The City We Became by N.K. Jemisin: A review

This book is an amazing work of imagination. N.K. Jemisin imagines that we live in a world where cities become living, sentient beings by picking a human to be their avatar and becoming animate through that person. The avatar is assisted in becoming by the previous city that was "born" through this process. That avatar then becomes the protector of its city and when the city is in danger, the avatar can marshall all the resources of the city to fight for it.

Does this sound weird and crazy? Only at first. Jemisin seduces us into this fantasy world and we accept it and just go with it.

The city of the title is New York and New York's birth is a bit more complicated than some cities because it is made up of five distinct and different boroughs. There is actually a New York City avatar extant at the beginning of this tale, but he had already fought his city's enemies and won temporarily, but it cost him. He is in a coma, hidden away under the city. In order to assist him, the boroughs will each choose its own avatar and they will form a team to defend the city. And there you have the basics of the plot in a nutshell.

The book can be seen as a love letter to New York. Jemisin writes in the afterword: "I have hated this city. I have loved this city. I will fight for this city until it won't have me anymore. This is my homage to the city. Hope I got it right." I can't really say whether she got it right, but it sure sounds to me, from my distance, that she caught the personalities and the spirit of the various boroughs and of the big city as a whole.

We are introduced first to Manny representing Manhattan, a young black man who appears at Penn Station with no memory of how he got there. He has come from someplace else and he had another life and another name, but all of that is wiped clear and he begins anew, as so many have, in New York.

Next, we meet Brooklyn. She is a black middle-aged city councilwoman and former rapper who is devoted to her family.

Bronca for the Bronx is a Lenape Native American woman in her 60s. She is a lesbian. She works in an art gallery and she is very tough because she's had to be.

Queens is represented by a South Asian graduate student who is something of a whiz at math.

Finally, Staten Island is represented by Aislyn Houlihan, a young white woman who has grown up sheltered by a racist, xenophobic, abusive cop for a father. In time, we learn that she has absorbed his attitudes.

The city will need all of these avatars to survive because there is a powerful Enemy that threatens to devour it. The Enemy comes from another universe and its infectious presence is spreading throughout the city as white, feather-like entities. How each of the avatars responds to this entity, which is represented by a Woman in White, makes for an exciting and thoroughly engrossing story.

Here is the only real problem I had with the story, once I accepted the author's concept. She gives us something of a backstory for the Enemy which seems to be a way of legitimizing its attempt to take over as a way of ensuring its species survival. It tends to distort the clear lines between "good guy" and "bad guy" and sort of undermines the theme of the book regarding the strength of the city when diverse groups work together.

Nevertheless, this is at base an exciting, joyful, fast-paced tale with a lot of humor that was fun to read. One had the feeling that Jemisin also had fun writing it.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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