Labels, names, and identify have power. More power than we often give them credit. In Joy Kim’s post, this subject is tackled and spoken about in a way that I truly identified with. I strongly agree with many points that are made within the post. Even within the world of the Stillness, where some parts of the world seem to be much more accepting, such as Tonkee’s identity or Alabaster sexuality, labels still exist. Even within the homogenized Sanzed people, Essun points out individual traits each has, trying to determine what their ancestry is, “He’s probably lighter skinned… from somewhere near the Antarctic’s, or the western continental coast,” (The Fifth Season, 106).
Reclaiming Language
On a comment about one of my previous blog posts, Dr. McCoy raised the question about whether or not “the additive meanings [of words can] survive without being informed/poisoned by the roots?” My previous post focused on the word “family” but Dr. McCoy’s suggestion got me to think about the origins of other words and specifically, as she pointed out, the U.S. Constitution. Continue reading “Reclaiming Language”
Environmentalism in Jemisin’s Work
This post might be short, though we will see.
Jemisin had several issues to which she wanted to draw attention to in writing The Broken Earth series, though one that stands out to me is how she addresses the way that humans interact with the environment and affect it and how it in turn affects them. Not only will I be discussing how various elements of the story address environmentalism but the discussion necessitates covering the personification of the planet Earth
It all begins in Syl Anagist, as most problems in the novel do with a transgression so grievous that it haunts humanity far into a future where no one even remembers what happened or why, with the exception of the stone eaters. Syl Anagistians are ravenous for power and long ago understood that more power could come from the silver magic that stems from all living things, hence the popular term, “life is sacred in Syl Anagist”. They tap into the magic flowing through all things, plants, animals and people (specifically the Thniess) included. Yet even the exploitation of all living things other than themselves is not enough yet. Through what they called “Geoarcanity” they intended to tap into a massive reservoir of magic within the planet itself, turning the whole planet into a tool to serve Syl Anagist’s unquenchable thirst for power at the expense of others. For those with such supposed mastery over life, the idea that because the planet has such a massive amount of magic in it it might also be a living thing with agency and means by which to defend itself does not occur to the arrogant oppressors who recklessly exploit the tuners in order to enslave the planet as they did the tuners and their predecessors the Thniess. Only the planet is acutely aware of Syl Anagist’s intentions towards it and is more than capable of acting against it with its enormous magical power. In retaliation to the attempt to shackle it, the Earth destroys Syl Anagist with the Obelisks meant to enslave it and tries to wipe humanity off the face of itself. Only with the intervention of the tuners is the power meant to kill all of human life redirected at the moon, pushing it out of orbit from the Earth.
The similarities might seem striking at this point. A nation of people who flagrantly bend all around them to their own convenience, pillaging a planet just to power their metropolis. To top it off, their taking a fuel source from within the planet that is based on life. If Syl Anagist’s actions here do not remind anyone of how people ravage our own world to satisfy their own unsustainable and exploitative way of life, than perhaps Evil Earth’s reaction may spark some neurons. Constant and implacable natural disasters toppling cities and annihilating cultures as a direct consequence of treating the planet poorly and disrupting a careful balance with barely any attempt at righting it. Hurricanes, earthquakes, droughts and floods rage across the planet with no place truly untouched by the disasters. Jemisin clearly was trying to send a message on this, that you can’t treat your own planet without consequences. It’s like being on a raft in the middle of the ocean and stripping the logs out from under you to make a chair so you’re more comfortable as you sink.
But I haven’t touched enough on the characterization of Evil Earth, as it is clearly capable of thought and action. The Earth is obviously non-human in its thoughts and being, yet has such an accurate grasp of the situation in the novel that it is able to see that if it does not continuously unmake human society, it will inevitably return to the logical end of attempting to enslave the Earth. The method by which it seeks to keep this from occurring is genius if not callous in its methodology, by pitting orogenes and stills against each other and using the Guardians as a stopgap between them in order to control both sides. The Earth does no do all of this to force humanity to set right what it has done, but rather simply in vengeance for crimes committed, much like Essun is overtaken in each occasion (it is truly horrible that there are any, much less more than one) that she loses a child. When she lost Corundum she destroyed both her and Alabaster’s ship as well as the Guardian ship that pursued them in a rage fueled by the grief of being forced to end her own child’s life. When Jija murdered Uche, she set out with only two things that she really cared about at all, making Jija suffer for what he stole from her and making sure he could not do it to Nassun as well. The Earth may be some inhuman entity with an age and experience so wildly different from our own as to be unrecognizable. Yet so much does it seem merely like a grieving parent, separated from their child and taking it out on those responsible.
Damaged Goods
I’m a big fan of 80’s movies. I love Ferris Bueller, Risky Business and Heathers. I especially love Heathers and have become a fan of the movie written by Daniel Waters and the musical by Lauren O’Keefe and Kevin Murphy. As I have been reading the Broken Earth trilogy, a character from Heathers, J.D. keeps coming into my thoughts because he reminds me so much of Nassun.
The Love in “Blackness, Love, Justice”
In The Broken Earth Series, I feel a lot of love. It may not be obvious, or conventional, but I believe that Essun does feel love. In some cases it may be a relationship between a mother and her child where the love is shown by protecting them, even in the most tragic of ways. In others, Essun’s love may be with a lover: the father of her children, a handsome pirate, or her mentor and best friend. In any case, Essun is surrounded by people that love her and want to protect her, providing this series with depth and heart. Continue reading “The Love in “Blackness, Love, Justice””
The Power of Names
Names…”Names have power” (239). A name gives us an identity, a category, something to belong to, an overall understanding of what something is. In The Stone Sky, Nassun and Schaffa enter the mantle of the Earth, and as they enter, Nassun recognizes the layer they have entered as the asthenosphere. By naming it, her fear is eased. But as I came across this passage, I resonated with it in a different kind of sense. Yes, giving a name to something does familiarize it, somehow. However, societally, names and labels act as borders and a sign of exclusivity almost, in my opinion.
Solarpunk Syl Anagist
I found the idea of Solarpunk to be fascinating when we talked about it in class. It’s a huge contrast to the dystopian and pessimistic themes we often see in popular literature or film. But, that said, I’ve also found a lot of posts and articles that are quick to point out the line that still exists between Solarpunk and utopia, with perfect balance and equality. According to Wikipedia (excuse my choice of source, please), however, a utopia “is inherently contradictory, because societies are not homogeneous, and have desires which conflict and therefore cannot simultaneously be satisfied.” Tumblr user @brazenbotany explains the distinction below:
Kinetic Sand!
I don’t know about everyone else, but I vividly remember those commercials on TV when I was younger advertising what is known as kinetic sand; that colorful, half sand, half playdough stuff that looked and felt like wet sand, but it wasn’t! I can remember sitting down at the kitchen table with my two younger sisters and breaking out the sand, squishing it, rolling it and stacking it, all before my mom entered the room panicking that we were playing with this sand without any sort of box or newspaper underneath it to keep the table clean (needless to say, my mom started supervising our use of kinetic sand after that incident).
Why is kinetic sand relevant to anything I might have to say, you ask? Well, after scrolling through and re-reading the notes I had taken throughout our reading of The Broken Earth Trilogy, I became unusually fixed on the word “grit” , and kept trying to wrack my brain of where I had heard this word before. I had this feeling that it was relevant, and wasn’t just the name of a boiled corn breakfast meal. Finally after a long period of the word just bouncing around in the back of my head, I realized why I was finding this word to be significant. Continue reading “Kinetic Sand!”
The Type of Love that Writes A Trilogy
In the Acknowledgements of The Stone Sky, N.K. Jemisin leaves readers with insight on the journey that she has endured in writing this trilogy. Of all the moving things she said I was most impacted by the assertion she makes on page 416:
“Where there is pain in this book, it is real pain; where there is anger, it is real anger; where there is love, it is real love.”
Without realizing it, I began creating a mental checklist on these emotions and how they revealed themselves throughout the trilogy. It was easy to pinpoint instances that enticed rage or pain, but I seemed to stumble when I considered love. Then finally (finally) it hit me.
Writing History that Bleeds
Throughout the Jemisin books that I’ve read so far, The Fifth Season most demonstrates the underlying themes of social injustice, and systematic oppression. It was not until after class on Friday that I came to realize that Jemisin is portraying even larger themes than discrimination in her other world fiction. By contextualizing these themes into real world examples, I can see that Jemisin had a greater overall idea in her writing. By using descriptive language and being concise, Jemisin leads readers to the bigger picture of systematic oppression, while still acknowledging the painful details, that some would call a “bleeding story.” Continue reading “Writing History that Bleeds”