Blackfish City
By Sam J. Miller
After the climate wars, a floating city is constructed in the Arctic Circle, a remarkable feat of mechanical and social engineering, complete with geothermal heating and sustainable energy. The city’s denizens have become accustomed to a roughshod new way of living, however, the city is starting to fray along the edges—crime and corruption have set in, the contradictions of incredible wealth alongside direst poverty are spawning unrest, and a new disease called “the breaks” is ravaging the population.There's something I just really enjoyed about this book - the vibe, the feel of it, the concept, the execution, whatever it was, I was just rapt from page 1. There are four narrators (for a little while, sorry, Fill!) but it maintains relatively confusion free, everything eventually coming together to solve the mystery of the woman with the orca, and the Breaks disease. It feels fresh and new in a way a lot of dystopian fiction doesn't (at least, YA fiction). Some of that may be because of the setting, which allows Miller to completely invent the city and its social structures and strictures. It's also a pretty fun revenge story, and those are generally a good time. I like a good revenge story in fiction. It gives you all the feels from punishing wrongdoers without actually having a mental breakdown and like, going after every person who has ever cut you off in traffic. Revenge in real life is not nearly as awesome.
When a strange new visitor arrives—a woman riding an orca, with a polar bear at her side—the city is entranced. The “orcamancer,” as she’s known, very subtly brings together four people—each living on the periphery—to stage unprecedented acts of resistance. By banding together to save their city before it crumbles under the weight of its own decay, they will learn shocking truths about themselves.
Blackfish City is a remarkably urgent—and ultimately very hopeful—novel about political corruption, organized crime, technology run amok, the consequences of climate change, gender identity, and the unifying power of human connection.
The other thing I appreciated about this was how dark it was without actually being depressing. Fill is murdered, the polar bear dies and it's presumed that Kaev will descend into madness again, the city is a mess, and we kind of leave our characters in a boat, on uncertain waters, but you do feel like it's possible for things to be okay. I would be interested in spending more time in Qaanaaq (or the rest of the world) but it seems like it would be hard to duplicate the tension and sense of impending collision that marks Blackfish City. Part of the book's strength is each character's internal narration and the sense of loss and loneliness that each has, which is both explained and solved by the end of the book.
There's a lot about current social issues - otherism, disease, economic injustice, climate change, gender/sexuality - that does feel timely (and pointed). It's not really a very subtle book, but honestly, how far have we gotten with subtle? There's a lot going on, and the tone of the book does change from the beginning (more of that internal struggle and place-setting) and the end (action action action), but that really didn't bother me the way it did other reviewers.
Maybe I'm letting the novelty of it count for too much, but it weirdly reminded me of another dystopic masterpiece, the ineffable 17776. Particularly with the Memory Map of Qaanaaq, and the feeling that of a very lived-in world, even if we only focus on a few people in it. We're all bound together, let's try not to sink this ship.
37: A Book With A Two-Word Title
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