|Title:||The Broken Kingdoms|
|Pub Date:||November 3rd, 2010|
|Chris’ Rating (5 possible):|
|An Attempt at Categorization||If You Like… / You Might Like…|
In The Broken Kingdoms (the second book in her Inheritance Trilogy, begun in The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms), Jemisin successfully avoids the middle-book-blues by constructing a beautiful mosaic of unique and skillfully executed traits rarely seen in fantasy. Most importantly (and most impressively), you can enjoy it without having read The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms), although the experience will be richer if you have.
It is hard enough to maintain momentum, pattern, and voice in a single novel. But publishers love multi-book series for good economic reasons (who doesn’t love reprint sales?), and so do authors (who doesn’t love contracted advances?). Unfortunately, very few authors are up to the challenge of constructing a story arc that will span multiple books, not drag, let each installment work on a standalone basis, and do something new, meaningful, and entertaining. If Broadway is littered with excellent first acts, then Borders is littered with excellent first books. Readers of The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms may be surprised to see few characters they recognize. While set in the same universe and dealing with the same (divine) conflict established earlier, this book is told from the perspective of a very different hero. It is a complete, and self-contained story that builds off of the events of the previous book and would be an excellent standalone novel in its own right. Jemisin is constructing a fascinating standalone epic trilogy that reminds me more of Homer’s Odyssey than Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings.
The Broken Kingdoms follows Oree Shoth, a blind artist living in Shadow, a city beneath the World Tree and the city of Sky perched atop it. Oree takes in a taciturn and mysterious lodger, and finds herself plunged into a conspiracy centered around the serial murders of godlings. The conspiracy, Oree’s involvement, and the steps she takes to survive give the book a solid rhythm and provide momentum that Jemisin maintains through to the end. And while this book’s plot is strong and engaging, the book’s real engine are the characters and their relationships and its fuel are the ways in which it subverts epic fantasy tropes.
Oree is a disabled member of a historically-oppressed minority. As a result, she represents a refreshing antithesis to the standard fantasy heroine (Oree is neither white, nor is she able to wield two swords at once in a spinning dance of death). In the hands of a lesser author, Oree’s race would turn this book into a simplistic caricature of contemporary racial relations, but Jemisin neatly avoids that trap. Oree’s background and the history of her race are intrinsic to the plot, but her character is woven of more complex strands than race alone. By taking the societal consequences of ancient choices and making them concrete through the experiences of her characters, Jemisin produces a rich and complex society, and avoids the solipsistic condemnation of either the majority or the minority. This enables Jemisin to introduce much stronger and deeper characterization for her principle actors, building a very subtle and effectively post-racial character without sacrificing the plot elements that hinge upon her narrator’s background.
Oree has some magical ability, but she neither understands it nor is it ever explained to her by a helpful teacher. Reading the book, we are as much in the dark as to her ability as she is, and we are pulled right along with her as she discovers the truth about herself. The emotional core of the book are Oree’s complicated relationships with the men in her life (the silent homeless man she names “Shiny”, and her godling lover Madding), and it is these relationships and her complex feelings for them that motivate her actions. The supporting characters are all drawn believably. The godlings – by their very nature – are flat characters yearning to break into three dimensions, and the sensitivity with which their efforts are handled really make you feel for them. Just like the mortal Oree, they are products of their own histories and their own family histories, and it is through this excellent characterization that Jemisin is able to explore her primary themes of choices, family, and relationships.
Oree, as the mortal narrator, provides us with a very identifiable perspective on these themes, both within herself (as a mortal Maro) and amongst the gods of her world. The characterization in this novel is the best part about it, although the characterization is so good precisely because everything else (the world-building, the language used, the magical system) contributes to it. Jemisin uses first person narration to extremely good effect, limiting the reader’s awareness to that which Oree herself would notice. But the real trick of characterization, and what seals the deal for me actually occurs at the end. I won’t spoil it here, but the denouement is used in an exceptional way to tie together the themes that Jemisin explores throughout. It brought tears to my eyes, which for jaded old me is not that easy to do.
By subverting so many fantasy tropes, it is difficult to categorize The Broken Kingdoms. It shares a palpable sense of consequence and history with Steven Erikson’s Malazan Book of the Fallen, but it is (thankfully) more approachable, less convoluted, and less gritty. It shares the playful and sensitive touch when twisting fantasy tropes that can be found in Brandon Sanderson’s Warbreaker and Elantris, but it is more powerful thematically than either. It has the gripping pacing and excellent characterization of Patrick Rothfuss’ The Name of the Wind, but Jemisin’s novel is more complete on a standalone basis. Probably the closest comparison I can come up with is Suzanne Collins’ excellent Hunger Games Trilogy, which similarly deals unflinchingly with delicate, complex, and powerful themes while keeping each book as an effective standalone novel.
The Broken Kingdoms is an exceptional new chapter in the already-enjoyable Inheritance Trilogy. Jemisin has done everything right: her characters are rich and engaging, her world is complex and believable, and her plot is fast-paced. This is an ambitious book, and it satisfies by completely addressing important themes in an innovative and immensely readable fashion.
I will be eagerly looking forward to the third and final book in the series, The Kingdom of the Gods, which is due out from Orbit in 2011.