Tomi Adeyemi is the #1 New York Times bestselling and Hugo Award-winning author of Children of Blood and Bone. After graduating from Harvard University with an honors degree in English literature, she received a fellowship to study West African mythology, religion, and culture in Salvador, Brazil. When she's not working on her novels or watching BTS music videos, she can be found teaching creative writing on her website. She lives in San Diego, California. You can find Tomi at tomiadeyemi.com, and more information on the Legacy of Orïsha trilogy at childrenofbloodandbone.com. If you're interested in more of my reviews of Adeyemi's works, you can find them all here.
After battling the impossible, Zélie and Amari have finally succeeded in bring magic back to the land of Orïsha. But the ritual was more powerful than they could have imagined, reigniting the powers of not only the maji but nobles with magic ancestry, too. Now Zélie struggles to unit the maji in an Orïsha where the enemy is just as powerful as they are. When the royals and military forge a dangerous alliance, Zélie must fight to secure Amari's right to the throne and protect the new maji from the monarchy's wrath. But with civil war looming, Zélie finds herself at a breaking point: She must devise a way to bring the kingdom together or watch as Orïsha tears itself apart. Children of Virtue and Vengeance is the pulse-pounding sequel to Tomi Adeyemi's #1 New York Times bestselling debut, Children of Blood and Bone, the first title in her Legacy of Orïsha trilogy.
Like the first novel of the series, Children of Virtue and Vengeance is heavily character-driven. Zélie, our grief-stricken main character, just wants all of the the fighting, bloodshed, and heartbreak to end. To her, the pain is not worth the victory. Her whole life has been a fight, and she just wants to be free. She just wants the problem to fix itself, and to not be part of it. Her desires are relatable, and heartbreaking. Zélie reminds me of the saying, the person who least wants to rule is the one who should wear the crown. She doesn't realize it, but she might actually be the best person to bring freedom to her people, and to rule Orïsha, even though she doesn't want the responsibility or the pomp associated with completing such a life-long, arduous task. Adeyemi doesn't shy away from portraying Zélie's PTSD, especially as it relates to her captivity from the first novel. Adeyemi realizes and portrays that not everybody is strong all the time, and, least of all, our main characters who continually suffer heart-wrenching trials. Zélie continues to lose people she loves, and it seems like nothing she does brings about the peace or freedom she's fighting so hard for. The only thing that keeps her going is her memories of her mother, and the good times they had before the Raid. I love how majority of Zélie's choices revolve around her mom. It truly shows how powerful an influence someone can be, even long after they're gone. I'm excited to see more of Zélie in the finale of this series, and what hard choices she'll have to make next. After her death-defying moment near the end of this book, I can't stop cheering for her.
Adeyemi continues to have Inan and Amari narrate, along with Zélie. Inan and Amari still remain my favorite characters, because they're complicated in ways that I can empathize with the most, and in ways that alienates them from me. Inan, at the beginning of the novel, seems to have reverted back to his old ways of thinking, but he's not so single-minded about the maji anymore. He tries to be open about changing the ways of the kingdom, and for making things better for the maji, but at every turn he feels thwarted by them. Inan is not able to make himself trust the maji, especially when he has his mother and his best friend whispering their hatreds in his ear. He has a very complicated extrinsic and intrinsic dynamic, one that I almost wish we'd gotten to see more. Most of the action takes place with Zélie and Amari, though, so we don't spend a whole lot of time with Inan, either in his head, or understanding what the monarchy's plans are with the war. While good for the action-packed plot, this does mean that some of Inan's decisions don't get as much explanation or exploration as Zélie's or Amari's decisions.
I truly empathized with Amari. She wants so badly to be the bridge between the oppressors and the oppressed, since she can understand both. Amari thinks, because she's claiming the throne and an awakened tîtán (someone of noble blood with the ability do to magic without sacred incantations), that she's able to understand both sides. But, the maji aren't giving her a chance to prove herself to them. Toss that all in with her grieving of the family that everyone else hates, Amari can't find a space for herself, and that's frustrating and paralleling to both sides of this years-long oppression. She's unable to find a space for herself, since neither side accepts her, because of her sympathy to the other side. It's frustrating and sad for Amari, and I think it's a space that we can all find relatable at some point in our lives. This leads Amari to uncover some truly dangerous parts of her own nature, and gives her space to understand what she's truly capable of. Amari is, arguably, the character that has changed the most throughout the series so far, and I'm curious to see where she'll go. I'm really hoping we'll get to see a redemption arc for Amari in the third book of this trilogy.
The one critique that this series can't seem to shake is the romantic subplots of the novels. A lot of readers, myself included, feel that the romances are underdeveloped. While the not-romantic relationships between characters are fleshed out and realistic, the romances feel awkward, or "fillers", before big battle scenes. In the first book, I liked how the budding romance between Inan and Zélie could have been taken as commentary, even if it was just as underdeveloped and awkward. In this sequel, the two main romance subplots -- Roën+Zélie and Tzain+Amari -- feel particularly underdeveloped because not a lot of page space is spent truly exploring those relationships. Amari and Zélie's complicated friendship feels so realistic that some readers agonize over why they aren't together. Roën only pops in every once in a while, so it feels strange that him and Zélie are declaring their love to one another near the end of this novel. The same strangeness perpetuates the romance of Tzain and Amari, who declare their love for one another, despite Amari not ever seeming to have alone time with him. I'm curious to see though, if Adeyemi will spend more time developing and exploring these relationships (and their fallouts) within the pages of the finale of the series. I do love Zélie's and Amari's characters, and the romances are the one part of each of their characters that I don't quite understand yet.
The first novel in this series is a study in rising from the ashes of injustice; the second novel is rising from the ashes of grief. How does the world change as our perception of it changes? How does a world rebuild when there are still divisions and deep-seated hate on each side? Adeyemi takes these questions under her wing as she continues to strengthen our understanding and perception of Orïsha. I particularly enjoyed how Adeyemi spent more time in the sequel explaining the sacred rituals, histories, practices, and systems of magic. She continued to bring magic to life, even as war kept marching forward. For a sequel, that was really strong, because Adeyemi didn't sacrifice plot to world building, or world building to plot, as so many sequels often do. The plot of this novel was also so action-packed, even more so than Children of Blood and Bone. I found it to be reflective of an actual war -- there's not a lot of time to think about how to retaliate against the other side, and when you do, you instantly get their retaliation. For the characters, there isn't a lot of time to recover from losses, which is something they struggle with. For the story, it's great, because it makes this sequel a page-turner. We don't get lost in lengthy descriptions of politics or in trying to understand the background of the world. Adeyemi did such a great job introducing us to Orïsha and the politics in Children of Blood and Bone that she can expand world building, maintain great focus on characters, and create an action-packed plot, all without losing the interest of her readers.
The one critique that this series can't seem to shake is the romantic subplots of the novels. A lot of readers, myself included, feel that the romances are underdeveloped. While the not-romantic relationships between characters are fleshed out and realistic, the romances feel awkward, or "fillers", before big battle scenes. In the first book, I liked how the budding romance between Inan and Zélie could have been taken as commentary, even if it was just as underdeveloped and awkward. In this sequel, the two main romance subplots -- Roën+Zélie and Tzain+Amari -- feel particularly underdeveloped because not a lot of page space is spent truly exploring those relationships. Amari and Zélie's complicated friendship feels so realistic that some readers agonize over why they aren't together. Roën only pops in every once in a while, so it feels strange that him and Zélie are declaring their love to one another near the end of this novel. The same strangeness perpetuates the romance of Tzain and Amari, who declare their love for one another, despite Amari not ever seeming to have alone time with him. I'm curious to see though, if Adeyemi will spend more time developing and exploring these relationships (and their fallouts) within the pages of the finale of the series. I do love Zélie's and Amari's characters, and the romances are the one part of each of their characters that I don't quite understand yet.
The first novel in this series is a study in rising from the ashes of injustice; the second novel is rising from the ashes of grief. How does the world change as our perception of it changes? How does a world rebuild when there are still divisions and deep-seated hate on each side? Adeyemi takes these questions under her wing as she continues to strengthen our understanding and perception of Orïsha. I particularly enjoyed how Adeyemi spent more time in the sequel explaining the sacred rituals, histories, practices, and systems of magic. She continued to bring magic to life, even as war kept marching forward. For a sequel, that was really strong, because Adeyemi didn't sacrifice plot to world building, or world building to plot, as so many sequels often do. The plot of this novel was also so action-packed, even more so than Children of Blood and Bone. I found it to be reflective of an actual war -- there's not a lot of time to think about how to retaliate against the other side, and when you do, you instantly get their retaliation. For the characters, there isn't a lot of time to recover from losses, which is something they struggle with. For the story, it's great, because it makes this sequel a page-turner. We don't get lost in lengthy descriptions of politics or in trying to understand the background of the world. Adeyemi did such a great job introducing us to Orïsha and the politics in Children of Blood and Bone that she can expand world building, maintain great focus on characters, and create an action-packed plot, all without losing the interest of her readers.
After that finale, fans of the Legacy of Orïsha series are reeling. Many are demanding answers, hoping to find them in the still untitled third and final book of the series. Release details have yet to be announced, but be sure to be on the lookout for my review when the third book comes out! I know I'll be picking up a copy so I can see for myself how this will all end.
*This review can also be found on my Goodreads page*
Comments
Post a Comment