Troyes, Yvain (French; this dual Old French/Modern French translation almost kicked my ass in terms of me grasping what was transpiring. But I did get the gist of it, largely due to knowing the story from prior readings of English translations)

35 David Toscana, El último lector (re-read; Spanish; good-to-very good)

36 Catullus, Catullus (Latin; collection of Catullus’ poems. First time reading all of them in Latin. Good stuff, on the whole, but the longer poems were not as appealing to me for some reason.)

37 Dino Buzzati, Poema a fumetti (re-read; Italian; graphic novel; re-telling of the Orpheus/Eurydice myth. Very, very well-done)

38 Roberto Bolaño, Tres (Spanish; poetry; re-read; Bolaño is criminally underrated as a poet)

39 Roberto Bolaño, The Romantic Dogs (bilingual; poetry; re-read; see comments above)

40 Carlos Fuentes, Gringo viejo (Fuentes is excellent when he writes historical novels from an up-close-and-personal perspective. This fictionalization of Ambrose Bierce’s final days is a prime example of this) 




Fiction Magazines and Lit Journals

No comments on these, for various reasons:

4 The New Yorker, January 18, 2010

5 Fantasy & Science Fiction, January/February 2010

In Progress

Ninth Letter, Winter 2010

Fantasy & Science Fiction, December 2009

A quote from Don DeLillo’s latest novel, Point Omega

The true life is not reducible to words spoken or written, not by anyone, ever.  The true life takes place when we’re alone, thinking, feeling, lost in memory, dreamingly self-aware, the submicroscopic moments.


***


I almost believed him when he said such things.  He said we do this all the time, all of us, we become ourselves beneath the running thoughts and dim images, wondering idly when we’ll die.  This is how we live and think whether we know it or not.  These are the unsorted thoughts we have looking out the train window, small dull smears of meditative panic. (p. 17)

Received my copy of DeLillo’s Point Omega in the mail a couple of hours ago.  Just now started reading it and so far, it is an engaging read.  Only 119 pages, so it shouldn’t take too much longer for me to finish it.  Don’t know if/when I’ll write a review (after all, I have this wrist bandage I’m supposed to be wearing and it doesn’t make typing a fun thing to do), but I thought people here might appreciate this little quote. 

Care to share your reactions to it?  Poor/well-written?  Sentiments jibe with your own?  Ever read any of DeLillo’s works before?  Thinking about reading this book?

Q&A with Darren Campo

How did you start writing?

I was always writing stories, as far back as I can remember. In college I was a business major with a creative writing minor, so I had to turn in a short story every week. I probably had about fifty short stories written before I had a style, what is often referred to as a “voice” that was strong enough to write a novel.

What are you doing when you are not working? What are some of the interests/hobbies which keep you busy?

When I was a kid my great-grandmother gave me her big set of oil paints and I’ve been painting and drawing ever since. I also play the piano and have wondered about the similarities in structure between music and visual arts. This led to an intense fascination with physics and intimately to writing science fiction. In addition, the past few years I’ve been lucky enough to teach some classes at NYU on the business of producing television and film.

How would you describe your book to someone who is not familiar with your work?

Alex Detail’s Revolution is an adventure story of a boy who finds himself suddenly stuck in the middle of a battle and having to fight for his life. It happens to take place in the future, but the journey and challenges and questions the characters experience are familiar and could take place in any time past, present or future.

Why space and spaceships?

Spaceships are fun! I grew up watching Star Trek The Next Generation and I saw how inspiring and freeing it can be to the imagination to go out there and find something totally new, places we can’t get to or experience right now.

Do you believe there is life on other planets?

Life, absolutely. The more interesting thought is if there is life that is self-aware, or some other sort of consciousness. There are probably forms of thought we can’t imagine or detect, like some colony of sentient crystals under an ocean in another solar system.

Do some of the Alex Details Revolution’s characters exist in your life?

Defiantly there are aspects and traits in just about everyone I can remember in my life that end up showing up in the characters. Sometimes they evolve into someone I once knew or sometimes they have been inspired by my very first meeting with a person. Captain Odessa is that sort of purely practical person I based on my friend Rebecka. I met her in college when she was just out of the Israeli army.

What message does the Alex Details Revolution’s send out to the readers?

Go ahead and tackle the things you fear and not let that emotion stop you from doing anything, then you’ll become alive and your life will become one great adventure after another.

What kind of books do you enjoy? What are your influences?

Joseph Campbell was the primary influence in most of my choices in life, including writing. I learned from him that all the mysteries of life have been experienced by all the people who lived before us, and all the stories and myths are clues they left for us on how to deal with this question of how to really engage in life to its fullest, how to overcome all the fears and challenges with an attitude of excitement and wonder.

Could you tell us something about your future plans? Can we maybe expect a sequel to Alex Details Revolution?

Yes! The sequel exists in my head and the first three chapters have already been written. Alex, Captain Odessa and George Spell have a lot more adventures ahead of them.

Since you work as a television executive, have you thought about making movies from your books?

Writing is the thing I really love. TV shows, movies, plays are all big collaborative efforts that represent the visions of many people working as a team. A book is the purest story a single person can convey without having to change your vision for a shifting marketplace or particular demographic or competing creative visions.

Which genre of movies do you prefer, and what are some of your favorites?

I really love movies with that are funny and fun and have a “happily ever after” ending. The exception might be Star Wars Revenge of the Sith. Maybe because I know the happily ever after comes three movies later, but I could watch that a thousand times.

What are you working on now?

I’m writing the sequel to Alex Detail’s Revolution, which is currently titled “Alex Detail’s Rebellion” as well as putting the finishing touches on another novel called “Stingers” about a group of kids who use honeybees to take over the world.

Have you considered writing for the younger audience?

I write the sort of stories I enjoyed reading as a boy so I think that there’s always an intrinsic appeal to a younger audience. I have been surprised to have kids seven or eight years old talk to me about Alex Detail’s Revolution. It’s easy to forget how insightful kids are at even a very young age.

Thank you very much for your time and patience, Darren. We wish you the best of luck with your future work.