Three years after I purchased my copy of The Stone Sky I finally got round to reading it. I’m not sure why it took me so long but I thought it best to re-read the first two instalments before approaching its final chapter. As I loved re-reading The Fifth Season and The Obelisk Gate I was ready to fall just as hard for The Stone Sky…but I didn’t. The thing is, the pacing and direction of the story closely resemble those of The Obelisk Gate which I probably wouldn’t have minded if Nassun had actually developed as a character. Essun has very few chapters compared to the first two volumes and I missed her. I would have loved to read more of her and Tonkee or her and Ykka but their scenes make up very little of the overall narrative. While Jemisin tries to give Schaffa a sort of redemption arc I could not bring myself to like or sympathise with him. Nassun got on my nerves, especially when it comes to how obstinate she becomes towards the end. While she seems capable of caring for murderous men her resentment towards her mother struck me as unfair and childish (especially if we consider some of what her mother has gone through). While I was interested in Hoa’s chapters, especially since they give us a lot of information regarding the Stillness prior the seasons. I am not sure whether I always understood what was going in his chapter, especially given the nature of his narrative voice. As finales go The Stone Sky suffers from anticlimax. The pace is slow, the characters don’t develop all that much, and the storyline needed more cathartic scenes. Still, Jemisin sure can write, and her style always manages to capture my attention (even when her story doesn’t). While I am not sure whether I would re-read the whole trilogy I still consider The Fifth Season to be one of the best fantasy/spec fiction novels of all time and I will probably never tire of re-reading it.
“You think we are like you humans?” it asked, angrily. “We don’t kill for sport or even for gain. Only for purpose.”
An interesting novella that sets a promising start to the series. Okorafor plays around with sci-fi elements, giving us an intriguing take on overused tropes of the genre. Binti is a rather refreshing story, one that had to work against its ‘shortness’. Okorafor establishes the tone and themes of her story from the very beginning. Her style has a natural flow that makes the story easy to follow despite the unfamiliar world.
“The Meduse are not what we humans think. They are truth. They are clarity. They are decisive. There are sharp lines and edges. They understand honor and dishonor. ”
I would have liked to have more information, especially concerning Binti’s reality. Sometimes Okorafor addressed certain things and then doesn’t return to them, and this made the setting a rather precarious one. In certain scenes there is a focus on superficial particulars that don’t really add anything of value to the story, and usually I wouldn’t mind, but given that this is novella, and every word counts, I think it would have been better to then use more words to depict Binti’s world more clearly. Binti was a forgettable protagonist, her characterisation solely relies on the circumstances she finds herself in, rather than her already possessing certain distinguishable traits. A quick read that proposes some compelling elements but ultimately fails to stand out.
‘You’re gambling. Hell, you’re gambling against history.’
Kindred is a riveting story. Octavia Butler has created a tale in which a young woman is thrust into a violent past that forces her to into a relentlessly dangerous position. Kindred is an incredibly gripping read. From its prologue to its epilogue, the story demands attention. Butler convincingly depicts deeply complex and believable characters in a unthinkablybrutal world.
I had thought my feelings were complicated because he and I had such a strange relationship. But then, slavery of any kind fostered strange relationship.
Butler does not shy away from describing the terrible abuse and violence slaves were forced to endure in the 19th century. Dana herself is initially incapable of comprehending the horror she witnesses during her journeys back in time. Dana’s own resolves and belief are tested beyond measure again and again throughout the course of the book.
Slavery is a long slow process of dulling.
Dana is a very relatable and likable main character. Despite the shock caused by being flung back in time, she does not lose her wits: she faces her situation with as much practicality as possible. She does not waste time panicking deciding instead that the best way of surviving this terrifying experience is to prepare herself as best as she can: first by reading about the period in which she is transported to and then by trying to discern a pattern in the causes of these leaps back in time. Both she and her husband, Kevin, show admirable self-control in a situation in which they have little grasp of.
All of the characters Butler introduces are vividly realistic. Despite the scenario, there are no clear good guys or bad guys. Instead there are characters that could be both cruel and pitiful, kind yet bitter. Their complexity made them all the more believable.
Strangely, they seemed to like him, hold him in contempt, and fear him all at the same time. This confused me because I felt just about the same mixture of emotions for him myself.
Each page of Kindred contains poignant reflections and important examinations on human behaviour/nature. The grave topics it tackles are combined with a constant feeling of dread for Dana’s wellbeing; in fact, Kindred reads with a strong sense of urgency: throughout the story Dana’s life and freedom are constantly at stake. So despite the graphic portrayal of the unimaginably inhumane and brutal reality slaves experienced, Dana’s willfulness make this journey through this particularly horrifying moment of history much easier to read. The complicated relationship she has make Kindred a deeply complex and well-crafted novel.