Tuesday, 15 November 2022 09:41 pm
Book Review: Gods of Jade and Shadow
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deckardcanineThe back cover of Silvia Moreno-Garcia's award-winning novel has blurbs of praise from Rebecca Roanhorse and S.A. Chakraborty. Naturally, it's another story about a young woman dealing with figures out of non-European mythology. I liked theirs well enough, and this one is relatively short.
Circa 1929, when talkies are a thing but the economy hasn't crashed yet, 18-year-old Casiopea lives in a fictitious Yucatán town called Uukumil. With her father dead, she and her mother have moved in with her rich grandfather and her slightly older cousin, Martín, both of whom demand relentless servitude in exchange for hospitality. One day, while unattended, she gets mad enough to open the chest her grandfather proclaimed off limits without explanation. She finds a humanoid skeleton inside and accidentally lodges a sharp little bone in her finger. Her blood enables the body to become nearly whole and revived, and he introduces himself as Hun-Kamé, rightful lord of Xibalba, land of the dead in Mayan lore. His ambitious brother, Vucub-Kamé, trapped him there with help from her grandfather, the family riches being the reward. Hun-Kamé plans to resume his throne, but first he must collect his missing body parts guarded by other supernatural beings around Mexico and Texas. Casiopea has to come along, because only when whole can he extract his bone from her finger, and if they take too long, she'll die and he'll never be a complete god again. Besides, she'd prefer to restore the lord who doesn't want a return to regular human sacrifices.
Most chapters and subchapters make Casiopea the focal character. While her journey is more stressful necessity than fun, she does get to see a lot she's been missing. Much of what she does would be seen as scandalous in old-fashioned, Christian-dominated Uukumil. I suppose that's where Chakraborty comes off calling the story "feminist," but I doubt most modern feminists would be satisfied with what little power Casiopea ever exercises voluntarily. (This was published in 2019, so hardly dated in its own regard.)
The two other part-time focal characters are Martín and Vucub-Kamé. The former's POV makes him a little more sympathetic than in Casiopea's, but he's still arrogant, unabashedly bigoted, and dimwitted. Vucub-Kamé, of course, is even more arrogant, and his semi-prophetic POV serves mainly to make us privy to his next plans, which include making Martín his champion in an effort to thwart Hun-Kamé. Somehow, Casiopea threw a spanner in the usurper's works.
You may find it odd that Hun-Kamé is never focal. Perhaps the point is to maintain his mystique. He's certainly in flux, becoming more human in interests, emotions, and behavior. Casiopea finds him alternately daunting, frustrating, and attractive. He's bound to feel the last two ways about her, which lets her change him even more. Of course, love between a human and a god of death could hardly work out in the long run.
Even putting aside Hun-Kamé's weakness from lack of fulfillment, Mayan gods are surprisingly limited. They are bound by strict rules. They change with human beliefs. Mere symbols have power over them. Still, they beat traditional Nordic gods in power level and difference from humans.
There are scenes of action and adventure, which certainly don't slow the pace, but I think Moreno-Garcia is at her best when writing conversations. These can be petulant yet understandable arguments between Casiopea and Martín, repartee between Hun-Kamé and a demon or spirit, or passionate struggles for common ground between Casiopea and Hun-Kamé. Nevertheless, I must warn you that a lot of words I didn't know crop up, some of them tricky to find via Google. There is a glossary toward the back, but I didn't discover it in good time, because the last couple dozen pages in the binding are a sneak preview of Mexican Gothic. Which didn't grab me, BTW.
Moreno-Garcia is a pretty new novelist, so she doesn't have a lot of hits out yet, but GoJaS makes me look forward to more. Maybe I'll check out Signal to Noise.
Now I've started reading the more popular Shakespeare plays I hadn't already, but I won't review them. Since the anthology is cumbersome for toting around, I'm also reading something else: The Twelve Lives of Alfred Hitchcock by Edward White.
Circa 1929, when talkies are a thing but the economy hasn't crashed yet, 18-year-old Casiopea lives in a fictitious Yucatán town called Uukumil. With her father dead, she and her mother have moved in with her rich grandfather and her slightly older cousin, Martín, both of whom demand relentless servitude in exchange for hospitality. One day, while unattended, she gets mad enough to open the chest her grandfather proclaimed off limits without explanation. She finds a humanoid skeleton inside and accidentally lodges a sharp little bone in her finger. Her blood enables the body to become nearly whole and revived, and he introduces himself as Hun-Kamé, rightful lord of Xibalba, land of the dead in Mayan lore. His ambitious brother, Vucub-Kamé, trapped him there with help from her grandfather, the family riches being the reward. Hun-Kamé plans to resume his throne, but first he must collect his missing body parts guarded by other supernatural beings around Mexico and Texas. Casiopea has to come along, because only when whole can he extract his bone from her finger, and if they take too long, she'll die and he'll never be a complete god again. Besides, she'd prefer to restore the lord who doesn't want a return to regular human sacrifices.
Most chapters and subchapters make Casiopea the focal character. While her journey is more stressful necessity than fun, she does get to see a lot she's been missing. Much of what she does would be seen as scandalous in old-fashioned, Christian-dominated Uukumil. I suppose that's where Chakraborty comes off calling the story "feminist," but I doubt most modern feminists would be satisfied with what little power Casiopea ever exercises voluntarily. (This was published in 2019, so hardly dated in its own regard.)
The two other part-time focal characters are Martín and Vucub-Kamé. The former's POV makes him a little more sympathetic than in Casiopea's, but he's still arrogant, unabashedly bigoted, and dimwitted. Vucub-Kamé, of course, is even more arrogant, and his semi-prophetic POV serves mainly to make us privy to his next plans, which include making Martín his champion in an effort to thwart Hun-Kamé. Somehow, Casiopea threw a spanner in the usurper's works.
You may find it odd that Hun-Kamé is never focal. Perhaps the point is to maintain his mystique. He's certainly in flux, becoming more human in interests, emotions, and behavior. Casiopea finds him alternately daunting, frustrating, and attractive. He's bound to feel the last two ways about her, which lets her change him even more. Of course, love between a human and a god of death could hardly work out in the long run.
Even putting aside Hun-Kamé's weakness from lack of fulfillment, Mayan gods are surprisingly limited. They are bound by strict rules. They change with human beliefs. Mere symbols have power over them. Still, they beat traditional Nordic gods in power level and difference from humans.
There are scenes of action and adventure, which certainly don't slow the pace, but I think Moreno-Garcia is at her best when writing conversations. These can be petulant yet understandable arguments between Casiopea and Martín, repartee between Hun-Kamé and a demon or spirit, or passionate struggles for common ground between Casiopea and Hun-Kamé. Nevertheless, I must warn you that a lot of words I didn't know crop up, some of them tricky to find via Google. There is a glossary toward the back, but I didn't discover it in good time, because the last couple dozen pages in the binding are a sneak preview of Mexican Gothic. Which didn't grab me, BTW.
Moreno-Garcia is a pretty new novelist, so she doesn't have a lot of hits out yet, but GoJaS makes me look forward to more. Maybe I'll check out Signal to Noise.
Now I've started reading the more popular Shakespeare plays I hadn't already, but I won't review them. Since the anthology is cumbersome for toting around, I'm also reading something else: The Twelve Lives of Alfred Hitchcock by Edward White.