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howlsmovinglibrary 's review for:
The Last Namsara
by Kristen Ciccarelli
*I received an ARC from the publisher in exchange for an honest review*
Actual Rating: 4.5
To be honest, I didn’t really expect much from The Last Namsara, beyond the fact that the artwork on the stall at YALC was incredibly beautiful, and it had DRAGONS in.
So when what I ended up with one of my favourite books of 2017, it was a pleasant surprise, to say the least.
The Last Namsara is a wonderfully lyrical book, half epic fantasy, and half fanciful fairy tale – and I mean this literally, as the book alternates between the main character’s narrative, and the retelling of the Old Stories, the myths of her kingdom. It follows Asha, a dragon slaying princess, whose past mistakes have earned her the title Iskari, after the Goddess who is associated with death and destruction. The novel starts out as her redemption story, as she plans to atone for her crimes and escape her arranged marriage by bringing her father the head of the First Dragon. But as the corruption of Firgaard is slowly revealed it becomes about Asha’s redeeming not just herself but her entire country.
In a slightly different format, I’m going to recount what I loved about this book, but then go into an issue with the novel which I think needs to be disclaimed before people decided to read it. I want to be as honest and representative of it as possible.
What I loved about it:
Asha. Asha is amazingly well rounded female character, by which I mean ‘my smol angry baby’. She’s a fighter, which means she could easily fall into ‘strong female character’ territory, but while it’s fun to watch her punch things (in particular her dick of a fiancée), the story goes into much more detail than that. She's ruthless, irate, and guilt ridden, and watching the book explore the conflict between the hard, cold mask Asha tries to uphold and her own doubts, sadness, and pain, was incredibly interesting. I loved watching the way she developed over the course of the novel, having to unlearn a lot of assumptions she has made about her life and her country, and to in its place learn to place her trust in other people.
The mythology. From the initial story about Namsara and Iskari, I was hooked into the world. The power of stories and the place it holds within Firgaard is such an interesting one – from the way they got told and then retold in a new light, to the destabilising power they wield, to the fact that can be used to lure dragons, as if they hold a literal magic. I loved how enchanting the stories themselves actually were, painting a bigger, sinister picture in each localised telling, and how this was reflected in their role in the story. (I’m now going to go read aloud in a wood somewhere and see if I call a dragon).
The writing. This book is, to me, reminiscent of Uprooted, in that it has a lovely descriptive style that seems very otherworldly and almost like a folk tale. There is a lot of repetition, from the text level, to motifs that reoccur throughout, and the imagery is amazing, both deceptively simple and slightly hypnotic.
...Hell, there was very little I didn’t love about this book. The plot is a gift that just keeps on giving, going far beyond the point where I expected it to conclude, and filled with interesting concepts, from the toxicity of dragon burns to sacred flames to epic histories of heroism. The writing was arresting, and I found myself barely breathing during certain scenes. And I also really enjoyed the love story, which I felt was written beautiful, but this is now what I need to focus on – I will try to give minimal spoilers, but I think it’s something that needs to be discussed before you decide whether to read the book.
Disclaimer: The Last Namsara features a romance between a slave (Skral) and a member of the master class. Normally, this is a big NO for me, and I recognise that this comes weighed down with a lot of problematic literary and historical baggage, particularly when written by a non-POC author. I did not know when I started reading that this would be a feature of the book, which is why I wanted to people to know before they decide whether to read it or not.
What follows is spoilers, but may help you make a decision:
Torwin and Asha are never romantically involved while Torwin is a slave. In fact, bar their first interaction, they only ever interact once Torwin has escaped slavery and is freed.
Torwin’s master is Asha’s betrothed, and he abuses both of them. I’m not going to pretend that one type of abuse undoes another, but it at least means they start out as allies, both subject to systematic oppression, and places them on a more equal footing.
Asha’s interactions with slavery are forcibly deconstructed and changed. As a member of the ruling class, and in fact one of its higher members, Asha has a lot of privilege that she is forced to unlearn. Now, no book should get a cookie for helping its protagonist learn not to be racist, but the book is very interesting in its use of point of view. From the first few chapters, it becomes clear that Asha’s country is corrupt and oppressive, even if Asha can’t see it. The fact that her weapons can only be used ‘to right wrongs’, that killing dragons is a wrong and freeing Torwin is a right according to the blades objective morality, signals from the get go that, even if Asha’s narrative focalisation does not condemn right away, the world and the book in no way sanctions what happens in Firgaard, including slavery.
In this vein, Torwin repeatedly calls out Asha’s racism and privilege. He calls out that she refuses to call him by his name. He calls out her naivety in believing that slavery can be miraculously stopped overnight. He calls her out for her deliberate distancing and dehumanisation in the first few chapters. While he may fall in love with Asha, at no point does he let her position of power go unnoticed by either party, and he deliberately deconstructs her perspective and fights her at every turn.
Extreme spoiler. Torwin has a lot of agency in the story, moreso than Asha does, initially. He is the leader of a slave rebellion, and is instrumental in a revolution of which Asha is entirely ignorant of until it happens. Whereas Asha is quite passive in the first half of the book due to her own ignorance, Torwin actively influences her and people around her to have more of a prominent role in instigating change.
Extreme extreme spoiler. Asha decides later in the book that all the slaves need to be freed, in order to appease the objective morality that I mention above – basically to get dragons back on their side. Obviously, this is a white saviour moment (even if the cast don’t necessarily seem to white). This is when I started to take issue with the book, and begin to feel uncomfortable. However, what I find interesting is that barely a chapter later, Torwin calls her out on it. He calls her out on using it as a tool without truly understanding the experience of slaves, and for being naïve in thinking it will fix all the Skral’s problems overnight. I like that he basically lampshades her white saviour moment, and identifies as such – and I think it shows that, while the author is exploring problematic content, they are at least trying to do it sensitively (whether they succeed or not is a judgement I will leave for own voices reviewers).
Extreme extreme extreme spoiler. Torwin gets ‘given’ to Asha as a soulmate in the final chapter of the book, in line with the mythological workings of the world. Asha flat out refuses to accept, saying she doesn’t want that kind of power over him, that it’s unfair to do it without his consent, and that the god in question is just placing Torwin into a new form of slavery just after he has escaped another form. This shows a lot of self-awareness, both on the behalf of the character, and on the author behind her. Again, no cookie for unlearning racism, but at least by this point it makes clear that both characters will only enter a relationship as consenting equals, which is an important point to make when attempting to write a slave/master romance.
Obviously, as a white reviewer, I cannot excuse this romance and say ‘it’s fine’. I think it certainly has problematic elements that mean I’m very conscious of giving this book a positive review, and I think the final judgement should be reserved for own voices reviewers. The white saviour moment was the key action that made me extremely uncomfortable, and I’m glad that it was throughly deconstructed, and was done so in Torwin’s voice.
A large proportion of this book is amazing. I love the world and its mythology, and the dual perspective in which it is written, where you see the world as it objectively is, then as it is seen when filtered through Asha’s narrowed and privileged perspective. I like that these two perspectives are both there, and both clearly different. I also have to be honest and say that I really enjoyed it, and I think lots of people will enjoy it too.
While some problematic tropes regarding race and slavery are used, I don’t personally think they go unquestioned or without severe interrogation. But obviously, I'm not the authoritative voice on that. I think, given the trajectory of the latter half of the book, more will be done to interrogate these ideas further in the second book, and that it can be enjoyed with both the reader and author being aware that those tropes are present.
Actual Rating: 4.5
To be honest, I didn’t really expect much from The Last Namsara, beyond the fact that the artwork on the stall at YALC was incredibly beautiful, and it had DRAGONS in.
So when what I ended up with one of my favourite books of 2017, it was a pleasant surprise, to say the least.
The Last Namsara is a wonderfully lyrical book, half epic fantasy, and half fanciful fairy tale – and I mean this literally, as the book alternates between the main character’s narrative, and the retelling of the Old Stories, the myths of her kingdom. It follows Asha, a dragon slaying princess, whose past mistakes have earned her the title Iskari, after the Goddess who is associated with death and destruction. The novel starts out as her redemption story, as she plans to atone for her crimes and escape her arranged marriage by bringing her father the head of the First Dragon. But as the corruption of Firgaard is slowly revealed it becomes about Asha’s redeeming not just herself but her entire country.
In a slightly different format, I’m going to recount what I loved about this book, but then go into an issue with the novel which I think needs to be disclaimed before people decided to read it. I want to be as honest and representative of it as possible.
What I loved about it:
Asha. Asha is amazingly well rounded female character, by which I mean ‘my smol angry baby’. She’s a fighter, which means she could easily fall into ‘strong female character’ territory, but while it’s fun to watch her punch things (in particular her dick of a fiancée), the story goes into much more detail than that. She's ruthless, irate, and guilt ridden, and watching the book explore the conflict between the hard, cold mask Asha tries to uphold and her own doubts, sadness, and pain, was incredibly interesting. I loved watching the way she developed over the course of the novel, having to unlearn a lot of assumptions she has made about her life and her country, and to in its place learn to place her trust in other people.
The mythology. From the initial story about Namsara and Iskari, I was hooked into the world. The power of stories and the place it holds within Firgaard is such an interesting one – from the way they got told and then retold in a new light, to the destabilising power they wield, to the fact that can be used to lure dragons, as if they hold a literal magic. I loved how enchanting the stories themselves actually were, painting a bigger, sinister picture in each localised telling, and how this was reflected in their role in the story. (I’m now going to go read aloud in a wood somewhere and see if I call a dragon).
The writing. This book is, to me, reminiscent of Uprooted, in that it has a lovely descriptive style that seems very otherworldly and almost like a folk tale. There is a lot of repetition, from the text level, to motifs that reoccur throughout, and the imagery is amazing, both deceptively simple and slightly hypnotic.
The dragon came, slithering out of the red-gold silt like the treacherous thing it was. Sand cascaded down its body, shimmering like water...while it's slitted gaze fixed on the girl who summoned it. The girl who'd tricked it with stories.
...Hell, there was very little I didn’t love about this book. The plot is a gift that just keeps on giving, going far beyond the point where I expected it to conclude, and filled with interesting concepts, from the toxicity of dragon burns to sacred flames to epic histories of heroism. The writing was arresting, and I found myself barely breathing during certain scenes. And I also really enjoyed the love story, which I felt was written beautiful, but this is now what I need to focus on – I will try to give minimal spoilers, but I think it’s something that needs to be discussed before you decide whether to read the book.
Disclaimer: The Last Namsara features a romance between a slave (Skral) and a member of the master class. Normally, this is a big NO for me, and I recognise that this comes weighed down with a lot of problematic literary and historical baggage, particularly when written by a non-POC author. I did not know when I started reading that this would be a feature of the book, which is why I wanted to people to know before they decide whether to read it or not.
What follows is spoilers, but may help you make a decision:
Torwin’s master is Asha’s betrothed, and he abuses both of them. I’m not going to pretend that one type of abuse undoes another, but it at least means they start out as allies, both subject to systematic oppression, and places them on a more equal footing.
Asha’s interactions with slavery are forcibly deconstructed and changed. As a member of the ruling class, and in fact one of its higher members, Asha has a lot of privilege that she is forced to unlearn. Now, no book should get a cookie for helping its protagonist learn not to be racist, but the book is very interesting in its use of point of view. From the first few chapters, it becomes clear that Asha’s country is corrupt and oppressive, even if Asha can’t see it. The fact that her weapons can only be used ‘to right wrongs’, that killing dragons is a wrong and freeing Torwin is a right according to the blades objective morality, signals from the get go that, even if Asha’s narrative focalisation does not condemn right away, the world and the book in no way sanctions what happens in Firgaard, including slavery.
In this vein, Torwin repeatedly calls out Asha’s racism and privilege. He calls out that she refuses to call him by his name. He calls out her naivety in believing that slavery can be miraculously stopped overnight. He calls her out for her deliberate distancing and dehumanisation in the first few chapters. While he may fall in love with Asha, at no point does he let her position of power go unnoticed by either party, and he deliberately deconstructs her perspective and fights her at every turn.
Extreme spoiler. Torwin has a lot of agency in the story, moreso than Asha does, initially. He is the leader of a slave rebellion, and is instrumental in a revolution of which Asha is entirely ignorant of until it happens. Whereas Asha is quite passive in the first half of the book due to her own ignorance, Torwin actively influences her and people around her to have more of a prominent role in instigating change.
Extreme extreme spoiler. Asha decides later in the book that all the slaves need to be freed, in order to appease the objective morality that I mention above – basically to get dragons back on their side. Obviously, this is a white saviour moment (even if the cast don’t necessarily seem to white). This is when I started to take issue with the book, and begin to feel uncomfortable. However, what I find interesting is that barely a chapter later, Torwin calls her out on it. He calls her out on using it as a tool without truly understanding the experience of slaves, and for being naïve in thinking it will fix all the Skral’s problems overnight. I like that he basically lampshades her white saviour moment, and identifies as such – and I think it shows that, while the author is exploring problematic content, they are at least trying to do it sensitively (whether they succeed or not is a judgement I will leave for own voices reviewers).
Extreme extreme extreme spoiler. Torwin gets ‘given’ to Asha as a soulmate in the final chapter of the book, in line with the mythological workings of the world. Asha flat out refuses to accept, saying she doesn’t want that kind of power over him, that it’s unfair to do it without his consent, and that the god in question is just placing Torwin into a new form of slavery just after he has escaped another form. This shows a lot of self-awareness, both on the behalf of the character, and on the author behind her. Again, no cookie for unlearning racism, but at least by this point it makes clear that both characters will only enter a relationship as consenting equals, which is an important point to make when attempting to write a slave/master romance.
Obviously, as a white reviewer, I cannot excuse this romance and say ‘it’s fine’. I think it certainly has problematic elements that mean I’m very conscious of giving this book a positive review, and I think the final judgement should be reserved for own voices reviewers. The white saviour moment was the key action that made me extremely uncomfortable, and I’m glad that it was throughly deconstructed, and was done so in Torwin’s voice.
A large proportion of this book is amazing. I love the world and its mythology, and the dual perspective in which it is written, where you see the world as it objectively is, then as it is seen when filtered through Asha’s narrowed and privileged perspective. I like that these two perspectives are both there, and both clearly different. I also have to be honest and say that I really enjoyed it, and I think lots of people will enjoy it too.
While some problematic tropes regarding race and slavery are used, I don’t personally think they go unquestioned or without severe interrogation. But obviously, I'm not the authoritative voice on that. I think, given the trajectory of the latter half of the book, more will be done to interrogate these ideas further in the second book, and that it can be enjoyed with both the reader and author being aware that those tropes are present.