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language: English
country: UK
year: 2022
form: novel
genre(s): fantasy, horror
dates read: 12.1.23-13.1.23
[note written while reading the first chapter:]
I can’t tell if the first-person narration in this book is exclusively past tense because every single thing about the world will have changed by the end of it or because the author doesn’t fully grasp how first-person narration works. it’s possible it’s the former, but I suspect it’s the latter.
In truth I opened [the letter] reluctantly; more than a wish for privacy, I did not want my assignment to be made real, irrefutable.
I feel like this kind of uncoordinated/unparallel phrase has gotten more and more common in the new specfic I’ve read over the last few years. certainly the prose in stuff like Pern is at times quite purple, but I feel like at least it’s usually syntactically well-constructed. it’s probably just that I’ve read more stuff from the past five years since I finished my coursework, but. not to be a pedant but it’s the little things like this that most drive me up the wall in (ostensibly) professionally-edited specfic.
I am, appropriately, of two minds about David Towsey’s Equinox. the premise is incredible: every body is shared by two souls, one that’s “awake” during the day and one that’s “awake” at night. this is wild and, in many ways, horrifying(affectionate), and I desperately wish the book had done more to explore this concept and, in particular, the social (and political) ramifications of it. we get some gestures towards this in terms of Rebecca’s relationships with her night-sister’s children’s day-siblings, but there’s still the looming broader question: what does it mean to live in a world where at any given time about half of the people exist only because of the actions of people who don’t (in that moment) exist? there night children whose parents’ day-siblings aren’t married or, indeed, involved in any way but who nonetheless find themselves obligated to take care of the day-siblings of their night-siblings’ children. there’s at least one night-man who’s (to all appearances happily) married to a woman but whose day-brother is gay. this is insane!!!! tell me more immediately!!!!!
the book follows Christophor — a “Special Inspector” (read: witch-hunter) in service (possibly serfdom? it’s vague on the details but there’s an implication) to the king of Reikova (ambiguously sort of in Northern Europe but also sort of not, in 1721; either way, the “Christ-” in his name is Jesus, which also has insane world-building implications) — and his day-brother Alexsander as Christophor (alternately unintentionally hindered and mostly intentionally helped by Alexsander, contra the misleading back cover blurb) tries to stop a witch in the southern town of Drekenford from triggering the apocalypse (of Revelation). other than my desire for for more world-building information, this is one of my two big hesitations about the book: it’s speculative copaganda (with a tragically murdered “good cop” thrown in for good measure) that posits a world where, because supernatural evil exists, there have to be state agents with broad discretionary powers to investigate and prosecute and — in emergencies — summarily execute accused witches. there’s very little questioning (most of it very oblique) of the social and political constitution of Reikova. I do have some hope that there will be a sequel, though — while the book does feel self-contained, it seems like it’s setting up for one.
it definitely feels like it’s grasping at some conceptual or political problem — certainly it gestures towards colonialism, sexism, xenophobia, and occasionally class (homophobia is, strikingly, something of a non-issue — it’s clearly present to some extent, but Christophor is unfazed by the possibility that two men might be involved, despite his status as an agent of the state and as holy man-adjacent). it doesn’t quite seem to know what to do with any of them, though, and so it settles for exploring the often tense relationship between Christophor and Alexsander and the question — if I had to summarize — of how we live with circumstances that are entirely beyond our control.
the writing is…fine. the near-exclusive use of the past tense continues throughout the book and while it gets less grating as there’s less world-building information to introduce, it’s still somewhat annoying. the uncoordinated or incorrectly coordinated phrases also are a recurring issue. but it was, mostly, forgettable, “transparent” prose, so it could be worse.
my other big hesitation is spoilery, so it’s below the break. I did give it 4 stars on Storygraph (for the moment), but it’s with these two caveats. but if there’s a sequel ever I’ll most likely read it.
the other big caveat is that the witch turns out — ~coincidentally~ — to be the enigmatic and somewhat ominous foreigner, one of the “southerners” whom the king of Reikova intends to conquer (war looms throughout the novel). he’s physically marked as Different both by his southern features and by being very short (Alexsander initially mistakes him for a child); he’s also apparently bi. significantly, he doesn’t speak once during the whole book (only sings or screams inhumanly), until the climax, when it seems to really be a demon speaking through his (broken, possessed) body. it all just left a bad taste in my mouth, especially since there’s no substantive engagement with the political context — Christophor and Alexsander are both simply uninterested, too caught up in themselves/each other. I still enjoyed the book overall, but this was…messy.
moods: dark, mysterious, tense