Passionate complications of love and hate elevate N.K. Jemisin’s novel The Obelisk Gate / Complicaciones apasionadas de amor y odio elevan la novela de N.K. Jemisin, The Obelisk Gate

obelisk_When I reviewed The Fifth Season, the first novel in N.K. Jemisin’s Broken Earth trilogy, I focused on what the violence in the novel was telling us and how the idea of violence shaped the story and the reader. The second novel in the series, The Obelisk Gate, is about love and hate, the fundamental motivations for all actions. So, if you’re up for a conversation about that, read on–just know that there will be spoilers.

Our hero from the first novel, Essun, is still in the underground community of Castrima where we left her at the end of the first novel. She’s a bit lost herself because she lost her daughter’s trail and doesn’t know how to find her, but she also has found a few people (and others) who care for her, and a place in a community that knows she is an orogene and tolerates her presence nonetheless. Her old love Alabaster has made it to Castrima as well. He is dying after having caused the rift that has brought on a season of destruction, but he tries in his impatient, imperfect way to teach her what she needs to know to finish what he started. No, the objective is not destruction of the world. The objective is an end to the seasons and re-establishing the planetary balance that will make it possible for humans (and others) to thrive again.

The novel also follows Nassun, Essun’s only daughter and surviving child, on her journey south with her homicidal father. Nassun is just leaving childhood, physically, mentally and emotionally, and Jemisin does an outstanding job of portraying the capacities and vulnerabilities of a girl that age. We see her navigate the unstable terrain that is her father’s mind–a man who could bludgeon her three-year-old brother to death because he discovered the boy was an orogene, yet tenuously hangs on to Nassun to take her somewhere he’s heard she can be cured. Why? Love. Twisted, damaged and smashed love. Nassun valiantly attempts to keep the image of her father in her heart and mind despite what she knows about him. Why? Love. The other parent, Essun–the one who pushed her as a child, hurt her so she would know how to protect herself, the one who is not there–becomes an object of hate, though the child does not clearly acknowledge this as her fear and desperation turns her in that direction. Continue reading

“The Water Knife”: compelling science fiction about losing our most precious natural resource / “The Water Knife”: Ciencia ficción convincente acerca de la pérdida de nuestro recurso natural más valioso

WaterKnifeLet me say up front that I am in awe of Paolo Bacigalupi’s skill as a writer of ecological science fiction. Water scarcity! How’s that for a topic that could put the most avid science fiction reader to sleep? It takes a talented writer to make anyone crack a book on such a topic, and Bacigalupi has done it with The Water Knife. The novel has been nominated for the 2015 Goodreads Choice Award for Best Science Fiction.

The Water Knife cuts closer in time than Bacigalupi’s last novel The Windup Girl (reviewed here) and puts readers into a  pre-apocalyptic American West that we could actually live to see. The climate is undergoing a downward spiral of change, and water is scarce. The federal government has limited influence over desperate state governments and populations migrating toward any promise of water. Humanitarian aid organizations throughout the south and west build water pumps that sell water by the liter to the public while robber barons build climate-controlled luxury resorts for the rich. Continue reading