Noor by Nnedi Okorafor

Earlier this year I read and loved Nnedi Okorafor’s Remote Control, which is a truly wonderful novella. Because of this, I was looking forward to Noor as I’m a fan of Okorafor’s take on Africanfuturism and of the way she seamlessly fuses folkloresque fantasy elements with sci-fi ones. While Noor certainly delivers on the Africanfuturism front, pairing this with a commentary on biotechnology, on humanity, and on the realities of being ‘other’, its plot and characters, to my disappointment, struck me as extremely derivative. A bare-bones version of Noor would go like this: we have a dystopian setting where the evil capitalist government is after the heroine who is not like other people and has special powers & her man who is also persona non grata and they eventually join a group of rebels where she comes across ex-lover before final ‘battle’ with the baddies. Anwuli Okwudili, who goes by AO, initials that stand for Artificial Organism, lives in a dystopian Nigeria. She was born with various physical disabilities which were later aggravated by a car accident. To her parents and her society’s disapproval, she goes on to have many body augmentations which enable her to be mobile and pain-free for the first time in her life. The opening sequence is rather clumsily executed as we are given vague descriptions about AO’s world (just how far in the future is it?). After splitting up with her partner who is openly repulsed by her ‘machine’ parts (why were they even together in the first place? she already had augmentations by the time they met, and all of a sudden he’s disgusted by her?) she goes to her local market where she’s attacked. AO is forced to flee and comes across DNA, a Fulani herdsman who is at first quite hostile to her (i’m pretty sure he threatens her…how romantic). The two have to survive the desert together and come across very few other characters, and if they do, it just so happens that those characters are just there to play the role of plot devices to further their story. The narrative allegedly takes place over a week but to be entirely honest the passage of time is rather unclear. It seemed to me that the events that transpire within these pages could have all happened in 1 or 2 days. AO and DNA’s bond felt forced and eye-rolling. They just have to fall in love because she’s a woman and he’s a man and they are both on the run from the evil government. While the first half of the novel is rather vague in terms of worldbuilding we, later on, get a ton of exposition that leaves very little room for interpretation (this is something i would expect from a ya novel, not an adult one). Noor has the trappings of a generic dystopian novel. What ‘saves’ this from being an entirely forgettable and uninspired read are the setting and the overall aesthetic which blends together folklore and technology. Okorafor also adopts the story-within-a-story device which works in her novel’s favour. I just found AO to be hard-to-like and at one point there is a scene about choosing your name which just didn’t go down that well with me (that this novel lacks lgbtq+ characters made it even worse tbh). AO’s ideologies were kind of murky and incongruent so that I found it hard to relate to her. The final section introduces a few more characters who are given very little room to shine as they are sidelined in favour of AO and DNA.
All in all, Noor was disappointing, especially considering how much I loved Remote Control. Ao is no Sankofa and in spite of the longer format, well, here the extra pages do more harm than good (they don’t expand the world or flesh out the characters but end up being about a weird romance and a final act that gave me major martyr vibes ).

my rating: ★★½

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Bloodchild and Other Stories by Octavia E. Butler


In Bloodchild and Other Stories Octavia Butler demonstrates how fluid Afrofuturism is. In these stories, Butler combines different genres—such as speculative fiction, sci-fi, fantasy, horror—presenting her readers with thought-provoking stories that challenge Western influences and beliefs. Within these stories, Butler is able to simultaneously reclaim the past and to promote visions of possible futures. This reappropriation of the past and the future occurs through a Black cultural lens, and Butler’s stories not only challenges white historical narratives but enable projections of Black futures to address and reexamine a lost or stolen past. Often within Butler’s stories, time and space collapse, past and future coalesce, empowering both those with histories of oppression and those who are systemically discriminated against to transcend their realities.

Many of the stories in this collection feature dystopian settings. Within these futuristic narratives, Butler interrogates the fraught relationship between power and justice, exploring encounters between ‘us’ and the ‘Other’. Many of her stories revolve around those who have been systematically oppressed and exploited by those in power/control. In ‘Bloodchild’ we learn of a human colony that lives alongside insect-like aliens called Tlic. Humans are used as egg hosts for Tlic eggs and our narrator, a human boy named Gan, was chosen to carry the eggs of a female Tlic. At the end of this frankly disturbing story, Butler herself provides us with some insight into her storytelling process. While according to Bulter this story is not about slavery I couldn’t help but make that connection. The Tlic have subjugated the humans and I couldn’t really bring myself to believe that the relationship between the Tlic and the humans was powered by love. I guess we can see this as an early example of the pregnant male trope.
In ‘The Evening and the Morning and the Night’ Butler looks at genetic diseases. In this story, the children of those who have taken a cancer cure have developed Duryea-Gode Disease, a genetic disease that results in psychosis, dissociation, and self-mutilation. Those who have DGD are discriminated against and inevitably detained in centres where they are subjected to horrific treatments. Our narrator is a double DGD who lives in fear of ‘losing control’. She eventually becomes involved with a man who is also DGD. The two of them eventually come across a centre for DGDs where they are surprised to discover, the DGDs in question are actually treated with humanity.
‘Near of Kin’ is an incest-y kind of story that owes a lot to Butler’s Baptist background. ‘Speech Sounds’ takes place in a post-apocalyptic America where a virus has eradicated people’s ability to speak, write, and/or read. This scenario allows Butler to interrogate themes of justice, survival, and envy.
There are three more fiction pieces, the most notable of which follows a woman named Marhta who is selected by God to improve humanity.
Additionally, there are two non-fiction pieces where Butler discusses her experiences in publishing and the realities of being one of the few Black sci-fi authors. These are a definite must for fans of Butler.
All in all, this was a solid collection. It is by no means an easy read. These stories filled me with unease and discomfort, they disturbed and repulsed me. Butler was a terrific writer and her stories are great examples of Afrofuturism. The themes and issues Butler touches upon are still relevant today and I admire her ability to explore distressing & taboo topics. I did find myself wishing for more lgbtq+ rep but these stories are rather heteronormative (yeah, in one men get pregnant but the pairing is still f/m).
While the stories in this collection don’t quite match to the masterpiece that is Kindred, they still make for some challenging reading that will undoubtedly provide the reader with a lot of food for thought.

my rating: ★★★☆☆

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Remote Control by Nnedi Okorafor

“Fear of death is a powerful weapon.”

Remote Control is Afrofuturism at its best. Nnedi Okorafor seamlessly blends folklore elements and aesthetics with sci-fi ones, delivering a unique and intriguing piece of speculative fiction. Set in Ghana, Remote Control opens in medias res: the appearance of Sankofa, a fourteen-year girl, and her companion, a fox, sends the residents of a town into hiding. They shout her name and the following: “Beware of remote control, o! The most powerful of all witchcraft!”. Sankofa chooses a house in which she is treated like a honoured, and feared, guests. The following chapters tell Sankofa’s story and of her strange, and occasionally dangerous, powers. After a terrible tragedy forces her to leave her hometown Sankofa embarks on a journey in pursuit of the peculiar object responsible for her powers. As she is unable to use cars (since her ‘change’ she become a technology ‘repellant’) Sankofa walks, encountering both friendly and hostile people, seeking shelter in nature, finding comfort in the presence of her fury companion. Throughout the years she spends on the road we see the way people view her and her powers. Some see her as a ‘witch’ and seek to harm, while others seek her help. Time and again we see the damage caused by fear and hatred of the other or that which we do not understand. There were many harrowing scenes but thankfully there were also plenty of moments emphasising empathy, connection, and love.
As much as I appreciated the setting and the mélange of sci-fi and fable, what I loved the most about Remote Control was Sankofa herself. I don’t think I have ever warmed up so quickly to a character. Perhaps it is because she is a child but to be honest I tend not to like children (real and fictional alike) but Sankofa immediately won me over. There was something so endearing and wholesome about her that my heart ached for her. I found her level-headedness to be both sweet and amusing (“Being led out of town by an angry mob wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, best to stay calm and let it be done”).
My anxiety over her wellbeing did give the novella a suspenseful edge, so that I finished it as quickly as possible. The only aspect that didn’t quite ‘work’ for me was the ending (which could have been less ambiguous). Nevertheless, I would love to read more novellas set in this world!
I would definitely Remote Control recommend to fans of speculative fiction: the writing is evocative and inventive, the main character is wonderful, and Okorafor raises interesting questions about power and fear.

my rating: ★★★½

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The Stone Sky by N.K. Jemisin

Three years after I purchased my copy of The Stone Sky I finally got round to reading it. I’m not sure why it took me so long but I thought it best to re-read the first two instalments before approaching its final chapter. As I loved re-reading The Fifth Season and The Obelisk Gate I was ready to fall just as hard for The Stone Sky…but I didn’t.
The thing is, the pacing and direction of the story closely resemble those of The Obelisk Gate which I probably wouldn’t have minded if Nassun had actually developed as a character. Essun has very few chapters compared to the first two volumes and I missed her. I would have loved to read more of her and Tonkee or her and Ykka but their scenes make up very little of the overall narrative. While Jemisin tries to give Schaffa a sort of redemption arc I could not bring myself to like or sympathise with him. Nassun got on my nerves, especially when it comes to how obstinate she becomes towards the end. While she seems capable of caring for murderous men her resentment towards her mother struck me as unfair and childish (especially if we consider some of what her mother has gone through). While I was interested in Hoa’s chapters, especially since they give us a lot of information regarding the Stillness prior the seasons. I am not sure whether I always understood what was going in his chapter, especially given the nature of his narrative voice.
As finales go The Stone Sky suffers from anticlimax. The pace is slow, the characters don’t develop all that much, and the storyline needed more cathartic scenes. Still, Jemisin sure can write, and her style always manages to capture my attention (even when her story doesn’t).
While I am not sure whether I would re-read the whole trilogy I still consider The Fifth Season to be one of the best fantasy/spec fiction novels of all time and I will probably never tire of re-reading it.

my rating: ★★★☆☆

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The Obelisk Gate by N.K. Jemisin

“Alas: in the Stillness, destroying mountains is as easy as an orogene toddler’s temper tantrum. Destroying a people takes only a bit more effort.”

Now this is how you write a sequel.
Jemisin has done it again. This series is simply spectacular.

“It’s not hate that you’re seeing. Hate requires emotion. What this woman has simply done is realize you are a rogga, and decide that you aren’t a person, just like that. Indifference is worse than hate.”

The Obelisk Gate picks up where The Fifth Season ended. After having lost her daughter’s ‘trace’ Essun, alongside her traveling companions, stays is in Castrima, an underground comm. Here she is reunited with Alabaster who has a task for her. However, his failing health and their strained relationship further complicate things. The comm’s headwoman is an orogene, Ykka, tries her hardest to make her comm safe and a place in which orogenes and stills can coexist peacefully. Threats from the outside however create discord among Castrima’s residents, risking a divide between orogenes and stills. Essun’s presence does not help matters as she is an extremely powerful orogene who is dealing with some serious trauma.

While The Fifth Season is more of an epic edge-of-your-seat fantasy, The Obelisk Gate is much more of a slow-burn. Jemisin expands the world she established in the first instalment and offers perspectives outside of Essun’s. We get chapters following Nassun, Essun’s ‘lost’ daughter, and Schaffa, Essun’s former Guardian. Although I certainly felt sympathetic towards Nassun, she also frustrated the hell out of me as she was willing to love two violent men but not her mother (or at least, she often professes that she resents her mother for having trained her incessantly). Still, the sections that focus on Nassun and Schaffa certainly present readers with a lot food for thought. Nassun’s devotion to her father, in spite of the fact that he murdered her younger brother, and to Schaffa are sadly all too believable. Her father’s repulsion and hatred towards orogene also calls to mind our world’s hatred towards the ‘other’.

Jemisin is a wordsmith and her prose has me in her thrall. Her dialogues not only ring true to life (in spite of the story’s fantastical setting) but they convey a scene’s atmosphere (tension, sadness, unrest). Jemisin’s narration is clever and always manages to surprise me. I love her fast-paced sequences in which characters are fighting for their lives or using their powers, and the slower-speed ones in which characters are talking about the past or the future or their feelings. Her writing style is utterly captivating. It can be playful or direct, descriptive and sophisticated or urgent and impressionistic (with fragmented sentences that perfectly capture a character’s trauma or fear). You cannot not pay attention to her words.

My review cannot really do justice to what Jemisin has created. This series has an intricate and complicated world and the author does not shy away from challenging each and every character’s view of what is best for it. There are no good or bad guys here.
The Obelisk Gate makes for an immersive high fantasy experience one that for all its magical elements presents with an all too real look into a divide and dying world.

my rating: ★★★★★

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Binti by Nnedi Okorafor

“You think we are like you humans?” it asked, angrily. “We don’t kill for sport or even for gain. Only for purpose.”

An interesting novella that sets a promising start to the series. Okorafor plays around with sci-fi elements, giving us an intriguing take on overused tropes of the genre. Binti is a rather refreshing story, one that had to work against its ‘shortness’. Okorafor establishes the tone and themes of her story from the very beginning. Her style has a natural flow that makes the story easy to follow despite the unfamiliar world.

“The Meduse are not what we humans think. They are truth. They are clarity. They are decisive. There are sharp lines and edges. They understand honor and dishonor. ”

I would have liked to have more information, especially concerning Binti’s reality. Sometimes Okorafor addressed certain things and then doesn’t return to them, and this made the setting a rather precarious one. In certain scenes there is a focus on superficial particulars that don’t really add anything of value to the story, and usually I wouldn’t mind, but given that this is novella, and every word counts, I think it would have been better to then use more words to depict Binti’s world more clearly. Binti was a forgettable protagonist, her characterisation solely relies on the circumstances she finds herself in, rather than her already possessing certain distinguishable traits.
A quick read that proposes some compelling elements but ultimately fails to stand out.

My rating: 3 stars

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Kindred by Octavia E. Butler

‘You’re gambling. Hell, you’re gambling against history.’

Kindred is a riveting story. Octavia Butler has created a tale in which a young woman is thrust into a violent past that forces her to into a relentlessly dangerous position.
Kindred is an incredibly gripping read. From its prologue to its epilogue, the story demands attention. Butler convincingly depicts deeply complex and believable characters in a unthinkably brutal world.

I had thought my feelings were complicated because he and I had such a strange relationship. But then, slavery of any kind fostered strange relationship.

Butler does not shy away from describing the terrible abuse and violence slaves were forced to endure in the 19th century. Dana herself is initially incapable of comprehending the horror she witnesses during her journeys back in time. Dana’s own resolves and belief are tested beyond measure again and again throughout the course of the book.

Slavery is a long slow process of dulling.

Dana is a very relatable and likable main character. Despite the shock caused by being flung back in time, she does not lose her wits: she faces her situation with as much practicality as possible. She does not waste time panicking deciding instead that the best way of surviving this terrifying experience is to prepare herself as best as she can: first by reading about the period in which she is transported to and then by trying to discern a pattern in the causes of these leaps back in time. Both she and her husband, Kevin, show admirable self-control in a situation in which they have little grasp of.
All of the characters Butler introduces are vividly realistic. Despite the scenario, there are no clear good guys or bad guys. Instead there are characters that could be both cruel and pitiful, kind yet bitter. Their complexity made them all the more believable.

Strangely, they seemed to like him, hold him in contempt, and fear him all at the same time. This confused me because I felt just about the same mixture of emotions for him myself.

Each page of Kindred contains poignant reflections and important examinations on human behaviour/nature. The grave topics it tackles are combined with a constant feeling of dread for Dana’s wellbeing; in fact, Kindred reads with a strong sense of urgency: throughout the story Dana’s life and freedom are constantly at stake.
So despite the graphic portrayal of the unimaginably inhumane and brutal reality slaves experienced, Dana’s willfulness make this journey through this particularly horrifying moment of history much easier to read. The complicated relationship she has make Kindred a deeply complex and well-crafted novel.

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

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