Transmigration (2012), by Nicholas Maes

This review was first published in Resource Links Magazine, “Canada’s national journal devoted to the review and evaluation of Canadian English and French resources for children and young adults.” It appears in volume 17.5.

Transmigration

Whoa. What a ride! Nicholas Maes’s Transmigration is brilliant: a well-conceived fantasy with a unique premise and a gripping storyline. The novel begins with a talking bunny, but there is nothing cute or cuddly about the sinister alternative world history that Maes creates so carefully. It should perhaps have been a clue that a West Coast bunny talks with a Brooklyn accent, but I admit I found it only a bit out of place—until the plot progressed. In Maes’s history, a species of souls—bolkhs—coexists with humans as we have developed through the evolutionary process: a species that wants now to take back what was once theirs, destroying all human life. Young Simon Carpenter, of Vancouver, BC, is a tool they need for their war against humanity. When he learns this, his comfortable world is shaken to its foundations, and he must flee for his own safety and that of his family. The complicated relationships between players—different types of souls and their various connections with physical bodies—are adeptly explained to the reader through Simon’s own learning experience. I almost needed to create a rubric, but Maes brings in the terms just often enough to help the reader learn his nomenclature and the associated characteristics of his world.
The talking bunny seems an unlikely scenario for the introduction of a YA mystery-fantasy, but the bunny’s very cuteness is the first tool used against Simon by the bolkhs in their battle for supremacy. The bolkhs inhabit animals, as well as some humans, and their plan would have all bolkhs incarnate and powerful, at the expense of humankind. What ensues is a series of flights and confrontations that takes the protagonists from Vancouver to Europe—both of which the author obviously knows well—where Simon confronts the leader of the bolkhs, Tarhlo, who almost convinces him of the righteousness of the bolkh cause. Tarhlo’s logical argument is based on empirical scientific knowledge: the bolkhs argue that their ascendancy now is a natural part of the evolutionary process, as right and understandable as the Cro-Magnons prevailing over the Neanderthals. So well-crafted is Maes’s story that we are honestly not sure what Simon’s choice will be.
Ultimately, Simon travels to New York and a final confrontation, after which we are left with the protagonists safe for the moment, but still threatened: the final sentence assures us that “[w]hile the first confrontation with the bolkhs was over, the war was only getting started” (244). This is the one flaw in this otherwise spectacular piece of YA fiction: the end does not present any closure; it demands—rather than merely anticipating—a sequel. Please, authors: write novels that stand alone as narrative entities; refrain from publishing what amounts to the first installment of an indeterminately long narrative cycle. It is not fair to readers to create a book-length cliffhanger: leave such commercial tactics to the pulp serials. The degree of disappointment in the inconclusive ending is proportional to the level of engagement Transmigrations elicits: if it were a less engrossing story, we wouldn’t care so much that the ending disappoints.

There Will Be Wolves (1992), by Karleen Bradford

Karleen Bradford has recreated the People’s Crusade with a careful attention to historicity: her characters are believable and stay true to their medieval sensibilities.  Even in the end, Ursula’s view of her world remains consistent.  It is a monumental achievement on the part of the author; creating believable characters from such a harsh, unforgiving period of history is no easy task.  The plot itself skims over much of the actual pilgrimage, focusing on essential points to help the reader understand the changes that occurred in the atmosphere of the Crusade and the attitudes of the People Crusaders.  I would recommend this far before Karen Cushman’s Catherine, Called Birdy (1994) in terms of representation of this period; it lies between the comfort of Cushman’s novel and the graphic warfare of John Wilson’s Heretic series (also exceptional).  For the more sensitive reader, Bradford is perfect: the reality is reflected, the horror is portrayed, but the graphic details are minimized.

Leviathan (2009), by Scott Westerfeld

In honour of my daughter’s 13th birthday today, I thought I should post a review of a book she loves. Then I read through my list and realized that I haven’t reviewed most of the books both she and I have read. Now I will have to go back and read them again to do them justice. In fact, I intend to reread Westerfeld’s “th” series—Leviathan, Behemoth, and Goliath—in order to present a more meaningful analysis of this series, which does so much for the steampunk sub-genre as well as presenting a brilliant alternative historical account of World War One. I know from talking to students (and Westerfeld himself) that the series is a fabulous introduction for students interested in world history. I firmly believe in the power of books not only to entertain and amaze, but also to entice young readers to question the world around them in important ways. Westerfeld’s text—all of them—do this admirably.

Leviathan

Westerfeld’s combination of steampunk and biological fantasy functions to create an interesting alternative history of World War I.  From the adult perspective, it will certainly engage young readers in European history; from a less pragmatic perspective it is one of the more gripping books for older child readers that I have encountered in a while.  It takes the archaic setting of Philip Reeve’s Larklight and increases the stakes.  Where Larklight is a romp, Leviathan—and Behemoth and Goliath that follow—concern life and death struggles; serious dilemmas concerning faithfulness, duty, friendship, and honour; questions of individual rights in the face of societal and national needs; and a perspicacious loris…
In terms of plot, Westerfeld pits the Darwinists (Britain and her allies) against the steampunk Clankers (Germany and the Austro-Hungarian Empire).  The protagonists are placed in a complicated relationship, Alek being the son of the murdered Archduke Ferdinand and Deryl being a commoner in the British Air Force: a girl, masquerading as a boy to fulfill her dream of flying in one of the Darwinist creations: the biological ecosystem that is the airship Leviathan.  In Leviathan, we meet the protagonists in their separate lives; as they move towards one another and we learn their personalities, Europe moves towards war and we learn the nuances of Westerfeld’s alternate historical setting.