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

A horror story from India raises political questions

Reading stories from India has been a habit of mine for many years, so when I signed up at The India Readathon to review new works, I was excited to get started. I chose Maya’s New Husband by Neil D’Silva as the first novel I would read and review because it was horror (and not another freakin’ luv story!) and I haven’t read much horror from India.

MayaSo I settled in with this ebook and put my squeamishness aside. It was not easy. D’Silva’s novel is dripping in blood and gore. It reminded me right away of the lurid pulp horror fiction of the mid-20th century and the slasher films of the 1960s and 70s. D’Silva builds the suspense around a mad man’s twisted use of some of the practices of a group of ascetics devoted to Shiva. India’s wide range of religious practice and mythology provides fertile ground for all kinds of storytelling, and D’Silva has material for a lifelong career of horror writing. Continue reading