Margins and Murmurations

Really enjoyed this book, Ash is just the grumpy hermit trans woman I might become one day if all goes... "well". Really enjoyed the trans folks and sex workers fighting the good fight in this dystopian book, and the wisdom sprinkled in. Also really personally hated some of the characters, which doesn't happen that often and makes for some good writing if it does, I think. Real tense read that absolutely didn't pull punches regarding some pretty graphic depictions of bad stuff, but I personally was able to deal with that pretty good in the context of the whole book.

Got a little confused from time to time by the side-by-side storytelling being so omnipresent, it made for some interesting contrasts and "oh fuck" moments during the reading but it got a but much for my personal taste. The nameless, faceless dystopia had it's charms but felt a little too flat and on the nose to me from time to time, compared to some other works in a similar space. My complaining is on a really high level though, and I'll absolutely be buying this book (or the whole trilogy, knowing myself) as a paperback to efficiently bug my friends to read them, and maybe you, whoever's reading this, should too!

Even the foreword strikes a nerve: "Since I started writing this novel, I’ve been amazed – and terrified – by how much of it is already coming true. A splintering Europe, the rise of authoritarian states in the West, the backlash against so-called minorities." The author wrote these words back in 2017 – let that sink in...

The plot is set only slightly ahead of our time, reaching into the 2040s. Its piercing glimpses into our present-day reality honestly gave me more than one nightmare-night when reading just before bed-time. The characters illustrate how urgent it is to begin now with what Arne Semsrott calls "prepping love": building structures and alliances, developing skills and knowledge – everything that can be shared with those who will need it. Anyone who ticks one or more boxes: queer, trans, non-binary, disabled, sex worker, BIPoC. The book presses a dystopian finger into wounds that are already open. (Side note: It’s a dystopia that isn’t centred around reproduction.) It covers the topics and representations so often missing from other novels – and that’s crucial and heartening, especially as the characters band together into a movement of resistance. But: it’s not particularly well written. Again and again, I found myself pulled out of the story – and it pains me to say so.

What doesn’t work for me: • Everything is spelled out. Characters voice and think through every message they are meant to convey, and some seem created solely for that purpose. Their traits and histories are likewise overexplained. At times, the author slips into something close to rage mode when describing them – understandable given the themes, but honestly, I’d prefer reading that tone on Mastodon. In a novel, it becomes tiresome. If the book had trusted its readers a bit more and conveyed its points with more subtlety (some might say: with more literary craft), the impact would have been even stronger. • After the halfway mark, the story starts to drag. We read it in a queer-feminist book club; 2 out of 4 of us didn’t make it to the end.

What works for me: • Pinar and Ash are characters who stay with you long after the last page. • Elias’s storyline moved me, too. (Though, admittedly, Elias mainly serves as a reminder of how dangerous it is to forget history...) • The final chapters build up real momentum – from there on, you simply can’t put the book down. • The novel aims to lift a particular message and feeling into flight – and yes, it succeeds.