In the eighth chapter of The Broken Kingdoms, I was simultaneously super close to the answer and a million miles away from it. My brain is broken. Intrigued? Then it’s time for Mark to read The Broken Kingdoms.
Chapter Eight: “Light Reveals” (encaustic on canvas)
Trigger Warning: There is discussion of gross power imbalances here, so I bring up examples of racism, homophobia, oppression, and the mental cost of such things, so there’s a lot of general talk (and some specific stuff) involved with this.
What happened when people who’d once possessed absolute power suddenly lost it?
With one sentence in chapter eight, N.K. Jemisin reveals what The Broken Kingdoms is actually about, and y’all, I cannot believe how unprepared I am for this. I seriously thought this book would focus entirely on Oree’s experiences with Shiny living in her midst. Not that he won’t appear again for large stretches of the narrative! But now I have a better idea of the forces at work in this novel, and GOOD GOD. Wait, didn’t I actually predict that this book would address the Arameri losing power? I WAS SORT OF PREPARED, AND IT DIDN’T MATTER.
There’s a lot to cover here, so I’m going to break it up based on the different scenes if y’all don’t mind.
Imprisonment
One of the most rewarding things about Mark Reads, regardless of whether or not I ultimately love a novel, is being able to document the discovery process. It’s something that can never, ever be repeated, despite that there are plenty of novels that feel entirely different once you visit them a second time. I’m glad that I’m putting this shit out in the world because it’s one of my absolute favorite experiences in life. I often get asked if surrounding myself in a bubble of anti-spoiler moderators and browser extensions cuts me off from the world, but I’m not sure if it does. I don’t want to know what I’m getting into so that my reactions and thoughts are more pure. I want to be able to convey the shock, confusion, terror, and joy of discovering things on my own. And if that makes me a weirdo so be it. I’m fine with that. But imagine what this experience (and the videos that accompany these chapters) would be like if I had – as a suggestion – read the back cover of The Broken Kingdoms before picking up the book. Now, I have no idea what it says because I’m still scared it’ll spoil a tiny detail I haven’t picked up on or the purpose of the larger narrative. But I imagine it hinted at Shiny’s identity, I imagine it touched on issues of power, both lost and found, and of a larger war between the mortals and the gods that have now been set free upon their world. Going into this ignorant – I LOVE SAYING THAT – means that I get to find out every nuance and twist on my own, and that’s just so goddamn fun for me.
I’m starting this off with a larger introduction because this entire chapter presents the reader with a jarring change in tone, setting, themes, and narrative strength, one that resets the expected course of the novel in thirty pages. We’re given a lot of information and context amidst unbearable tension. (That dinner scene in the second half of the chapter fucking hurts to read, y’all. OH MY GOD.) I mean, this chapter starts off with the reveal that Oree has been imprisoned. IMPRISONED. She is literally within the World Tree. As she points out, it’s a sign of the amount of power this group has, but it’s only one part of a terrifying whole. Every single detail that Jemisin reveals through Oree’s experiences is more unsettling than the last. Her caretakers walk the line between genuine adoration and contemptuous disgust; the New Lights – which confirms that the man who spoke to Oree prior to her “incident” was indeed behind the attack on Shiny – exhibit all the traits of people trapped in a cult, except it’s not a cult, not technically. I don’t even know what to call them. A cabal of power?
Regardless, the way every single person talks to Oree makes my skin crawl. Let it be said that this is a brilliant example of why respectability politics are fucking nonsense, which isn’t a new thing in this series. But look at how polite these people act, and then look at what they’re saying. Hado refers to Oree and her friends as their “guests.” GUESTS. AS IF THEY WERE INVITED, NOT VIOLENTLY KIDNAPPED OUT OF THEIR OWN EXISTENCE AND LEFT TO SUFFER IN A VOID OF NOTHING.
No, that’s not even the worst of it:
“Indeed, we have decided to welcome you among us as one of our initiates – our term for a new member. You’ll be introduced to our doctrines, our customs, our whole way of life. Nothing will be hidden from you. Indeed, it is our hope that you will find enlightenment with us, and rise within our ranks as a true believer.”
That’s horrifying, right? I mean, he sounds like he’s in a cult! And yet, in hindsight, he’s not lying. In fact, not one of the people Oree talks to hides the truth from her. No, they all tell the truth – their version of it, at least – without provocation. They set about to briefly introduce Oree to their life and their beliefs, and they really do hope she’ll come to their way of thinking.
More on that later in the review. Because y’all:
“Don’t be foolish,” he said very softly. “You’re a good Maroneh girl, aren’t you? We are all true Itempans here, Oree. Why wouldn’t you want to join us?”
I don’t care about the context of why the New Lights believe and desire what they do, this is still fucking creepy. Oh my gods, these people are so awful! Even Jont, who means well and has good intentions, terrifies me. It’s her honest assertions and her attempts to make Oree feel at ease that get under my skin. She does things like fall right into that awful stereotype that blind people have magical senses, assume that Oree did something deserving of The Empty, and proudly claim that her godling friends deserve that place. Oh, then there’s the whole thing where she defines Oree’s homeland by the Nightlord, which is just peachy.
“I don’t think I want to do anything you have in mind,” I said as coldly as I could.
She touched my shoulder and said something that would keep me from ever seeing her as innocent again: “You will.”
I AM OKAY WITH PRECISELY NONE OF THIS. EVERY SINGLE SECOND OF THIS FEELS WRONG AND INVASIVE AND CREEPY AND I WANT TO GO HUG A THOUSAND PUPPIES RIGHT ABOUT NOW. But I didn’t get to. Oh, no, because N.K. Jemisin then provided me with the literary equivalent of taking a truckload of puppies and dropping them off a cliff because of THE DINNER SCENE.
Dinner with New Lights
I can’t. This whole sixteen-page sequence is going to give me nightmares. See, I have issues – severe, anxiety-inducing issues – with uncomfortable power dynamics. That manifests in me in various ways: I mistrust figures of authority, particularly cops, judges, politicians, anyone who can and does wield a lot of power, even more so if they do this without regard for how their actions can affect others. Now, I’m well aware of why this is. I grew up with an authoritarian mother who was, frankly speaking, mean as hell to me and my brother, more so to me because of her perception that I wasn’t exactly the straightest son she’d ever had. Once I became aware of how my identity worked against me (which was unfortunately at a very young age, probably eight or nine), I couldn’t unsee how figures of authority would often abuse their power to me in my place. I had brown skin, I was effeminate and flamboyant when I spoke, and I was visibly poor. And this pattern has continued to this day. I saw it in the officials at school who tried to force me to go back home to my parents even after I did my best to explain how they treated me (without outing myself, of course); I saw it in the church officials and parishioners who turned against me when I was violently outed in the summer of 2002; I saw it in the racist, vicious district manager who fired me because she hated everything I represented (a brown queer boy who was fantastic at his job, more so than her), thereby making me homeless for the second time in my life; and I saw it in the racist, homophobic cop who targeted me at an anti-Prop 8 rally in 2008 because he literally could not tell the difference between two Latino men and was mad that he got called on it.
It’s why large parts of The Hunger Games, everything in Order of the Phoenix, passages in Protector of the Small, and this goddamn dinner scene hit me right in the heart. This isn’t just upsetting; this is atomic levels of not okay for me specifically. You know, I had a conversation with one of my best friends recently about how sometimes, hearing about oppressive shit that’s happening in the world makes me literally sick, where I feel nausea, where it triggers such severe anxiety in me that I have to go lie down because I feel like it’s taking over my body. I wouldn’t say I had this sort of reaction to reading this scene, but I spent a good deal of this chapter so unbelievably angry because… well, N.K. Jemisin gets it. She understands how power imbalances affect those with the least power, and she centers this story on one young woman whose vitality and life is threatened by people who wield ridiculous levels of power. And it’s not my intention to get all preachy here, because there are layers upon layers here that y’all could analyze regarding how this dinner scene plays out, and this is just my view. I’m not trying to say that this is the only lens by which y’all can look upon chapter eight. But it’s what jumped out at me because of my own experience, you know?
Seriously, though, there really is a lot going on here, and one of the more fascinating aspects of this chapter is Oree’s desperation to figure out the layers of influence, the references, the side conversations, and the information these people are giving her. It also doesn’t help that in the midst of this (and rather early into the dinner), Oree’s magical ability is revealed when she catches sight of Lady Serymn’s sigil. It puts Oree at a disadvantage because we already know that these people want her power for their own desire. Well, there’s also this:
I licked my suddenly dry lips, folded my shaking hands in my lap, and mustered all my courage to speak. “What is an Arameri fullblood doing with some little heretic cult, Lady Serymn?”
I HATE THAT THERE IS LAUGHTER IN RESPONSE TO THIS. NOOOOOO, IT MEANS EVERYTHING IS WORSE THAN I THOUGHT. The New Lights believe they are morally superior to the Order, so this isn’t an issue of them being a tiny cult risking heresy. Oh, no, in fact, living up to Hado’s promise, Lady Serymn is quick to reveal all of the truth, including the fact that the Arameri “spent centuries filling mortal hears with terror at the prospect of the Nightlord’s release.” Serymn’s casual tone is so unnerving because DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE SAYING? Oh, of course she does. That’s the point. She knows she has all the power here, she knows she can be honest, and she knows that there are no negative ramifications for her at all. That’s because there’s a context to this all that I didn’t quite understand until I got to the end of the chapter. As Serymn told Oree of the events of the previous book, including Yeine’s sacrifice and transformation into the Grey Lady, the realization began to hit me at around the same time as it hit Oree: Nahadoth was suddenly a risk again. And it made such terrible sense that they’d chosen Oree, the “good Maroneh girl,” someone who would understand what it is like to have your land and culture wiped away by the Nightlord.
But nothing made the next part easy to handle, because Serymn reveals why this is all so important. It’s not just that the Nightlord is a risk. If he takes out the Arameri (which, personally, the dude has every right to just nuke the whole line), he’ll usher in something in his wake: war.
“Wh-where?” I asked.
“Everywhere.”
The Broken Kingdoms. Nahadoth might send the entire Hundred Thousand Kingdoms into utter chaos if he enacts his vengeance for what was done to him. And while this is kind of a valid concern, Jemisin quickly reminds us that these people, Arameri or not, are kind of disgusting:
“High Northers,” said someone else at the table, in a tone of scorn. “Darkling barbarians! Two thousand years and they’re still angry!”
Why can’t I punch fictional characters in the mouth? SHUT UP. This reminded me of that certain sort of person who says the same thing about slavery in the United States. MAY YOU GET SUCKED INTO THE EMPTY.
Except it’s not going to stop what’s coming. I just… the end of this chapter is just so fucked up and unreal, and I can’t deal with this. Y’all:
“You want to kill the Nightlord,” I said.
“Yes,” she said. She paused as another servant came over. I heard the cover being lifted from some sort of tray. “And we want you to help us do it. Dessert?”
YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME. They are totally going to play up her Maroneh history, aren’t they? That’s the only way I can see them getting her on their side! Her friends are trapped in the Empty, so she’s not going to cooperate, especially if Madding remains there. I just… how? HOW IS THIS GOING TO WORK? I have no idea how this book is a thing anymore, and that’s so wonderful. The rug was pulled out from under me, and I’m perfectly fine with it. BLESS THIS BOOK ALREADY.
Please note that the original text and the videos contain uses of the words “crazy” and “insanity.”
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
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