Strength in Ambiguity

A fast-paced fantasy set in a world inspired by Indigenous American cultures, Black Sun is Rebecca

(Image via Goodreads)

Roanhorse’s strongest work to date.

Weaving a story told through multiple points of view, Roanhorse imbues each of her protagonists with motivations informed by power imbalances that will likely resonate with readers. While each main character belongs to a differing faction, they all navigate factions that are in conflict and struggle with roles ascribed by their ethnicities.

Most members of our book club appreciated the ambiguity of character archetypes and motivations. Without a clear hero or villain, readers were given space for interpretation that provided a compelling realism. In particular, it was interesting to see Serapio — a murderous cultist bent on revenge — cast in a heroic role. However, this portrayal also left some members of our book club uneasy.

Black Sun is a novel in conversation with history — both real and imagined. The constructed history within the narrative is complex and multifaceted, depicting the legacy of colonialism through the eyes of both the vulnerable and the victors. The intergenerational trauma of colonialism is an important theme that serves as a central point of motivation. Through carefully constructed plot arcs, the reader learns about the emotional commitment to both uphold and tear down the legacy of colonialism. For example, the people historically wronged by colonialism are rightfully aggrieved and we understand their anger. However, the fact that their quest for revenge pushes them to reproduce cycles of hate and commit acts as heinous as those committed against them is not ignored or downplayed.

This realism is carried through in the political intrigue of the story. There are great houses struggling to gain power over their peers and a church that is both mediating this conflict and also working to gain power for itself. Often the power of religious institutions is left unexamined in fantasy, as the nobility fight amongst themselves and heroic characters cut through it all to find a resolution. Early on, it seems like Narampa, the head priestess born of a lower order, is that chosen, golden hero. Her much more complicated story arc is thoughtfully written to good effect, as she must trust in a system of power and people who are deeply threatened by her attempts for reform.

One of Roanhorse's great strengths
as a writer is her nuanced depiction
of hierarchical relationships in a society.
(Photo by Olav Rokne) 

It is also very interesting how uncomfortable most of the characters are with how their ethnicity/culture is perceived. For the most part, they don't fit with the assumptions people have about them.

Like many modern fantasy novels, trying to understand some of the labels and terminology can be a struggle, and the first chapters take a bit of work to get through (with the exception of the prologue, which was exceptionally strong). But after this initial hurdle, the worldbuilding fell away as it should, serving to ground an engaging and well-told story.

There was some disagreement about the way the story ended. At least one book club member felt that the finale was one of the strongest she had read in this genre, with the protagonist’s problem clearly resolved and relatively minor loose ends left to the readers’ imagination. Others felt that the ending was perhaps too vague and relied too heavily on the need for a sequel. Of course, if the strength of the first installment in this series is any indication, reading the sequel will be no chore.

Trail of Lightning: Shockingly Good

Rebbeca Roanhorse’s debut novel Trail of Lightning might appear at first to be a run-of-the-mill

Rebecca Roanhorse at the 2018
Worldcon, where she won her first
Hugo Award.
(Photo by Olav Rokne)

urban fantasy, but it offers the astute reader a culturally-rich narrative.

Set against a multifaceted, frightening future where North America has been ravaged by man-made climate change, Trail of Lightning pits deadly, other-worldly monsters against people with superhuman powers.

Those familiar with Indigenous storytelling practices will be at home with Roanhorse’s writing style, in which metaphor and allegory are used prominently, and more-than-human relations (ie. relationships between humans, nature, animals, and spiritual beings) are common and understood (well, as much as any relationship can be understood).

While mainstream audiences may interpret these stories as myth or as speculative fiction, Indigenous storytelling traditions are more likely to recognize the philosophical and pedagogical nature of these narratives. At times, the stories shift from Aesop-like cautionary tales like that of the windigo, to stories that teach values like the story of Kunuuksaayuka. Roanhorse’s work expands on these traditions and exposes them to a new audience.

Like the Binti trilogy, the culturally-specific narrative anticipates that the audience can adjust, learn,

Trail Of Lightning blends Indigenous
narrative tradition with genre tropes.
(Image via Tor.com) 

and experience what is new to them. At times, etic readers may find this overwhelming, but The Six World series makes the effort worthwhile. Roanhorse doesn’t explain certain terms or phrasing in the first chapters because the protagonist and narrator, Maggie Hoskie, doesn’t need exposition. It’s the reality she lives in and knows. While it may be new to readers, it functions as an immersive experience.

The backdrop of apocalyptic climate change inspired discussion about its possible misuse as a fictive understanding of climate change itself (that is, as an argument against the science behind the evidence-based phenomenon). Others argued that the fantastical nature of the climate change seen in Trail of Lighting was used as a narrative tipping point. That is, the supernatural regains control after humans have mucked up the fifth world. Everyone seemed to agree that the setting made for an interesting element in that it constrained the protagonist from understanding the whole of the world.

With this idea of iterative ‘worlds’ that the planet experiences, it is hard not to compare the work to N.K. Jemisin’s much-lauded Broken Earth trilogy. Both works involve a world broken by Euro-settler hubris, both involve protagonists with superhuman gifts; and both are centred in cultural understandings. Likewise, one can see parallels between Trail of Lightning and American Gods, through its conflicts between the known world and the transcendent.

These comparisons, however, may place Trail of Lightning at a disadvantage, because as an introductory novel, it does not show the same writerly craft as these illustrious predecessors. In particular, some of the character development in the book shows some weakness and inconsistency — Maggie Hoskie’s simmering anger and grimness is a bit lacking in nuance. Given her self-reliance and independence, it’s disappointing to see her make mistakes because of a cliche romantic entanglement.

It is also interesting to compare Trail of Lightning to another 2018 Indigenous post-apocalyptic novel

Anishinaabe journalist Waubgeshig Rice
is another Indigenous writer whose SF
we would heartily recommend.
(Image via CBC.ca) 

Moon of the Crusted Snow by Anishinaabe writer and journalist Waubgeshig Rice, which was on several of our 2019 Hugo nominating ballots. This Canadian bestseller might have been overlooked by the broader science-fiction community, but Rice’s tale deserves more attention for his depiction of the collapse of society from the perspective of those who have marginalized for generations. It is an extraordinary science fiction novel. For those whose appetites for this type of narrative have been whet by Roanhorse’s book, we highly recommend this book.

Overall Trail of Lightning is an engaging read that brings an important and often marginalized viewpoint to a broader science fiction audience. Despite some of our criticisms of characterization, Roanhorse’s deft weaving of cultural knowledge, myth, metaphor and real-world challenges put this at or near the top of many of our ballots.