snowgall

sunshine_revival's next challenge is:

Tunnel of Love
Journaling: The romance of summer! What do you love? Write about anything you feel sentimental about or that gets your heart pumping.
Creative: Write a love poem to anyone or anything you like.

This is a topic I've been thinking about a lot lately. As an aro-ace person growing up in a time before we really had labels for those things (and, frankly, even now when some people still just don't get it), I've had a lot of experiences of being told that the way I loved people was wrong or not good enough. I'm... well, I was about to say I'm lucky to have people in my life now who don't see my love as lesser because it isn't romantic and never will be, and that is true, but also I have worked damn hard to accept myself as I am and to put energy into relationships with people who get me. So it's part luck, part skill. :P

I recently got a formal diagnosis of being on the autism spectrum. (I promise this relates.) This was something I had suspected for a long time, but having it confirmed has led me to take stock of a lot of past experiences and shine a different light on them. I've always had intense "special interests," but early on in life I learned to downplay them because of other people's disapproval. I think I am a much more... passionate person than others might suspect? I've only been able to let it show a little in fannish spaces where it's more accepted to fall in love with a fandom, or become infatuated with a character, or be swept off your feet by a storyline. Those aren't metaphors, it's really what it feels like, and I feel that way about a lot of things!

When I was a kid one of my special interests was ancient Egypt. I remember flipping through history books and feeling a physical level of joy and contentment as I pored over photos of pyramids and papyri, because I just loved loved loved what I was seeing so much. When the prompt asks about what gets my heart pumping, I think of things like that. But I learned to hide that part of myself because people didn't get it. I want to work on changing this. I know that kind of love is still there and I can still tap into it, and I want a future for myself where I'm proud that it's a part of me. That feels far away right now, but there was also a time when being proud of being aro-ace felt very far away, so I think there's cause for hope.

Many years have passed since The Tombs of Atuan, and Ged is now Archmage of Roke, the highest magical authority of Earthsea. One day the young prince of Enlad arrives with ill tidings: outside the safety of Roke's impenetrable enchantments, magic is disappearing from the world. Spells and songs are forgotten and the people are falling into despair. Ged and Prince Arren set out to find the cause, a quest that will lead them to realize their own respective destinies.

Even though I have read this book many times, I still find it almost shockingly good. Sometimes when reading it I have a wild urge to shake it and demand how?! how are you so good?? But that might be a little weird so I try to restrain myself.

It's a short book, but well-paced, and I think it feels longer than it is. It is a book where not that much actually "happens" in terms of plot events, and the main things that do happen are signposted fairly early on, so they're not surprises and they're not meant to be. The characters spend a lot of time traveling over sea and land and having thoughtful conversations about the nature of life, death, power, and what they are doing; the book is content to sit with them and listen. The beauty of the language and the depth of what's discussed make it a wonderful book to sink into and feel that there is space to think.

( cut for vaguely spoilery discussion that assumes you've read the book )

This was supposed to be the final book of the series, and it was 18 years before Le Guin added book four. If I stick to my planned re-read schedule, it's going to be just about a year until I get to Tehanu. It is tempting to skip ahead! But part of why I'm doing this chronologically is that I want to look at Le Guin's development as a writer over time and how she went from being the author who wrote A Wizard of Earthsea to being the author who wrote Tehanu. We've got a ways to go yet.

Ox-eye Daisy.

( more flowers [7 photos] )

( birds [3 photos] )

( bugs [4 photos] )

( miscellaneous [4 photos] )

Note: Emezi is nonbinary and started using they/them pronouns after this book was published, so earlier reviews may misgender them, as does the jacket bio.

This autobiographical novel follows Ada, a young Nigerian who is inhabited by multiple spirits. In Igbo the word for this is ọgbanje, which seems to sometimes refer to the spirits and sometimes the host (or maybe trying to distinguish the two is a failure of cultural literacy on my part). From birth, Ada knows she's different, and sometimes living with the spirits is a struggle. At other times they're a source of comfort and protection as she deals with unsettled family relationships, a move to an entirely new culture in the US, and intimate partner abuse. A lot of the time it's both.

Like Stone Butch Blues, this book is so memoir-shaped and episodic that it's hard to parse it as a novel, but it does have novelistic prose which is quite strong and evocative, and there's a satisfying arc. The use of alternating POVs among the different spirits is effective at establishing them as their own voices with their own motivations and interiority. Ada isn't really the main character—we get the spirits' perspectives on entering her body, being born from her trauma, and making decisions about how to deal with her, long before we ever get Ada's own POV. So it's more of an ensemble piece. Conversations between Ada and the spirits take place in an internal mind palace where each entity has a physical form, which helps it feel more vividly concrete rather than an abstract dialogue among inner voices.

The book takes an eclectic perspective on spirituality and mental health. Western psych concepts of dissociative identity are fluidly interwoven with Igbo religious traditions, as well as with Christian spirituality. (Jesus is an occasional visitor to the mind palace.) This feels very honest and unafraid to hold diverse truths, which is refreshing as well as thematically resonant.

Though the character Ada goes by she/her, she does have gender stuff going on, which is presented in the context of one of the inhabiting spirits being male. It was a little startling to me to have this portrayed so frankly, because it's one of those things we talk about in the trans community but not necessarily outside it, and it made me feel a strange mix of comfortable familiarity and high anxiety. Like, yes, there are trans/nb/genderfluid people who experience their gender(s) in whole or in part as plural identity, but you're not supposed to say that in public. But when I take a breath and look past that initial reaction, of course I realize that we can't get where we need to go by sanding the rough edges off our reality in the name of not scaring the straights.

I plan to check out some of Emezi's other books. Since this one is obviously a lightly fictionalized recounting of things that really happened, I'll be interested to see what they come up with when they write outside of their specific personal experiences.

Content notes for the book include: Rape, self-injury, disordered eating, and attempted suicide.