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A review by sheistolerable
Moon and the Mars by Kia Corthron
adventurous
funny
hopeful
informative
relaxing
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
5.0
A wholly original narrative voice animates an underexplored historical context while facing down human foibles with amusement, love and hope. This is one of the best novels I've read in the last 10 years.
The story starts in 1840s New York as the young narrator's family is about to be displaced to build Central Park. We listen in as Theo Brook's extended African-American and Irish family navigates poverty, identity, work and the Civil War in bursting-with-life Five Points. The detailed historical context could have dragged the story down in a lesser author's hands, but in Theo's sparkling, lively and wholly original narrative voice, it's the informative backdrop to the much more fascinating experience of human living. Corthron's genius as an author is to create a voice for Theo that sounds believably historical while also maturing from a child to an educated young woman. Later on, we even see Theo code-switch as her internal monologue reflects more education than comes through in her spoken language.
Ahistorical language in historical novels is a huge pet peeve of mine and something I'll abandon a book for. I remember reading that Arthur Miller's great achievement in The Crucible was to create a language that sounded like the Puritans, and evoked their world, without sounding distractingly old-timey in the way something by Cotton Mather would today. Corthron has done this, but set herself an even bigger challenge than Miller had by seamlessly blending period texts--archival newspaper articles and songs--into her own novel. Her characters can, with total believability, quote "John Brown's Body" and go back to talking, and rather than making them sound old-timey or out of context, it helps us hear what that song meant to those who sang it when it was new.
The historical research is of the very best kind--heavy on lifestyle details like how people ate, budgeted and celebrated holidays, worlds away from the "Forrest Gump" style of writing where every widely-known trope about a particular period just happens to be relevant to one character's life. I was delighted to learn a lot about a region that means a lot to me, New York and Albany, through an experience I know shamefully little about, the 19th century African-American community in those parts. Corthron deals with contemporary issues including intersectionality, mixed-race identity, and cross-racial solidarity or competition through scenarios and conversations that feel totally appropriate to the period and setting--in fact, feel like the only time and place that could hold them, other than our own, must be mid-19th century New York. Historical fiction fails for me when the characters aren't believably constrained by their circumstances, or when the past isn't allowed to be different than now. On the other hand--no spoilers--it made me smile to know that one of the character arcs that feels most contemporary does have documented historical precedent in the period of the book. Read it and figure out which one!
I did the Arthur Miller comparison, but the name that kept coming up for me as I read was Dickens. Dickens at his best could depict poor and powerless people with humanity and humor, showing the dignity in their lives while documenting the casual cruelty of the conditions society forced on them. Corthron does this, sans Dickens's cheese. Like Dickens's characters, hers say they are poor, understand pretty well that the rich benefit from their poverty, have a variety of different perspectives on how to proceed given that crushing reality, and take justifiable pride in their survival despite it. I can't think of a fiction writer since Dickens who takes the textured reality of poverty so seriously.
Moon and the Mars is a joyful book--which isn't to say that nothing bad happens in it or that it shies away from dark historical truths. Theo's self-assured, intelligent narration gives us the right to hope that no matter what happens, her curious, confident spirit will persevere. In these dreary days, wouldn't you like to read a Great Thumping Novel that takes you out of our times, teaches you something about others, and promises that during the hours you entrust to it, everything will be fundamentally OK? I know I did. I only wish I could read it again for the first time.
The story starts in 1840s New York as the young narrator's family is about to be displaced to build Central Park. We listen in as Theo Brook's extended African-American and Irish family navigates poverty, identity, work and the Civil War in bursting-with-life Five Points. The detailed historical context could have dragged the story down in a lesser author's hands, but in Theo's sparkling, lively and wholly original narrative voice, it's the informative backdrop to the much more fascinating experience of human living. Corthron's genius as an author is to create a voice for Theo that sounds believably historical while also maturing from a child to an educated young woman. Later on, we even see Theo code-switch as her internal monologue reflects more education than comes through in her spoken language.
Ahistorical language in historical novels is a huge pet peeve of mine and something I'll abandon a book for. I remember reading that Arthur Miller's great achievement in The Crucible was to create a language that sounded like the Puritans, and evoked their world, without sounding distractingly old-timey in the way something by Cotton Mather would today. Corthron has done this, but set herself an even bigger challenge than Miller had by seamlessly blending period texts--archival newspaper articles and songs--into her own novel. Her characters can, with total believability, quote "John Brown's Body" and go back to talking, and rather than making them sound old-timey or out of context, it helps us hear what that song meant to those who sang it when it was new.
The historical research is of the very best kind--heavy on lifestyle details like how people ate, budgeted and celebrated holidays, worlds away from the "Forrest Gump" style of writing where every widely-known trope about a particular period just happens to be relevant to one character's life. I was delighted to learn a lot about a region that means a lot to me, New York and Albany, through an experience I know shamefully little about, the 19th century African-American community in those parts. Corthron deals with contemporary issues including intersectionality, mixed-race identity, and cross-racial solidarity or competition through scenarios and conversations that feel totally appropriate to the period and setting--in fact, feel like the only time and place that could hold them, other than our own, must be mid-19th century New York. Historical fiction fails for me when the characters aren't believably constrained by their circumstances, or when the past isn't allowed to be different than now. On the other hand--no spoilers--it made me smile to know that one of the character arcs that feels most contemporary does have documented historical precedent in the period of the book. Read it and figure out which one!
I did the Arthur Miller comparison, but the name that kept coming up for me as I read was Dickens. Dickens at his best could depict poor and powerless people with humanity and humor, showing the dignity in their lives while documenting the casual cruelty of the conditions society forced on them. Corthron does this, sans Dickens's cheese. Like Dickens's characters, hers say they are poor, understand pretty well that the rich benefit from their poverty, have a variety of different perspectives on how to proceed given that crushing reality, and take justifiable pride in their survival despite it. I can't think of a fiction writer since Dickens who takes the textured reality of poverty so seriously.
Moon and the Mars is a joyful book--which isn't to say that nothing bad happens in it or that it shies away from dark historical truths. Theo's self-assured, intelligent narration gives us the right to hope that no matter what happens, her curious, confident spirit will persevere. In these dreary days, wouldn't you like to read a Great Thumping Novel that takes you out of our times, teaches you something about others, and promises that during the hours you entrust to it, everything will be fundamentally OK? I know I did. I only wish I could read it again for the first time.