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A review by existentialhell
Beasts of Carnaval by Rosália Rodrigo
adventurous
emotional
hopeful
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.25
[Thank you to Harlequin Trade Publishing and NetGalley for providing this eARC in exchange for my honest review.]
Beasts of Carnaval left me disappointed. Its premise and themes are as compelling as the vibrant aesthetics of Rosália Rodrigo's fantasy-Taíno culture, but the story's meandering pace and underdeveloped plot flattened most opportunities to connect to the characters or the novel's broader world.
Beasts of Carnaval follows the journey of one Sofía, a freedwoman who sets off on a daring mission to locate and rescue her twin brother. Sol, for his part, disappeared to Isla Bestia five years ago alongside their enslaver, tobacco plantation owner Don Reynaldo de Esperanza into the feverish gluttony of Carnaval. Together with the Don's only daughter, Adelina, Sofía braves pseudo-Victorian high society, bustles, endless intoxicants, and colonialism's lethal legacy in her search for answers. What a setup!
But Sofía's utterly unprepared for Isla Bestia's glittering hellscape and this is where the book's framework starts to shudder. Having a scrappy, no-nonsense heroine in way over her head can make for a deeply satisfying narrative if the reader is allowed to see the story's broader contours as the characters do (or even before); we are not afforded that here. Sofía is smart but clueless and compulsively defiant. Which, this is decently consistent characterization; but it periodically leaves the reader adrift in a sea of empty threats and stalled momentum, waiting for the doldrums to pass. The slow, foggy plotting is diluted by pretty but saccharine language, and Sofía's needlessly dense inner monologue quickly becomes tiresome.
The overwriting is truly my main gripe. It feels like the narrative doesn't trust the audience with subtext or nuance and so spends an excess 60-80 pages reiterating basic themes in excruciating triplicate. Biting commentaries are defanged by paragraphs of over-explanation. Sofía's slogging inner monologue borders on alienating at points. No insightful implication is allowed to stand on its own. Character beats are almost exclusively told, rarely shown. So many genuinely excellent ideas drowning in needless words. I craved nothing from work so much as brevity.
While I appreciate Beasts of Carnaval for tackling decolonization, collective and individual cultural identity, paper genocide, the horrors of white supremacy, righteous retribution, and more with such clear passion and care, I was ultimately underwhelmed by the execution. I would still recommend this book to certain avid readers craving a colorful anticolonial fantasy, but with heavy caveats. As for me, I'm grateful for the opportunity to have witnessed the Taike'ri's celebration-as-resistance; but I won't be coming back.
Beasts of Carnaval left me disappointed. Its premise and themes are as compelling as the vibrant aesthetics of Rosália Rodrigo's fantasy-Taíno culture, but the story's meandering pace and underdeveloped plot flattened most opportunities to connect to the characters or the novel's broader world.
Beasts of Carnaval follows the journey of one Sofía, a freedwoman who sets off on a daring mission to locate and rescue her twin brother. Sol, for his part, disappeared to Isla Bestia five years ago alongside their enslaver, tobacco plantation owner Don Reynaldo de Esperanza into the feverish gluttony of Carnaval. Together with the Don's only daughter, Adelina, Sofía braves pseudo-Victorian high society, bustles, endless intoxicants, and colonialism's lethal legacy in her search for answers. What a setup!
But Sofía's utterly unprepared for Isla Bestia's glittering hellscape and this is where the book's framework starts to shudder. Having a scrappy, no-nonsense heroine in way over her head can make for a deeply satisfying narrative if the reader is allowed to see the story's broader contours as the characters do (or even before); we are not afforded that here. Sofía is smart but clueless and compulsively defiant. Which, this is decently consistent characterization; but it periodically leaves the reader adrift in a sea of empty threats and stalled momentum, waiting for the doldrums to pass. The slow, foggy plotting is diluted by pretty but saccharine language, and Sofía's needlessly dense inner monologue quickly becomes tiresome.
The overwriting is truly my main gripe. It feels like the narrative doesn't trust the audience with subtext or nuance and so spends an excess 60-80 pages reiterating basic themes in excruciating triplicate. Biting commentaries are defanged by paragraphs of over-explanation. Sofía's slogging inner monologue borders on alienating at points. No insightful implication is allowed to stand on its own. Character beats are almost exclusively told, rarely shown. So many genuinely excellent ideas drowning in needless words. I craved nothing from work so much as brevity.
While I appreciate Beasts of Carnaval for tackling decolonization, collective and individual cultural identity, paper genocide, the horrors of white supremacy, righteous retribution, and more with such clear passion and care, I was ultimately underwhelmed by the execution. I would still recommend this book to certain avid readers craving a colorful anticolonial fantasy, but with heavy caveats. As for me, I'm grateful for the opportunity to have witnessed the Taike'ri's celebration-as-resistance; but I won't be coming back.