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A review by eb_brooks
The Ashes of Hope and Hunger by Dawn Christine Jonckowski
adventurous
emotional
funny
lighthearted
fast-paced
4.25
Consequences loom in the black
TL;DR: The Ashes of Hope and Hunger carries on the singsong voice of its predecessor as it expands on the universe (and leaves me with more questions), but as the extent of the damage caused by the Global Alliance’s apathy is revealed, one wonders why the rebellion took this long to happen. Heavy Star Wars vibes, along with a dose of colonial blowback, as corporate apathy and monarchic callousness reveal themselves as the true enemies. My favorite part was actually the bonus story at the end, which took me back to Tav.
*** Possible Light Spoilers From Here On ***
Life happens, and it took me over a year to pick up The Ashes of Hope and Hunger, the sequel to The Weight of Stars and Suns. I’d been concerned that I wouldn’t remember enough of the first book, but within the first few pages, I was right back in the universe that Ms. Jonckowksi created. There was more universe than ever, which is a good thing since Tav, the original setting, was unavailable for plot (more on that in the bonus story).
The reader is immediately placed on the desperate world of Vepo (with a merfolk people and Greek-styled cultural and linguistic trappings, in contrast to Tav’s Egyptian flavor), in the mind of an equally desperate Veporian woman, Arba, as she goes to her wedding day to Vepo’s king, Katuu. Her bridal position is more an unwanted honor for her than a distinction: Katuu has married many, many women, since by circumstances beyond any Veporian’s control that led to an ecological and genetic disaster, he’s the literal last man on his planet. Said disaster was caused by the Global Alliance, the Earth-based corporation/conglomerate(/government?) that set up a fueling station in space nearby, maintained it badly (as badly as they’d maintained communications with the crew of the Genesis on Tav, a hundred years before), and allowed it to spew fuel onto the planet below, causing the death of almost every male. This raises questions of what the other animal species on Vepo are doing to adapt; we get a hint that the livestock are suffering, at the least.
Meanwhile, the Global Alliance is planning its next colonization mission, now that the Tavarian survivors are settled in on Earth. The GA is in contact with Katuu about providing aid to Vepo, but the king refuses to let them impugn his people’s culture—or what’s left of it—and breed in other races to repopulate. Personally, I found his position quite reasonable: one does not simply let the colonizers wipe out half the population through negligent cruelty for decades, then invite them to fill in the gaps. The GA isn’t particularly interested, anyway; they’d rather try to colonize the iceball world of Avalon VI, which has about as much chance of success as the previous failed attempts.
With this as backdrop, the characters start undermining and flat-out rebelling against the GA’s bureaucratic pressure, some more knowingly than others. Xanth, a Tavarian healer-turned-teledoc, forms a relationship with Arba as she sneaks online to get good advice about carrying Katuu’s heir. (Which is a hell of a gamble, given she pretends to be human, for anonymity’s sake.) Captain Kate Woolsey and her first mate, Brandon Behr, pressure the GA flight director, James Bergman, and his assistant, Winnie Abrams, to change the mission target from Avalon VI to Vepo, mostly because Woolsey and Behr understandably don’t want to freeze to death. And Dameia, former princess of Tav, and her partner Hyam, former slave, are media darlings on Earth and can’t stop shivering under the single sun’s heat on Texas. Much like the rest of the survivors from Tav.
Woolsey and Bergman see a chance to solve two problems at once, by getting the Tavarians to go to Vepo and redirect the GA from Avalon VI. Irrationally, Dameia and Hyam, along with a few dozen Tavarians, decide that relocating a second time to a similarly not-Tav world is worth the risk of being shipped to an iceball instead. I guess Earth, like Wisconsin, was really that bad? It’s not clear, really, what Earth is like, or what year it is. Characters reference 1990s pop culture, but it’s been at least a hundred years since Genesis crashed on Tav. Likewise, it’s unclear how much wealth and power the GA really has, because Director Bergman seems to be wildly underpaid and jerked around, like the company has no budget to spare for even its chiefs. Which could be realistic, just kind of depressing. It gives the impression most people on Earth don’t know and don’t care what’s going on in the broader universe.
This might explain why an entire rebel sect can hide out in the black, away from prying eyes, while maintaining a spy network within the GA. The universe is apparently littered with messes that the GA either made (Vepo) or failed to help with (Tav). There’s a particular heartache moment as Dameia sees the remnant of her home world but never knew its image enough to feel it. But cruelty isn’t exclusively a human trait, as Katuu’s first wife plots as ruthlessly as any power-hungry noble. And when Woolsey’s ruse inevitably gets noticed, weapons come out on multiple sides, forming a violent backdrop to the fairytale meeting of Arba and Xanth when the colonists arrive, unlooked for, on Vepo.
Ms. Jonckowksi’s prose remains light, playful, and easy to read; the pages flew by, despite a higher-than-expected typo rate. While I missed the simple charm of the previous book, the story flowed smoothly (if not rationally, from a character perspective) to a surprising twist ending that sets up a third book. But to my surprise, there was a bonus short story tucked in the back, returning me to the original Genesis as it crashed on Tav. Ms. Jonckowski’s storytelling shines here as brightly as Tav’s thirty-six suns, pulling hard at my heartstrings as the main character is forced into a new life and new mating arrangement (though not a marriage) by Tav’s rulers, all while his wife and child on Earth have to move on. And seeing Tav again helped me appreciate that part of what I loved about the first book was that particular setting, too. It was like seeing an old friend again. We don’t get that kind of detail for Earth, or for Vepo (though its culture is decimated, at the moment).
I enjoyed The Ashes of Hope and Hunger. It may have left me with more questions than answers (for example, wondering why Woolsey and Behr didn’t have a harder sell for the Tavarians to risk it all by going to Vepo), the ethics of colonial disasters were touched on but not deeply explored, and there were some odd, anachronistic moments and clear Star Wars references (like a rebel ship moving through an asteroid field) that took me out of the setting, but the characters’ relationships shone and easily kept me reading. Xanth and Arba are as moving a couple as Dameia and Hyam, and I was happy to see them develop their relationship against all the obstacles. I look forward to finding out what happens to everyone in the third book!
TL;DR: The Ashes of Hope and Hunger carries on the singsong voice of its predecessor as it expands on the universe (and leaves me with more questions), but as the extent of the damage caused by the Global Alliance’s apathy is revealed, one wonders why the rebellion took this long to happen. Heavy Star Wars vibes, along with a dose of colonial blowback, as corporate apathy and monarchic callousness reveal themselves as the true enemies. My favorite part was actually the bonus story at the end, which took me back to Tav.
*** Possible Light Spoilers From Here On ***
Life happens, and it took me over a year to pick up The Ashes of Hope and Hunger, the sequel to The Weight of Stars and Suns. I’d been concerned that I wouldn’t remember enough of the first book, but within the first few pages, I was right back in the universe that Ms. Jonckowksi created. There was more universe than ever, which is a good thing since Tav, the original setting, was unavailable for plot (more on that in the bonus story).
The reader is immediately placed on the desperate world of Vepo (with a merfolk people and Greek-styled cultural and linguistic trappings, in contrast to Tav’s Egyptian flavor), in the mind of an equally desperate Veporian woman, Arba, as she goes to her wedding day to Vepo’s king, Katuu. Her bridal position is more an unwanted honor for her than a distinction: Katuu has married many, many women, since by circumstances beyond any Veporian’s control that led to an ecological and genetic disaster, he’s the literal last man on his planet. Said disaster was caused by the Global Alliance, the Earth-based corporation/conglomerate(/government?) that set up a fueling station in space nearby, maintained it badly (as badly as they’d maintained communications with the crew of the Genesis on Tav, a hundred years before), and allowed it to spew fuel onto the planet below, causing the death of almost every male. This raises questions of what the other animal species on Vepo are doing to adapt; we get a hint that the livestock are suffering, at the least.
Meanwhile, the Global Alliance is planning its next colonization mission, now that the Tavarian survivors are settled in on Earth. The GA is in contact with Katuu about providing aid to Vepo, but the king refuses to let them impugn his people’s culture—or what’s left of it—and breed in other races to repopulate. Personally, I found his position quite reasonable: one does not simply let the colonizers wipe out half the population through negligent cruelty for decades, then invite them to fill in the gaps. The GA isn’t particularly interested, anyway; they’d rather try to colonize the iceball world of Avalon VI, which has about as much chance of success as the previous failed attempts.
With this as backdrop, the characters start undermining and flat-out rebelling against the GA’s bureaucratic pressure, some more knowingly than others. Xanth, a Tavarian healer-turned-teledoc, forms a relationship with Arba as she sneaks online to get good advice about carrying Katuu’s heir. (Which is a hell of a gamble, given she pretends to be human, for anonymity’s sake.) Captain Kate Woolsey and her first mate, Brandon Behr, pressure the GA flight director, James Bergman, and his assistant, Winnie Abrams, to change the mission target from Avalon VI to Vepo, mostly because Woolsey and Behr understandably don’t want to freeze to death. And Dameia, former princess of Tav, and her partner Hyam, former slave, are media darlings on Earth and can’t stop shivering under the single sun’s heat on Texas. Much like the rest of the survivors from Tav.
Woolsey and Bergman see a chance to solve two problems at once, by getting the Tavarians to go to Vepo and redirect the GA from Avalon VI. Irrationally, Dameia and Hyam, along with a few dozen Tavarians, decide that relocating a second time to a similarly not-Tav world is worth the risk of being shipped to an iceball instead. I guess Earth, like Wisconsin, was really that bad? It’s not clear, really, what Earth is like, or what year it is. Characters reference 1990s pop culture, but it’s been at least a hundred years since Genesis crashed on Tav. Likewise, it’s unclear how much wealth and power the GA really has, because Director Bergman seems to be wildly underpaid and jerked around, like the company has no budget to spare for even its chiefs. Which could be realistic, just kind of depressing. It gives the impression most people on Earth don’t know and don’t care what’s going on in the broader universe.
This might explain why an entire rebel sect can hide out in the black, away from prying eyes, while maintaining a spy network within the GA. The universe is apparently littered with messes that the GA either made (Vepo) or failed to help with (Tav). There’s a particular heartache moment as Dameia sees the remnant of her home world but never knew its image enough to feel it. But cruelty isn’t exclusively a human trait, as Katuu’s first wife plots as ruthlessly as any power-hungry noble. And when Woolsey’s ruse inevitably gets noticed, weapons come out on multiple sides, forming a violent backdrop to the fairytale meeting of Arba and Xanth when the colonists arrive, unlooked for, on Vepo.
Ms. Jonckowksi’s prose remains light, playful, and easy to read; the pages flew by, despite a higher-than-expected typo rate. While I missed the simple charm of the previous book, the story flowed smoothly (if not rationally, from a character perspective) to a surprising twist ending that sets up a third book. But to my surprise, there was a bonus short story tucked in the back, returning me to the original Genesis as it crashed on Tav. Ms. Jonckowski’s storytelling shines here as brightly as Tav’s thirty-six suns, pulling hard at my heartstrings as the main character is forced into a new life and new mating arrangement (though not a marriage) by Tav’s rulers, all while his wife and child on Earth have to move on. And seeing Tav again helped me appreciate that part of what I loved about the first book was that particular setting, too. It was like seeing an old friend again. We don’t get that kind of detail for Earth, or for Vepo (though its culture is decimated, at the moment).
I enjoyed The Ashes of Hope and Hunger. It may have left me with more questions than answers (for example, wondering why Woolsey and Behr didn’t have a harder sell for the Tavarians to risk it all by going to Vepo), the ethics of colonial disasters were touched on but not deeply explored, and there were some odd, anachronistic moments and clear Star Wars references (like a rebel ship moving through an asteroid field) that took me out of the setting, but the characters’ relationships shone and easily kept me reading. Xanth and Arba are as moving a couple as Dameia and Hyam, and I was happy to see them develop their relationship against all the obstacles. I look forward to finding out what happens to everyone in the third book!