Review: Zoo City by Lauren Beukes

Lately it seems I’ve been on a bit of an urban fantasy kick. I’ve read some pretty standard contemporary urban fantasy that simply appeals to me as low-level entertainment, I’ve read some high-end urban fantasy that invokes an old-school feel with a fair bit of the mythic and historical thrown in, and I’ve read some pretty awful urban fantasy, regardless of how you choose to label it. But none was something that felt ‘new’ to me. And while being something ‘new’ is not always a great thing and not always something to strive for, when it’s done right, it stands out. Zoo City by Lauren Beukes (Indiebound, Book Depository, Amazon) does that – it stands out.

 

In Buekes’ re-imagined modern world, there is a plague, colloquially known as the zoo plague. Basically, if you kill someone, you end up with a familiar animal attached to you through some unknown dark magic. The familiar grants you a magical ability, but it also must accompany you at all times, any pain the familiar feels, you feel, and if it dies…well, let’s just say death is the kindest part of what happens to you.

 

Zinzi December is a ‘zoo’ living in the Zoo City ghetto of Johannesburg, South Africa. Her animal is a sloth and her magic is the ability to find lost things. She’s a recovering drug addict working to pay off her drug-fueled debt and she makes ends meet by finding lost things and sending African spam emails. You know what happens next – a case comes along that she doesn’t want, but the pay it too good to pass up. The mystery is to find a lost person, something she tries not to do. She ends up over her head as she travels through the music/club scene of Johannesburg and things dive into the occult.

 

The brilliance of Zoo City is in the setting and what Beukes does with it. Africa is typically underrepresented in SFF, especially urban fantasy, so that alone makes it a breath of fresh air. But the atmosphere Beukes captures makes it great – we see the suffering of an African ghetto, but its hope and family life too. We get a hint of the truly terrible past of refuges. We see behind that spam email and see the person forced into writing it, and the pimp doing the forcing. We see the cost that is inflicted on the person who takes the life of another – some are the thugs we all envision, some regret their past, some are simply lost and scared. Beukes subtly opens our eyes to a world that most never see – intentionally and unintentionally.

 

Now, don’t get worried that Zoo City is some heavy-handed social commentary. It’s not, or it’s not just that and I certainly wouldn’t use the term heavy-handed. At its core is a standard hard-boiled missing person case, with a far from standard ‘private eye’ doing the digging. It’s an introduction to Johannesburg and life in South Africa, it has a truly unique magical ‘plague’ and it is populated by complex characters.

 

The book is relatively short and moves along at a generally fast pace, though I had trouble with some of the uneven pacing towards the middle. These pacing issues, in combination with the a dive deep into a rather confusing occult plot kept me from being as fully engaged in the book as I expected to be, which I find unfortunate.

 

Zoo City was a book that I had high expectations for, and for whatever reason those expectations weren’t entirely met. As I mentioned above, some of it is due to the pacing and some due to the direction it takes toward the end, but from the start there was something holding me back. It’s a good book, and in retrospect, a very good book that I find deserving of accolades it’s been receiving. It’s great to see something like this come along and be appreciated. So, maybe my expectations were just too high, or maybe there is some other level that it just didn’t quite meet, but for me I can’t say that I enjoyed the book much beyond the average. I feel like I should have enjoyed it more, especially in retrospect, but that doesn’t change how I feel. So, I do think that Zoo City is a great book and I think that it’s a brilliant addition to an often stale urban fantasy. But while I can see and appreciate what Beukes does with it, it didn’t entirely work for me, though I can’t put my finger on exactly why. But, I’ll still happily recommend it.

Review: Who Fears Death by Nnedi Okorafor

Sometimes a book can’t be easily classified, and that can be a good thing. Who Fears Death by Nnedi Okorafor (Book Depository, Powell’s Books, Indiebound), her first novel aimed squarely at an adult audience, is one such book. Is it urban fantasy? Well no, it’s set in mostly rural setting, but certainly shares some characteristics. Is it epic fantasy? There is a quest, there is a group undertaking said quest, there are sorcerers and the equivalent of a dark lord, but few who read Who Fears Death would classify it as epic fantasy. Is it World Fantasy? Well, it isn’t the usual Western fantasy with its European and/or American roots – but World Fantasy is a pretty meaningless term and equally unclassifiable. African Fantasy? The setting is decidedly African and the folklore, customs and conflicts are all rooted in Africa, but does any book deserve to be geographically limited? Is it Feminist Fantasy? Issues of the rights of women lie at the heart of this novel, but should it be so pigeon-holed? How about YA? Who Fears Death is a coming-of-age story, full of teen-angst, certainty and uncertainty, though its heavy weight and timelessness appeal equally to adults. Is it near-future science fiction? Many elements of Who Fears Death fit the near-future sci-fi model, but there is magic and sorcery, which can only mean fantasy, right? Is it post-apocalyptic fantasy? Who Fears Death has the feel of taking place after a collapse of modern society as we know it, but even this fails to capture the book and all its facets. Really, I could keep going, but I think the point is made. Who Fears Death is all and none of these classifications, and it’s all the more wonderful for it.

Onyesonwu is a child of rape and violence. Raised in the desert, she is an outsider both literally and racially in the village she and her mother settle in. Her budding magical powers further isolate her as she seeks to apprentice to the village’s sorcerer, who refuses her because she is a woman. Eventually achieving some of the training she needs, Onyesonwu finds herself exiled from her village and on a quest to confront and kill her father and free the enslaved peoples of the Seven Kingdoms.

Who Fears Death is the coming-of-age tale of an alienated, spirited young woman. Onyesonwu fits this trope like a glove, but this is an example of embracing the trope and doing it well. Onyesonwu is completely believable – bitter, angry, confused, certain and uncertain. And once she discovers the true nature of her conception, it drives her to confront and kill her father (who coincidentally does a pretty good imitation of the ‘evil dark lord’ fantasy trope). Rape in fiction is often a controversial and rather lazy means of characterization. However, rape is a historic and present-day reality, and in the case of Africa, a tragically engrained part of war-driven culture. In places like Darfur there are explicit campaigns to rape women and produce ‘lighter-skinned’ offspring. In Who Fears Death, as much as rape is motivation for Onyesonwu, it is also a reflection of this sort of horrible campaign, it’s own form of genocide.

Who Fears Death is also a story of the strength of the human spirit in such trying times. It is a love story between two young lovers – a realistic version with all of the downs included. It’s the story of a group of friends bonded by womanhood rites as they struggle through adolescence. It’s a story of revelation to the tragedy around and the sacrifice made by the most surprising people. It’s a quest to end slavery and to seak revenge. It’s a condemnation of culturally ingrained oppression of women and brutal rites like female circumcision. But ultimately it’s story of hope for the future and faith that all this can be overcome.

As I keep getting at, Who Fears Death is a lot of things, but most importantly, it’s a beautifully written book in a setting can only be considered unique in the world of fantasy. Okorafor’s writing magically reveals the story, effortlessly endearing characters to the reader, and engineering a story that simply must be read. The African feel of Who Fears Death may be what sets it apart from its contemporaries, and it may be the reason many choose to read or pass it by, but the timeless, human story within is the real reason to pick it up.

The bottom line is that Who Fears Death is the chance that readers should take. It celebrates the true diversity of SFF literature and reveals the struggles of a part of the world often overlooked. It’s a timeless, human tale that I highly recommend. 9/10

Wind Follower by Carole McDonnell

Well, I gave it almost 100 pages.

Only very rarely do I not finish a book – I think around 8 years has past since the last time I gave up on one without finishing. In all honesty, I’m busier now than I’ve been through the majority of my life, and have much less reading time as a result, so I just don’t have the time to spend on a book that I’m not enjoying. At another time I may have stuck it out, but I’d not read too much into that – the very fact I decided not to finish Wind Follower by Carole McDonnell likely says more than anything that follows.

The portions of Wind Follower that I managed to read revolve around the late-adolescent son of a warrior clan leader, Loic, who falls in love with Satha, an older woman in her twenties of a different tribe and already considered something of a spinster. The politics of households and differing tribal cultures are eclipsed by spoiled rotten young Loic as he rushes to marry Satha, breaking cultural norms along the way.

Wind Follower feels like a novel still two or three revisions from being ready. The frame of a very interesting story is there, just not the polish necessary to pull it off. McDonnell tries too hard in her descriptions and fails utterly to make the characters interesting. Beyond the first chapter, nothing about Loic is remotely appealing – while there is a lot about Loic that the reader isn’t supposed to like, McDonnell fails to find the line necessary to actually keep the reader interested enough to continue. Not helping is the inconsistency with which she writes – characters suddenly know more than they should and their actions are sometimes totally at odds with the personalities she has built. Satha is particularly inconsistent in both her thoughts and actions – one page she is a strong-willful individual, the next a meek, subservient woman with no adequate justification. Much of the first hundred pages are told in a first person narration with as the Loic and Satha alternatively tell their stories from some point far into the future. Perhaps some of these inconsistencies are due to an unreliable narrator, if so the clumsiness of this execution is equally disappointing.

While the cover doesn’t indicate as much, McDonnell herself calls Wind Follower Christian fantasy. Seeing the potential of an epic fantasy told in something of an African setting had my hopes high, even though I don’t typically read Christian fantasy. I’d not call the religiosity ‘in your face’, but Wind Follower lacks subtly with things a bit on the conservative side for me. Perhaps this is not the direction things go as the story continues, but McDonnell failed to make me want to find out.

I debated posting this or not – after all, I can’t fairly call this a review since I did not read even a third of the novel. In the end, I decided that there isn’t a good reason for me not to post my thoughts on the first 100 pages and why I didn’t read the rest.