By Logan
468 pages
Begun 06/21/19; Finished 06/24/19

Over a week’s vacation at the beach I read the fantasy trilogy that Tori purchased on our anniversary, which she reviewed here. Instead of writing a blog post about the trilogy as a whole, I want to write a post about each of the books. This is partially because I would like to write about the second and third books without concern regarding spoilers, partially because I want to reflect on each book individually as well as with regard to its place in Jemisin’s overall story, and partially because I use the individual blog posts to actually count how many books I’ve read this year, (not counting some things for classes) which Tori uses Goodreads to do.
The Broken Earth Trilogy is a fantasy series with several bold decisions. It is a genuinely post-apocalyptic entry into the fantasy genre, a choice which I think has inherent risks but gives considerable payoffs here. Jemisin writes one of the perspective characters from a second-person point of view, a move that helps the audience relate to a character who is not the usual fantasy novel protagonist, and also permits a fair bit of distinctive, clever prose. That identification and relation is significant also because of another bold choice Jemisin makes; that is, her chief protagonist is a middle-aged woman of color with two children and a lot of trauma. While most characters in this world are not caucasian, the world is so far removed from our own that patterns of oppression and subjugation flow in ways related to its magic system, but the connection should not be missed.
This is a book series with a lot of hurt people trying their best to make it through very difficult situations alive. For that reason, it is a series that explores pain, shame, and suffering. This is a series of rage. If seeing the raw anger and brutality of the oppressed makes you so uncomfortable that your ability to relate to people in hard positions, this is not a series for you. Otherwise, I hope you dive in.

The Stone Sky is Jemisin’s lead-in into the Broken Earth. It follows three women of different ages, all of whom are connected to Orogeny, the magic of Jemisin’s world. Essun, the aforementioned middle-aged mother, flees her home on a hunt to try to find her husband and daughter in the shadow of a continental-scale catastrophe after years of hiding her magical abilities in order to live among normal people. Syenite is a professional orogene, controlled by a centralized authority designed to utilize the benefits of the powers orogenes possess while also keeping the population from brutally killing them all in bigotted protest. Damaya is a young child entering the control of the same organization, displaying the disturbing mix of loyalty and cruelty it shows those in its care.
These three characters give insights into not only the excellently built world Jemisin has constructed, but also into the dynamics of oppression and subjugation. Orogenes, called “roggas,” by those who are unsophisticated enough to use an impolite term, are systematically excluded from the broader humanity because of a mixture of fear and irrational hatred. Those that are hiding among others are killed by mob. Those who enter the control of the Fulcrum have every aspect of their lives dictated to them by its power structures, where they go, what they do, how they behave, and even who they have children with (Sexuality is a topic given significant attention in this book. Scenes made me blush, but are rarely crass, though for sure this is not a book I’d want in the hands of a child or most teenagers.).
All of this takes place as the world ends. The first pages show that despite humanity’s attempt to survive the endless, chaotic patterns of destruction arising from turbulent, dangerous underground activity, they are not prepared to survive this last disaster thrust upon them. This fact recontextualizes all of the dangers and cruelty and desperation and fury into something deeply poignant.
The characters in this book will stay with you. Alabaster, an orogene of unprecedented skill and ability, never stops giving wry, tortured commentary on the absurdity of the world around him. Crack, a peer of Damaya, reveals with alarm the depths of the damage people do to each other, how that warps their conduct, and also how that kind of hurt is always bound up in greater, darker systems of injustice. Hoa, a young child Essun meets along the way is nothing at all short of a spectacle and oddity in and of himself.
Jemisin’s work in the Fifth Season is one of reflection, catharsis, but most of all unflinching examination of what it means to be human when the world around us is wrong.

