Location: Botswana
Member Since: June 25, 2016

fani-kayode omoregie

Smashwords book reviews by fani-kayode omoregie

  • Zoe on July 04, 2016

    (There are spoilers at the beginning) General: the end of this novella left me with a sense of deflation – not at the writing, which is superbly done, but the pyrrhic victory captured in the words “after all, dark is better than dead”(67). Zoë overcomes her dark-witch tormentor, Graham, but in killing him she gains darkness and loses the love of Connor and his werewolf/pet-dog companion, Shadow - the very person and friend she risks her self and life for. This acceptance is somewhat unfortunate, as it separates her in the end from the happiness (with Connor and Shadow) I feel she deserves considering all she has been through. Somehow it equates a kind of transgender reality. But then again, if life were what we imagine, there wouldn’t be the need to live. So, the unexpected ending, though more expressionistic, isn’t beyond reality. Structurally, I found the divisions (of the chapters) a bit contrived in places. For instance, the handshake that seals the introductory meeting between Connor and Zoë starts in chapter 3 and runs into chapter 4. But this breaking up of beats works well in the transition from the hostility of Graham’s treatment of Zoë (at the end of chapter 13) and the loving gentleness of Connor’s love for her (at the beginning of chapter 14. Novella’s motif: the overriding motif in this novella resonates in Zoë’s words that “loneliness and the need to feel loved was overwhelming, I wanted to belong to something. Even if I knew it wasn't right,” (44), and the fact that the capacity to hate depends on how hard we love – she couldn’t stand Graham (when she discovers his true identity) after initially falling deeply in love with him, and Connor couldn’t stand her (when he discovers her new reality at the point in the narrative where she kills Graham to save him and Shadow) soon after he falls deeply in love with her. Lessons: I learned several things from reading this novella: auras “that calm, contemplative purple aura undulating around him like a hazy cloud was one of the few indicators that he wasn't human, but only someone like us — supernatural creatures, or others — could see them,” (11). Interesting how the changing auras show how witches have no control over their true emotions when their outward expressions are different. One would expect witches, whose powers reside in their ability to focus would have much more control. But it does underline a fact of life - all beings possess a duality, which is in a state of constant flux; the pull between witches “the strange pull in my stomach was pointed directly at him. And that meant only one thing. My mate, the supernatural equivalent of a soul mate, was a dark witch,” (21). Interesting to see how “Fate did a shitty job of choosing Graham Abernathy,” (35) to be Zoë’s mate. Makes me wonder what witches really have any control over. But I like how this builds up on the conflict because through this bond/pull Graham is able to find Zoë, Connor and Shadow as they travel through the belly of America; the quest for power “there were dark witches that liked to kill other witches for power” (11) and “dark witches were evil. Dangerous. And they wanted one thing. Power. They siphoned magic, and often, they killed to take souls, or essences — the most potent source of power — from their victims” (21). It was strange to read that Graham who had before then displayed extreme ‘power’ in hunting Zoë down and killing her entire family, in the penultimate scene had no ‘power’ to kill a new witch, or that his pursuit of Zoë was the quest for power is surprising as Zoë is a new witch. What is also curious is the number of people he had killed and stored in a cold freezer in his quest for power – Zoë’s entire family and more. How come he couldn’t tell these witches had no powers, or curiously that the witches he killed didn’t have powers to transform him is a point of concern in the novel’s narrative. I like the idea of Graham motivating Zoe to acquire power so that when he kills her he will absorb her powers. The last lesson I learnt concerns the other major motif of the novella - siphoning (21, 38, 45, 47, 48, 50, 53, 54, 57, 58, 60, and 64). If witches can siphon power from living things to help empower and protect themselves, why does Connor detests this? Was he on some kind of self-extinction drive? Learning about siphoning was both intriguing and enlightening just to think the whole power struggle came down to what the white witches think is dangerous, and what the dark witches cannot detect. “When Graham searched my power, he never felt the electricity I siphoned. Because I wasn't dark. That was the ace up my sleeve. When Connor told me he knew I siphoned the lightning from palm harbor, he revealed that he never detected a change in my power level, despite knowing it was there” (64). It was quite fascinating to discover that while Zoë and Connor were agonizing about the strength of Graham, it took something less powerful than lightning to kill him. Just goes to show, that power doesn’t lie in strength, but the limits of our weakness(es). Language: the entire novella is riddled with beautiful lines: “Being other was lonely and dangerous. It meant a life of solitude, living in secret, and the threats weren't always the same,” (7); “Pink bled into the edges of his aura and tingles traveled down my body in response,” (9); “Though I barely knew him, he affected me in ways I never thought possible. And despite understanding that pink meant the beginnings of desire, I was unsure of what he was thinking,” (16); "Your body for their lives," (25). This is a well-written novella that captures the changing emotions of the characters quite well, and without going overboard deals with the nexal connections between Zoë, Connor and Graham. For instance, Zoë’s recollection of the first sexual act with Graham is made powerful by the author's use of powerful (flowery) phrase – “his mouth was like ambrosia as his taste exploded across my tongue and I knew I never wanted to stop,” (42). Zoë as bildungsroman: there are several ways of analyzing Zoë, but I choose to see it as a bildungsroman and an initiation story of sort. First, Zoë is a bildungsroman because it charts the Zoë’s actual or metaphorical journey from youth to maturity. Initially the aim of this journey is reconciliation between her desire for individuation (self-fulfillment) – “there I was, a day away from eighteen, clueless about the world around me and needing to know how to use my power, while at the same time, trying to figure out what happened to my family,” (16) and the demands of socialization (adaptation to a given social reality) – “I sometimes found myself wishing I never became a witch in the first place. But for the life of me, I couldn't remember why” (8). However, Zoë’s growth process has at its roots a quest story, which is both "an apprenticeship to life" – “he was also my teacher, helping me learn the ways of the world and what it meant to be a witch. I didn't have anyone else,” (7); “my mentor was taking care of me, which surprised me on many levels. Not only was he trying to keep us hidden from the dark witch that threatened us, but he kept me safe, and helped me through the aftermath of what happened” (34) and “so I decided to try something I figured out the day before. Something that was dark magic if done to another witch, but since it was the fire, it wasn't bad at all. It was a double benefit. I could show my mentor that I learned about something that was dark, but then modified it so it was light” (37), and a "search for meaningful existence within society." – “there I was, a day away from eighteen, clueless about the world around me and needing to know how to use my power, while at the same time, trying to figure out what happened to my family,” (16) and “loneliness and the need to feel loved was overwhelming, I wanted to belong to something. Even if I knew it wasn't right. And Graham was my answer,” (44). Another characteristic of the bildungsroman present in Zoë is some form of loss or discontent that spurs her at an early stage away from the home or family setting in Australia. “It was hard to imagine a girl growing up south of Perth, Australia with a large family of strong women, only to find herself drifting around America at the age of eighteen with no family and no friends. Other than Connor and Shadow, that was,” (7); "I am from Australia and my family was rather large. But over the years they started disappearing. By the time I was old enough to follow in their footsteps as a witch, they were all gone," (11); “I missed my family so much that tears stung my eyes, but I choked them back. As much as I wanted to be with my family, I didn't leave them behind. One after the other, they all left me. And I was alone. It hurt even more that the following day was my birthday. Eighteen was a big rite of passage in my family — before they all disappeared, and I was dreading the thought of spending it alone,” (13). So, Zoë meets the feature of a bildungsroman that requires the growing child to either often be orphaned or fatherless - if not metaphorically, then literally – as in Zoë’s case. Also, as in most bildungsroman, Zoë’s process of maturity is long, arduous, and gradual, consisting of repeated clashes between her needs and desires and the views and judgments enforced by an unbending social order. “I was sure that protecting Connor and Shadow was the right thing to do. But after a while, I started to think I wouldn't survive what Graham Abernathy was doing to me,” (26); “even though I did it to protect Connor and Shadow, I still thought it would ruin my chance to be more than just mentor and student with the witch that held me tight against him,” (32); “his deep brown eyes searched mine and after several long moments, he spoke. "Why can't you trust that I can protect you?" (58). What is also evident in the novella is the fact that the absence or loss of her family symbolizes or parallels a loss of faith in the values of her home and family and leads to the search for an alternate parent or way or life. “And though we knew each other just under two months, I was already in love with him. Perhaps I was broken,” (28). “Though he didn't find out until later that I was also trying to protect Shadow, Connor insisted I shouldn't have risked my life for them. But what was done was done,” (34); “it was hard to fathom just how much I loved the man sitting in front of me. Especially in that moment. He was willing to fight for me, and so was Shadow. That meant more to me than either of them knew,” (54). Eventually, as in most bildungsroman, the spirit and values of the social order become manifest in Zoë, and as she becomes accommodated into the (witch) society she assesses herself and her new place in the society. “My life will be about keeping Connor and Shadow safe. I’m finally strong enough to protect myself. Strong enough to protect them. Even from themselves. After all, dark is better than dead. At least I can use it for good for as long as I can. Connor is worth it,” (67). We find also in the novella that many Zoë is tested not only by her new surroundings, but also by love - many times the pure love (for Connor) is contrasted to the destructive/unhealthy one (with Graham). “Fate did a shitty job of choosing Graham Abernathy to be my mate. I wished it was Connor. It should have been Connor,” (35); “despite knowing that Graham was fated to be my mate, what I felt for him before I changed into a witch didn't compare to what I felt for Connor,” (44); “he was gentle. And he was kind. Being with him that previous night was no different. Not only did he ask me several times if I was sure, his hands never roamed over me until I granted him access … there was no blank look in his eyes, no cold detachment that left me feeling worthless. That was leaps and bounds over what I experienced with Graham … I was in love with him. Far above and beyond anything I ever felt for Graham,” (45). A hallmark of most bildungsroman regards the central obstacle, which is usually contained within the protagonist. The novella abounds with several mental anguish of Zoë: “the more Graham talked, the more questions flashed across my mind … those questions stayed in my mind but I didn't voice them. I should have. I knew it, but I couldn't speak them,” (44); “I needed more power and I needed to find the solution that would win my sister back, even though I knew it would mean losing Connor. Or I was going to die trying,” (51). Most protagonists in bildungsroman experience some sort of epiphany, where a moment of clarity helps them break through their delusions and changes them, either spiritually or in terms of their conduct, or both. The same is true of Zoë. “Graham was testing me, forcing me to develop my magic so I would be more powerful. If I was strong, it would give him more of a power boost when he took my magic and my soul, my essence along with it. In that moment, I realized his curse was a lie. "The curse isn't real." (53). The ending of a bildungsroman is often ambiguous, ambivalent, or lacks decisive closure “playing my part as a dark witch, I’ll gather power — without taking lives,” (67). The end of Zoë raises several questions: does the fact that Connor and Shadow leave mean they both believe this is an impossibility? Is this some kind of rebirth into an earthen witch? Can a dark witch be anything other than dark? Most of what I have discussed under bildungsroman applies in a sense to the “initiation novel”: “narration about maturation, process of growing-up, about loss of innocence and entering the stage of sin and experience” – a kind of transition/initiation from childhood to adolescence and maturity, having “first experiences”, realization by a person of his/her adjustment or maladjustment to it, “ritual,” connected with physiological growth, self-awareness and life purpose, understanding the borders present-self and ex-self, realization of such categories as life and death, good and evil, discovering “the whole complexity and ambiguity of the world”, and first sexual experience. “As my mind finally came back to me, I realized my mistake. Oh, shit. I froze and tried to keep calm as he pulled away from me, setting himself to rights. It wasn't that I only knew Graham for eight days. It wasn't that I loved him, had sex with him for the first time — for the first time ever. It wasn't that he was ten years older than me. It was that we fucked. Outside. Beneath the pier. And Graham wasn't wearing protection. "Oh my god," I breathed with wide eyes and pulled my sweater around me. Tears stung my eyes as he grinned at me in triumph. Then I turned and ran away as fast as my weak legs could carry me. Behind me, I could hear him chuckling,” (43). A characteristic feature of the initiation novel that I find in Zoë is the use in the plot schemes of thriller and horror. Zoë dwells upon metaphysical phenomena, and all the active characters are those borrowed from the mythologies of various peoples (demons, monsters, werewolves, etc.). There is present in the novella, a picture of something incomprehensible and a terrible feeling of fear that forms in the reader’s mind as a reaction to real or imaginary threat to the lives of Zoë, Connor and Shadow. In this regard, I must say the author succeeded in creating the atmosphere of emotional stress, which is a defining feature of modern initiation novels. The author does quite well to sustain the mood/tone/atmosphere of fear and gloom throughtout the novella. There runs through the novella a constant threat to the lives of Zoë, Connor and Shadow - the rape scene in the library (26-27), and the delivering piecemeal, of the body parts of Zoë's sister (48 and 55). Function of bildungsroman: Zoë fulfills most functions of the bildungsroman: it depicts and criticizes those vices of the society, which cause Zoë to suffer. It conveys a sense of realism because Zoë as a common sensitive person who is affected by the loss that she suffers, and we see how this loss, ultimately, changes the course of her life. In addition, the psychological and moral growth of Zoë gives us a deep insight into her character as a strong-willed person and also helps to understand the conflict in her life – the protection of her sister, Connor and Shadow without becoming dark. Final thoughts: the plot of a bildungsroman as a key element of its prosaic form as a novel that details the life of one hero who is formed and nurtured under the influence of various factors (education, home, loved ones who surround hi/her). For instance, other characters in Zoë perform constructive (Connor) or destructive (Graham) functions in the process of Zoë’s formation, helping by good guidance, understanding or arranging obstacles to her, thus becoming her foe or even enemies, forcing her to move forward, look for other ways out from difficult situations of physical and spiritual order – siphoning. However, unlike the typical bildungsroman where the narrator is usually a mature person who has already found his/her place in life, Zoë is still figuring out what she really is – an new/unformed witch. Though, the image formation process and identity formation in the novella appear as a memory of her own experience, Zoë, however, doesn’t in a sense evaluate her growing-up from current point of view as an adult, or considers it with a time distance. I need to add though that the epistolary nature/structure of the novella attempts to fuse this. The entries in her journal allow her a comparison between the love she felt for Graham and the one she shares with Connor. A good example of this is the (assured/true) calm emotions that begin chapter 14, which underscores the (confused/false) combustible (derisive) emotions that end chapter 13. Final questions: does Connor abandon her because he realizes she can protect herself? Does he leave her because she is mutable – not accepting that she is finite and limited as a white witch? Does he leave having realized the irony of his words, “you can't keep searching for power that isn't yours," (47). Who does power belong to? Brilliant work!
  • Dream Spell on July 04, 2016
    (no rating)
    My very first creative writing lecturer, Nurrudin Farah, once told me, “a good short story needs a good hook.” My fertile imagination at the time conjured up two images – that of punching your readers into some kind of blissful literary drunkenness or reeling them in like a good pike piranha. Imagination aside, whatever you do as a writer, the idea is to know that every good creative work needs an opening that hooks your reader, and I was hooked, punched or baited, right from the first seven words, “Living a secret life was never easy,” (7) that begin Sarah Doughty’s Dream Spell. It is not always a creative work starts with seven words on page 7, and with a mind like mine, it screams symbolism – and here are the two relevant to that brilliant opening of Dream Spell. Jesus performed seven miracles on God's holy Sabbath Day (which ran from Friday sunset to Saturday sunset). Of these seven miracles the fourth miracle is of particular relevance to this novella - A woman attending synagogue, who was made sick by a demon for eighteen years, is released from her bondage (Luke 13:11). Now, April wasn’t sickened by a demon (in a sense) but she was in bondage to demons – dark witches, Malleus Maleficarum, and “others willing to share information to save their lives,” (29). The second symbolism relates to the art of card reading. In the Tarot, seven is the Card of the Chariot, which is symbolic of the need to focus. If reversed it signifies inabilities to see things through. So you can imagine how this ties up with my contemplation of the end of the novella when April and Ian come together in spite of the obstacles thrown at them throughout the course of the narrative. April keeps her focus – “I wanted nothing more than to spend my life with Ian and Lily, at that farmhouse for as long as we possibly could. I wanted everything with my mate. I wanted to marry the man I loved. But it was more than that. I wanted to bind my soul with his, in that permanent supernatural marriage that would last for the rest of our days,” (60) and in the end she is rewarded for her tenacity and focus. There can be very few cycles in creative writing completed in such beautiful manner. This was pleasing to read, especially considering the narrative deals with a world where “dangers came from many different places. There were the human hunters that called themselves the Malleus Dei Maleficarum. There were dark witches. And there were others willing to share information to save their lives,” (29). It was pleasing to read that in a world where taking the risk to try your luck at happiness was fatalistic as it led to being discovered by “dark witches, the human hunters that called themselves Malleus Dei Maleficarum, or others that might betray us,” (35) April and Ian knowing the fatalism of this “still wanted to try,” (35). The repetition here is deliberate in impressing on you the oppressive social reality Doughty expertly creates in this novella. I liked the fact that the idea of the abnormal leads to the achievement of this wish. April is able to survive in this world and achieve her wish because of four (abnormal) gifts: the ability to “make spells no other witch can by using will,” the ability to hide her aura, and “the ability to draw others” to her, and the ability to “shield,” herself - “a defense mechanism designed to engage automatically to protect against magic meant to harm or kill,” (31). What is ironic though is the fact that if, like earthen witches who “didn't need to cast spells to do what they wanted. They needed will — that deep desire to see something done,” (59) April can wish for something, why does she go through the suffering? Thematically, the central concern of Dream Spell is the conflict between two primal competing human impulses: the instinct to live by rules, act peacefully, follow moral commands, and value the good of the group – deciding what group in this case is in itself a conflict. This is represented by her marriage to Robert, “The human. The man I didn't love. But the man I married,” (25). The human, who would, as she says “give me the life I wanted … the perfect life,” (33-34). Conflicting with this is the instinct to gratify her immediate desires, and enforce her will – to be with her mate, Ian. “despite the world around us — the danger and uncertainty — he still wanted to be with me,” (19). “We knew the dangers. But we still wanted to try,” (35). "Then let me be the one to ask you if you still want to marry me, if you'll bind with me despite all the dangers, and spend the rest of our lives together, raising and protecting our little girl?" (60). The author skillfully expresses this conflict in a number of ways, order (life with Robert) vs. chaos (life with Ian), reason (marriage to Robert) vs. impulse (attachment to her mate), and ironically, good (life with Ian) vs. evil (living with Robert/amongst humans). Interestingly ironical, in the novella, Doughty associates the instinct of order with ‘Other/Evil’ and the instinct of chaos with good. For instance, we read how April’s marriage to Robert (in the civilized, moral and disciplined world) gradually dissolves as she gradually immerses herself (through dream spells) into the physically erotic, wild, brutal, endangered life in the forest with Ian. This conflict is also expertly unraveled using several iconic symbols, the most dominant of which is the forest. Usually, the forest is a mysterious place, usually inhabited by mysterious creatures, symbols of all of the dangers with which all characters in a tale must contend and penetrate if they are to find their essence and meaning of life. Cue pixies (23, 31) and the dark witch, Zoe (29, 32, 41, 42, 44, 69). The forest stands for the unconscious and its mysteries. Little wonder most of April’s unconscious memories are domiciled in the forest. I read in analytical psychology, the forest represents femininity in the eyes of men, an unexplored realm full of the unknown, and Ian expresses this when he says, "I know how much you like the lake and the forest, and I saw this place was up for sale … So I bought it," (19). We can also see how being in the woods works an effect on Ian’s perception of April, “The sight of you in the water next to the lily pads with the moon shining down on you is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,"
(36). The forest also has great connection with the symbolism of the mother, it is a place where life thrives. In the city April cannot find peace. She says, “my life as a house wife and mother was weighing on me,” (10) but in the forest the opposite is the case. “Ian took a step forward as his free hand reached out, pulled the back of my head toward him, and then kissed me, hard, with Lily giggling in his other arm … Relief didn't begin to cover what I felt in that moment … In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to spend my life with Ian and Lily, at that farmhouse for as long as we possibly could.” (60). In this regard, it is interesting to note that the forest, usually seen as a contrast with the city and comfort of the home, the home of outlaws (see Shakespeare's As You Like It), a place that harbors all kinds of dangers and demons, enemies and diseases" - Zimmer in Cirlot (112), is nothing like that in Dream Spell. In this novella it is a place of rejuvenation where April finds some calm “He held me for a time, letting me feel his strength as he soothed me. After a while, I finally calmed down and realized the sun went down,” (32). This underscores what JC Cooper writes in An Illustrated Encyclopaedia Of Traditional Symbols that ‘Entering the Dark Forest or the Enchanted Forest is a threshold symbol: the soul entering the perils of the unknown; the realm of death; the secrets of nature, or the spiritual world which man must penetrate to find the meaning.’ In Dream Spell April finds her meaning to life in the forest supporting Cooper’s belief that a “Retreat into the forest is symbolic death before initiatory rebirth,” and we see this firmly asserted by the end of the novella. This rejuvenation, this rebirth in the forest is engendered in part by water. Water, one of the four western classical elements (the others being earth, air and fire), is another symbol that features severally in this novella. Normally, water symbolizes passivity, adaptability, purity, fertility, healing and cleansing. It is associated with the emotional-intuitive or feminine aspect, like fire is to the masculine. Now, the type of water in a narrative is just as important as its use as a symbol. My reading of the novella reveals, for instance, that taking a shower symbolizes moments of reflection, “I stepped into the shower and steam enveloped me as hot water slid down my bronzed skin. As I methodically tended to my hair and shaved, I thought about all that happened since the night I met Robert,” (9). It was also used to relieve stress, “I headed straight for the bathroom and turned on the shower, set to scalding. I smelled like hazelnuts. It was my favorite scent, but every time I breathed in, a feeling of loss and longing fell over me. So I washed away the stress of the day,” (28). In the forest where April and Ian meet in her dream spells is a lake. For Ian, this lake embellishes April’s femininity, "The sight of you in the water next to the lily pads with the moon shining down on you is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," (36), and represents the flow of life or fertility, “When the water reached our necks, he stopped walking and I shifted my hips, letting him enter me. With one thrust he was inside and I came with the force of a thousand setting suns, crying out into his mouth. He devoured every cry, every moan, and every whimper. And we stayed in that water, surrounded by lily pads, crickets, frogs, and the moonlight until we were both sated and spent,” (37). Water generally cleanses and, as such, becomes inevitably a symbol of characters in narratives handling difficult life scenarios. So, though we have no ocean in this novella, its scope in relation to the earth and, therefore, its representation of obstacles or abysses from which things emerge or that characters must journey across to reach a destination, is served by the lake. Symbolizing consequently, mysterious places that pose great obstacles to characters or their being dragged down into deep depths by it, “kneeling in the frigid water and pulling my hands away from my face. "Listen to me, April," he said with determination. "I love you and that will never change. I will always be here, waiting for you to come back to me … I brought you here, hoping you would remember me. Us. All that we had here. And yes, I want you to come back to me. I would give anything to have you back in my arms. For real. Not here in a dream … It was our last time," (39-40). We see also, how this serves the purpose of a lake, which is often used as a symbol in narratives in which characters face great decisions or much introspection, “After he proposed, I couldn't have picked a better moment to be with him than in the water, under the moon's soft blue glow, minutes away from the house we shared,” (36). After this, April resolves to return and do anything within her powers to stay with Ian. It was time to connect the day-time housewife to the lover-mother molded in the forest by water at night. Night in this novella is not a by-product of its genre. True, night can be used in connection to darkness and acts as a cover over the world, but in this novella it represents an ‘end of the road, “Until the previous night when all the memories came rushing back.
I loved my husband, in a way,” (47). In this novella it represents peace or tranquility and escape, “there were some nights when I barely settled in bed and I found myself in oblivion. A blissful, dreamless state that left me feeling safe, loved, and happy … that night, I wanted to escape. Needed it,” (12). The point here being, there are two sides to the symbolism of night, night is the end of the day, where things are hidden in shadows but if there is a source of light, even a small one, then one has to take it as a sign the writer is trying to say something about some internal or external conflict. For instance, April says “As we made love on the beach for the first time that night, I forgot about my worries for a time. After we were sated and spent, we laid next to each other, panting from exertion and in each other's arms once more, something whispered in the back of my mind. It's never going to last,” (21). That voice, though ‘dark’ breaks the pleasurable darkness of the night. Reminding us that though things in the light are generally safe, things in the dark can, however, be susceptible to danger. This hovering foreboding serves the setting of this novella quite well. The setting of a literary work often has a significant effect on the protagonist and this novella is no exception. There is no doubt the setting does influence April’s mood and the outcome of her actions. The prevalent mood of the novella is the dangers of exposure: “Not only did I have no idea how it was possible that she was moving those toys over her head for her enjoyment, but I didn't know what I could do to keep her from doing it in front of anyone else. It was too dangerous for anyone, even Robert to see her do something like that,” (10); “Living in a world like ours meant that happiness never lasted long. Discovery was inevitable. Danger was constant,” (22); “My little girl was using power again. Yet she didn't have an aura to indicate that she was other. That both terrified me and filled me with pride.
But that was also a very dangerous thing,” (44); and “But that wasn't all. The dangers ahead were much more complicated, much more intense than I ever thought possible by trying to live amongst the humans,” (47). Considered together, it couldn’t have been pleasant being April, and one would forgive her her infidelity of seeking bliss in the arms of her marked mate. This overbearing mood sets up the simple but frantic nature of the novella’s plot. The plot of the novella is simple – April, a witch married to Robert, a human, feels a strong pull to her mate, Ian, a witch she can only associate with in dream spells. But as her physical world dissolves, the dream world assumes solidity, and at the end they find a lasting bond through marriage. I wish it was this simple – the plot of Dream Spell is anything but this. Sarah Doughty uses the climactic plot in this novella. Where the novel begins near the story’s conclusion – the opening sentence of the novella suggests this, “Living a secret life was never easy,” (7). This statement suggests much significant action has already occurred – she is married, she has a daughter, Lily, and wait for it, though she is married to a human, Robert, Lily can perform tricks. Plus she tells us “Ending up pregnant was the last thing I expected. That was because witches and other supernatural creatures, or others, couldn't conceive unless we wanted to. So it came as quite a shock,” (8). Something had to be wrong, and Doughty spends the rest of the novella expertly unraveling what is wrong. Though her story-telling skills and knowledge of the subject matter is maestroic, somehow I feel Doughty crammed too much into this novella, and this makes the structure of this novella is a bit testing. Structurally, the author employs dream spells that alternate with present time and past events. The flux between these three time sequences is difficult in part to grasp and requires careful focus. For instance, is the beginning of chapter 5 (21-22) a flashback? Also, the flashback on page 32 where Robert comes to her rescue and introduces himself for the first time I feel is somewhat delayed. The love-making scenes (19-20), (26-27) and (35-37), expertly described, are, however, somewhat repetitive, cyclical and they slowed down the pace of the narrative. For instance, the love-making scene (26-27) doesn’t move the plot forward considering how it ends, “we would lose each other again. It was only a matter of time,” (27). You almost tend to expect what April and Ian will do when they meet at the cottage. There are two important consequences of using the climactic approach in this novella. First, the author has been ‘forced’ to include pertinent information about the past in the form of exposition. For instance, because I was having to either read the actions or have characters discuss what they have done and what brought them to the current situation, in essence, filling in gaps about previous events, I found it very tedious and confusing. Second, a novella with a climactic plot should normally cover a brief span of time. With all the preliminary incidents in the past, the plot of this novella does not move directly to the climax. In fact, the point of attack in this novella does not come till Chapter 16 when Robert says, "You're a witch, aren't you? Some kind of devil worshiper?"
 (50), where the hunter is also introduced. I say this because the opening line on page 7 suggests she has a secret, and Robert doesn’t come to this realization until page 50. Also, Zoe, the white witch who turned black in the novella, Zoe, makes a cameo appearance here, though she kills no one, her casting a glamor on Ian almost destroys his relationship with April. Then she tries to kill April but fails because April is able to protect herself. Then there is the cameo by the hunter. Whereas these two cameos contribute to the actions of the novella, the overriding driving force in the novella, however, appears (on the surface) to be April's vaccilant mind. That is, until you consider the subconscious effects of these two on April's mind and reality. Subtle, yet powerful. Last thoughts: A great read! Once again, I learnt a whole deal about the world of witches. Pity, considering the powers they possess, they see themselves (being other) as inferior. I love the truism of the line "True evil was in the heart and soul of a person, not some kind of devil," (50). I learnt about Glamour, "No. I never touched her and I sure as hell didn't go dark. She set a glamour for you to see it as if it was real, (25); "The dark witch created a glamour to make me think Ian betrayed me in every way imaginable. Not only making me see him as a dark witch, but also seeing them together inside that cabin," (44). Try using that excuse as a human! I learnt about night shade – “creatures that were created and lived in the dream realm. Their specialty was to bring a person into a dream and keep them there. They could alter time and create the dream itself, depending on what the witch that created it wanted,” (17) hence, my favorite exchange from the novella has to be, "You don't remember because you erased me. I've been trying to reach you since you left." "I erased you?" He nodded,” (17). Well, it will take a lot to erase the pleasure reading this brilliant piece gave me.
  • Zoe on Sep. 03, 2016
    (no rating)
    Author's note: there are spoilers in this review. General: the end of this novella left me with a sense of deflation – not at the writing, which is superbly done, but the pyrrhic victory captured in the words “after all, dark is better than dead”(67). Zoë overcomes her dark-witch tormentor, Graham, but in killing him she gains darkness and loses the love of Connor and his werewolf/pet-dog companion, Shadow - the very person and friend she risks her self and life for. This acceptance is somewhat unfortunate, as it separates her in the end from the happiness (with Connor and Shadow) I feel she deserves considering all she has been through. Somehow it equates a kind of transgender reality. But then again, if life were what we imagine, there wouldn’t be the need to live. So, the unexpected ending, though more expressionistic, isn’t beyond reality. Structurally, I found the divisions (of the chapters) a bit contrived in places. For instance, the handshake that seals the introductory meeting between Connor and Zoë starts in chapter 3 and runs into chapter 4. But this breaking up of beats works well in the transition from the hostility of Graham’s treatment of Zoë (at the end of chapter 13) and the loving gentleness of Connor’s love for her (at the beginning of chapter 14. Novella’s motif: the overriding motif in this novella resonates in Zoë’s words that “loneliness and the need to feel loved was overwhelming, I wanted to belong to something. Even if I knew it wasn't right,” (44), and the fact that the capacity to hate depends on how hard we love – she couldn’t stand Graham (when she discovers his true identity) after initially falling deeply in love with him, and Connor couldn’t stand her (when he discovers her new reality at the point in the narrative where she kills Graham to save him and Shadow) soon after he falls deeply in love with her. Lessons: I learned several things from reading this novella: auras “that calm, contemplative purple aura undulating around him like a hazy cloud was one of the few indicators that he wasn't human, but only someone like us — supernatural creatures, or others — could see them,” (11). Interesting how the changing auras show how witches have no control over their true emotions when their outward expressions are different. One would expect witches, whose powers reside in their ability to focus would have much more control. But it does underline a fact of life - all beings possess a duality, which is in a state of constant flux; the pull between witches “the strange pull in my stomach was pointed directly at him. And that meant only one thing. My mate, the supernatural equivalent of a soul mate, was a dark witch,” (21). Interesting to see how “Fate did a shitty job of choosing Graham Abernathy,” (35) to be Zoë’s mate. Makes me wonder what witches really have any control over. But I like how this builds up on the conflict because through this bond/pull Graham is able to find Zoë, Connor and Shadow as they travel through the belly of America; the quest for power “there were dark witches that liked to kill other witches for power” (11) and “dark witches were evil. Dangerous. And they wanted one thing. Power. They siphoned magic, and often, they killed to take souls, or essences — the most potent source of power — from their victims” (21). It was strange to read that Graham who had before then displayed extreme ‘power’ in hunting Zoë down and killing her entire family, in the penultimate scene had no ‘power’ to kill a new witch, or that his pursuit of Zoë was the quest for power is surprising as Zoë is a new witch. What is also curious is the number of people he had killed and stored in a cold freezer in his quest for power – Zoë’s entire family and more. How come he couldn’t tell these witches had no powers, or curiously that the witches he killed didn’t have powers to transform him is a point of concern in the novel’s narrative. I like the idea of Graham motivating Zoe to acquire power so that when he kills her he will absorb her powers. The last lesson I learnt concerns the other major motif of the novella - siphoning (21, 38, 45, 47, 48, 50, 53, 54, 57, 58, 60, and 64). If witches can siphon power from living things to help empower and protect themselves, why does Connor detests this? Was he on some kind of self-extinction drive? Learning about siphoning was both intriguing and enlightening just to think the whole power struggle came down to what the white witches think is dangerous, and what the dark witches cannot detect. “When Graham searched my power, he never felt the electricity I siphoned. Because I wasn't dark. That was the ace up my sleeve. When Connor told me he knew I siphoned the lightning from palm harbor, he revealed that he never detected a change in my power level, despite knowing it was there” (64). It was quite fascinating to discover that while Zoë and Connor were agonizing about the strength of Graham, it took something less powerful than lightning to kill him. Just goes to show, that power doesn’t lie in strength, but the limits of our weakness(es). Language: the entire novella is riddled with beautiful lines: “Being other was lonely and dangerous. It meant a life of solitude, living in secret, and the threats weren't always the same,” (7); “Pink bled into the edges of his aura and tingles traveled down my body in response,” (9); “Though I barely knew him, he affected me in ways I never thought possible. And despite understanding that pink meant the beginnings of desire, I was unsure of what he was thinking,” (16); "Your body for their lives," (25). This is a well-written novella that captures the changing emotions of the characters quite well, and without going overboard deals with the nexal connections between Zoë, Connor and Graham. For instance, Zoë’s recollection of the first sexual act with Graham is made powerful by the author's use of powerful (flowery) phrase – “his mouth was like ambrosia as his taste exploded across my tongue and I knew I never wanted to stop,” (42). Zoë as bildungsroman: there are several ways of analyzing Zoë, but I choose to see it as a bildungsroman and an initiation story of sort. First, Zoë is a bildungsroman because it charts the Zoë’s actual or metaphorical journey from youth to maturity. Initially the aim of this journey is reconciliation between her desire for individuation (self-fulfillment) – “there I was, a day away from eighteen, clueless about the world around me and needing to know how to use my power, while at the same time, trying to figure out what happened to my family,” (16) and the demands of socialization (adaptation to a given social reality) – “I sometimes found myself wishing I never became a witch in the first place. But for the life of me, I couldn't remember why” (8). However, Zoë’s growth process has at its roots a quest story, which is both "an apprenticeship to life" – “he was also my teacher, helping me learn the ways of the world and what it meant to be a witch. I didn't have anyone else,” (7); “my mentor was taking care of me, which surprised me on many levels. Not only was he trying to keep us hidden from the dark witch that threatened us, but he kept me safe, and helped me through the aftermath of what happened” (34) and “so I decided to try something I figured out the day before. Something that was dark magic if done to another witch, but since it was the fire, it wasn't bad at all. It was a double benefit. I could show my mentor that I learned about something that was dark, but then modified it so it was light” (37), and a "search for meaningful existence within society." – “there I was, a day away from eighteen, clueless about the world around me and needing to know how to use my power, while at the same time, trying to figure out what happened to my family,” (16) and “loneliness and the need to feel loved was overwhelming, I wanted to belong to something. Even if I knew it wasn't right. And Graham was my answer,” (44). Another characteristic of the bildungsroman present in Zoë is some form of loss or discontent that spurs her at an early stage away from the home or family setting in Australia. “It was hard to imagine a girl growing up south of Perth, Australia with a large family of strong women, only to find herself drifting around America at the age of eighteen with no family and no friends. Other than Connor and Shadow, that was,” (7); "I am from Australia and my family was rather large. But over the years they started disappearing. By the time I was old enough to follow in their footsteps as a witch, they were all gone," (11); “I missed my family so much that tears stung my eyes, but I choked them back. As much as I wanted to be with my family, I didn't leave them behind. One after the other, they all left me. And I was alone. It hurt even more that the following day was my birthday. Eighteen was a big rite of passage in my family — before they all disappeared, and I was dreading the thought of spending it alone,” (13). So, Zoë meets the feature of a bildungsroman that requires the growing child to either often be orphaned or fatherless - if not metaphorically, then literally – as in Zoë’s case. Also, as in most bildungsroman, Zoë’s process of maturity is long, arduous, and gradual, consisting of repeated clashes between her needs and desires and the views and judgments enforced by an unbending social order. “I was sure that protecting Connor and Shadow was the right thing to do. But after a while, I started to think I wouldn't survive what Graham Abernathy was doing to me,” (26); “even though I did it to protect Connor and Shadow, I still thought it would ruin my chance to be more than just mentor and student with the witch that held me tight against him,” (32); “his deep brown eyes searched mine and after several long moments, he spoke. "Why can't you trust that I can protect you?" (58). What is also evident in the novella is the fact that the absence or loss of her family symbolizes or parallels a loss of faith in the values of her home and family and leads to the search for an alternate parent or way or life. “And though we knew each other just under two months, I was already in love with him. Perhaps I was broken,” (28). “Though he didn't find out until later that I was also trying to protect Shadow, Connor insisted I shouldn't have risked my life for them. But what was done was done,” (34); “it was hard to fathom just how much I loved the man sitting in front of me. Especially in that moment. He was willing to fight for me, and so was Shadow. That meant more to me than either of them knew,” (54). Eventually, as in most bildungsroman, the spirit and values of the social order become manifest in Zoë, and as she becomes accommodated into the (witch) society she assesses herself and her new place in the society. “My life will be about keeping Connor and Shadow safe. I’m finally strong enough to protect myself. Strong enough to protect them. Even from themselves. After all, dark is better than dead. At least I can use it for good for as long as I can. Connor is worth it,” (67). We find also in the novella that many Zoë is tested not only by her new surroundings, but also by love - many times the pure love (for Connor) is contrasted to the destructive/unhealthy one (with Graham). “Fate did a shitty job of choosing Graham Abernathy to be my mate. I wished it was Connor. It should have been Connor,” (35); “despite knowing that Graham was fated to be my mate, what I felt for him before I changed into a witch didn't compare to what I felt for Connor,” (44); “he was gentle. And he was kind. Being with him that previous night was no different. Not only did he ask me several times if I was sure, his hands never roamed over me until I granted him access … there was no blank look in his eyes, no cold detachment that left me feeling worthless. That was leaps and bounds over what I experienced with Graham … I was in love with him. Far above and beyond anything I ever felt for Graham,” (45). A hallmark of most bildungsroman regards the central obstacle, which is usually contained within the protagonist. The novella abounds with several mental anguish of Zoë: “the more Graham talked, the more questions flashed across my mind … those questions stayed in my mind but I didn't voice them. I should have. I knew it, but I couldn't speak them,” (44); “I needed more power and I needed to find the solution that would win my sister back, even though I knew it would mean losing Connor. Or I was going to die trying,” (51). Most protagonists in bildungsroman experience some sort of epiphany, where a moment of clarity helps them break through their delusions and changes them, either spiritually or in terms of their conduct, or both. The same is true of Zoë. “Graham was testing me, forcing me to develop my magic so I would be more powerful. If I was strong, it would give him more of a power boost when he took my magic and my soul, my essence along with it. In that moment, I realized his curse was a lie. "The curse isn't real." (53). The ending of a bildungsroman is often ambiguous, ambivalent, or lacks decisive closure “playing my part as a dark witch, I’ll gather power — without taking lives,” (67). The end of Zoë raises several questions: does the fact that Connor and Shadow leave mean they both believe this is an impossibility? Is this some kind of rebirth into an earthen witch? Can a dark witch be anything other than dark? Most of what I have discussed under bildungsroman applies in a sense to the “initiation novel”: “narration about maturation, process of growing-up, about loss of innocence and entering the stage of sin and experience” – a kind of transition/initiation from childhood to adolescence and maturity, having “first experiences”, realization by a person of his/her adjustment or maladjustment to it, “ritual,” connected with physiological growth, self-awareness and life purpose, understanding the borders present-self and ex-self, realization of such categories as life and death, good and evil, discovering “the whole complexity and ambiguity of the world”, and first sexual experience. “As my mind finally came back to me, I realized my mistake. Oh, shit. I froze and tried to keep calm as he pulled away from me, setting himself to rights. It wasn't that I only knew Graham for eight days. It wasn't that I loved him, had sex with him for the first time — for the first time ever. It wasn't that he was ten years older than me. It was that we fucked. Outside. Beneath the pier. And Graham wasn't wearing protection. "Oh my god," I breathed with wide eyes and pulled my sweater around me. Tears stung my eyes as he grinned at me in triumph. Then I turned and ran away as fast as my weak legs could carry me. Behind me, I could hear him chuckling,” (43). A characteristic feature of the initiation novel that I find in Zoë is the use in the plot schemes of thriller and horror. Zoë dwells upon metaphysical phenomena, and all the active characters are those borrowed from the mythologies of various peoples (demons, monsters, werewolves, etc.). There is present in the novella, a picture of something incomprehensible and a terrible feeling of fear that forms in the reader’s mind as a reaction to real or imaginary threat to the lives of Zoë, Connor and Shadow. In this regard, I must say the author succeeded in creating the atmosphere of emotional stress, which is a defining feature of modern initiation novels. The author does quite well to sustain the mood/tone/atmosphere of fear and gloom throughtout the novella. There runs through the novella a constant threat to the lives of Zoë, Connor and Shadow - the rape scene in the library (26-27), and the delivering piecemeal, of the body parts of Zoë's sister (48 and 55). Function of bildungsroman: Zoë fulfills most functions of the bildungsroman: it depicts and criticizes those vices of the society, which cause Zoë to suffer. It conveys a sense of realism because Zoë as a common sensitive person who is affected by the loss that she suffers, and we see how this loss, ultimately, changes the course of her life. In addition, the psychological and moral growth of Zoë gives us a deep insight into her character as a strong-willed person and also helps to understand the conflict in her life – the protection of her sister, Connor and Shadow without becoming dark. Final thoughts: the plot of a bildungsroman as a key element of its prosaic form as a novel that details the life of one hero who is formed and nurtured under the influence of various factors (education, home, loved ones who surround hi/her). For instance, other characters in Zoë perform constructive (Connor) or destructive (Graham) functions in the process of Zoë’s formation, helping by good guidance, understanding or arranging obstacles to her, thus becoming her foe or even enemies, forcing her to move forward, look for other ways out from difficult situations of physical and spiritual order – siphoning. However, unlike the typical bildungsroman where the narrator is usually a mature person who has already found his/her place in life, Zoë is still figuring out what she really is – an new/unformed witch. Though, the image formation process and identity formation in the novella appear as a memory of her own experience, Zoë, however, doesn’t in a sense evaluate her growing-up from current point of view as an adult, or considers it with a time distance. I need to add though that the epistolary nature/structure of the novella attempts to fuse this. The entries in her journal allow her a comparison between the love she felt for Graham and the one she shares with Connor. A good example of this is the (assured/true) calm emotions that begin chapter 14, which underscores the (confused/false) combustible (derisive) emotions that end chapter 13. Final questions: does Connor abandon her because he realizes she can protect herself? Does he leave her because she is mutable – not accepting that she is finite and limited as a white witch? Does he leave having realized the irony of his words, “you can't keep searching for power that isn't yours," (47). Who does power belong to? in asking these questions, I am cognizant of Zoe's plea to Connor "I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you ... I still love you, Connor" (66). But no matter how much she tries to tell him she was still the same person, she knows seeing her darken "... was the last thing he wanted and it broke my heart to see all the pain he tried to hide as he made his way to our motel room." I cannot wait to see how this develops in the following series. Brilliant work! 5 stars.
  • Dream Spell on Sep. 03, 2016

    Author's note: there are spoilers in this review. My very first creative writing lecturer, Nurrudin Farah, once told me, “a good short story needs a good hook.” My fertile imagination at the time conjured up two images – that of punching your readers into some kind of blissful literary drunkenness or reeling them in like a good pike piranha. Imagination aside, whatever you do as a writer, the idea is to know that every good creative work needs an opening that hooks your reader, and I was hooked, punched or baited, right from the first seven words, “Living a secret life was never easy,” (7) that begin Sarah Doughty’s Dream Spell. It is not always a creative work starts with seven words on page 7, and with a mind like mine, it screams symbolism – and here are the two relevant to that brilliant opening of Dream Spell. Jesus performed seven miracles on God's holy Sabbath Day (which ran from Friday sunset to Saturday sunset). Of these seven miracles the fourth miracle is of particular relevance to this novella - A woman attending synagogue, who was made sick by a demon for eighteen years, is released from her bondage (Luke 13:11). Now, April wasn’t sickened by a demon (in a sense) but she was in bondage to demons – dark witches, Malleus Maleficarum, and “others willing to share information to save their lives,” (29). The second symbolism relates to the art of card reading. In the Tarot, seven is the Card of the Chariot, which is symbolic of the need to focus. If reversed it signifies inabilities to see things through. So you can imagine how this ties up with my contemplation of the end of the novella when April and Ian come together in spite of the obstacles thrown at them throughout the course of the narrative. April keeps her focus – “I wanted nothing more than to spend my life with Ian and Lily, at that farmhouse for as long as we possibly could. I wanted everything with my mate. I wanted to marry the man I loved. But it was more than that. I wanted to bind my soul with his, in that permanent supernatural marriage that would last for the rest of our days,” (60) and in the end she is rewarded for her tenacity and focus. There can be very few cycles in creative writing completed in such beautiful manner. This was pleasing to read, especially considering the narrative deals with a world where “dangers came from many different places. There were the human hunters that called themselves the Malleus Dei Maleficarum. There were dark witches. And there were others willing to share information to save their lives,” (29). It was pleasing to read that in a world where taking the risk to try your luck at happiness was fatalistic as it led to being discovered by “dark witches, the human hunters that called themselves Malleus Dei Maleficarum, or others that might betray us,” (35) April and Ian knowing the fatalism of this “still wanted to try,” (35). The repetition here is deliberate in impressing on you the oppressive social reality Doughty expertly creates in this novella. I liked the fact that the idea of the abnormal leads to the achievement of this wish. April is able to survive in this world and achieve her wish because of four (abnormal) gifts: the ability to “make spells no other witch can by using will,” the ability to hide her aura, and “the ability to draw others” to her, and the ability to “shield,” herself - “a defense mechanism designed to engage automatically to protect against magic meant to harm or kill,” (31). What is ironic though is the fact that if, like earthen witches who “didn't need to cast spells to do what they wanted. They needed will — that deep desire to see something done,” (59) April can wish for something, why does she go through the suffering? Thematically, the central concern of Dream Spell is the conflict between two primal competing human impulses: the instinct to live by rules, act peacefully, follow moral commands, and value the good of the group – deciding what group in this case is in itself a conflict. This is represented by her marriage to Robert, “The human. The man I didn't love. But the man I married,” (25). The human, who would, as she says “give me the life I wanted … the perfect life,” (33-34). Conflicting with this is the instinct to gratify her immediate desires, and enforce her will – to be with her mate, Ian. “despite the world around us — the danger and uncertainty — he still wanted to be with me,” (19). “We knew the dangers. But we still wanted to try,” (35). "Then let me be the one to ask you if you still want to marry me, if you'll bind with me despite all the dangers, and spend the rest of our lives together, raising and protecting our little girl?" (60). The author skillfully expresses this conflict in a number of ways, order (life with Robert) vs. chaos (life with Ian), reason (marriage to Robert) vs. impulse (attachment to her mate), and ironically, good (life with Ian) vs. evil (living with Robert/amongst humans). Interestingly ironical, in the novella, Doughty associates the instinct of order with ‘Other/Evil’ and the instinct of chaos with good. For instance, we read how April’s marriage to Robert (in the civilized, moral and disciplined world) gradually dissolves as she gradually immerses herself (through dream spells) into the physically erotic, wild, brutal, endangered life in the forest with Ian. This conflict is also expertly unraveled using several iconic symbols, the most dominant of which is the forest. Usually, the forest is a mysterious place, usually inhabited by mysterious creatures, symbols of all of the dangers with which all characters in a tale must contend and penetrate if they are to find their essence and meaning of life. Cue pixies (23, 31) and the dark witch, Zoe (29, 32, 41, 42, 44, 69). The forest stands for the unconscious and its mysteries. Little wonder most of April’s unconscious memories are domiciled in the forest. I read in analytical psychology, the forest represents femininity in the eyes of men, an unexplored realm full of the unknown, and Ian expresses this when he says, "I know how much you like the lake and the forest, and I saw this place was up for sale … So I bought it," (19). We can also see how being in the woods works an effect on Ian’s perception of April, “The sight of you in the water next to the lily pads with the moon shining down on you is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,"
(36). The forest also has great connection with the symbolism of the mother, it is a place where life thrives. In the city April cannot find peace. She says, “my life as a house wife and mother was weighing on me,” (10) but in the forest the opposite is the case. “Ian took a step forward as his free hand reached out, pulled the back of my head toward him, and then kissed me, hard, with Lily giggling in his other arm … Relief didn't begin to cover what I felt in that moment … In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to spend my life with Ian and Lily, at that farmhouse for as long as we possibly could.” (60). In this regard, it is interesting to note that the forest, usually seen as a contrast with the city and comfort of the home, the home of outlaws (see Shakespeare's As You Like It), a place that harbors all kinds of dangers and demons, enemies and diseases" - Zimmer in Cirlot (112), is nothing like that in Dream Spell. In this novella it is a place of rejuvenation where April finds some calm “He held me for a time, letting me feel his strength as he soothed me. After a while, I finally calmed down and realized the sun went down,” (32). This underscores what JC Cooper writes in An Illustrated Encyclopaedia Of Traditional Symbols that ‘Entering the Dark Forest or the Enchanted Forest is a threshold symbol: the soul entering the perils of the unknown; the realm of death; the secrets of nature, or the spiritual world which man must penetrate to find the meaning.’ In Dream Spell April finds her meaning to life in the forest supporting Cooper’s belief that a “Retreat into the forest is symbolic death before initiatory rebirth,” and we see this firmly asserted by the end of the novella. This rejuvenation, this rebirth in the forest is engendered in part by water. Water, one of the four western classical elements (the others being earth, air and fire), is another symbol that features severally in this novella. Normally, water symbolizes passivity, adaptability, purity, fertility, healing and cleansing. It is associated with the emotional-intuitive or feminine aspect, like fire is to the masculine. Now, the type of water in a narrative is just as important as its use as a symbol. My reading of the novella reveals, for instance, that taking a shower symbolizes moments of reflection, “I stepped into the shower and steam enveloped me as hot water slid down my bronzed skin. As I methodically tended to my hair and shaved, I thought about all that happened since the night I met Robert,” (9). It was also used to relieve stress, “I headed straight for the bathroom and turned on the shower, set to scalding. I smelled like hazelnuts. It was my favorite scent, but every time I breathed in, a feeling of loss and longing fell over me. So I washed away the stress of the day,” (28). In the forest where April and Ian meet in her dream spells is a lake. For Ian, this lake embellishes April’s femininity, "The sight of you in the water next to the lily pads with the moon shining down on you is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," (36), and represents the flow of life or fertility, “When the water reached our necks, he stopped walking and I shifted my hips, letting him enter me. With one thrust he was inside and I came with the force of a thousand setting suns, crying out into his mouth. He devoured every cry, every moan, and every whimper. And we stayed in that water, surrounded by lily pads, crickets, frogs, and the moonlight until we were both sated and spent,” (37). Water generally cleanses and, as such, becomes inevitably a symbol of characters in narratives handling difficult life scenarios. So, though we have no ocean in this novella, its scope in relation to the earth and, therefore, its representation of obstacles or abysses from which things emerge or that characters must journey across to reach a destination, is served by the lake. Symbolizing consequently, mysterious places that pose great obstacles to characters or their being dragged down into deep depths by it, “kneeling in the frigid water and pulling my hands away from my face. "Listen to me, April," he said with determination. "I love you and that will never change. I will always be here, waiting for you to come back to me … I brought you here, hoping you would remember me. Us. All that we had here. And yes, I want you to come back to me. I would give anything to have you back in my arms. For real. Not here in a dream … It was our last time," (39-40). We see also, how this serves the purpose of a lake, which is often used as a symbol in narratives in which characters face great decisions or much introspection, “After he proposed, I couldn't have picked a better moment to be with him than in the water, under the moon's soft blue glow, minutes away from the house we shared,” (36). After this, April resolves to return and do anything within her powers to stay with Ian. It was time to connect the day-time housewife to the lover-mother molded in the forest by water at night. Night in this novella is not a by-product of its genre. True, night can be used in connection to darkness and acts as a cover over the world, but in this novella it represents an ‘end of the road, “Until the previous night when all the memories came rushing back.
I loved my husband, in a way,” (47). In this novella it represents peace or tranquility and escape, “there were some nights when I barely settled in bed and I found myself in oblivion. A blissful, dreamless state that left me feeling safe, loved, and happy … that night, I wanted to escape. Needed it,” (12). The point here being, there are two sides to the symbolism of night, night is the end of the day, where things are hidden in shadows but if there is a source of light, even a small one, then one has to take it as a sign the writer is trying to say something about some internal or external conflict. For instance, April says “As we made love on the beach for the first time that night, I forgot about my worries for a time. After we were sated and spent, we laid next to each other, panting from exertion and in each other's arms once more, something whispered in the back of my mind. It's never going to last,” (21). That voice, though ‘dark’ breaks the pleasurable darkness of the night. Reminding us that though things in the light are generally safe, things in the dark can, however, be susceptible to danger. This hovering foreboding serves the setting of this novella quite well. The setting of a literary work often has a significant effect on the protagonist and this novella is no exception. There is no doubt the setting does influence April’s mood and the outcome of her actions. The prevalent mood of the novella is the dangers of exposure: “Not only did I have no idea how it was possible that she was moving those toys over her head for her enjoyment, but I didn't know what I could do to keep her from doing it in front of anyone else. It was too dangerous for anyone, even Robert to see her do something like that,” (10); “Living in a world like ours meant that happiness never lasted long. Discovery was inevitable. Danger was constant,” (22); “My little girl was using power again. Yet she didn't have an aura to indicate that she was other. That both terrified me and filled me with pride.
But that was also a very dangerous thing,” (44); and “But that wasn't all. The dangers ahead were much more complicated, much more intense than I ever thought possible by trying to live amongst the humans,” (47). Considered together, it couldn’t have been pleasant being April, and one would forgive her her infidelity of seeking bliss in the arms of her marked mate. This overbearing mood sets up the simple but frantic nature of the novella’s plot. The plot of the novella is simple – April, a witch married to Robert, a human, feels a strong pull to her mate, Ian, a witch she can only associate with in dream spells. But as her physical world dissolves, the dream world assumes solidity, and at the end they find a lasting bond through marriage. I wish it was this simple – the plot of Dream Spell is anything but this. Sarah Doughty uses the climactic plot in this novella. Where the novel begins near the story’s conclusion – the opening sentence of the novella suggests this, “Living a secret life was never easy,” (7). This statement suggests much significant action has already occurred – she is married, she has a daughter, Lily, and wait for it, though she is married to a human, Robert, Lily can perform tricks. Plus she tells us “Ending up pregnant was the last thing I expected. That was because witches and other supernatural creatures, or others, couldn't conceive unless we wanted to. So it came as quite a shock,” (8). Something had to be wrong, and Doughty spends the rest of the novella expertly unraveling what is wrong. Though her story-telling skills and knowledge of the subject matter is maestroic, somehow I feel Doughty crammed too much into this novella, and this makes the structure of this novella is a bit testing. Structurally, the author employs dream spells that alternate with present time and past events. The flux between these three time sequences is difficult in part to grasp and requires careful focus. For instance, is the beginning of chapter 5 (21-22) a flashback? Also, the flashback on page 32 where Robert comes to her rescue and introduces himself for the first time I feel is somewhat delayed. The love-making scenes (19-20), (26-27) and (35-37), expertly described, are, however, somewhat repetitive, cyclical and they slowed down the pace of the narrative. For instance, the love-making scene (26-27) doesn’t move the plot forward considering how it ends, “we would lose each other again. It was only a matter of time,” (27). You almost tend to expect what April and Ian will do when they meet at the cottage. There are two important consequences of using the climactic approach in this novella. First, the author has been ‘forced’ to include pertinent information about the past in the form of exposition. For instance, because I was having to either read the actions or have characters discuss what they have done and what brought them to the current situation, in essence, filling in gaps about previous events, I found it very tedious and confusing. Second, a novella with a climactic plot should normally cover a brief span of time. With all the preliminary incidents in the past, the plot of this novella does not move directly to the climax. In fact, the point of attack in this novella does not come till Chapter 16 when Robert says, "You're a witch, aren't you? Some kind of devil worshiper?"
 (50), where the hunter is also introduced. I say this because the opening line on page 7 suggests she has a secret, and Robert doesn’t come to this realization until page 50. Also, Zoe, the white witch who turned black in the novella, Zoe, makes a cameo appearance here, though she kills no one, her casting a glamor on Ian almost destroys his relationship with April. Then she tries to kill April but fails because April is able to protect herself. Then there is the cameo by the hunter. Whereas these two cameos contribute to the actions of the novella, the overriding driving force in the novella, however, appears (on the surface) to be April's vaccilant mind. That is, until you consider the subconscious effects of these two on April's mind and reality. Subtle, yet powerful. Last thoughts: A great read! Once again, I learnt a whole deal about the world of witches. Pity, considering the powers they possess, they see themselves (being other) as inferior. I love the truism of the line "True evil was in the heart and soul of a person, not some kind of devil," (50). I learnt about Glamour, "No. I never touched her and I sure as hell didn't go dark. She set a glamour for you to see it as if it was real, (25); "The dark witch created a glamour to make me think Ian betrayed me in every way imaginable. Not only making me see him as a dark witch, but also seeing them together inside that cabin," (44). Try using that excuse as a human! I learnt about night shade – “creatures that were created and lived in the dream realm. Their specialty was to bring a person into a dream and keep them there. They could alter time and create the dream itself, depending on what the witch that created it wanted,” (17) hence, my favorite exchange from the novella has to be, "You don't remember because you erased me. I've been trying to reach you since you left." "I erased you?" He nodded,” (17). Well, it will take a lot to erase the pleasure reading this brilliant piece gave me. © F-K Omoregie 2016
  • Just Breathe on Sep. 03, 2016

    Author's note: there are spoilers in this review. I treated Sarah Doughty’s Just Breathe the way I treat any book that holds my fascination – if books could speak the Holy Bible and Webster’s Advanced Dictionary wouldn’t want me near them. First, I read the novel three times, put it down for a couple of days, returned to it, reread it, put it down again, and returned to it today, reread it, and now I am ready to review it. I do this when I want to carry a book around in my head, as a source of reference – this novel is that good. Plus, after what I have put it through in one week I didn’t feel the book wanted me near it – I feel Sarah Doughty’s novel needs to just breathe. What fascinates me about the novel is Doughty’s knowledge of witches. Through my second reading I realized this has to be some sort of autobiography. I remember texting Doughty while going through the novel the second time to ask, ‘Are you a witch?’ she said ‘No.’ I don’t believe her. That’s how real this supposed fantasy is. The characters live off the pages - from Aisling, to Angela, to Connor, to the adorable were-dog, Shadow, to Zoe, to the venerable vampire, Liam, to the despicable step-father, Martin, to the ‘lawnmower’, the cat, Bugs, who breathes like he is dying. All very real, all very impressively developed. I love it when a writer pays attention to every character. The late Nigerian playwright, Ola Rotimi, holds a place of fascination with me. He was able to achieve filmic effects in his plays by the way he developed each and every character and the action – Doughty did this in Just Breathe. Even the triplet pixies, Bubba, Baby, and Bogsley, were given proper treatment. Through Doughty’s treatment, I am starting to believe, like Aisling that “Pixies are real,” (55). That said, my job here is to write a review, and to do that I will first consider the novel as an autobiography. I do recognize that all great fiction is autobiographical since authors write most effectively about what they know. And I also do recognize that Just Breathe is a combination of several halves – an autobiography, a bildungsroman, a fantasy novel, and an abuse/feminist narrative. The last half is where I find the scatterings of autobiography in Just Breathe. But, to what extent Just Breathe is fiction infused with autobiography or autobiography infused with fiction and fantasy is debatable, but the interplay of these two modes of writing pervades the text. Consider this, Aisling Green is a writer who was made to consider herself not good enough to breathe, let alone write, lives in Indiana, had/has a dog, and has a friend who has a psychotic cat. Also, although one can read the text successfully without any prior knowledge of Sarah Doughty's personal history, the added knowledge that, Doughty “lives in Indiana with her husband, son, an aging dog, and psychotic cat,” reveals to the reader an undeniably autobiographical aspect of the text – the story is based in Indiana, but it is especially in Aisling’s relations with her step-father, his abusive treatment of her, and the consequent ptsd effects on her as an adult that I find undeniable autobiographical traits. I believe Doughty is able to describe Aisling's life and contestations with her flashbacks with such impeccable detail and vividness partially because of her autobiographical connection to the text. And, it has to be said that Doughty’s ability to meld both fact and fiction into one narrative so delicately woven and infused with life yields a masterpiece, indeed. However, while noting the autobiographical details, I wish to provide here a restricted feminist reading of the text. Just Breathe tells the story of a twenty-year old girl, Aisling Green, who has just lost her grandmother, a witch, having previously lost her mother, also a witch. At the time her grandmother passes, Aisling is unaware of her status as an Earthen witch. Her grandmother, in fact, dies so she can attain her full potential as an Earthen witch. An act that introduces the concept of sacrifice that runs throughout the novel. Hence, with the help of Angela, her best friend, Connor, her mentor/lover, and the 300-year-old vampire, Liam, she discovers herself, and is finally able to harness and use her powers as a pure Earthen witch to destroy her abusive step-father, and the angry Zoe, Connor’s scorned ex-lover. However, it is in her interactions with her abusive step-father, a witch-hunter, her lover/mate, Connor, and the vampire who helps extract her powers, Liam, that we notice aspects of the feminist narrative in this novel. Feminist criticism concerns itself with "...the ways in which literature (and other cultural productions) reinforce or undermine the economic, political, social, and psychological oppression of women" (Tyson 2015, p. 79). Feminist criticism focuses on how aspects of our culture are inherently patriarchal (male dominated) and "...this critique strives to expose the explicit and implicit misogyny in male writing about women" (Richter 1346). To many cultures, feminist literature has brought a re-evaluation of the role and status of their women and girls, and the conditions under which custom prescribes that they must live (and suffer). Just Breathe, in my opinion, provides insight into child abuse, but Doughty goes further than a cursory feminist critique of aspects of the social practice of female abuse. She broaches also the seamier, oft ignored manifestations of such abuse on those who receive it. Just Breathe examines: the beating of women - Aisling says, "I never knew my real father. Martin was my step-father. He married my mother when I was three, and started beating me almost immediately after. My mother never knew and only left him because he beat her one night when I was eight." (Ch 11, 48); child grooming – "He grunted and rubbed the bulge at the front of his pants. I looked away, trying not to gag. "You will be a damn fine treat in a few years, won't you, darlin'?" (Ch 22, 88); "Your step-father murdered your mother, Aisling. He wants you now. Tell me, did he ever tell you how much he wants? … He taught you who you really were, did he not?" (Ch 31, 126); transfer of hatred from wife/mother to child – "You're sorry? You're always fucking sorry," he said with another kick to my hip. "Sorry doesn't cut it, girl. You are nothing. You aren't even worth the air you breathe ... Daddy loved this part. Making me wait for the first blow.
 He said it was like Christmas morning. 
I held up my arms and covered my face, squeezing my eyes closed, and waited.
 Daddy wasn't careful with where he hit me. I would have visible bruises the next morning to try to cover up. Again. After a while, when there was nothing left but him and me and the pain, Daddy punched my head and my vision went black,” (88). It is not just the description of the abuse in this passage that is bile-engendering, it is the child’s constant refrain, “daddy,” that gets your blood boiling as a reader. So you can imagine, being a witch, living in constant fear of discovery and destruction, her horror when finds out who her chief pursuant is. "[T]he leader believes he was sent on a mission from God to gather power for a higher purpose … He's reported finding someone he believes is Earthen. Pure Earthen … Aisling, the leader is your step-father," (Ch 27, 111-112). Or the pain of finding out from the vampire, Liam, that her step-father also killed her mother. "She came to me when she realized someone close to her learned her secret … I agreed to help … I believed it would take more time for them to investigate." He shook his head solemnly. "She was dead two days later." Anger crept into his voice, "Yes, indeed, your step-father was the murderer,” (Ch 29, 120). Doughty also captures the sheer brutality of this man in her graphic description of his nonchalance while inflicting pain on Jackson, young Aisling’s dog. “He kicked Jackson in the side and a bone snapped. An agonized yelp filled the silence … Jackson was on the floor, wheezing and whimpering.
I whimpered with him … Your mutt just ate antifreeze, and he's going to die. Slow and painfully … This is going to be fun to watch," he said as he walked away and settled into his chair. He took a long gulp of beer and turned on the television to watch football.
 I rubbed Jackson's fur, careful to avoid his broken rib.
By the time my mother got home, I was frantic, sobbing, and trying desperately to help the suffering dog.
Jackson's screams were haunting. 
Not a howl.
 Not a whimper.
 They were screams,” (Ch 36, 143-144). This brutal torture of an animal Aisling is fond of is repeated at the beginning of Chapter 50 (190-191) when he tortures Shadow with kicks that break his ribs after poisoning him, as he did with Jackson, with anti-freeze. Though the main focus of the abuse of women is from Martin, Just Breathe takes us through the three recognizable stages of feminism that expose more abuse from the other two men in Aisling’s life - Connor and Liam. Feminists subscribe to no single doctrine or set of goals. All are united, however, by a belief that women have historically occupied a subordinate position in politics, education, and the economic system. Modern feminist thought traces its roots to Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex (1949). The book traces the assumptions, customs, educational practices, jokes, laws, and modes of speech that socialize young women to believe that they are inferior beings. For instance, we already know her step-father tells her, “You are nothing. You aren't even worth the air you breathe," (Ch 22, 88). Discussing why she is the way she is, Aisling tells Connor later, "… I know it's illogical and stupid for me to believe, but it's just one of those things I was told over and over again while I was little … That I was worthless. I wasn't worth the air I breathed, stuff like that," (Ch 25, 97). Aisling is so broken she says “I’m sorry” forty-five (45) times in this novel – to Connor, to Liam, to Angela, to Shadow, to the pixies, to even the people that died while trying to kill her. forty-five times! She is so damaged cries at every opportunity. It gets so bad Connor has to tell her at some point, "Stop saying you're sorry for crying," (46) and right at the end of the novel “You have nothing to be sorry for. I was the one that didn't understand what was happening,” (Ch 58, 213). The torturous scenes with her step-father that rendered her a ‘damaged’ being is conjured up again later. “Tell me, Aisling. Did you tell Connor everything your step-father said? Everything he did to you? Everything he planned?"
 Anger washed over me … All I cared about was shutting up the voice of my step-father as he spoke to me in my bedroom.
He tore me down physically. Until I was broken.
 He tore me down mentally and emotionally. Until I believed everything he ever said.
It was in preparation for my adolescence.
 An image of him flashed in my mind.
 "Stop!" I screamed with what sounded like a thousand voices that reverberated from my body. Several fluorescent lights exploded from above, sparks and glass raining to the ground around me. My hands sparked and crackled with little bolts of electricity as I glared at Liam. Connor turned as much as his position on the mat would allow and froze with a gasp … Liam smiled back at me.
 He crossed the line. He forced me to acknowledge inside myself what I refused to see. "There is your power, Aisling," (Ch 31, 127-128). To get her to achieve her maximum power, Liam has to force her to break the hold her step-father has over her by recalling how he made her feel inferior. “He rubbed himself through the front of his pants and said, "You will be a damn fine treat in a few years, won't you darlin'?"
(Ch 31, 127); “Just like I hoped, my step-father couldn't resist taking control. Since Connor and I went to stay at Liam's home I thought a lot about my step-father's actions. He demanded control, kept me quiet, never wanted me to talk back to him. He got off on fear. That's one of the reasons I was so attractive to him when I was a child. I wasn't playing by his rules anymore. And I intended to throw him off his game,” (Ch 51, 194-195); and “My step-father loved it when he broke me down. Reduced me to cries, whimpers, and apologies,” (Ch 53, 200). There’s no doubt that her step-father succeeded in making her feel inferior, and damaging her being - but it is (more) painful that she is aware of it. In her own words, "I'm damaged," (Ch 17, 72-73) However, it is with her bond to Connor that the bigger inference of inferiority, though subtle, is made. "When you bound yourself, you said those witches attacked you and something stopped them … That's a defense mechanism that some of the Earthens had. The shield is actually one of the more rare traits … I know this is going to sound strange, but I think Connor was supposed to help you, that's why you don't have it. Fate is mentioned quite a bit in the lore,” (Ch 28, 114); “Connor had a defense mechanism called shield, which protected him from magical attacks meant to harm or kill him. Being at the wrong end of Zoe's wrath verified that shield was not something I possessed,” (116). And when Zoe freezes her mind and she almost dies, Connor comes to her rescue. “I was hoping you would borrow my shield. It worked," (Ch 34, 139). Without Connor, Aisling is a vulnerable, incomplete Earthen witch, her awe-inspiring powers, notwithstanding. This has to be the height of the imposition of inferiority on a person, any person. Forget being an incomplete witch, without Connor Aisling is an unfulfilled being. This leads to my next point – women as unfulfilled beings. A decade and a half later, Betty Friedan made another important contribution to the development of feminist ideology. In The Feminine Mystique, she analyzed and criticized the role of educators, psychologists, sociologists, and the mass media in conditioning women to believe that they could only find fulfillment as housewives and mothers. By requiring women to subordinate their own individual aspirations to the welfare of their husbands and children, the "feminine mystique" prevented women from achieving self-fulfillment. First, there is Aisling’s description of how Connor makes her feel and his worth to her (183-184). And then, "Aisling, open your eyes," … I opened my eyes and saw Connor wasn't kneeling. He was standing, arms in the air, touching my hands as I levitated about three feet off the ground … "Feel it, Aisling. Feel it." I could feel it alright. I felt love. For Connor.
 For everything he was.
And he was everything to me … "That, my dear Aisling," Liam said, "is how you will defeat the Malleus … Connor was always the key to unlocking your power, Aisling. I had to show you what you could do without it. But he was always the answer … That is how you will survive." I nodded, looked back to Connor, and smiled.
It was him all along,” (184-185). As a woman, her survival is tied to her love for Connor. So, without this (sexual) attachment to Connor, she cannot be self-fulfilled – all she is is a self-willing sex object. In the years following the publication of The Feminine Mystique, feminists developed a large body of literature analyzing the economic, psychological, and social roots of female subordination. It was not until 1970, however, that the more radical feminist writings reached the broader reading public with the publication of Shulamith Firestone's The Dialectic of Sex, Germaine Greer's The Female Eunuch, and Kate Millett's Sexual Politics. These books argue that gender distinctions structure virtually every aspect of individual lives, not only in such areas as law and employment, but also in personal relationships, language, literature, religion, and an individual's internalized self-perceptions. Even more controversially, these works attributed female oppression to men and an ideology of male supremacy. "Women have very little idea how much men hate them," declares Greer. As examples of misogyny these authors cite pornography, grotesque portrayals of women in literature, sexual harassment, wife abuse, and rape. There is no need going over what Martin did to Aisling, but suffice to say he kills his wife, Aisling’s mother, grooms Aisling as a sex object, and continues this with Zoe. "It's too bad you're not the girl I wanted you to be. But Zoe makes up for that nicely." Walking to her … he grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed it roughly. Pain flashed across her face before she forced it away. He dropped his hand and stepped behind her, bending down so his face was next to hers, and watched me. Our eyes locked and I waited … He took a deep breath and smelled her hair. Then he slid his hands up her arms in a sensuous caress and leaned back. In one swift motion, he snapped her neck. There was a collective gasp as most of the dark witches and I watched Zoe's lifeless body fall to the ground,” (Ch 54, 203-204); “My step-father just killed his most powerful witch. He killed Connor's ex-girlfriend. He didn't take her power either. How did he expect to become the most powerful being in existence without her?” (204). Martin is after all, an archetypal male – obsessed with power, afraid to share power, incapable, when it stares him in the face, of recognizing real power, “You are the most irresponsible person I've ever met. You are your own class of moron. One of the first things a witch ever learns is that a spell will dissolve when the witch who cast it dies — unless that witch designs it to last beyond the grave," (204). The most audacious of male dominance in this novel has to be when Liam says "You must never accept blood from another vampire. Understood?" Liam asked. I assessed the vampire in front of me. Was his ego that big that he wanted to be my personal blood supply? Maybe it was just a dominance thing. And god help me, but I was beginning to like the bastard. My eyes narrowed, "Why?" "Because I said so, Aisling," (Ch 45, 173). There is some kind of poetic justice in the end when Martin unwittingly robs himself of power by killing Zoe who had conjured a spell to destroy Aisling. The spell is rendered ineffective because, "a spell will dissolve when the witch who cast it dies — unless that witch designs it to last beyond the grave," (Ch 54, 204). And when Aisling kills her step-father, she says "I bind you to the Earth, Martin," (207). In case this point is missed, the earth is a woman in popular folklore. I learnt a lot of lessons reading this text: I learnt something about binding spells - "Binding spells are like blessings. The witch blesses the moon, and the moon grants power … "Binding spells are to be done at sites that hold extreme significance to the person doing the Spell,” (27); I learnt that witches use sight - "Seeing through the eyes of something else," (31, 38-39, 77). For instance, Aisling reading Connor’s thoughts and seeing things from his perspective – even in dream sequences; I learnt that were-animals cannot be killed by bullets (91) – they can only be killed by using iron ore (98); I learnt something about the Kramer Scholars who hell-bent on eliminating witches (91); I learnt that others cannot get any diseases or infections (99); I learnt that vampires can have children and how they are made (99); I learnt that vampires like the long game, "… a con. They take their time, lure someone in for whatever reason, and get them right where they want them. Because they're immortal, sometimes they'll wait months, sometimes years to get what they're after. They're very, very patient," (116); I learnt that vampire blood heals them and humans (173); and I learnt something about linking (191), for instance, when the soul of one (Aisling) is linked to that of another (Shadow), so any pain inflicted on the one is inflicted vicariously on the other. "How was that linking spell, by the way? You must've stopped it pretty quick, because you aren't bloodied up and wheezing like you should. If you ask me, it looks much better on you anyway," (199). Last thoughts: phenomenal writing, great knowledge of subject matter, deft handling of recurring themes, vivid characters, evocative narration of abuse – one word, brilliant. It was uplifting to see that Aisling finally finds a way to beat her troubling flashbacks about her step-father - “Liam was a genius. I was glad that we spent ten days with him and his nest of vampires getting my ass handed to me. It was a very effective tool to curb the flashbacks,” (203). Just one last thing - and this is not in condemnation of the work, but a reminder that as Doughty herself says, Others have more stamina than humans - sexually. “It made sense that witches didn't operate under the same physiological limitations of humans. Witches needed the strength and stamina to use magic,” (106). I heard a while back of a certain Spanish singing hombre who has sex everyday, and that this is an open secret. I wondered at the time what happens when he spends a day away from his woman? We have to be grateful the Guinness Book of World Records hasn’t decided to turn this into a ‘sport’. Creatively, Doughty is doing her darnedest to give them something to consider. The pace of the novel is breathtaking - the fight scenes, the training scenes, the love-making scenes. This may just be my puritanical mind getting agitated here, but this novel is littered with detailed love-making scenes. One such scenes in this novel lasted 12 pages - right from Chapter 39, through Chapters 41 to Chapter 42. At the end I was pleasurably exhausted – and I needed to just breathe. F-K Omoregie 2016
  • Focus on Sep. 03, 2016

    Author's note: there are spoilers in this review. In Sarah Doughty’s Focus all hell is (metaphorically and literally) let loose. This is not your typical novel, due mainly to how the story is told – it is nobody’s tale as several narrators tell it. This is not your typical novel because the first-person (omniscient) narrators have more than one level of point-of-view (POV) in the observation of self and situations. This is not your typical novel because Sarah Doughty is more than a narrator, she is a great storyteller – period. Usually, narration is a clinical and dry way of stating a series of events - a flow of events connected to a theme. Usually, narration is a method and means of constructing the events of a story into a plot, which concerns itself with the sequence of the events, the medium on which they are told, and the way these events are put together into one coherent unit. Usually, storytelling is the conscious ordering of these events to elicit meaning. For me, storytelling is an art form that separates a gifted or skilled writer from a poor one - the ability to compellingly tell a story. This is exactly what Sarah Doughty does in Focus. I will touch on other things, incidentally, but my focus in this review will be on the voices through which Doughty tells the spellbinding plot of this story. In other words, my focus will be on narrative voice. Any other kind of analysis will not do this work any justice – there is no getting beyond the collective narrative voice in Focus. Focus tells the story of the kidnap (in Indiana) of Aisling Green, a pure Earthen witch, and her fiancé, Connor by the Kramer Scholars who take them to a dungeon in Berlin. Aisling and Connor escape, and with the help of Liam, the venerable vampire, they go to Austria. Soon, they learn a demon has been summoned to kill Aisling. They must find and destroy the demon before he reaches the power source, a black diamond located in a vault in Hoopeston, Illinois. The demon, Bilu, needs the black diamond because “The rise to ascension cannot be achieved without the power source, a black diamond hidden within the vault at the center of a mystical circle," (Chapter 43, p 149). As they go in search of the demon, who now resides in the body of a human host, Bannerst, the demon, Bilu, is busy collecting human souls with the help of an escaped convict, Jasper Wills. Souls he needs to boost his power in preparation for the destruction of Aisling, humankind, and his summoner. That said, Sarah Doughty’s Focus is polyphonic - it involves a myriad of narrative voices that include Aisling Green, Bannerst/Bilu, Jasper Wills, and Officer Rodriguez – interestingly both Aisling and Bannerst/Bilu are first-person omniscient narrators. So, close your eyes and imagine a narrative with two first-person omniscient narrators with personality and attitudes to burn – fascinating isn’t it? You just get the feeling when either Aisling or Bannerst is narrating that the other is aware of what’s going on. Before Focus, the other writer I enjoyed her use of omniscient narrators with personalities and ‘attitude’ was Jane Austen. I find Austen’s narration quite ironic and funny in her creation of humor through hyperboles, deflation, and witty sarcasm. For instance, in Emma, the narrator sometimes undermines her by showing the reader Emma's perspective of the events. In fact, all the events of the plot, with the exception of Chapter V, are mainly seen through Emma's POV. Even though the POV is Emma’s the narrator’s intrusions provide humorous commentary that contrast with the heroine's views, and warn you not to rely too much on the delusory inventions of the protagonist, who she considers less clever. This doesn’t happen in Focus. Aisling doesn't undermine Bannerst's POV, and Bannerst doesn't undermine Aisling's POV. Using multiple first-person narrators isn’t new. Robert A. Heinlein does this in The Number of the Beast where the first chapter introduces four characters, including the initial narrator, who is named at the beginning of the chapter. The narrative continues in subsequent chapters with a different character Heinlein identifies as the narrator for that chapter. Heinlein introduces other characters later in the book who also have their "own" chapters that they narrate. However, there’s a difference with Doughty’s use of multiple first-person narrators in Focus. Heinlein’s story proceeds in linear fashion, and no event occurs more than once - no two narrators speak "live" about the same event. This isn’t so in Focus. One good example of this difference is the Jasper-eating scene - this episode is told twice, "live". Plus Aisling and Bannerst are first-person (omniscient) narrators - each, in the other's head. When Aisling and Bannerst's narratives cross it is always a beautiful occasion of mind games, for instance, where Bannerst sees Aisling’s reflection as he devours Jasper. I love this cross narration in this moment: “Staring into the windshield, I saw my reflection as the sun took its position at the top of the sky. She was there, looking out from my eyes. I breathed fire as it burned within my chest from the surge of new souls coursing through my body. "Hello, Aisling," I crooned, smiling impossibly wide for a human, my new pointed shark teeth in full view,” (Chapter 35, p 121). Other than this overlap, the main narrator is the quintessential Aisling Green, with help from a supporting cast of evil, psychotic, and corrupted characters. Now, in what ways do the different narrative voices in the novel serve different purposes in conveying meaning? How does Doughty unfold the major thematic knots through the perspectives presented by the different voices? In Focus, Doughty does this by urging the reader to see that identities are never built individually but are constructed temporally, relationally and socially. Therefore, a compelling characteristic of Focus is the fact that the transmission of Aisling’s traumatic experience resists a single point of view and involves herself, her deceased family, friends – human and non-human, the community, the cultural ideals, the endorsement of such ideals and the traumas of history. Structurally, the novel is divided into two parts – the Prologue, and the rest of the novel broken into 63 chapters. Let us now focus on the beginning of the novel – the Prologue, narrated by the Imprisoned One, Bilu, a demon. Bilu invites us to share a piece of ‘gossip’ on what’s in store for humankind. “Humans were feeble creatures. They did not listen to us like before. And it was getting very, very irritating. Over time, the lore about demons changed into something they called religion, but we were far, far older than that. We walked on Earth before man, and then man trapped us. We were not forgiving … A name, an essence, was given to me. Find her, the voice said. Kill her,” (Prologue, 7). Much of the narration in the Prologue is by the demon, Bilu and this brings into play the voice of a repressed, angry, unforgiving demon. A narrative voice that has a “back fence” connotation that creates a sense of intimacy between the reader and the story, as both demon and reader shares a secret – the impending destruction of humanity, but specifically the only known pure Earthen witch, Aisling Green. This creation of a sense of intimacy is necessary in preparing you for the gripping story that follows - a story of centuries-old deceit, hate, rape, revenge, torture, violence and destruction. Chapter 1 of the novel introduces Aisling Green as narrator. She is an omniscient narrator whose omniscient voice creates great psychological intimacy: “First of all, my life was never easy. I was abused when I was little. Not just emotionally, but physically as well. All by the hands of a man who hoped I'd become his lover when I hit my teenage years. I didn't … It was no wonder post-traumatic stress disorder plagued me … I never believed I was pretty, let alone beautiful … Flashback after flashback of memories hit me like tidal waves. I was a child, shivering, praying, while I listened to the drunken footsteps of my stepfather ascending the stairs. Years later, frantic over a dog he poisoned with antifreeze. I was powerless to stop his death. To end his suffering. All I could do was cry, and say goodbye to my only friend. Then I was a teenager, always looking over my shoulder, wondering if he was out there, coming for me. Always feeling unsafe in my own skin. Always withdrawn. Careful with my emotions. I was everywhere. 
Everywhere else but in that dark dungeon with the man torturing me. 
I thought I beat the flashbacks. Overcame them. But they came flooding back with a vengeance that I, for once in my life, embraced. It was the one time I welcomed them” (Chapter 1, 9-13). 
 Aisling and Bilu/Bannerst as omniscient narrators are not detached, impassionate observers with a distant voice but observers that give insights into the feelings of characters and occasionally interpret hidden intentions, associations, fears, motivations. For instance, Bannerst, as omniscient narrator, knows what had happened in Jasper’s life with Jenny and can read his soul - "from what I could tell of his soul ... "I could see him in my mind's eye...” he knows Jasper actually kills his girlfriend for doing nothing “The best part. The part he didn't know. Jenny never cheated on him at all. She was designing a tattoo for him. She was innocent, and he murdered her for his own insecurities. He was perfect. Exactly what I needed,” (41). Also, when the omniscient narrator, Aisling, narrates her own pain (Chapter 27-27) after the vampire, Varick poisons her with his blood, we can perceive her mental anguish, physical pain and elaborations: “… Liam warned me about taking blood from another vampire. And I believed him. I didn't want Varick's blood. But I was going to suffocate. It felt like I was drowning. Not that it mattered anyway. As my reflex kicked in, I swallowed. And it was the biggest mistake I ever made … I gagged, as my body tried to expel it before it reached my stomach. The unwelcome liquid caused a deep debilitating pain to erupt through my body. Beginning with my stomach. It felt as if it were being ripped open from the inside while thousands of tiny knives sliced me from the inside. I thought the torture in the dungeon was bad. Thought the pain from the poisoned bullet was bad. But those were nothing compared to the pain coursing through my system in that moment. Having my skin sliced by rusted metal blades and odd instruments that burned or carved into my flesh was like butterfly kisses compared to the feeling of swallowing a grenade that was exploding within me … But it hurt so much more that I would be leaving behind the man I loved. His life was full of loneliness and pain. We found each other in the dark and we brought each other to life. It would be him I would miss the most. And I knew he would be ruined because of my loss. I tried to apologize. Tried to tell him I loved him. 
But my body wouldn't cooperate. 
I didn't know if my aura was reflecting my love to him, like I hoped. 
After everything we went through together, in such a short time, I knew he would never be the same without me. I was the one that brought him to life. And I would be the one to take it away again. That would hurt him the worst. I failed. 
I couldn't tell him goodbye. 
I couldn't even look at him one last time. 
At last, Connor scooped my writhing body into his arms. 
The last thing I noticed was the smell of wood smoke before my body went still and I fell into oblivion, knowing I would never see his face again,” (98-101). Assessing a fictional technique common in eighteenth and nineteenth century novels — that of telling different sections of the story through different characters — E.M. Forster, in Aspects of the Novel, notes that the effect of changing viewpoint is less important than the power of the writer to bounce the reader into accepting what he says and having a proper mixture of characters. So, what is fascinating about this segment, for me, is not only who narrates it, or Doughty’s exceptional power of description, but that the character undergoing the trauma narrates it – we get to see and feel more than the outward physical description of the character’s pain, we get to feel her own narration of what it is to be riven with poisonous blood and a sense of failure. This establishes a rapport between Aisling as character and the reader, and underlines her responsibility as omniscient narrator in shaping the overall structure of the novel. It fosters credibility, and makes her a reliable commentator upon other characters, actions, and situations. In this manner, the several narrators in the novel also serve as a lens through which we view all events and characters – reliably through such devices as Aisling’s sights or Bannerst’s night shades. One reason I feel Doughty does this is to create an element of self-discovery or self-reflexivity through the narrator – one engendered by an open discussion between reader and narrator. Placing the name of whoever is narrating the section just below the chapter heading (Prologue The Imprisoned One; Chapter 1 Aisling; Chapter 10 Jasper; Chapter 24 Bannerst etc.), each (named) narrator discusses issues including revenge, the corrupted nature of fallen man, the dangers of mind control, the purpose of chivalry, love and selflessness. Each narrator uses such commentary as a means of immersion, reflection and self-awareness: “I saw everything. As Bannerst prepped Jasper, inciting his darkest desires … My mind was gone as I saw everything happening as if I were Bannerst. I felt his pride, heard his thoughts, saw the souls that surrounded Jasper in a wildly glowing aura around him, despite the fact that he was only human. I never saw such a thing on anyone, human or other. I never wanted to … I watched the reflection in the windshield, the change Bannerst's body took as he prepared to eat Jasper. I tasted the dried blood. Tasted Jasper. Heard the bones crunching in my ... no, Bannerst's teeth. I felt the joy and the adrenaline coursing through his veins. I felt the souls filling him, increasing his power,” (Chapter 36, p 132); notice the three levels of narration in this description – of Aisling as observer, self and Bannerst. We also see a sense of immersion when Officer Rodriquez narrates his own death. “Sweat poured from every pore on my skin, but it wasn't enough. The heat rose and melted my clothes over my blistering skin. And then the meat began to melt off my bones. The heat was too much to bear. I couldn't breathe. 
I couldn't speak. 
With wide-eyed horror, I saw the officer to my left was suffering the same fate. I took one last look at the escaped prisoner standing over the lifeless body of Officer Adams before the light boiled my eyes out of my head. And all I became was nothing,” (Chapter 10, pp 41-42); notice the shift from Officer Rodriquez describing his own pain to narrating what’s going on around him. While in the prison truck with Bannerst, Jasper reflects on his life. “I chuckled. "How the fuck do you call gettin' caught lucky?" I shook my head, didn't care what he had to say. Assholes gave me six months for boostin' a car, but I'd be out in no time. Just needed to keep my head down 'n follow the rules,” (Chapter 10, p39). Notice how Jasper is a limited first-person narrator. He doesn’t care what Bannerst has to say, but he doesn’t know what Bannerst thinks to say. And we get a sense of self-awareness when Aisling says, “After everything they saw over the years, everything that happened, it made me wonder. Did that society have any influence on politics? On wars? Did they push countries to violence so they could gain some advantage in their quest to rid the world of others? I didn't know, and I wasn't sure if the answer would ever come. But it didn't really matter. What I did know was that they would never stop until I and every last supernatural being was dead. Something needed to change. I was that change. I was that hope,” (Chapter 11, p 43). Notice how she holds back on what society thinks – drawing you to make the assessment, asking you to intrude. Notice how she says she doesn’t know. If she can be in Bannerst’s head, mind and see through his eyes, what’s the intention of this admission? And then suddenly she knows what they think about supernaturals. It’s a trick, a subtle one, but one all the same that lures you, as reader, to narrate, to converse with the character. Doughty’s narrators try through methods both subtle and apparent to influence how you read this novel. In doing so each narrator nudges you toward certain ethical or ideological conclusion and establishes himself/herself as the creative center, while providing direction to the narrative as a whole. Perhaps the greatest intrusion of the narrator, one that forces you to reckon with the narrator as the figure in complete control of the novel, are the narratives by Jasper Wills. Instead of revealing the outcome of his potentially tragic situation as it unfolds, Jasper essentially laughs at you and pursues a discussion of modern man in the supposed interest of comic interlude. Jasper’s attitude is both comic and serious. You may enjoy Jasper's comic relief, but ultimately he convinces you of his serious ethical intent. "Fuckers nabbed me for stealin' a car. They dunno the rest I done," I finished quietly. I spent my time dealin'. Over the years, I learned to trick people a little bit at a time. It started out small, I 'spose. But eventually I got into to stealin' cars, sellin' dope, 'n even found me some ladies. Bitches always said no, but I did 'em anyway. Made 'em come, too. Usually right near the end when I got close. I hammered into 'em 'n either punched 'em or strangled 'em just a bit 'n they clamped down 'round me, cryin' out like the little whores they were,” (Chapter 10, p 39). A collection of the verbs in Jasper’s speech tells you he is a psychopath – a heartless one, if that’s even possible. Jasper is daring you to judge him. He is laughing in your face in his clipped-speech register. These two functions (the comic and the ethical) are constantly undercutting one another - Jasper’s ironic, comic comments juxtaposed to the serious, ethical comments become important at many places in the novel as he and Bannerst spread carnage. We can extend the basic framework further within the fictional world of this novel as each narrator uses his/her ability to merge with and distance himself/herself from characters and events. Aisling’s assessment of Bannerst is fear inspiring. “Out of everything I ever experienced in my life, I never came across something that terrorized me on a deep, cellular level. Until Bannerst,” (Chapter 25, p 90); “There was something about the man who called himself Bannerst. The way he killed those men. He was different. Evil. 
 The dream-sight surrounding Bannerst was different. I was nothing. I was a complete bystander. No thoughts. No feelings. Except for theirs,” (Chapter 11, p 43), and “Panic travelled through my system, adding to the debilitating fear and cold that gripped me. It was as if I could hear Bannerst laughing in my head,” (Chapter 37, p 124). Jasper confirms Aisling’s assessment of Bannerst, “Dude was odd. Whoever the fuck he was. With an air of confidence 'round him 'n a shit eatin' grin, he seemed to know how to please Hoss, 'cause the officer stood up 'n slid open the front windows on the van … Whoever the fuck that dude was, he wasn't normal. 
'N I'd follow him anywhere,” (Chapter 10, p 39), and “Bannerst looked at me with the same shit eatin' grin on his face he was wearin' since we met. Somethin' 'bout his smile told me he wasn't so much smilin' as barin' his teeth. Dude was creepy,” (Chapter 34, p 118). But Bannerst assessments of himself, humanity and Jasper are the most curious, “There was no comparison to the life I lived before I was summoned. Always in shadow, I was the voice on the shoulders of the corruptible. The bigger the corruption, the bigger the reward. I excelled at it, but I never achieved a success like Jasper Wills before. He was one of those people that could be coerced into even the worst of situations, thinking it was a good idea,” (Chapter 35, p 120). Of Jasper, he notes further, “From what I could tell of his soul, he was nice and corrupt, but not ripe enough for my taste. I needed someone devoid of all good, the ultimate corrupted soul, and he was perfect,” (Chapter 10. P 41). But my favorite has to be Bannerst third-person assessment of himself “Bannerst was enigmatic. It was his charm. He could smile at a woman and make her knees weak. Grin at a teenager, offer a few carefully placed words, and he would want to sleep with a friend's mother. It was a valuable asset and my power grew with every soul I devoured, but it still wasn't enough,” (Chapter 47, p 161). Notice how he constantly shifts from being an observer of his host, Bannerst, to being himself, Bilu, the demon. Notice how both names begin with ‘B’ – with the root words being ‘bann’ ("to summon, command, proclaim") and ‘bi’ (two). A narrator with split personality? Aisling, Bannerst and Jasper, and their varied abilities to characterize others become a vehicle through which (each as narrator) subtly judges the other characters. For instance, my attitude toward Bannerst and Jasper results partly from the contemplation of what the serious commentator (Aisling) says about their trait and attitudes towards humanity and others. She is the foil to both of them. For instance, by aligning herself with Connor, Liam, Angela, and the were-animals, Shadow and Salvatore, Aisling uses these characters as a moral measuring stick. “We learned where demons really came from. They weren't just in religious lore. They were evil. Ancient. And predated any known religion. They thrived on death, ruin, and corruption, just to name a few. It was no wonder they were so popular in human religious cultures. An evil like that could make anyone turn to spirituality in hopes of never facing one,” (Chapter 17, p 63). Through Aisling Green, Doughty defines good nature - that benevolent and amiable temper of mind, which disposes us to feel the misfortunes, and enjoy the happiness of others; and consequently pushes us on to promote the latter and prevent the former. Aisling is quite adamant when contemplating what to do about the dungeon she and Connor were tortured in in Berlin when Liam says, “We can blast through the walls and flood it. That way they will never be able to use it again." The blood drained from my face. 
He was right. 
It would go against everything I stood for. 
Flooding the dungeon would mean killing people. Not saving them. 
On one hand, I didn't want the dungeon operational. Didn't want more people suffering and dying in the name of cleansing the world of others. Didn't want the Scholars to think they could continue without consequence. But I couldn't agree to killing people. Whether they were Kramer Scholars, or others. That was not a sacrifice I could make. My lip trembled as my anger fell away and sadness replaced it,” (Chapter 41, p144), and her reaction on finding out Liam went ahead with his plans, “"There were a few volunteers in the nest to go settle a small problem we otherwise could not resolve." "What problem was that?" I asked, but I had a feeling I knew. "The dungeon."
Blood drained from my face. "You sent people to the dungeon?" Three people died because of me. Connor's arms wrapped around me as sadness washed over me,” (Chapter 54, p 152). This concept of good (or human) nature is crucial to understanding Aisling's idea of existence, after all, her nature is inescapably and uniquely her own and all facets of her being depends on it. With good nature comes a responsibility to humankind, and every good-natured person, like Aisling, must do his/her utmost to contribute to the Happiness of each Individual. So, though she is unable to resuscitate the triplet pixies and ‘Blondie,’ she, however, ensures the majority of her friends are happy when she resuscitates the vampires killed in battle with Bilu, the injured Salvatore, and by killing Bilu. Last words: first, like I indicated earlier with Heinlein's The Number of the Beast, there have been novels with multiple first-person narrators. There are also novels with first-person omniscient narrator - Markus Zusak's The Book Thief, Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones, or Nick Carraway in F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. But not one with two first-person omniscient narrators without limits and the fascination of Aisling and Bannerst in Doughty's Focus. This is my personal take, you are free to have yours. Second, I learned several lessons from reading Focus: I learned that iron affects witches “Iron affected witches, dampened their powers, or in some cases, prevented it,” (Chapter 2, p 14). I learned that drugs don't affect witches, “drugs were supposed to flow through our bodies. Without hitting the bloodstream,” (15). I learned about branding “I branded him with the power of the sun. And I kept going until the faintest bit of light remained in his eyes. Then I let his body crumple to the ground,” (41). I learned that vampires weren't afraid of the sun, and that they don't have melanin. “Contrary to popular belief, vampires weren't afraid of the sun, nor did they burst into flames when they stood in direct sunlight. Their skin might be pale because they no longer held melanin in their skin, but they didn't fear the light like humans believed. And they definitely didn't sparkle,” (65). I learned that, like humans, others are territorial. “Territorialism, I was beginning to learn, was common for others in regards to anything they considered theirs,” (68). And I learned something new about night shades (I first came across it in Doughty's Dream Spell). It is "... a creature that wasn't born, but created. It lived in dreams and could control the body of the person dreaming," (127). What is new about it in Focus is the way Bannerst uses it to control Aisling's body in a dream state. He makes her kill some Kramer Scholars - while sleep-walking, ironically, the only killings she doesn't regret. What, I wonder, would've been her reaction if the Kramer Scholars she killed were her lover, Connor - Bannerst was just getting to that ... This is a novel I thoroughly enjoyed reading – due largely to how Doughty employs numerous narrative voices. So, Third, related to narrative voice, I love how Jasper’s language register brings his low-life upbringing into focus. Rating – 5 stars. F-K 2016.
  • Home on Sep. 03, 2016

    Author's note: there are spoilers in this review. Any writing must explain itself or you wonder what the reason was for writing it. As you read any writing, it is only natural therefore that you try to find answers to the questions in your head (raised by what you are reading) – fictional works included. As such, as I read Sarah Doughty’s Home several questions were bounding around in my head: How can someone with a crisis of identity and a sense of displacement become a home for restless souls? Is race and kind only a human construct; can animals be racist – towards humans? What is the true meaning of home? These questions, and the answers Doughty provides to them will form the premise of my review of Sarah Doughty’s Home. Home is the gripping tale of the becoming of Angela Ines Williams, a young African-American Librarian and Guardian. Angela doesn’t realize until this third instalment (the first two being Just Breathe, and Focus) that she has extra-human powers – a heightened sense of smell, ability to tell when someone is present in a room that she isn’t present in or who is calling without looking at her phone - “My phone dinged but I ignored it. Liam's jacket could wait,” (62), but above all, she discovers she is a Shamaness with extra powers – “… a very rare breed … (with) the ability to cross between our plane, and the land of the dead,” (38). As she realizes these extra-human powers, Bugs, her cat, drags her into the Spirit Realm, and she realizes, apart from being Guardian to Aisling and Connor, she must also save the Spirit Realm – the place where ghosts go after crossing over. As she battles the neutrals who fire her on trumped up charges and set about killing her for helping Aisling and Connor, she also battles several other things: the ghosts and wraiths in and from the Spirit Realm under the control of Renata Crane; a sense of being ‘damaged’ by her mother as a child; acceptance by her werewolf lover, Salvatore Manziel; discrimination by a pack of werewolves (Cleansers) for being with Salvatore, and identity crisis as human/wolf. Now to my first question, how can someone with a crisis of identity and a sense of displacement become a home for restless souls? For psychologist Erik Erikson who coined the term "identity crisis," consciousness is a result of psychosocial and psychobiological development. The typical developmental stage for identity formation is adolescence. It is a period when Identity Cohesion versus Role Confusion is at stake. If a psychological or psychosocial crisis occurs and identity cohesion is not achieved, then the person is said to be in "identity crisis": the person has unresolved crisis in the conceptualization of basic identity, basic ego, and basic "I" awareness. Angela says her entire life was “a structured chaos.” According to her, “it was bad enough to emancipate myself at sixteen … I wasn't entirely sure why my mother did what she did, or if it would have really killed me as I believed. But I was sixteen, and she was supposed to take care of me. She failed. My mother didn't regret forcing me to be her guide when I was sixteen, knowing it could have killed me, (44, 55). What her mother puts her through leaves Angela conflicted and confused about her identity - often times, such confusion that can result in tragedy. And for a while in Home, tragedy appears ineluctable when Angela is unable to extricate herself from the conflict between who she is and who she is supposed to be. It is obvious in Home that Angela’s identity crisis is occasioned by the various conflicts in her life. She says, “… whatever it was that was happening to me, either those enhancements that made me more like a wolf without actually being one, or my talents as a combination of clairvoyant, Shamaness, and Siren, I wasn't just a human. I wasn't other, but I was different enough that I didn't count myself as a human,” (Chapter 43, p 169). This is a crisis that threatens to consume Angela as it throws her into the war raging in the Spirit Realm, while she is struggling to come to terms with her identity. Consider this: at some point in the narrative she is in conflict with her mother (who, under the influence of Renata Crane, is threatening to take her Shamanic powers by killing her), a group of corrupt neutrals (who want her dead), Cleansers (who are hell bent on exterminating her and her new ‘family), and Renata Crane (a “woman devoid of any morality or sense of character, who uses Voodoo,” (194) who simply wants her dead as her existence threatens Renata’s disruptive plans for the Spirit Realm and the human world) – conflicts that drive her into a change necessary for the restoration of her sanity and the chaotic world around her. Conversely, it becomes obvious Angela’s awareness of her true self will be essential to the eventual achievement of self-actualization, and this is what Doughty sets about unraveling in this gripping tale - Home. Summing up her own nature Angela says, “… Outside, I was organized, careful, and always in control — at least of myself while the rest of the world crumbled around me … Inside, I was a jumble of nerves, a worrywart, and constantly struggled to keep myself in check … But I didn't expect a simple revelation to send my walls crashing down around me, leaving me open and exposed,” (Chapter 1, p 7). Angela considers herself an abomination - “Many times throughout my life I heard about abominations … just because of the color of my skin,” (96); and it is obvious this has had a telling impression on her sense of self-worth. “I wondered why a man like him would ever want a woman like me,” "I've been alone for so long that it's difficult to grasp that any of you really want to be here. Because of that, it's hard to accept that you love me. I know you do. It's just, after everything I've been through, I continue to doubt that I'm capable of being loved," (112). As a result, Angela is a closed character who aims to protect herself and her insulatedness – “He reached out and scooped me up in his arms like I weighed no more than my cat. He carried me into my bedroom and set me down on my bed before carefully removing my flats,” (Chapter 2, p 15). Notice how she uses the possessive pronoun here - something she does throughout the novel. Also, even when there was no need for it, her mind reminded her of her stamp of untouchabilty “Liam's entire nest of vampires and humans were dressed expensively in black, as they always were. And it made me look like a homeless person,” (Chapter 4, p 23). The idea of herself as a homeless person reinforces the idea of displacement in the novel that Doughty discusses at various levels, but especially with the disturbance in the Spirit Realm. I enjoyed the irony in this aspect of the narrative - the displaced ghosts yearning for placement seems like a self-defeating cause as it strains against their present obsolete need for a steady location. That is until you consider the Spirit Realm as a place that is “neither heaven, nor hell,” but some form of purgatory. In whatever form, statelessness cannot be a thing of joy. That is why this irony is amplified when Angela tells the wraiths, after freeing them from the powers of Renata Crane who sent them to kill her, "You are not welcome here. This is not your home … I free you from the binds that place you under her control … you’re okay now. Leave this place and go home," (Chapter 22, p 92). What home? The Spirit Realm? A place, as Angela describes, in which, “… the light was dim as if dusk was giving way to twilight and left everything in shadows, but still bright enough that everything seemed lit with sepia tones. In the distance, I could see buildings that looked dirty, like no one bothered to clean anything in decades or more,” (Chapter 2, p 13). A place “Without a sense of time, I couldn't fathom how long I was there. The sun — or whatever light source covered the realm in a peculiar sepia light — didn't move, the place was in a constant state of after light, like the sun set over the horizon and the rest of the sky was darkening. Time seemed frozen,” (Chapter 10, p 50). A place where “Deep shadows cast over everything and even the bits of trash that littered the dirty street looked devoid of most of their color,” (Chapter 47, p 182). A place that reminds me of, and creates the imagery of the creation narrative: “In the beginning, when God began to create heaven and earth, the earth was unformed and void, with darkness over the surface of the deep and a wind from God sweeping over the water,” (Genesis 1:1-2). A place that connotes a sense of coldness, darkness, desolation, despair, and loneliness. A place that brings to mind those moments of despair when you feel lost, when you see no order in the chaos of life, and when you feel as if you cannot go on. A time you cannot go on because in these dark moments, the most appealing answer is death. Except, the ghosts in Home are already dead. But there is hope – a light, a source of illumination that doesn't make much sense in the creation narrative, since it's not until 13 sentences later, on the fourth day that we are told that God created the sun, the moon, and the stars. Do you see the correlation between these two narratives? Can you imagine after the fighting in the Spiritual Realm, some messiah sent the Arch Angel and his fellow rebels back ‘home’? But more relative, what is the light in the creation narrative? Where did it come from? Obviously it wasn’t light or illumination from the sun or the moon or the stars. It was something more - a kind of supernatural light - a divine life force. To overcome her crisis of identity and sense of displacement, Angela had to find her life force. Life force is important because it represents part of your experience of being in the world. It is a power that runs through your body. A power that is neither inherently good nor bad. The question then is, how will you use it? For what purpose will you use it? Will you invent your own purpose and apply it there? Will you justify your attempt to harness it based upon your own high ideals, your great thoughts or your altruistic ambitions? If so, it will elude you and deceive you. It will corrupt you and work against you. For Angela, it is a metaphorical essence that becomes a home to others, one that restores hope, while destroying dark forces like the manticore, the possessor of the essence of ghosts like Ghost King, once a powerful Shaman and Angela’s grandfather (193). We see the final indications of this light restored in the Spirit Realm is the restoration of Dead Girl, Emma, and the appearance of Gramma, Aisling’s grandmother who warns them of Renata’s imminent plans to hurt Aisling. Surely the Spirit Realm cannot be a terrible place if Ghost King and Gramma are in it. Hope you see the connectedness between the two narratives that I see in them. Angela is able to resolve her crisis of identity by locating her essence in her own strength of character, and her powers as a Shamaness, which are complemented by the love and guidance of her adopted family - Aisling, Connor, Liam, PeterSalvatore, Shadow and the other characters in Liam's home - that consider her one of them. This brings me to the second question that arises from my reading Home is, Is race and kind only a human construct; can animals be racist – towards humans? Most of my reading (of other sources) suggest race, as an identifier, is a human construct because racism is more than just prejudice, it implies a power relationship. The term "racist" is often mistaken for "prejudice" – two terms I don’t find acceptable, but two terms that contain a nuance of difference. I may be wrong, but animals are not self aware to the extent that such a mental construction has any bearing to them. Being "racist" is a conscious choice that implies intent, rather than an instinctual response. Again, I stand to be corrected, but I believe animals run primarily on instinct, and thus what they do cannot be "intentional" in the way we humans make choices. This is what fascinates me about the race issues raised in Home. Are the Cleansers aware of their prejudice for Angela in their wolf form, or do they become aware of the difference when they shift? I ask this considering what Salvatore says about leaving his adoptive pack: "I was only with them for about nine months. It took that long for me to gather the means to leave. They almost killed me for wanting out. If not for my dominance, they would have." I am aware animals do "discriminate" based on whether something is a member of their identified group, but it's not based on a mental construct. It is a function of competition, predator/prey relationships, or instinctual behaviors. for instance, within species, competition between groups can arise. However, this is a complex web of instinctual behaviors, not a choice based on preconceptions. Nicholas considers Angela an abomination - "She is neither a werewolf nor the same race as you. This abomination cannot live." (96); it is obvious Nicholas has the same dislike for Angela as the men from George’s bar: “He straightened and his face reddened in outright rage. Suddenly, I understood the type of man he was. He was the kind of man that wanted women beneath him. No rights. No say in anything. He expected dinner on the table, and a compliant wife, if the asshole had one. It made him a racist, too. I was a woman and I was black. A bad combination for me. Men like him were raised in a very particular environment. The passage of time, in a place like Nashville, did nothing to change that,” (Chapter 15, 69). The fact that Angela is turning makes no difference to Nicholas, a Cleanser. Salvatore tells Angela Cleansers are "…bigots … their mission is to find couples. Others. If they were different, in any way, they eliminated one or both of them. They want to keep the gene pool of others as pure as possible … You haven't been exposed to this world for long, so you don't fully understand that. Danger follows us," (101). It also didn’t matter to Grayson (another Cleanser) who sentences her to death for "… mating with a man that is neither your race, nor human …" (Chapter 54, p 203). Let's go back just a bit to proceed with this discuss. What does Salvatore mean by keeping the “gene pool of others as pure as possible,” is it a cause to save the werewolves or others in general, or is it a cause to prevent werewolves from mating with other were-animals? Salvatore himself says a child can be born a were-animal. But what would the child be if the parents were different were-animals? Is this a case of assortative mating - where individuals prefer to mate with those with a similar genetic makeup, genotype, and those with similar features as a result of these genes, phenotype? Angela is half wolf, but a human woman. Can this potentially be seen, therefore, as implicit racism, but one that extends beyond skin color and ethnicity to include similar body type? Or is it all down to color/race? Linda Michaels, the dog psychologist and trainer says, “Although a dog may appear to be "racist", that's not possible. Racism requires complex thinking and other higher cognitive functions that canines simply don't possess.” She adds that a dog may appear or behave in a racist manner because of “Insufficient positive associations in early socialization to people of all races.” But in Home we are dealing with werewolves – even if they are sentient. So, I ask, when Nicholas voices his racial contempt for Angela as a shifted werewolf, is it a carry-over from his thinking as a werewolf? Salvatore says, "You're okay now. You're home," 
(55). But more crucially he remembers her as his mate even in his shifted form, so can there be carry-over thoughts? Could Salvatore’s own initial rebuff of Angela be a case of repressed racism? I know this is fiction, but Nicholas’ hatred of Angela rouses interesting thoughts. Let’s not forget he says, "She is neither a werewolf nor the same race as you. This abomination cannot live," (97). Let’s not forget that Salvatore is of Hispanic descent, and let's not forget that Nicholas could be of foreign extract, “His skin was practically glowing for a moment before it dulled to his normal dark skin tone. He was either very tanned, or possibly Middle Eastern. His eyes were a honey brown and his raven-colored hair was cut short and spiked,” (Chapter 23, p 97). This, and the fact that most of the non-human characters in this novel are sentient, is what made reading this novel a fascinating experience for me – for instance, Bugs and Salvatore can read Angela’s mind. If they can read minds, can they process racist thoughts? The last question I will focus on in this review is, what is the true meaning of home? Is it even possible to define home? What does Salvatore mean when he says “Breathe, Angela. You're almost home,” (Chapter 7, p 37)? Webster's Dictionary defines home as "a place where we live, a place of residence." However, this defines a house rather than a home - home is what's on the inside. At least, this is what I take away from reading Sarah Doughty’s Home. The novel provides us with many definitions for, and associations with the word ‘home’. It associates home with feelings of comfort, security, and love. For instance, Peter says, "I'm just happy to not be alone anymore," (169). In Home, home is a place of protection from unknown things in the world. When Angela finds herself lost in the Spirit Realm, she starts to search for something she hopes. “… Would take me home. To my body. To Aisling. 
To Salvatore … I was pushed here without my guide. I don't know how to get home," (Chapter 10, p 49 and 51). 
Closely related to this, home is where you were raised – a place related to childhood memories, favorite dishes, and traditions - think of the Welsh word hiraeth. Interestingly, Aisling, Angela, Connor, Liam, Salvatore, and Shadow don’t have fond memories of a happy home. Home for her is the place where she was able to become herself both physically and mentally. For Angela one of such places is the Library. She says, “It was my sanctuary. Up until a few weeks ago, it was a place I thought was more of a home than my house … Salvatore was right. I was home in that small town with a very strange assortment of friends that were better family to me than my real family ever was. But it didn't mean everything I loved would always be a part of that home,” (Chapter 14, p 64). Quite true, because moments later after being fired from her position in the library, she says, “By the time I reached the double doors and pushed through them, I was smiling, feeling free for the first time in my life. There was the craziness at home,” (Chapter 15, p 67). The last part of this quote obviously refers to her biological home, but the fluidity in its relevance to the library, her current home, and the society is something I couldn’t resist noting. In all contexts – craziness reigns in her home. In the novel, home is an environment that may affect a person’s behavior and mental wellbeing. For instance, when Angela can neither move nor speak she finds comfort in Salvatore whispering to her, "You're okay now. You're home," (Chapter 12, p 55). 
Home is the feeling that greets you when you walk through the door. Doughty ortrays home as a rock solid foundation that you take with you whenever you leave the physical home - a place made up of experiences, that is, moments of your life that helped to teach, and consequently, change you. For that reason, home is also people and when home takes on a human form, it is called family. Salvatore reminds Angela during the course of an argument "Be with me," he whispered. "Right here in this moment. You're home. Don't shut me out." (Chapter 17, p 77). Angela returns the favor later when she tells a brooding Salvatore "This is your home, too … and I don't want you to leave," (Chapter 20, p 84). In Home family is a relative term - nothing to do with blood, but rather something defined by relationships. According to the author, this is due largely to the nature of the supernatural world, just about everyone is without a home. From being able to stay in one place, stay alive, and have a family or significant other - even Liam's nests are smaller than traditional ones before the Earthens died. When Aisling’s grandmother died, Angela became her family – and her Guardian. Aisling also becomes Angela’s family when Angela 'emancipated' from her parents - "Aisling was right, Angela. You have a family here. You are home. Right where you need to be.” … Salvatore … was still there. Holding me while I cried like a girl. Giving me what I needed, even though I didn't want it. Didn't feel like I deserved it. My heart felt like it was about to explode with as much as I loved him in that moment. It wasn't just Aisling I would die to protect anymore. 
I clutched him tighter and nodded as I breathed, "I'm home," (Chapter 13, p 61). I have a feeling whatever happens in the future, Liam’s home will be a foundation for Aisling, Angela, Connor, Peter, and Shadow because it is an environment with people who have helped these characters to construct better versions of themselves and taught them how to live. After all, home is where the heart is. It is a place that brings back good memories, it is the symbol of comfort, rejuvenation, self-discovery and wellness: “Very well, my dear. I will leave you to it. Enjoy your new home," … Goose bumps broke out on my skin at his words and I froze. 
 Home. 
 Straightening, I looked up at the space that surrounded me … I was home. "Angela, you will always have a home. Right here in this library. With Aisling, Connor, all of our friends. With me. You will never be alone again. You are my home." Above all, home is that place in your heart where those you care for find solace: "You're home, Angela." … Breathing Salvatore in, I sucked in a shaky breath and let his warmth envelop me. Then I let myself relax. I was home. I was right where I needed to be in that moment. And I wanted to stay in his arms forever,” (Chapter 7, p 37). “No matter where you go, you're my home,” (157). This is what makes Angela’s thoughts as she reemerges from the near fatality of a possessed Salvatore attacking her very poignant, “… I pulled myself by my nails. Tore at the darkness. Fought against it. And I didn't stop. I wouldn't stop until I found my way back to my friends. They were my home. And I would never leave them behind,” (Chapter 35, p 144). Curiously though, and in spite of what has gone before, Angela is still using a possessive noun when she and Salvatore return to ‘their’ home towards the end of the novel - “we ran out my back door,” (217) Reading Home, you come to the realization that certain things in life make you happy - but what makes us happiest is finding a home. Angela says, “… I didn't consider myself among the humans anymore. 
I never fit in with them. Never felt at home.
 In the company of vampires, ghouls, werewolves, and Earthen witches, I felt more at home … I was more other than I would ever be human. By the time I pushed through the doors into my library, I was grinning like a loon as one thought crossed my mind. Home,” (Chapter 33, p 136). That is why the opposites the adoption of Peter creates, “a seven year old child in desperate need of a home,” (150) is the saddest moment in this novel. Angela says to Peter, "You have a home now. With me, Salvatore, and all of our friends. You don't have to worry about being alone again, okay?" (Chapter 43, p 170). But at the point Peter finds a home, Shadow’s loneliness, as an Alpha wolf without a pack, is reiterated. “As the werewolf stepped back, Aisling pulled him into a hug, but not before I caught the look of sadness on his face. Her aura swirled with orange and dark blue. From what Liam told me, Aisling's perception of Shadow was right. He was lonely, and he hid it very well,” (Chapter 37, p 152). There are several other things I love about this novel and Doughty’s writing: subtle name inferences like Angela; Nicholas; The fact that Robertson – is a woman beater (69); Doughty’s attention to detail – “I took the gun from him and, though it was too light to have one, I glanced on the underside to make sure a magazine wasn't inside. Then I pulled back the slide to check for a bullet in the chamber. Finding none, I released it, pointed the gun at the wall and pulled the trigger, releasing the firing pin,” (120). Some may not consider this as important, but think of the opposite – a writer who doesn’t pay attention to detail. Also, those who followed the trial of Oscar Pristorius will also appreciate the point I make here; Angela’s last thoughts after being attacked by Salvatore – “How odd it was to find my home. To finally find a place I felt accepted and loved. Only to have it ripped away in a matter of days. That was the last thing I thought before I died,” (141). The irony of this makes powerful reading; Doughty’s use of suspense - "She's coming for Aisling. You need to warn her. Protect her." (217) When Gramma says this to Angela right at the end of the novel, you know there is more to come. But this isn’t just the point, every word, every action are carefully thought out – I find words, actions from the two novellas, Just Breathe, and Focus, words and actions from Just Breathe and Focus linked to and explained further in Home. I love the sense of continuity in these series as it makes it easy for anyone who hasn’t read the previous instalments to know what has happened previously; I also like Doughty’s use of intertexuality – Bugs as Sphinx (53), the manticore (32), and the Spirit Realm; The character of Liam fascinates me – his show of love just warms my heart: "You have my book?" The vampire's green eyes flashed and he nodded. "I made arrangements with your publisher for an exclusive early release and obtained enough for every member of my various nests, plus about twenty additional books per nest for visitors." He waved a hand. "I probably didn't order enough." (113). I liked Dead Girl and her ability to read Angela’s mind (50); I am rascinated by Doughty's witticism. For instance, when Aisling says to Angela’s mother, Estelle Williams, "I'm going to have a look around your mind. I won't hurt you." (58); and Salvatore’s response to Angela’s question, "Where the hell have you been all my life?" - "Looking for you," (114). Lessons: I learnt that “Ghosts could get scared,” (Chapter 2, p 14); that Ghosts don’t breathe (47); that werewolves don't pick a mate if they don't love first. (111); and I learnt about bloodlust in were-animals - "The need to hunt," (172). Last thoughts: this is an enthralling read. I loved reading this novel because it presents a balanced psychological study of humans, were-animals and others, the pace is quick, the presence of danger is relentless, the description of places and people is vivid, and the narrative is eloquent. This is a novel from a writer who knows how to tell a good tale. Besides, just when you think Aisling defeating the demon, Bilu, in Focus was huge, Doughty throws us a live grenade – battles with bigoted Cleansers, a possessed mother, a voodoo priestess who uses astral projections, a headless manticore, ghosts, and wraiths across realms. Finally, it’s not just Angela's using of otherwise ungodly powers in the Spirit Realm, but her using them in a realm that is otherwise the realm of God that also fascinates me in Home. Rating: 5 stars. F-K 2016.