Here are the occasional reflections of a joyful traveller along the strange pathways of fantasy and adventure. All my reviews are independent and unsolicited. I read many books that I don’t feel sufficiently enthusiastic about to review at all. Rather, this blog is intended as a celebration of the more interesting books I stumble across on my meandering reading journey, and of the important, life-affirming experiences they offer. It is but a very small thank you for the wonderful gifts their writers give.

Friday, 20 May 2022

Rebel Skies by Ann Sei Lin


Cover: Amir Zand

‘Do not walk the earth
For you are of cloud and sky.’ 
(p 229)

Fresh skies 

After more that a hundred years of fantasy/sci-fi stories, it has become increasingly difficult for authors to come up with  a concept of truly startling originality, and this applies in the field of children’s fiction just as much as in the adult. However, the remarkable Philip Reeve has done it twice recently, with his world of predatory traction cities, in the Mortal Engines sequenceand again with his network of space-busting sentient trains, in the Railhead trilogy. One of the remarkable things about both these scenarios is that they are almost laughably improbable in themselves, but are made totally convincing through the astonishing power of their writing and storytelling. 

Now a new author has done much the same thing again. Although it is indubitably novel, the idea of origami skill as a superpower could easily be, shall we say, somewhat hard to take seriously. Yet Ann Sei Lei creates a brilliantly imagined world so powerfully that its compelling credibility is breathtaking. In fairness, the power of her ‘crafters’, although clearly inspired by origami, involves a magic of creating from paper that as far exceeds the simple folding of flapping cranes as does a lightning storm from the striking of a match. It is a rare and considerable, if sophisticated talent. Similarly the paper monsters, known as ‘shikigami’, that maraude the world of Mikoshima, where the narrative is set, may sound ridiculously vulnerable. However, they are, believe me, in the context of this vividly evoked fantasy, every bit as terrifying,as any ‘Ring Wraiths’ or ‘Baldrog’, both to its characters and to the reader, 

Fresh winds from the East

Additionally, although set in a purely imaginative world, the whole story and its telling are grounded in Japanese culture. This not only permeates the tale’s ethos, as in the naming of characters and places, but also the language of the writing itself, particularly in its idiosyncratic imaging and metaphor. To this Western reader at least, this gives the whole book a fascinatingly distinctive and excitingly novel feel.

When her companion describes the destruction of her lifelong friend Haru as ‘a waste’, protagonist Kurara responds:

‘“Waste!” . . . . Haru was not a thing accidentally thrown out with the trash. Stains on a silk kimono, ink spilled on a carefully composed haiku: they were a waste. Haru was a person. The only person that had ever meant anything to her.’ (p 57)

The oriental feel to this speculative world is totally compelling. 

Trauma and treachery

The driver of the narrative involves Kura’s quest to restore to life her long-standing friend, Haru. After he is destroyed in a monster attack, she is shocked to realise that he too is a shikigami, a magical paper construct, but manages to save his ‘core’. From this, she comes to believe, he can be re-made, but only by powerful crafter magic, something currently way beyond her own abilities. She therefore needs to find those who can teach and help her. It is an intriguing twist on a key fantasy trope and one which the reader has no difficulty investing in alongside her.

‘Kurara had always loved making paper dance - the tingle of power through her fingers, the soothing rustle of paper - but this time she was not using her abilities for fun. She was doing it to save Haru.’ (p 119)

There is also a rich, if disturbing, context to Kuara’s personal story. In this breathtakingly different world of airships and sky cities, a belligerent Empire is fighting to expand its territories. Further there are two rivals to the succession of the Emperor, sibling prince and princess, whose supporters are involved in deadly intrigue and treachery. 

Whirlwinds

Above and through all this Ann Sei Lin’s plotting and her control of the narrative are superb. It is complex without being complicated. Around two-thirds of the way through the book comes one of the most startling, even shocking, twists of recent fiction. It is at once both  devastating and even more powerfully involving. As it develops, her story evolves from something excellent into a creation quite breathtakingly superb. There is awesome beauty, exciting action aplenty, but also depth of character and rich emotion, with all its strands weaving together towards an utter gripping, cataclysmic climax.

The final third or so of the narrative transforms outstanding young children’s fiction into literature of real quality. It is a novel that has much to say and provides a great deal to think about, not through didacticism, but in and through the power of story itself. It treats the profoundest themes, friendship and loyalty, found in many tales for young readers, with more complexity, more nuance than is often the case. Far more than this, it is  about our unstable world community, about what may or may not be ‘artificial’ intelligence, about the monsters we, perhaps unintentionally, create, about prejudice and, more than anything about power over others, ownership, slavery. It is a story of humanity and inhumanity.

Ann Sei Lin joins the ranks of authors like Ursula Le Guin and Isaac Asimov in showing us that speculative fiction can make us reflect upon our selves and our own world whilst involving us intensely in imagined ones.  And, crucially,  do this at the same time as providing the most intensely compelling of reading experiences. 

Sky high and flying

The end of this book leaves many tantalising questions unanswered. But then how else would the first part of a continuing sequence end? This is planed as the first of a trilogy, something for which all readers will be unspeakably grateful, if somewhat frustrated by the impending wait.

This novel  is remarkable, by any standards, and as a debut is, I can only say again, breathtaking. We may be something less than half way through 2022, but I feel absolutely certain that this older children’s/YA title will be one of my Books of the Year. If there is any justice, watch out for multiple awards coming its way.

Wonderfully, Amir Zand’s cover art is as stunning as the book’s content, the world of Rebel Skies just as brilliantly imagined and caught in visual image as it is conjured in its language. 

A final plea to the publisher: a book of this quality and importance deserves a hardback. It is to be treasured long.