Nanoreviews: The Bone Shard Daughter, Queen of the Conquered, Weave the Lightning

The Bone Shard Daughter by Andrea Stewart (Orbit, 2020)

Paul's review highlights The Bone Shard Daughter as one of the most interesting debuts of 2020, and I can't help but agree: in a year with more big-name queer necromancy adventures than one might expect, Andrea Stewart's book stands out for its interesting character arcs and for being sheer good fun. Set in an archipelago empire where order is maintained against mysterious supernatural threat through the harvesting and use of "bone shards", a sliver of skull taken from citizens and called upon to power constructs when needed, The Bone Shard Daughter opens, in true epic fantasy fashion, at a point where things are on the precipice of change. Entire islands are sinking, the emperor seems to be increasingly reliant on complex constructs and intricate schemes, and both the bone shard system (which kills a small number of youths at the point their shards are taken, and also leads to anyone whose shard is used in a magical way to become chronically ill and eventually die) and the overall social organisation of the empire are being questioned by forces of rebellion.

The Bone Shard Daughter sets up a deep, intriguing world and sets it in motion with a compelling, cast of characters, including an emperor's daughter trying to prove herself worthy of becoming an heir, a smuggler with a heart of gold who ends up becoming a folk hero after saving a child from a sinking island, and the complacent heir to a governorship who is drawn into the heart of a rebellion. Though some of these viewpoints move faster than others - I spent a long time waiting for Lin, the Emperor's daughter, to pick up the pace a bit in her sections, which revolve around her uncovering her father's secrets and prove her worth while trying to undermine his rule - but by the midpoint, The Bone Shard Daughter had me hooked on all of its twists and turns, even as some ended up more predictable than others. It can only help that many of these mysteries revolve around Mephi, a character who turns out to quite definitely not be a kitten but also to be an extremely cute furry addition to an already stacked cast.

There's a lot to be explored in further books: some central mysteries remain largely unsolved, and there's also deeper ethical questions about this world, and particularly the nature and sentience of constructs, which doesn't really get delved into here but have a lot of implications future volumes. As it is, though, The Bond Shard Daughter has shot very near the top of my best of 2020 list with its blend of adventure and smart characterisation and worldbuilding, and this is a series I will definitely be pressing into peoples' hands when it comes to awards voting in 2021.

Rating: 9/10

Queen of the Conquered by Kacen Callender (Orbit, 2019)

Sigourney is a member of the kongelig, elite governors of a colonised island chain called Hans Lollik. She lives a life of relative luxury, built on the backs of islander slave labour and defined by alliances and scheming with the rest of the kongelig as they vie to take over from the current regent and rule over the islands. Unlike the rest of the kongelig, though, Sigourney is herself an islander, the last member of a family who generations before had manage to scrape their way into freedom and go into business with a Fjern coloniser. Sigourney's status has never been accepted, and when the rest of her family were massacred under mysterious circumstances, she pledged herself to exact revenge and take her place at the head of the islands herself. She's helped along her way by her magical "kraft" (a set of innate abilities which the kongelig are allowed to have, and which islanders are usually executed for displaying), which lets her read the thoughts and access the memories of people around her, letting her see exactly what both the Fjern and her own people think of her.

Make no mistake here: Sigourney is a really challenging protagonist to follow around. She's an unrepentant slave owner, convinced of her own righteousness and her entitlement to use the people around her to get what she wants: a goal which she assumes she is the only one amongst the islanders qualified to achieve. While there's a strain of pity involved in following such an isolated protagonist, the narrative never lets us forget that she has internalised a great deal of the ethics of the elites around her, and it's particularly obvious in her interactions with Mareike, the woman who raised her after her family were killed, and with Loren, the mixed race half-brother of Signorney's Fjern husband, who insinuates himself by her side despite originally being sent to kill her. Because she can read memories, and the text often introduces her discoveries in an almost impassive, omniscient third-person style, it's easy to feel, like Sigourney herself, that she has all of the answers to the political questions surrounding her. But as she attempts to make her move against the regent while the rest of the kongelig are being murdered around her, Sigourney's blind spots and prejudices become clear, and the ending offers a really satisfying resolution to the ethical questions surrounding Sigourney. Not all readers will find following a morally questionable character like Sigourney a pleasant or worthwhile experience, but I really appreciated Queen of the Conquered for what it brought to the table: a fantasy which calls into question tropes around chosen ones and princesses who suddenly discover their righteous moral compass, set against an exploration of colonial power structures and the damage they do to those living under them. Well worth a look.

Rating: 8/10

Weave the Lightning by Corry L. Lee 

In Weave the Lightning, magical energy comes from periodic storms - which can sometimes disappear for well over a century before coming back for a few decades - and those who wield it can also access a magical space parallel to reality which they can, to some extent, shape to their wishes and use to influence the world. For Gerrit, an elite cadet within the Storm Guard of Bourshkanya, wielding magic means proving himself and gaining the skills needed to protect his squad. For Celka, daughter of dissidents now living in secret with her aunt and uncle as part of their highwire act, the storms are a risk, threatening her self-control at the worst possible times and forcing her to consider alternative means of spending her time. Both Gerrit and Celka have opinions about the harsh regime they live under, with commonplace rationing and an increasingly brutal internal guard, but its not until Gerrit is forced to confront his superiors' lack of interest in his team's safety that he makes his move, hiding out in the circus where he's immediately discovered by Celka, and beginning a secret exchange between the two of them.

While the setting and the interests of its characters seem permeated with urgency, Weave the Lightning is happy to take things slowly, manoeuvring Gerrit and Celka together and then leaving Gerrit in his secret spot, passing judgement on Celka's various schemes even as he helps out (and, of course, eventually falls in love, because what else is there to do when you're shut in a circus truck with a bunch of snakes and the occasional visit from a cute acrobat? Celka gets more to do - and it helps that her secrets are less artificial than Gerrit's - as she starts taking greater risks and using her abilities to support the rebellion, making calls to bring their family into more dangerous schemes. I could have done without the sudden appearance of a mysterious, handsome knife-throwing second love interest, who adds very little beyond occasionally being good at carrying things, and also having a secretive aura about him, but it's pretty obvious where Celka's heart is at over the whole thing as well, and the connection between Celka and Garrit really helps carry the book.

The other delight here is the magic system, which reads like nothing else I've ever experienced. As well as the storms - which provide energy that allow mages to imbue particular objects with power, even as the mage risks losing themself to harness it - there's also a space called Sousednia, which those with magical talents can enter and move around and manipulate like a constant collective shared dream. Being able to affect the real world from Sousednia is another key part of the magic here, and while it can get confusing, especially if you're not the type of reader who really internalises descriptions and can hold two slightly different places in your head at once, it's also used to interesting effect as Gerrit and Celka develop their respective powers. (There is a primer from the author, if the opening chapters really make your head spin ). All in all, this is a fun series opener that promises plenty more intrigue down the line - though I might be double checking the prominence of the love triangle before I dive into further volumes.

Rating: 6/10

POSTED BY: Adri, Nerds of a Feather co-editor, is a semi-aquatic migratory mammal most often found in the UK. She has many opinions about SFF books, and is also partial to gaming, baking, interacting with dogs, and Asian-style karaoke. Find her on Twitter at @adrijjy

Interview: Kacen Callender, author of Queen of the Conquered and King of the Rising

Happy book birthday to Kacen Callender's King of the Rising, which releases today!  The sequel to Queen of the Conquered,  King of the Rising is the incredible conclusion to Callender's Islands of Blood and Storm duology, a Carribean-inspired fantasy that deals with colonialism, revenge,  and the power of revolution.  

Callender is known for their award winning children's and young adult novels, most notably Hurricane Child (winner of a 2019 Stonewall Award and a 2019 Lambda Literary Award) and King of the Dragonflies (winner of a 2020 National Book Award).  Queen of the Conquered was their first adult fantasy novel, and won the 2020 World Fantasy Award. Callender has become known for writing unflinching narratives that pull no punches when it comes to discussing race, colonialism,slavery,  oppression, assimilation, LGBTQ+, and sexuality. 

Born and raised in St. Thomas of the US Virgin Islands, Callender now resides in Philadelphia. You can learn more about their work by following them on twitter @KacenCallender and by visiting their website  KacenCallender.com.  Callender was kind enough to answer my questions about the inspirations behind the Islands of Blood and Storm books, the magic system in the series,  writing for different age groups, and more.

Please be aware, this interview was conducted earlier in November, before King of the Rising was available for purchase. With King of the Rising's release, you can now read both books back to back!

NOAF: King of the Rising (the sequel to Queen of the Conquered) comes out on December 1st, giving us just enough time to read Queen of the Conquered. For those of us not in the know, what is the elevator pitch for this series?   

Kacen Callender: It’s a bit difficult to give the elevator pitch without spoiling both books, but in a nutshell, this duology is a Caribbean-inspired fantasy about colonization as one woman seeks revenge and power from the white colonizers of her home islands, and one man seeks freedom for his people.   

NOAF: What were some of your inspirations for this series?   

KC: I wanted to see a fantasy novel that was about the Caribbean and that tackled real issues of not only colonization but modern day questions of what it means to be an oppressed person with privilege, and whether we can continue on a path of attempted assimilation to the detriment and abandonment of our own people. (The answer is no.)   

NAOF: The protagonist of Queen of the Conquered, Sigourney Rose, has the ability to control minds. How does magic work in this world? Does everyone have the potential to be a magic user, or only the privileged few?   

KC: There is a magic system called kraft, a symbol for power both literally and figuratively—people with kraft can have random abilities, from hearing the spirits of the dead to seeing the future, to controlling minds and bodies, like Sigourney can. Everyone has the potential for kraft in this world, but the colonizers, the Fjern, claim it belongs only to them by divine right, and so will execute any of Sigourney’s people, the islanders, who are found with kraft. This is meant to parallel our own world as well, where everyone has natural ability and talent, but only a privileged few are allowed to capitalize on this ability, while others are punished for their talents, their power taken.    

NOAF: The second book in the series, King of the Rising, switches to Løren's point of view. Why switch? Why not tell more of Sigourney's story?   

KC: This is another question that’s difficult to answer without spoiling the first book, but I’ll try my best: Queen of the Conquered and King of the Rising are about the consequences of refusing to learn from mistakes, refusing to grow and change. Because of this, when Sigourney refused to learn, refused to change and grow, her story ended with the first novel. If this was a series about learning, growing, changing for the better, then the second book might have been from her perspective as she made necessary changes. Instead, I went to Løren’s perspective because I wanted to show the cause and effect in their relationship and continue the conversation of capitalism vs. community with the second book’s theme in their personal struggle for power.   

NOAF: What scene was your favorite to write? Without giving any spoilers, can you tell us which scene was the hardest to write?   

KC: It feels odd to say that I have a favorite scene in two books that were very difficult to write, but I probably most enjoyed the moments when Løren saw visions of his mother in what was essentially a spirit world, and feeling the power and knowledge that, no matter what happened in his story, there would eventually be justice and freedom.   

For scenes that were hardest to write, it was really anything with violence—I don’t want to show graphic violence to be gratuitous or for shock factor, but I also didn’t want to play down the cruelty and brutality of slavery, in a novel that’s about slavery and colonization. I wanted to be sure there was an appropriate balance throughout.    

NOAF: You write contemporary fiction for middle grade and young adult readers, and fantasy for adults. When you get an idea for a story, how do you know if it's destined to become a middle grade, young adult, or adult book? Which age group do you most enjoy writing for?   

KC: Each age group that I write for has a specific purpose, and I feel a calling in writing for all people, no matter their age. (There are also plenty of adults who read my middle grade and young adult books, so it’s difficult to try to split up the age groups anyway—they can sometimes feel arbitrary when adults, for example, read middle grade books for their own inner child healing, or young adult to live the teen years they wish they had for themselves.) But, when I get an idea for a story, it can sometimes be difficult to know which age group it’ll end up in because the splitting of age categories is so based in marketing and publicity strategy, which isn’t exactly my forte.   

NOAF: You mention on your website that you enjoy playing RPG games. What are some of your recent favorites?   

KC: I’ve been spending my days recently playing Dragon Age II for the first time! Other favorites are, of course, anything Zelda, along with Skyrim.   

NOAF: Thank you so much Kacen!   

POSTED BY: Andrea Johnson lives in Michigan with her husband and too many books. She can be found on twitter, @redhead5318 , where she posts about books, food, and assorted nerdery.  

Microreview [Book]: King and the Dragonflies by Kacen Callender

A story that expertly tackles a number of topical issues and adds a dash of magical realism to create something sublime.

In many ways, humanity is similar – made from the same fabric – yet the times have found ways to knot our fabric up into warring sects. Our nuances override the potential kinship of our shared fundamentals. Some cultures have been raised more so than others to perpetuate racism, homophobia and stoicism, setting up a sort of dam that blocks opportunities for acceptance or cathartic tears. King and the Dragonflies is centered around that fabric, and through a story of love and understanding, tries to unknot our shared cloth, and should make some readers a little more well-rounded than they were before opening the book. It’s marketed as middle grade, but like some of the most special works in the genre, has the potency and perceptiveness to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with any novel.

King and the Dragonflies follows King, a boy whose older brother Khalid recently passed away. At Khalid’s funeral, King sees a dragonfly, and becomes convinced that his brother has taken the form of said insect. Meanwhile, Sandy, one of his best friends came out as gay to him, and he’s been ostracizing Sandy for fear of going down with him in homophobic humiliation. But there’s something more to the situation – both in terms of his brother’s involvement, and King’s personal feelings to the matter, which I will not spoil.

King is Black, which is vital to the story, as both racism against his people, as well as homophobia carried by a portion of the Black community is explored. The novel presses the paradox that the racism Black people experience and fight against is comparable to the level of hate and narrow-mindedness exhibited by homophobes, and yet Queer and anti-racist movements aren’t always interwoven. That contradictory dichotomy is heightened when Sandy, who is white, meets head-on with the traditionalist Black teachings of King’s family. And it’s heightened even more when Sandy’s family – including the father who is the sheriff of the town - has a besmirched reputation of being blatantly racist.

There’s so much emotional suppression in King and the Dragonflies, in which what characters say often oppose what they think. But the novel takes King and some of the supporting characters on a transformative journey, in which they become comfortable with what they keep hidden, until they no longer feel a need for suppression. If the novel starts out with a obstruction that blocks out translating thoughts into action, each page turned in the book moves the characters progress a little bit forward and gnaws on that obstruction, until a close approximation of liberty is granted.

For those who enter the book with the expectation of a lot of speculative fiction elements, you will be disappointed. The book is very loosely magical realism, with Khalid’s alleged transformation into a dragonfly being the most prominent fantastical element. The story later builds on the premise of time and space being fluid, and without spoiling anything, it ends up eclipsing the dragonfly as the most salient fantastical element and the greatest symbol of King’s grief and development.

The fabric of our world could be so smooth, in which prejudices are flattened out into indistinct fallacies. But instead, our world is a patchwork, with threads frayed off and inaccessible to others. Some patches are rough to the touch and seem to have no way of mending. But there are some pieces that are detached but capable of threading into more fabric. King and the Dragonflies speaks to readers, both of the middle grade and adult age, of how to weave into areas that you were ignorant of. Even if a dragonfly doesn’t grace you with its beauty and land on your fabric, you have comfort knowing that you’re attached to even greater things.

The Math

Baseline Score: 8/10

Bonuses: +1 For covering incredibly heavy topics with full-forced depth while being accessible to a middle grade readership.
+1 For insightful and incisive observations and emotional depth.

Negatives: -1 For an ending that ends a little too conveniently and quickly.

Nerd Coefficient: 9/10

POSTED BY: Sean Dowie - Screenwriter, stand-up comedian, lover of all books that make him nod his head and say, "Neat!

 Callender, Kacen. King and the Dragonflies [Scholastic Press, 2020]