I picked up a copy of A Quiet Rebellion: Guilt (Numoeath Book 1) after reading several of M.H. Thaung’s very short stories (VSS) on her website. For what it’s worth, we follow each other on Twitter. I found her VSS to be well-written and, in some cases, thought provoking. My curiosity got the better of me and I decided to see what she could do when writing in a longer format.

As usual, I went into the book blind. I didn’t read any reviews, I didn’t read the synopses. I prefer it that way. I think that reading little tidbits not only runs the risk of exposing me to spoilers, but it can cause me to form an opinion before I even read the first line.

So here’s the spoiler-free deal with A Quiet Rebellion:

It’s an interesting take on a fantasy story. There’s not really any magic to speak of, but there are beasts who can attack humans and imbue them with almost supernatural powers. This includes powers like starting fires, influencing decision making, or causing pain.

The setting is fantasy-like. There’s a lot of isolation between villages, a central city with a queen and a castle, and transportation consists of either walking or hot air balloons.

One of the more interesting aspects for me is that this society has things like electric lights, hot air balloons, and carts on tracks (sort of like human-powered locomotion), but they still seem to be just coming out of a medieval period. To me, this gives the story an “early steampunk” feel.

The main story follows several characters – an herbalist/healer, a soldier, and a young woman who has recently developed powers after a beast attack. The characters all have unique personalities, which I enjoyed, and they’re all damaged in some way. Not necessarily in a physical sense, but emotionally and mentally. Ms. Thaung did a fantastic job of making them real by giving them internal struggles, self-doubt, and relatable fears.

The story expands as it goes along, introducing more characters and more intrigue. I felt like things were coming to a head towards the end of the book, but it was just a build up before the final page. However, it’s not like the story ends on some terrible cliff-hanger. There are questions that need to be answered, mysteries to unravel, and people who may need to be rescued.

I think the main things I liked about this novel was the slow build up, the unique story line, and the well-developed characters. Also, the author slowly builds the backstory instead of giving it all away at once. I came away from it still not fulling understanding the situation, where these beasts come from, and how their society got to this point. I’m sure more will be revealed in the next book and I’m looking forward to it.

I definitely recommend A Quiet Rebellion: Guilt. Pick up a copy if you’re interested in a unique fantasy.

RB

I’ve always believed that Asian literature is sorely underrepresented in western countries. I don’t recall ever reading any books in school from Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Thai, Indian, or any other authors from Asia. I’ve been trying to remedy that over the past few years by expanding my horizons with selections from different countries and my latest read is The Memory Police, by Yoko Ogawa.

The story takes place on an unnamed island, possibly off the coast of Japan, where things occasionally disappear. That is to say, the residents of the island wake up some mornings to find things, like birds, have disappeared. They no longer sit in the trees and sing, they no longer peck in the bird feeders. The few residents that have birds as pets instinctively know to open their cages and set them free. Soon after, the memory of birds begins to fade, the birdsongs, their names, what they look like.

It’s incredibly haunting. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason, no pattern, and there’s no announcement. The population wakes up and soon realizes that a specific thing is fading from their memory.

However, there are a handful of people who don’t forget. They remember all the things their friends and family have forgotten. Unfortunately, remembering is illegal and the Memory Police, ever vigilant, are constantly on patrol and performing raids to find these criminals.

Crazy, right? I found this to be an amazingly original premise. So surreal and haunting, especially the way the story is written. Even though my grasp of Japanese is limited to a few simple phrases, I still feel as if the translator did a wonderful job of capturing the eeriness of the narration. Some day I’d love to learn enough of one of the Asian languages to be able to read a novel in its original form.

But back to the story – It follows the unnamed protagonist, a young female novelist, who is friends with an unnamed old man and her editor, R. The young woman discovers that R is one of the few who can remember things, so she and the old man take it upon themselves to hide and shelter the editor to protect him from the Memory Police.

The story isn’t just about this espionage and subterfuge, however. It’s also about the importance and the fragility of memory, how most of us can only remember bits and pieces of our own past. The rest, the memories that fade away, take a piece of us with them. So in a way, we are all incomplete. Additionally, Ogawa leaves unanswered questions about the situation, the Memory Police, and other bits and pieces. I think this was a perfect accompaniment to a story where the characters themselves have to deal with the same, unanswered questions.

I found this novel to be a beautiful dive into magic-realism. The way Ogawa describes the disappearances and the way the people react to them is seamless. I didn’t question how or why, I just wanted to know what was going to happen to the characters, how they were going to survive this strange purge of things from the island and from their memories.

I have to say, this really is one of the most beautifully written and haunting stories I’ve ever read. It’s slow-moving, melancholy, and deeply touching. Highly-recommended.

RB

I’m sure you’ve heard that old adage: Write what you know. It’s not necessarily meant to be taken literally, of course, but basically it means to write about things you’re familiar with, that interest you. A perfect example of this can be found in Parker Bauman’s Tiny Righteous Acts.

So here’s the deal – Ms. Bauman is an immigration attorney. It’s her day job. In my opinion, I think it’s a job that balances out a lot of negativity created by other attorneys. You know what I mean, right? The ambulance chasers, the frivolous lawsuits, the patent trolls. Immigration attorneys actually help people. In a way, they rescue them. Knights in shining armor and all that jazz.

Ms. Bauman uses her experience as an immigration attorney as the foundation for this novel. At least, I hope it’s just the foundation. You’ll understand what I mean in a moment.

The story follows “Lottie” Fornea, an immigration attorney based in New Orleans. Without giving too much away, Lottie helps women who have been the victims of abuse (rape, beatings, etc) in other countries get their citizenship in the U.S. However, what eats at her is the fact that the abusers, who are still in their respective homelands, get away with the abuse while the women continue to suffer and carry the scars for the rest of their lives.

With the help of some dedicated friends, she decides to do something about it. Hence, the tiny, righteous acts.

I don’t want to go too far into the narrative or plot because that would spoil some of the surprises, but I will comment on some other aspect of the novel.

For starters, Ms. Bauman absolutely captures New Orleans on the page. I’ve visited the city many times and have fond memories (well, I can remember some of the visits) of the architecture, the people, and that indescribable vibe that can only be found in NOLA. Reading some of the descriptions of the restaurants and neighborhoods took me back in time, and I could feel the wind, smell the crawfish boils, and taste the alcohol all over again.

Additionally, the characters are stereotypically New Orleans. And I don’t mean that in a negative way. NOLA is a colorful city, the residents even more so. The language, the clothing, the attitudes, are all perfectly encapsulated here.

But even beyond that, Ms. Bauman does a fantastic job of describing the other locales visited by our protagonist. I’m not sure if she actually visited these cities, but they all felt very real to me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was a travel agent on the side.

The story itself is a fun ride. It’s mostly light-hearted and fun, but it does have darker moments. However, Ms. Bauman does a wonderful job of balancing it all. There’s humor, a touch of romance, danger, and sacrifice.

When I finally put the book down I had to sit and think about the story for a bit. If nothing else, the story made me consider things I hadn’t given much thought to, like the perils of women in less-modern countries, the difficulties in them getting out and finding a better life, and the fact that in many places woman are terribly persecuted. I mean, I know this goes on, but it’s not something I consider on a day to day basis.

Tiny Righteous Acts brings this to the forefront, not in a preachy way, but honestly and without flinching.

Overall, a good, though-provoking read. Check it out.

RB