In Yáquimo, Santo Domingo, Jacquotte Delahaye works as a shipwright. Although she's not well-known yet, she dreams of bigger things, recognition and perhaps the chance to take to the seas herself, but finds herself constricted by her race, gender, and her selfish, drunkard French father. But when Jacquotte's childhood friendship with the Governor of Yáquimo's nephew forces her to choose between her future and her father, Jacquotte's world quickly descends into chaos, and her chance at freedom is stolen from her by the notorious Captain Blackhand -- a pirate who takes Jacquotte onto his ship as an indentured servant. As Blackhand hatches a dangerous, risky plan to steal Portuguese riches, Jacquotte must rely on her wits and her iron-will to survive, especially as she begins to realize that there may be room for her dream of a captaincy -- and that it will change her life forever.
The setting of this story was what captured me first. Haiti is rich in culture and history, and it was exciting to see a book set there, particularly one that starred a biracial pirate as its heroine. Jacquotte Delahaye is a Haitian legend, and while there is no tangible proof that she actually existed, she has lived on in the imagination of a people who have been through much suffering and tempestuous change. The idea of a book that tells her story from her perspective, and elaborates on her life as a woman of color, is refreshing and exciting. However, I can't say that this was the most enjoyable read for me, nor did I find myself ever truly captivated by what was happening in its pages.
The main issue I struggled with was Cameron's writing style. While I'm not terribly picky over writing, and I can read most anything as long as it's grammatically correct and well edited, this was too dry for me. All of the sentences seem to follow the same rhythm, and they're all short, without much emotion or depth to them. For example, in scenes where something frightening or traumatic is happening, it feels as if we're reading a screenplay rather than a novel -- and we never quite seem to get a real hold on what is going on inside of Jacquotte's mind. She remains strangely elusive throughout, and has no real discernible personality of her own, aside from caring about justice and being hellbent on revenge. Her relationship with Teresa, her romantic interest, is similarly dull, though there are some moments that shine through, like their interactions on Port Royal.
I've complained about this perhaps a hundred times now, but the romance has the same problem I encounter time and time again within books featuring lesbian or bisexual women -- there's no real connection or buildup; they simply fall in love immediately, and even if they have issues to work through (and Teresa and Jacquotte have plenty), it never comes off as having quite the emotional depth or impact it should. I don't know why this is so common, and I know it happens often with heterosexual relationships in media too (instalove is a trope for a reason), but it's as if most writers somehow feel that because these two women have found one another, and they're both interested in other women, they'll instantly connect and fall in love and live happily ever after. It's frustrating, because any complexity that might arise (and again, there is ample opportunity for it here) gets quickly and conveniently swept under the rug.
The rest of the characters all have the same issue. Francisco, Miguel, Blackhand, Mbala -- all of them are written as archetypes, with little else going on beneath the surface. There's attempts at adding depth to them, but it never quite works. On the other hand, everything comes off as just slightly corny and a little too perfect. It's never quite believable that Jacquotte's ragtag crew comes together so easily and is almost immediately fantastic at everything they do, and it's just a little boring, especially because it seems like everyone who likes each other just gets along so well all of the time.
I guess it'd be easiest to say I liked the concept of this book more than its execution. I wanted so badly to love it, but it just wasn't something I found myself able to really dive into. There are positive aspects, like Jacquotte's burgeoning relationship to her own queerness and blackness, and her discovery of herself, but most of it is overshadowed by the writing that tells us everything rather than showing it.
I will be intrigued to see what Cameron writes next, and perhaps most of these issues are merely a debut's tribulations, but The Ballad of Jacquotte Delahaye was a disappointment for me.
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