New in paperback last month, I just squeaked in with my bought-in-hardcover read of Nalo Hopkinson’s Blackheart Man. I wanted to read it for fun—no notes—and carried it around in my stack for most of the past year, while other books nudged in line in front.
The opening chapter is polished, Hopkinson at her finest. The previous book of hers I read, I liked (Chaos) but this is the kind of novel that landed her on my Must-Read-Everything list, way back when.
When I think now, about which of her books to recommend as a starting point, it will be between Midnight Robber and Blackheart Man, if you have read and enjoyed SFF books (The Salt Roads if you don’t—it was nominated for the Hurston/Wright Award, as well as being shortlisted for the Nebula).
The opening is dramatic, a deliberate and direct process of immersion into the world that Hopkinson has created. Mythic figures and human relationships, political tension and pending change, in a setting and language that feels both of-the-Caribbean and adjacent to it. The sea is profoundly present in Chynchin, and the island’s wealth is built on spice.
For readers who crave the rich and dynamic cultural tableau of a fantasy, the caimans are not only on the cover but even the first page. For readers who are more comfortable with realism, there is tonnes of talk about food and family. Without the feel of a single author trying to write a story for every reader, but the feel of a seasoned author who sees magic and reality as intertwined.
With its focus on connections between characters and the decision to include a young woman as a key figure, there are echoes of Octavia Butler’s first parable novel. With the godlike character and the contrary-minded misfit, I was reminded of N.K. Jemison’s Inheritance Trilogy. And with the swapping perspectives and archetypal plotting, I thought of Rebecca Roanhorse’s Between Earth and Sky.
But what sets Blackheart Man apart for me, from these books but also from Hopkinson’s other books, is the focus on storytelling. The central character is a griot and as he brings a visitor into the world of preserving and telling stories in his culture, he brings readers along on the tour. And it is in playing this part, wherein he makes a bad judgment call, and sparks the plot into motion.
“The stories say I went into the bush half-dead. They don’t tell you the rest.”
“But now you going to tell it me?” This was a tale that would make any griot line proud to adapt. [If given…] leave, he would scribe it into his book of tales of Chynchin. Were there to be no more Chynchin after today, maybe someday someone would find his book of tales and revive the nation again. In song, at least.”
There is one element of the story which felt like a gesture to me, which didn’t smack of the kind of organic storytelling that I loved so in Midnight Robber. But it emerges late in the tale and, because I so enjoyed the messy and misdirected Veycosi’s antics and intentions, I forgave all that. (And I think that some readers might actually thrill to this element, precisely because it’s not been telegraphed…it simply is.)
Maybe because I read this one with the Ursula K. Le Guin Prize for Fiction in mind, I felt like there was a hint of Ged (from A Wizard of Earthsea) in Veycosi. In his determination to move along his own path, to follow only his own heeding (even when he shouldn’t). And in the way in which darkness is positioned in the story (to say more would risk spoilers).
Veycosi invites us into the story on our own terms, too. We have to do a little work, to situate ourselves. And it’s uncomfortable when we realise that we’ve unwittingly aligned ourselves with someone whose judgement is flawed. Then we have to do a little more work, to see what we did not previously see.
It’s all the same work we have to do every day, to find the truth and to make our way towards a way of being fair and just, towards treating one another with respect and kindness.
Blackheart Man is also nominated for this year’s Ursula K. Le Guin Prize for Fiction, as is Vajra Chandrasekera’s Rakesfall (which I recently read).
Hopkinson recently won the Sunburst Award for this novel (having won the award for Canadian Literature of the Fantastic twice before, for 2003’s collection Skin Folk—which also won the World Fantasy Award—and 2008’s The New Moon’s Arms, which was shortlisted for the Nebula and the Mythopoeic Award).
Her profile and presence mightn’t have recommended her for the UKLG in its earliest years, but with Samantha Harvey’s Orbital winning last year, I think Blackheart Man’s chances are good.
I remember your reading another NH, was it Chaos, and noting it, but of course I’ve made no progress towards reading it. I like your enthusiasm for her work, but I more with Anne. I just don’t have the energy for new worlds when our own is way interesting enough for me!!
You might also be thinking about Bill having posted on this one. We both bought it when it was new, but he got down to reading it almost straight away. It is burdensome to have to absorb all the new world-building information, I agree. It’s something I want to become more adept at doing but, in the meantime, I allow that reading muscle to atrophy too often.
Although I can appreciate books that focus on food and family (who doesn’t love that?), I don’t think this one is for me. Science fiction just really doesn’t appeal to me, because I’m such a lazy reader. I hate trying to figure out new rules of places, if that makes sense.
Heheh That doesn’t make you lazy, IMO, it’s just that you’re looking for something different. But you’re right, the combination of so many narrators in a different (but not entirely different) world…it would annoy you, for sure!
I appreciate the recommendation on where to start with Hopkinson’s books. I know I have Chaos but not sure if I have Midnight Robber. I’ve yet to try her work.
Chaos is perfectly good…and I remember the protagonist was believable and the pacing was compelling…I just happen to like a lot of layers, so it’s not my favourite. But it and Brown Girl in the Ring would make good starting points too, for anyone just craving a good story to fall into!
Oh, I have this book but haven’t read it yet. James brought it home and was hot to read it but I think it slipped to the bottom of his pile because I expected him to give it to me after he was done and that hasn’t happened. Will have to dig it out and bring it back into the light!
Those stacks have their own rituals, when we are looking in another direction: good to give them an airing, and shuffle the contents if NH has gotten lost. heheh
I’m sure habitual SF and Fantasy readers get used to very quickly adapting to the rules of a new ‘universe’, though I can see how that might be difficult for non SF readers. Hopkinson’s Chynchyn is delightful, and all the ways it is different from the ‘real world’ just flow over you as you follow Veycosi’s adventures (and misadventures). Meanwhile Hopkinson is quietly making points about how our own world might work better, or might just be more fun. I loved it, of course.
I think I should apply my rule for this year (keeping a single classic in the stack at all times) to world-building fiction (whether unfamiliar historical settings or SFF/speculative fiction) because then it wouldn’t feel like such a stretch after so much contemporary realism. The scene and pov shifts at the beginning also felt like a lot to me (even though normally that doesn’t phase me at all) but I could see that it was building suspense too, and that part I enjoyed. I liked how that initial “mistake” not only made us sympathetic (how many times does someone wanting to do the right thing only cause more pain and distress) but also was not the whole story (or, even the worst mistake, arguably!). It makes me excited for her next too.