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A review by beforeviolets
The First Bright Thing by J.R. Dawson
adventurous
challenging
hopeful
reflective
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
Thank you to the publisher for sending me a copy in exchange for an honest review!
(Also I'm v sick writing this so hopefully things make sense, but I foresee myself coming back and editing this review later. Especially because I finished this book in my sick brain fog and may need to clear up my brain a bit.)
Okay, so I know this review got attention with my anticipatory comment stating: "The Night Circus but make it sapphic, Jewish, and with time travel?????" but before I begin my actual review, I'd like to sort of ret-con that statement and say I actually disagree with the way this book is pitched. I've seen it described as "cozy" and compared to The Night Circus. I don't think that either of those things are accurate beyond the surface layer of this book. Rather, I would call this a dark, yet hopeful magical realism story for fans of Middlegame and Thistlefoot.
Centering a ringmaster caught between the fear of the past and the unknowable, terrifying uncertainty of the future, The First Bright Thing is a story set between WWI and WWII about what a small light in a sea of darkness can accomplish.
It's rare to find a true magical realism book these days. People often throw it around as a synonym of low fantasy, but it truly is its own category, and one that has a history of roots in Latin American literature and Jewish literature (and frankly, is a genre that should mostly be ascribed to books about resistance to systemic oppression). They require loose magic systems that function primarily as metaphor, and should have conversations about oppression. In the words of Anna Marie-McLemore, a current author who is famous for writing in this genre: "Magical realism isn’t just about seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary. In a culture of oppression, seeing the magical in the midst of the tragic, the unjust, the heartbreaking is a way of survival, for people, for communities, for cultures. We must find our magic where it lives, or we will lose it. Our spirits depend on not overlooking that which might be dismissed or ignored." I've only read a few books in the past few years that truly embody the language of magical realism (Thistlefoot being one of them, hence my comparison), so it's always truly exciting when I come across a book that does fit into that category. The magical realism was handled profoundly and beautifully in this story, with a magic system meant to emphasize survival mechanisms, and many conversations around what the control of that magic can be used for.
I'm always a sucker for stories that display art as a tool of power, an agent of change, and I loved the way that Dawson dealt with both sides of that double-edged sword throughout the difference perspectives in this book. Art is something that we often view as pure and hopeful and uplifting, but those of us that have been in the art world know that there are people that use their storytelling power to spread hurt, to control people for their own benefit, and to uphold harmful systems of oppression. This book emphasizes the weight of storytelling, and how those who weave narratives have the ability to cause serious harm through the perspectives they carry and impose upon others. Anything that can be used for good can be used for bad, and vice versa.
And this conversation expands further into a larger picture, about what we do with the life we've been given and the tools we've been to navigate it. Whether we allow the bad things that happened to us to become all-consuming, or if we find light in spite of them. The First Bright Things shows us that being good is a choice that we have to make every day. That everything in this world is just... potential. Like ℵ: a sound waiting to be molded by its vowels, we are just a shape waiting to be molded by our choices and our actions. We all have the potential to use our lives and our strengths to cause chaos and lash out. But we also have the potential to love and to heal. It is not what has happened to us, or what we are capable of doing, but what we actually choose to be, that defines who we are.
Most importantly, this is a book built upon Jewish values. Mainly, and more specifically: mitzvah. “A mitzvah is the work we are responsible for, as long as we are part of the living world… We are here to bring light to the dark. And it’s not a charity, it’s not a special congratulations. It’s just the right thing to do.” The First Bright Thing centers community. It centers family. What we owe to ourselves and what we owe to each other in order to make the world a better place. I think right now, at times we feel as these characters feel, like sitting ducks waiting for the other shoe to drop. And mitzvah is something that reminds us all that the little actions that we take can make a world of difference. We can make the world better not by trying to fix the past or trying to solve the problems of the future, but by being our best selves in every present moment.
This book is also very much a Yom Kippur book, and I would love to reread this during the high holidays one year, because of how much it talks about teshuvah and holds so many themes that we reflect upon during Yom Kippur. The idea of staying true to oneself and atoning by returning home to our hearts is one of the largest elements of this story, and I feel that this would really hit hard during the high holidays.
Now, I did struggle with the book's pacing a bit. Like I mentioned earlier, this book is a lot darker than the "cozy fantasy" it was pitched as, and I don't think that the pacing of this book was built to carry the heaviness of the story. I often struggled to find breathing room between the highs and lows, or to find places to pause in the story. The intensity of the content made me need to consume the book in smaller bites, but it moved so seamlessly between chapters that it was difficult to find a place to set it down. I just felt with a book that had this many hard hitting topics and moments, that it should’ve been built in a way that offered more room for his readers to take breaks. Especially by the end of this book, I felt like I had been weighed down by so much, and without the breathing room, I was losing stamina and was struggling to feel the catharsis of the climax. I do think that part of this could be due to how unprepared I was for the content by the pitch. It definitely made it more difficult for me to process the material at my highest capacity, and I honestly hope to reread it with a different mindset, because I think I could enjoy this more than I did.
And one last little nitpick, because I think its important to mention: this story did use the word "bohemian" a few times, and as a word that has a harmful etymology and background, it didn't feel necessary. I wish I had read this ARC earlier so I could've messaged the publisher to take it out.
Overall: I do recommend this book. It has a gorgeous (loose, because its magical realism) magic system based on trauma responses, a lovely found family element, incredible character growth, and gorgeous imagery and writing. I also definitely caution its readers that though it is about hope, it's also about the pain you have to fight through to find it.
CW: war (graphic), mind control/manipulation, abusive relationship, parental death, grief, character death, ptsd, holocaust, alcoholism, violence, gun violence, body horror, blood & gore, antisemitism, homophobia, homophobic slur, suicidal thoughts, emesis, attempted forced institutionalization, pandemic (mention)
(Also I'm v sick writing this so hopefully things make sense, but I foresee myself coming back and editing this review later. Especially because I finished this book in my sick brain fog and may need to clear up my brain a bit.)
Okay, so I know this review got attention with my anticipatory comment stating: "The Night Circus but make it sapphic, Jewish, and with time travel?????" but before I begin my actual review, I'd like to sort of ret-con that statement and say I actually disagree with the way this book is pitched. I've seen it described as "cozy" and compared to The Night Circus. I don't think that either of those things are accurate beyond the surface layer of this book. Rather, I would call this a dark, yet hopeful magical realism story for fans of Middlegame and Thistlefoot.
Centering a ringmaster caught between the fear of the past and the unknowable, terrifying uncertainty of the future, The First Bright Thing is a story set between WWI and WWII about what a small light in a sea of darkness can accomplish.
It's rare to find a true magical realism book these days. People often throw it around as a synonym of low fantasy, but it truly is its own category, and one that has a history of roots in Latin American literature and Jewish literature (and frankly, is a genre that should mostly be ascribed to books about resistance to systemic oppression). They require loose magic systems that function primarily as metaphor, and should have conversations about oppression. In the words of Anna Marie-McLemore, a current author who is famous for writing in this genre: "Magical realism isn’t just about seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary. In a culture of oppression, seeing the magical in the midst of the tragic, the unjust, the heartbreaking is a way of survival, for people, for communities, for cultures. We must find our magic where it lives, or we will lose it. Our spirits depend on not overlooking that which might be dismissed or ignored." I've only read a few books in the past few years that truly embody the language of magical realism (Thistlefoot being one of them, hence my comparison), so it's always truly exciting when I come across a book that does fit into that category. The magical realism was handled profoundly and beautifully in this story, with a magic system meant to emphasize survival mechanisms, and many conversations around what the control of that magic can be used for.
I'm always a sucker for stories that display art as a tool of power, an agent of change, and I loved the way that Dawson dealt with both sides of that double-edged sword throughout the difference perspectives in this book. Art is something that we often view as pure and hopeful and uplifting, but those of us that have been in the art world know that there are people that use their storytelling power to spread hurt, to control people for their own benefit, and to uphold harmful systems of oppression. This book emphasizes the weight of storytelling, and how those who weave narratives have the ability to cause serious harm through the perspectives they carry and impose upon others. Anything that can be used for good can be used for bad, and vice versa.
And this conversation expands further into a larger picture, about what we do with the life we've been given and the tools we've been to navigate it. Whether we allow the bad things that happened to us to become all-consuming, or if we find light in spite of them. The First Bright Things shows us that being good is a choice that we have to make every day. That everything in this world is just... potential. Like ℵ: a sound waiting to be molded by its vowels, we are just a shape waiting to be molded by our choices and our actions. We all have the potential to use our lives and our strengths to cause chaos and lash out. But we also have the potential to love and to heal. It is not what has happened to us, or what we are capable of doing, but what we actually choose to be, that defines who we are.
Most importantly, this is a book built upon Jewish values. Mainly, and more specifically: mitzvah. “A mitzvah is the work we are responsible for, as long as we are part of the living world… We are here to bring light to the dark. And it’s not a charity, it’s not a special congratulations. It’s just the right thing to do.” The First Bright Thing centers community. It centers family. What we owe to ourselves and what we owe to each other in order to make the world a better place. I think right now, at times we feel as these characters feel, like sitting ducks waiting for the other shoe to drop. And mitzvah is something that reminds us all that the little actions that we take can make a world of difference. We can make the world better not by trying to fix the past or trying to solve the problems of the future, but by being our best selves in every present moment.
This book is also very much a Yom Kippur book, and I would love to reread this during the high holidays one year, because of how much it talks about teshuvah and holds so many themes that we reflect upon during Yom Kippur. The idea of staying true to oneself and atoning by returning home to our hearts is one of the largest elements of this story, and I feel that this would really hit hard during the high holidays.
Now, I did struggle with the book's pacing a bit. Like I mentioned earlier, this book is a lot darker than the "cozy fantasy" it was pitched as, and I don't think that the pacing of this book was built to carry the heaviness of the story. I often struggled to find breathing room between the highs and lows, or to find places to pause in the story. The intensity of the content made me need to consume the book in smaller bites, but it moved so seamlessly between chapters that it was difficult to find a place to set it down. I just felt with a book that had this many hard hitting topics and moments, that it should’ve been built in a way that offered more room for his readers to take breaks. Especially by the end of this book, I felt like I had been weighed down by so much, and without the breathing room, I was losing stamina and was struggling to feel the catharsis of the climax. I do think that part of this could be due to how unprepared I was for the content by the pitch. It definitely made it more difficult for me to process the material at my highest capacity, and I honestly hope to reread it with a different mindset, because I think I could enjoy this more than I did.
And one last little nitpick, because I think its important to mention: this story did use the word "bohemian" a few times, and as a word that has a harmful etymology and background, it didn't feel necessary. I wish I had read this ARC earlier so I could've messaged the publisher to take it out.
Overall: I do recommend this book. It has a gorgeous (loose, because its magical realism) magic system based on trauma responses, a lovely found family element, incredible character growth, and gorgeous imagery and writing. I also definitely caution its readers that though it is about hope, it's also about the pain you have to fight through to find it.
CW: war (graphic), mind control/manipulation, abusive relationship, parental death, grief, character death, ptsd, holocaust, alcoholism, violence, gun violence, body horror, blood & gore, antisemitism, homophobia, homophobic slur, suicidal thoughts, emesis, attempted forced institutionalization, pandemic (mention)
Content Warnings
Graphic: Grief, Murder, Emotional abuse, Gaslighting, Violence, Alcoholism, Death of parent, Death, Toxic relationship, and War
Moderate: Antisemitism, Blood, Homophobia, Body horror, Gore, Gun violence, and Suicidal thoughts
Minor: Forced institutionalization, Pandemic/Epidemic, and Vomit