★★★★ (of 5)

• Full Title: The Book Of Phoenix
• Author: Nnedi Okorafor
• Year: 2015
• Pages: 232
• Genre: Fantasy, Science Fiction, africanfuturist
• Publisher: Daw Books
• ISBN 9780756410193* (library hardcover)
• Author’s Wikipedia page

* Oddly, the copy I checked out from the library did not have an ISBN number. If there’s one on the back, it’s covered by the library’s own sticker. There is not one on the copyright page — where I typically find them — or anywhere else.

 

Summary

The Book Of Phoenix is a prequel to Who Fears Death (“0.1” in the series, according to GoodReads). Genre-deciders have trouble classifying this book: Penguin Random House calls it “Cyber punk”, GoodReads users have it as “fantasy” but also “science fiction”, Barnes & Noble says to shelve it “between The X-Men and Frankenstein”, and its own jacket refers to it as “magical futurism”. I think of it as a blend between sci-fi and fantasy, in that it’s set in a realistic enough future Earth; there just happen to be unexplainable, magic-like powers. (See addendum: Okorafor prefers “africanfuturist”.)

The story: a genetically engineered woman (intended to be a bioweapon) turns on her creators as a flaming ball of death. But not before she meets other prisoners of Tower 7, including a man who eats broken glass and another man who can walk through walls. The woman is Phoenix, and her name alone is a spoiler for what happens next.

 

Commentary

The primary story is bookended by a prologue and epilogue, in which an old man in the distant future finds the digital audiobook “The Book Of Phoenix” and hears Phoenix herself tell the story. Those parts, to me, felt disconnected from the bulk of the tale — but it was those parts that connect this book most securely to Who Fears Death.

The writing style varies between extremely clear-cut and less clear, though most of the unclear parts seem to be left that way intentionally and are cleared up later. On some points, I was still uncertain at the end (not on major plot points, but on lesser details).

Other reviewers described this as an “angry” book, but it didn’t feel that way to me. Much more in focus was sadness: grief, frustration, sorrow, loss. And even more obvious was the sense of power, the power of Phoenix, both to survive and to avenge.

As a prequel to Who Fears Death, it wasn’t perfect — I still see huge unexplained differences between the world in Phoenix’s time and the world in Onyesonwu’s time. But as a standalone novel, it was very close to perfect. All the world-building that was missing in Who Fears Death (and the Binti trilogy, for that matter) is very evident here. Not in a boring way, though. Okorafor skillfully tells the reader of the world (near-future Earth) in phrases dropped between action scenes and Phoenix’s inner dialog.

 

The Short Story

Last year, I reviewed an anthology (which I no longer own), and it included a short story by Okorafor called The Book Of Phoenix. To the best of my recollection, that “short story” was just chapter one of this book. But this book didn’t come out until 2015, and that anthology was published in 2012, so... I couldn’t find a single thing online about that short story, so I’m uncertain as to the relationship.

[Edit: I found the short story online, here. It’s not word-for-word identical with Chapter 1 of this book, though parts of it are.]

Here’s how I summarized the short story at the time:

“A group called the ‘Big Eye’ performs experiments on humans with various superpowers, all of them imprisoned in numbered buildings. The first-person narrator is in Building 7. Her ‘powers’ are aging quickly and having a very high body temperature. I know, ridiculous, right? She attempts an escape but apparently only succeeds in creating so much heat that Building 7 is destroyed. I think she is killed at the end, but it is difficult to tell.”

Clearly, I wasn’t impressed at the time, but even then I knew that some of my disappointment was due to so much remaining unexplained. Now that I know the “short story” was merely the first chapter of a forthcoming full novel, everything is different.

 

Points Off For...

I did find one example of what appeared to be poor editing, but only one. On page 18, a character named Bumi says “I know that you know my country, Nigeria”, but then several paragraphs later, on page 19, when she mentions again that she’s Nigerian, the first-person narrator (Phoenix) seems surprised: “So you are not American?” Didn’t Bumi already say she was Nigerian? Then, in an additional level of confusion, Bumi is met again, on page 52. Here, Phoenix says in narration: “I now realized [Bumi] was most likely banking on the benefits of experimentation on me to earn her American citizenship”. Which sounded familiar, so I went back to page 19. Sure enough, Bumi says exactly that on page 19: “I’m legal, but not a citizen. Not yet. I will be. My work with you will earn me the pull I need.” So why is Phoenix only “now” realizing this on page 52, if Bumi flat-out said it on page 19?

I noticed other reviewers took off points for some of the very things I liked about the book — describing characters’ physical appearances, having plenty of women characters, not to mention people of color. I struggle to think of any explanation for thinking these are negative parts of the book. Especially in the context of so many sci-fi characters of my youth being clearly described as white men.

 

Conclusion

After reading the above, I feel like I haven’t properly described this book and the way it made me feel. But I think the important thing is that it made me feel. This, to me, is the very definition of “art” — a work that evokes an emotional response. I did feel frustrated and sad when Phoenix felt those things. And I did feel her pain when she was in pain or her friends were in pain. I did feel triumph when she couldn’t hold back any longer and let loose the fullness of her power.

It’s a rare book these days that draws me in enough to feel so deeply. Perhaps oddest of all is how much I identified with the character, who is to all appearances very different from me (aside from being about my height).

 

Addendum, 2019.10.09

The author, Okorafor, tweeted in March 2019 that she does not want the term “afrofuturism” applied to her work. Until seeing that tweet, I had assumed (incorrectly) that she was the one who had coined the term — I’ve seen it in reviews of her books and even on their dust jackets. Now that I know that assumption was incorrect, I will use the term she suggested in the tweet, which is “africanfuturist”. I don’t know what the difference is, but am perfectly happy to use the genre terms specified by authors. I have edited my “genre” bullet point above. Here is a screenshot of her tweet:

 

 

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