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Thank you to NetGalley and Little, Brown for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: racism, misogyny, homophobia, death.

Eliza Raine is different than the other girls who attend the Manor School for Young Ladies in York. She's the daughter of an Englishman and an Indian mother, a woman who was not formally wed, and when she returned to her father's home country as a little girl, it was a fact she was made distinctly aware of. Only fourteen, she keeps to herself at school, isolated in a room by herself, away from the other bedrooms. But when Anne Lister arrives -- charismatic, fearless, bold Anne -- Eliza's world is turned upside down and, as the two girls grow up, their relationship will leave indelible marks on them both.

Anne Lister is considered one of the world's "first modern lesbians." She was, as I described her in this book's summary, bold and charming -- a true go-getter in every sense of the word. While there have been quite a few adaptations and books revolving around her life (including the wonderful and critically acclaimed Gentleman Jack, which has managed to bring her into cultural consciousness), few have made little more than a passing mention to her education at a school York, where, at only fourteen, she fell in love for the first time with another girl. This girl has, for the most part, faded from history: Anglo-Indian, the daughter of a doctor, and someone who paid the price for daring to be fearless, something that whiteness and wealth seemed to protect Lister from.

Eliza is our narrator, and we alternate between passages of her memories of them as schoolgirls, and her letters written to Anne some ten years later. At first, as a fourteen year old child, Eliza is hesitant, doing her best not to get any marks at the Manor, keenly aware of the fact that while her compatriots may get away with some things because of their whiteness and privilege, she will not. She stays in a room by herself, sequestered away on the other end of the building, never quite sure if it was intentional or merely because of convenience. Her life suddenly becomes interesting, however, with the entrance of Anne -- and if, like me, you've read about Eliza and Anne before, you might have an idea where all of this is going. 

Donoghue is truly a master at her craft. She so effortlessly and seamlessly weaves together true emotion, humor, and something quite heavier, all while spinning together such beautiful sentences that I sometimes had to pause just to appreciate them. Perhaps it comes from years spent perfecting her writing, but there surely has to be something else, something innate, that makes her so damn talented. She is an expert at capturing whatever time period she's writing about, and it's obvious that she does very intensive research. As you might expect from the novel's plot, there are many heavy topics addressed here -- sexism, racism, homophobia, and more -- and Donoghue does it with both a sense of how important they are, and sometimes with a little tongue-in-cheek. 

In particular, though, the racism that Eliza experiences is very thoughtfully dealt with, and I think Donoghue does an excellent job of showing us just how much white privilege allows Anne to get away with what she does. Anne, of course, faced many challenges throughout her lifetime, and as a butch lesbian in the nineteenth century, her obstacles are nothing to be sneered at, but the juxtaposition of Eliza's life with Anne's makes a clearcut display of how wealthy white people are allowed to be eccentric, or different, without losing their liberty.

Another element I must compliment is that Donoghue does not romanticize Anne. If you've read her journals or studied her life to some degree, it becomes obvious that Anne was many things, but she was not often kind, nor was she very self-aware. She could be avaricious and cruel, and more often than not, she discarded her many lovers with seemingly little care to their feelings or the impact on their futures. Not to say that there weren't many good things about her, but it's nice to see this realistic, flawed portrayal of her, something like the real person. Eliza, too, has her flaws, and the characterization and development is yet another reason why Learned by Heart was a five star read for me.

Ultimately, the storyline here is tragic, and I was moved nearly to tears by the end. This book is beautiful, and wrung real emotions out of me. Because of Donoghue's decision to uplift the voice of a woman who was silenced in real life, I will always remember Eliza Raine. 

Highly, highly recommended -- get yourself a copy as soon as you're able. 

Book Review: He Who Drowned the World by Shelley-Parker Chan

 

⋆⋆⋆½

Thank you to NetGalley and Tor for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: violence, death, misogyny, rape, sexual assault, child abuse, homophobia, transphobia, torture, self harm.

Zhu Yuanzhang is so close to being on top of the world. After her shocking victory with her peasant uprising, Zhu has implemented herself as the Radiant King, and doesn't plan to stop there. Her old enemies, however, have not forgotten her -- and after her rise to power, she's created many new ones in the process, too. One of them is Madame Zhang, the former courtesan who is just as willing to claw her way up the ladder as Zhu is, and she's quickly becoming Zhu's most daunting opponent. In the hopes of overcoming Madame Zhang and making her way to Dadu, where she can seize the throne for herself, Zhu is forced to ally herself with General Ouyang, the very man who was once her fiercest competitor. But unbeknownst to any of these contenders, Wang Baoxiang -- Esen-Temur's scorned and ridiculed scholar brother -- has made his way back to the capital and, with his calculating maneuvers, may just bring the entire empire to its knees.

There are no words in the English language that could accurately describe how excited I have been for the sequel to She Who Became the Sun. It easily became one of my top books of the year, and it will forever remain inscribed in my mind and heart. Parker-Chan has created a world populated with characters who are truly morally gray, and they're never afraid to allow those characters to venture onto the path of darkness and destruction, which is explored much more in depth this time around. Although Zhu remains our protagonist, there's a much heavier focus on Baoxiang, the new Prince of Henan, who is -- much like my beloved General Ouyang -- exclusively fixated on vengeance.

Let's start by talking about the arc of my two favorite characters, Zhu and Ouyang. Zhu remains her usual indomitable self, following her ambitions selfishly and ruthlessly. Ouyang has, obviously, taken quite a few knocks, and it's evident in his character, even more so than before. However, I had the sinking feeling as I read this novel that, somehow, Zhu has taken more of backseat than before. That isn't to say that she doesn't get plenty of chapters, or that her arc is not completed, but to me, it seemed as if Parker-Chan was so enjoying Baoxiang's character and his chapters that they sort of put everyone else on the backburner. While I like Baoxiang well enough, and he's very interesting, the nucleus of everything being on him was a bit disappointing for me. Some of my problems with him arise later in the book, and truthfully, I can't discuss those issues without spoiling the ending of He Who Drowned the World. But, I think it'll have to do to say that while the novel seems intent on having us sympathize with him, I found that extremely difficult to do as the plot progressed.

Zhu is and always will be the shining star of the duology, and I greatly enjoyed seeing her growth -- this time around, she actually begins to experience emotions that she hasn't quite encountered before -- and it's just easy to root for her. Her decisions are, more often than not, painful in their mercenariness, and although she makes some choices towards the conclusion that were a bit hard for me to understand (or agree with), she is never not interesting, never the kind of character you wish was off the page. In fact, once again I must applaud Parker-Chan's fearlessness in making Zhu greedy, ruthless, and yet still somehow tender with those she loves. Zhu and Ouyang are posited as mirror images and, while this is undeniably true, He Who Drowned the World makes it more apparent than ever that Ouyang is an example of the path that Zhu could one day find herself on. Ma Xiuying, one of my other favorites, has an extremely complicated arc this time around, and one that I'm still not sure how to feel about.

One of the few flaws in She Who Became the Sun (if you can call it a flaw; it really is just my opinion) is how it underutilizes Ma during much of the book. She gleams constantly with potential, and while Ouyang, Baoxiang, and Zhu are, in many ways, twisted versions of one another, she stands out as being singular. In comparison to all of our main players, she retains a compassion and gentleness that serves to make her simultaneously stronger and more vulnerable to the game. Yet she has a very tiny bit part in this novel, up until the last act, and I can't help but feeling slightly -- I'm not even sure what the correct word would be. Put off, maybe. Maybe one day I'll be able to fully put into words how I feel about Ma's arc, but today isn't that day. All I can say for now is that it was not what I expected nor hoped to see for such an interesting character.

Parker-Chan's writing is gorgeous. This has stayed consistent throughout their books, and most likely will always be a feature of whatever they choose to write. The way they use language is with true craftmanship, and honestly, I'm quite envious of the absolutely stunning sentences they come up with. Just beautiful, and makes the reading fun and flow so well, regardless of the difficult topics being addressed.

And with the mention of difficult topics, there is something else I'd like to touch on. He Who Drowned the World very heavily features rape, sexual assault, and misogyny. Now, these elements are, of course, present within the first book as well, but here they've certainly been dialed up a few notches. We actually get a few on-page rape scenes, and while I don't have any qualms with reading or writing about dark, hard things (and I understand why some authors choose to include such scenes), at some point these things started to feel almost... gratuitous. I hate saying that, as I know that is not Parker-Chan's intention whatsoever, but there were some I particularly took issue with. This time around, it feels almost as if every single female character is being "brought down" or "degraded" by a depiction of rape or sexual assault. Again, I really can't get into it in detail without spoiling many of the big plot points, but it's something I felt remiss not to mention at all, especially since it was something weighing heavily on my mind as I read. The scenes themselves are not extremely graphic, and obviously they're not written to be titillating, but some of them verged on the border of being just too much. Despite Parker-Chan saying that they don't write "grimdark fantasy," this sometimes felt like just that. For me, it's simply an issue of wondering why we have to see all of them on-page. I think some of them could have taken course in the beginning or aftermath without taking anything away from what's going on.

In conclusion, I liked but did not love this book. This ended up being a slightly disappointing end to the duology for me, and while it contained many things I did love, in the end the issues I grappled with throughout my reading kept me from adoring it as a whole. With that being said, I do want to say I love Parker-Chan's writing and characters, and I really can't wait to see what else they come up with. I'll definitely be reading whatever they write next.

Book Review: Under the Tamarind Tree by Nigar Alam

 

⋆⋆⋆½

Thank you to NetGalley and Putnam for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: violence, death, misogyny, sexual assault, colonization. 

In 2019, Rozeena is haunted by memories of her past. Out of her three childhood friends -- Haaris, Aalya, and Zohair -- she is the only one who still lives in Karachi, the place her parents fled during the Partition of India in 1947. Although she's done her best to put the events of 1964 behind her, she still fears her only son discovering the truth of his background, and so it suits her just fine to stay away from everyone in her old life. But when Haaris calls her all the way from America, pleading for her to take his granddaughter under her wing, Rozeena is thrown back into the midst of a time she doesn't want to remember -- and its consequences that are still echoing to the present day. 

Before Under the Tamarind Tree, I had only the vaguest understanding of India's Partition in 1947. It was a catastrophic event, engineered by British colonizers who were both too ignorant and too cruel to care for the millions of people under their watch, culminating in violence, confusion and, ultimately, the loss of between 200,000 to two million lives, and the displacement of nearly twenty million. Alam does a great job of weaving the events of 1947, 1964, and 2019 together, and although the primary focus of the novel is on Rozeena and her friends, the backdrop of the Partition and its trauma is ever-present, the catalyst that leads to many future tragedies -- some of which Rozeena, Haaris, Zohair and Aalya will never recover from.

The setting of Karachi is beautifully rendered, and despite the fact that I've never even set foot out of Texas, Alam's descriptions of it are so real that I could almost imagine myself there. She takes time and consideration to perfect the background, and Karachi itself almost becomes a character, a sort of living, breathing being that is utilized by the story and characters. Even if you have very little prior understanding of Pakistan, its culture, religions, or its history, Alam does an excellent job of providing us with just enough information that it doesn't feel as if you're being spoon-fed exposition. 

Our main character is Rozeena; the book is entirely from her perspective, the other characters creating a sort of web around her, with her squarely in the middle of it all. In spite of Rozeena's narration and the many problems that she faces, however, she remains distant, and it was sometimes difficult to connect with her. It might be in part due to the rather simplistic writing style, particularly in the modern day, which is told through present-tense -- never a great vehicle for conveying emotion, if you ask me. I particularly liked the relationship between Aalya and Rozeena, and their efforts at reconnecting as they grow from children into young adults, and I would've actually liked to see more of it.

Under the Tamarind Tree is an exploration of regret. Rozeena is constantly plagued by guilt from her past, unable to let go of the mistakes she made that changed the directions of their lives forever. The brightest spot of the book is the blossoming relationship between Rozeena and Haaris's granddaughter, who offers her a way out of self-loathing and depression. She sees in this girl a chance at making things right, of healing the wounds that she and Aalya experienced as young women, and it is this beautiful bond that centers the story and, in the end, makes it feel complete.