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THE EPHEMERA COLLECTOR

A daring Afrofuturist debut that just scratches the surface of its own astonishing futures.

An archivist grapples with Covid-19-induced memory loss and meddling AI helper bots while preserving an account of humanity’s radical survival.

In 2035, Xandria Anastasia Brown is the curator of African American Ephemera at the Huntington Library in Los Angeles, crafting a mosaic of Black history through quotidian artifacts. When a protest against corporate influence on the library escalates into an institution-wide lockdown, Xandria is sequestered in her office; there, she must confront the ramifications of her persistent brain fog, monitored and prodded by a trio of artificial intelligences. Initially functioning as personal assistants and health bots, the AIs' competing attempts to preserve her quality of life have a direct impact on Xandria’s passion project: collecting the ephemera of Diwata, an undersea nation inspired by Octavia E. Butler and the Black Panther Party, created in response to environmental trauma and in opposition to the colonies created to plunder Mars. Xandria’s framework is broad; she includes seemingly inconsequential objects to give future scholars the full picture of Diwata. That modus operandi is reflected in Jackson’s novel, which displays an astonishing breadth of imagination spanning centuries—there's everything from a far-future symposium attended by an immortal Xandria to an exploration of Diwata’s origins and feuding factions—but it only dips into each setting. Jackson draws thought-provoking parallels between Xandria cataloguing artifacts and the bots in turn cataloguing her physical symptoms, emotional reactions, and other biomedical data. The novel posits a future in which AI can bridge the gap of humans’ limitations, taking care of us when we can’t take care of each other, yet acknowledges the violations of privacy and autonomy that will be required. Jackson makes audacious leaps forward in time and space, from a lifespan-enhancing genetic operation performed against Xandria’s will to a sentient rover bursting out of the Pacific Ocean and not stopping until it reaches Mars. Readers may wish they could take deeper dives into each of these breathtaking vignettes.

A daring Afrofuturist debut that just scratches the surface of its own astonishing futures.

Pub Date: April 1, 2025

ISBN: 9781324093404

Page Count: 320

Publisher: Liveright/Norton

Review Posted Online: April 4, 2025

Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 2025

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THE WEDDING PEOPLE

Uneven but fitfully amusing.

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Betrayed by her husband, a severely depressed young woman gets drawn into the over-the-top festivities at a lavish wedding.

Phoebe Stone, who teaches English literature at a St. Louis college, is plotting her own demise. Her husband, Matt, has left her for another woman, and Phoebe is taking it hard. Indeed, she's determined just where and how she will end it all: at an oceanfront hotel in Newport, where she will lie on a king-sized canopy bed and take a bottle of her cat’s painkillers. At the hotel, Phoebe meets bride-to-be Lila, a headstrong rich girl presiding over her own extravagant six-day wedding celebration. Lila thought she had booked every room in the hotel, and learning of Phoebe's suicidal intentions, she forbids this stray guest from disrupting the nuptials: “No. You definitely can’t kill yourself. This is my wedding week.” After the punchy opening, a grim flashback to the meltdown of Phoebe's marriage temporarily darkens the mood, but things pick up when spoiled Lila interrupts Phoebe's preparations and sweeps her up in the wedding juggernaut. The slide from earnest drama to broad farce is somewhat jarring, but from this point on, Espach crafts an enjoyable—if overstuffed—comedy of manners. When the original maid of honor drops out, Phoebe is persuaded, against her better judgment, to take her place. There’s some fun to be had here: The wedding party—including groom-to-be Gary, a widower, and his 11-year-old daughter—takes surfing lessons; the women in the group have a session with a Sex Woman. But it all goes on too long, and the humor can seem forced, reaching a low point when someone has sex with the vintage wedding car (you don’t want to know the details). Later, when two characters have a meet-cute in a hot tub, readers will guess exactly how the marriage plot resolves.

Uneven but fitfully amusing.

Pub Date: July 30, 2024

ISBN: 9781250899576

Page Count: 384

Publisher: Henry Holt

Review Posted Online: Sept. 13, 2024

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THE HANDMAID'S TALE

Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.

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The time is the not-so-distant future, when the US's spiraling social freedoms have finally called down a reaction, an Iranian-style repressive "monotheocracy" calling itself the Republic of Gilead—a Bible-thumping, racist, capital-punishing, and misogynistic rule that would do away with pleasure altogether were it not for one thing: that the Gileadan women, pure and true (as opposed to all the nonbelieving women, those who've ever been adulterous or married more than once), are found rarely fertile.

Thus are drafted a whole class of "handmaids," whose function is to bear the children of the elite, to be fecund or else (else being certain death, sent out to be toxic-waste removers on outlying islands). The narrative frame for Atwood's dystopian vision is the hopeless private testimony of one of these surrogate mothers, Offred ("of" plus the name of her male protector). Lying cradled by the body of the barren wife, being meanwhile serviced by the husband, Offred's "ceremony" must be successful—if she does not want to join the ranks of the other disappeared (which include her mother, her husband—dead—and small daughter, all taken away during the years of revolt). One Of her only human conduits is a gradually developing affair with her master's chauffeur—something that's balanced more than offset, though, by the master's hypocritically un-Puritan use of her as a kind of B-girl at private parties held by the ruling men in a spirit of nostalgia and lust. This latter relationship, edging into real need (the master's), is very effectively done; it highlights the handmaid's (read Everywoman's) eternal exploitation, profane or sacred ("We are two-legged wombs, that's all: sacred vessels, ambulatory chalices"). Atwood, to her credit, creates a chillingly specific, imaginable night-mare. The book is short on characterization—this is Atwood, never a warm writer, at her steeliest—and long on cynicism—it's got none of the human credibility of a work such as Walker Percy's Love In The Ruins. But the scariness is visceral, a world that's like a dangerous and even fatal grid, an electrified fence.

Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.

Pub Date: Feb. 17, 1985

ISBN: 038549081X

Page Count: -

Publisher: Houghton Mifflin

Review Posted Online: Sept. 16, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 1985

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