The City We Became

So I had this carefully calibrated to-read list, and then the world ended, and I didn't feel like reading anymore. But in my head, I just kept repeating: “everything changes in a season”, so I figured if I could read anyone, I could read Jemisin.

I had thought that Jemisin was the epic fantasy writer of my generation. I was wrong: I'm pretty sure N.K. Jemisin is THE speculative fiction writer, in general, of my generation. This is an urban fantasy that redefines what it means to be urban fantasy. This is a book about the fantasy of cities. It's a love poem to cities. (a much needed ode, when currently living in a city seems like a death sentence, weaving around masked figures on the sidewalk.). I've never been a fan of New York, but through Jemisin's eyes, I found myself loving it. (Jemisin notes herself: there are NYC people and there are London people; I'm a London person). Even before the fantastic elements, Jemisin's NYC is alive.

And Jemisin's NYC is alive, in one of the most inventive modern fantasies I've read. Full of relatable, human characters, who also manage to slip to just the other side of inhuman. There is a villain who is relatable, understandable and also completely evil. It's the best modern take on Lovecraft: acknowledging and incorporating his racism

Read while in the mood for something fun during a long weekend. This is indeed fun; an assemble-the-avengers action-filled adventure with a ton of deliberate representation. Special call out for the Tamilian with H-1B lottery problems from whom I learnt a new Tamil phrase: kan kettu piragu Surya namaskaaram. Favourite quote: “Home isn't where the heart is, it's wherever the wind feels right.”