Showing posts with label Alaska. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alaska. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Adventure Series Part 3: Conquering Doubt on Sixmile

Six or seven months ago I remember saying it would take "years to build back up to a Sixmile level." I imagined Alaska's Sixmile Creek to be a whitewater run on the same stature as Colorado's Gore Canyon, an infamous regional testpiece for expert kayakers. I've been out of the whitewater scene for a while and it had been many years since I'd ventured onto such treacherous waters.

In the end, I did it and I was proud. Sure I watched paddlers with very little experience bump their way down it at low water right next to me, so the accomplishment is no incredible feat, but it was a goal met and that felt good.

For this blogpost I'm going to try something a little different. My return to whitewater paddling after a considerable hiatus came also with a return of my old passion of documenting my adventures on video and making short, mediocre "films" out of them. So to steal the words from the rest of my essay, I will let my highlight video from my several trips to Sixmile Creek on my packraft serve as my voice to tell this story.

NOTE: This post is part three in my "Adventure Series". Click on the links for part one and part two.

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All writing is the original work of Brian Wright and may not be copied, distributed, re-printed or used any form without express written consent of the author. Find out here how to CONTACT me with publishing and/or use questions 


Wednesday, November 20, 2019

Adventure Series Part 2: Discovering Northwestern

Pick your paradise. 

The first time your eyes fell on it, your breath choked backwards in your throat. It was one of those places so effortlessly sublime it felt surreal. It seemed proof of the divine. Picture this place.

Now, let me tell you about one of mine.

In a remote corner of the Southern Alaska coast. In a bedrock gash between hacksaw granite ridges iced with decadent glacier frosting, lies Northwestern Fjord. 

Leaping from sea to the summit of McCarty Peak (6,500') in about three miles, Northwestern boasts topographical relief on par with the classic American destinations: Yosemite, the Tetons, the Grand Canyon. This nest of  natural splendor hosts myriad waterfalls showering brilliant jewels down stern rock faces, innumerable glaciers spilling over serrated ridgelines, and wildlife by the thousand: harbor seals and seabirds, otters and crustaceans. Even the occasional transient orca pod has been spotted braving icy seas in search of fresh prey. 

And look, at the bottom, tiny and insignificant, a group of sea kayakers, cute in their colorful little toys. One of them happens to be me.

As a sea kayak guide in Kenai Fjords National Park, I got to visit Northwestern more times in one summer than most locals get to in their whole lifetime. I witnessed its many moods: bright and glorious, dark and temperamental. I saw it slashing down rain, I saw it darken with heavy smoke from a massive wildfire. I saw it choke with ice and roar with katabatic williwaws. I saw my two largest glacial calving events of the summer here, one of which scared me.

Every day a different shade.


This place called to me. Rugged and unforgiving yet graceful and serene, something about Northwestern Fjord rooted deep. Of all the incredible places I got to see through my job as a kayak guide, none seemed to fit in this same way. Yes, when it's my time and I'm back to being dust like the old words say, I hope a few of my ashes scatter here so they can swirl around in the ocean eddies and sink to the bottom.

I understand ocean life better now and, since the sea is such an integral part of life in coastal Alaska, my picture of this wild area I call home is a little clearer. My love of and time in Northwestern Fjord helped me to commune with Alaska, and hopefully helped it commune with me.

This was part 2 in my "Adventure Series" of blog posts. To visit/re-visit part 1, please click this link. To read part 3, click here.

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If you enjoyed this post, consider signing up for my mailing list. When not waxing on and on about my favorite places in the world, I blog about all sorts of crazy, educational, entertaining, and occasionally funny topics from what makes an effective first paragraph to giant redwoodsmedieval sailboats, the ancient Mayans and more. If you do sign up, you will get a once-a-week update on my posts (if there are any) and NOTHING ELSE! No spam, no selling your email to third parties. Okay, if I ever get around to publishing one of these works in progress that are constantly haunting me, I might send out an email letting you know. In the meantime thanks for reading!

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All writing is the original work of Brian Wright and may not be copied, distributed, re-printed or used any form without express written consent of the author. Find out here how to CONTACT me with publishing and/or use questions 


Thursday, November 7, 2019

Adventure Series Part I: The Summer I Became Alaskan (even if only in my own mind)

Sixmile Canyon Whitewater
Packrafting First Canyon on Sixmile Creek
Awhile back, when I was quite a bit more, ahem, active with my blog, I pondered what it meant to be 'Alaskan'. At the time I had lived in this massive and complicated state for seven months. Now, almost two years after penning that post, I sit today in the same place, pondering the same basic question.

"Alaskan," Strictly Speaking

People are proud in Alaska. Proud of the incredible landscape and unique local color. Proud that, though to nearly everyone else Alaska is a wonderland of superlatives and extremes, to them it is simply home.

Legally, a person becomes a resident of Alaska after living in the state for a calendar year. However, a friend (a fourth-generation Sewardite I should add) recently voiced that she would never accept someone's claim of being "Alaskan," strictly speaking, until they had lived here longer than all other places combined. By that rubric, since I moved here in 2017 at age 33, I wont qualify until 2050.

So no... I'm not Alaskan.

But What is Alaska anyway?

The word "Alaska" for most conjures images of muscled brown bears wrangling salmon from alpine streams with glacier-capped summits lancing skyward in the background, or ethereal aurora borealis dancing over pale snow blankets and frozen lakes. There is a global sense that Alaska has become the western hemisphere's superlative for nature at its most raw and rugged. In short, what makes Alaska Alaska, are mountains, wildlife, and the wilderness.

A Kafka Moment

One day recently, I woke up transformed. The place I'd lived for two and a half years felt different. I no longer felt like a traveler. All of the wondrous extremes a person could witness here were no longer new and novel. They were simply home. Alaska had become a part of me in a essential way, like my body had absorbed it via osmosis. But when exactly had this metamorphosis taken place? And how?
Cake picnic overlooking Godwin Glacier 7/29/19

A Blog Series!

Enter the summer of 2019. For five months I was immersed in the Alaskan landscape as a deckhand and sea kayak guide. I logged fifty sea days bumping through the rugged North Alaska Gulf seeking the most speculator places to sea kayak on Earth. Days off saw me scurrying to the summits of rugged local mountains or hurling my packraft down frothing rivers. When fall fell over the landscape, I could finally relax and digest the collective experience of this summer and what it meant.

To explore this insight, I'm endeavoring on a four-part blog series (the "Adventure" series) to revisit key moments, places and features of my summer that made it so transformative. In other words, I am attempting to capture in words a snapshot of how I transitioned from tourist to traveler, and finally, after over two years, from traveler to resident, even if I'm still not, and perhaps never will be, officially Alaskan ;-P 
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If you enjoyed this post, consider signing up for my mailing list. When not fixating on definitions of being "Alaskan" (and when I wrestle a little time/motivation from my day), I blog about all sorts of crazy, educational, entertaining, and occasionally funny topics from what makes an effective first paragraph to giant redwoodsmedieval sailboats, the ancient Mayans and more. If you do sign up, you will get a once-a-week update on my posts (if there are any) and NOTHING ELSE! No spam, no selling your email to third parties. Okay, if I ever get around to publishing one of these works in progress that are constantly haunting me, I might send out an email letting you know. In the meantime thanks for reading!

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All writing is the original work of Brian Wright and may not be copied, distributed, re-printed or used any form without express written consent of the author. Find out here how to CONTACT me with publishing and/or use questions 


Sunday, January 6, 2019

2018: A Year in Books

Noon during an Alaska winter. Hard to tell if it's a sunset or
sunrise as the former tends to start immediately upon the
conclusion of the latter
Ah yes, I'm back. You thought you were rid of me. You forgot you signed up for my mailing list. You scratched your head and wondered "who the hell is Brian Donald Wright" when I popped up in your inbox this morning.

Not so, my friends. I am alive and well, still stomping around in the Last Frontier. Still plonking away at the keys of my increasingly battered and outdated laptop. And I'm here to talk about, well, books!

But first....

A quick explanation of my long absence. I promise to keep it brief and get back to the action. 2017 was a great year for me and my blog, together we plopped out somewhere around 50 blog posts, nearly one a week. Me, my computer and my scattered readers (daring brave souls) whirled about the worlds of my imagination, exploring everything from Mayan ruins, writing pedantry, books, medieval shippery, and more.

2018, well, not so much. This is post number two.

So what happened? Well, in short, I got burned out. I poured so much into my author platform in 2017 that I found myself not having time for the actual thing...writing itself. And, because I hate excuses, I just got lazy.

Well, I'm back. And though I don't expect to return to hammering out a blog post every week, I will try to improve. Blog posts take a great deal of time. Perhaps I need to shorten them? Well, anyways, let's get back on topic.

Did I tell you I missed you?

A Journey in Words

When I wrote this same post last year, I said "Each book not only carries me away into a fictional dimension but also fixes my mind in the time and space where I read it....My year comes back to me, each book a signpost on the adventure that was 2017." Although I did not read as many books in 2018, this holds just as true as before.

When I remember Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go, for example, I am taken back to the backcountry cabin where my loving wife, Ella, and I huddled through a chilly pair of January nights. It was here that I read that book's final 100 pages, enthralled right to the end. The second night of this trip I experienced my first earthquake, a 7.9 magnitude shaker that would have made for a great blogpost.... Another Ishiguro novel, The Buried Giant, was the book I lugged to Hawaii in April, so imagining that novel puts me back on those sandy beaches and at the toe of those verdant mountains. And so it goes, a story of my year in the form of the books that followed me everywhere I went. 

The Tomes 

As it were, I read 16 books this year, which I am sad to admit is eight less than last year. Not my best effort, though the sheer number is always what counts and several of these books were quite long. Without further ado, here is a brief look at each of them....

Never Let Me Go (Kazuo Ishiguro)
A literary classic in the dystopia genre. A group of children who grow up at a peculiar boarding school learn the horrifying reality about their culture and themselves. As usual with Ishiguro's works, Never Let Me Go places the focus on the power of subtle-but-crucial interpersonal moments. This is a unique and poignant piece of literary fiction from the 2017 winner of the Nobel Prize or Literature. 

The Lies of Locke Lamora (Scott Lynch)
Part fantasy epic, part heist tale, The Lies of Locke Lamora is a clever and unique fantasy romp in a gritty, gory setting. Despite its long length Lamora was a page turner and one of the better fantasy books I read in 2018.

Master Assassins (Robert V.S. Redick)
The first installment of an upcoming series by a less-known author, Master Assassins is a well-crafted fantasy epic set in some sort of alternate middle east setting. Engagingly written and with highly developed characters, this is a worthy new fantasy series, though for me it lacked something to take it over the top.

New York 2140 (Kim Stanley Robinson)
Just over a century into the future and part of New York City is underwater after sea level rose 50 feet. A complex and lengthy bit of science fiction that works to be as much a tale of finance and politics than a dystopia thriller. I found this book to be slow and tedious despite it being nominated for several major awards.

Red Seas Under Red Skies (Sott Lynch)
The sequel to The Lies of Locke Lamora and continues right along the path of its predecessor. Though perhaps not as fresh as Book 1 of the series, Red Skies does its job as a sequel. I went out and bought book three almost as soon as I was finished.

Sing, Unburied, Sing (Jesmyn Ward)
A National Book Award winner, Sing, Unburied, Sing picks up where novels of the civil rights era leave off. A look at the modern south, and the work still in front of us in race relations in America, with a spice of the literary paranormal akin to the Toni Morrison's classic, Beloved. Despite its well-written prose, I found this book difficult to stagger through.

The Gunslinger (Stephen King)
An outloud re-reading of this classic of speculative fiction. Part fantasy epic, part dystopia sci-fi, part horror, Stephen King's Dark Tower series was what he called his Jupiter in the solar system of his imagination. Although The Gunslinger is perhaps the worst of the seven books in the series, this is where it all begins.

The Buried Giant (Kazuo Ishiguro)
The most recent of Ishiguro novels. Set in post Arthurian Britain, an elderly couple sets out on a quest to uncover an important piece of their history as a strange fog robs them of their memory. Ishiguro straddles the line between fantasy and literary in this book. Though I was largely unimpressed, the ending was one of the most powerful and though-provoking of any novel I have ever read and that is not hyperbole.

To the Bright Edge of the World (Eowyn Ivey)
This brilliant epistolary novel tells the story of a fictionalized version of a post-Alaska Purchase expedition in which the U.S. government was eager to learn just what it was they had acquired in "Seward's Folley" (the pejorative critics used for the Alaska Purchase which was brokered by William Seward). In Ivey's Alaska, the native myths are real and the struggles of the brave explorers and their families back home are visceral. 

Metamorphosis (Franz Kafka)
A mega classic of literature, Metamorphosis was an "eat your vegetables" read for me. Every year I try to swallow at least one or two major classics and this year Metamorphosis was my selection. A short novel, Metamorphosis is an interesting albeit a bit dry read. It tells the story of a man who awakes one morning having been transformed into an insect and the repercussions that follow.

The Sword of Shanarra (Terry Brooks)
A 1970s fantasy epic, many people regard The Sword of Shanarra as a re-telling of The Lord of the Rings. I found the parallels to be a little too similar and the book a little too breathy so I did not finish.

A Wizard of Earthsea (Ursula K Le Guinn)
An absolute classic in the fantasy genre, A Wizard of Earthsea is a story who is can be spotted at the roots of major contemporary tales, such as Harry Potter, The Name of the Wind and others. Succinct but original, this book drew me in and pulled me through to its final pages.

Less (Andrew Sean Greer)
A hilarious, poignant and brilliantly written literary romp about a gay novelist who embarks on a world tour to avoid having to either accept or reject an invite to the wedding of a former lover. The winner of the 2018 Pulitzer Prize for fiction, this novel proved that not all winners of this great award have to be violent or depressing.

Heroes, Gods and Monsters (Bernard Evslin)
This book of mythology covers the major gods of the Greek canon with brief, easy-to-read and remember treatments. For someone like me who enjoys the mythologies and detects their still resonating impacts on modern culture, this book is a great way to familiarize with the basics of the stories without getting bogged down in details.

The Goldfinch (Donna Tart)
A Pulitzer Prize winning novel about the repercussions of a terrorist attack inside a popular art museum and the far-reaching fallout. For me this book was tedious, overly detailed and a massive struggle. I was highly disappointed and didn't finish it.

The Raven's Gift (Don Reardon)
Reminiscent of some of my favorite post apocalyptic novels, The Raven's Gift unfolds the story of rural arctic Alaska in wake of a horrific plague that has wiped out most of the population. Facing isolation and winter, a man and his blind companion struggle to find their way out.

2018 Awards

Best Fantasy
From The Lies of Locke Lamora, The Wizard of Earthsea, and even The Buried Giant, I read quite a few fantasy novels this year. It is difficult for me to select a single one as being the best not because I read so many good ones, but because none of them jump out as being particularly impressive. If I pull back, however, and just go on instinct, the book that feels like it had all the trappings I value in a fantasy novel was Master Assassins by Robert V.S. Redick, a narrow victor over The Lies of Locke Lamora

Best Sci Fi
Looking back over my list for 2018, I see a gaping hole in the science fiction genre. In fact, the only two books that might fall in the category would be Never Let Me Go, which I have already listed under "literary," and New York 2140, a book that bogged me down for a month and I was so glad when it was over I made a "yuck" sound when I shelved it. So unfortunately this year, there will be no Sci Fi winner.

Best Literary
Although several of the books on this year's list straddled the line between literary and genre fiction, I ultimately considered five of the books I read this year to be literary. Of these, the one that had the biggest impact on me was Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. This strange but engaging book showcases the significance of the small events in life, and the poignancy of our everyday interpersonal connections.

Grand Prize
As with last year when I gave my "grand prize" to the winner of the Literary category, I am going to do that again. From this year's books there is none that have stuck with me and none that I find myself talking about or recommending more than Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. As mentioned previously, this book is so poignant, original and strange it has "stuck with me" even though it was one of the first books I read this year. If I were to give out a runner up award it would have to go to To the Bright Edge of the World, another brilliant piece of literary fiction that to me is a perfect example of what great writing is capable of at its highest level.
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If you enjoyed this post, consider signing up for my mailing list. When not reading as many books as I can get my hands on, I blog about all sorts of crazy, educational, entertaining, and occasionally funny topics from what makes an effective first paragraph to giant redwoodsmedieval sailboats, the ancient Mayans and more. If you do sign up, you will get a once-a-week update on my posts and NOTHING ELSE! No spam, no selling your email to third parties. Okay, if I ever get around to publishing one of these works in progress that are constantly haunting me, I might send out an email letting you know. In the meantime thanks for reading!

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All writing is the original work of Brian Wright and may not be copied, distributed, re-printed or used any form without express written consent of the author. Find out here how to CONTACT me with publishing and/or use questions 


Sunday, December 10, 2017

Being Alaskan Means...

A bench overlooking Resurrection Bay in my hometown of
Seward, Alaska. Rugged peaks and rugged ocean define
life on the North Gulf Coast of the Last Frontier
Alaska is America's biggest state. Sorry Texas, we gotcha more than doubled. But Alaska is more than sweeping landscapes, fanged grizzlies and icy glaciers.

Alaska is its people.

What makes Alaskans different? Or are they different? After stomping through Alaskan rivers, fishing for Alaskan salmon, and writing about Alaskan life for a local newspaper for the last seven months, can I even call myself "Alaskan"? Currently, though subject to change, my answers to those three questions would be: nothing and everything. Yes but no. And probably not.

My hometown of Seward is a highly touristed node on the Alaska highway system, a network which, despite the immensity, includes only five state-funded roadways. During June, July and August, parka-swaddled gawkers from all over the world pile in to our narrow hamlet by the sea. For those three months we are a regular bustling metropolis, resplendent with live music, festivals, crowded walkways, and hopping taverns whose jukeboxes spill pulsing bass lines into the main thoroughfare. When fall and winter comes, however, those flocks of sunbirds loose their stomach for five-hour days, gnawing ocean winds, and chilly temps. Half of the town boards up their shops, latches their doors and drapes "closed for season" signs from their front windows. 

Witnessing this annual migration, I have come to realize a few things about Alaskans, and the world's impression of Alaskans.

To start, in several crucial ways Alaskans are no different than anyone else. They watch the same television, read many of the same books, stress over jobs and interpersonal relationships. They worry about their future and the future of their children.

In short, Alaskans are people. 

There is a particular demographic of tourist, most of which have spent too much of their life gridlocked in the tangles of some urban concrete jungle, that seems to view Alaskan people much the same as Alaska's wildlife.

For these confused folks, Alaskans are an exhibit, a blend between mammals confined to a zoo paddock and animatronic Disneyland caricatures. They gawk, faces pressed to plexiglass, at Alaskan strangeness. They question their tour guides and cruise ship captains about the habits and rituals of Alaskans: what do they eat? Are they intelligent? Do they migrate for the winter? Can my child ride on one's back? They would try to poke us to confirm the texture of our hides were it not for the "Do Not Pet the Locals!" signs hanging in every window. When they steer their RV's down Alaskan streets they are prone to screeching to a halt without warning, hopping out and snapping blurry, badly framed photographs of Alaskan habitat. An instant later they have tagged themselves on half a dozen social media platforms, captioning "Blending in with the landscape" under a photo of themselves wearing a brand new Alaska flag hoody with a tag still protruding from the hem. 

In the past ten years, there has been an explosion of Alaska-themed reality television, prompted partially by the runaway popularity of Discovery Channel's Deadliest Catch. Nowadays you can find Bering Sea Gold, Alaska: The Last Frontier, Alaskan Bush People, Coast Guard Alaska, and countless others populating any television programming lineup.

So why this fascination with Alaska and Alaskans?

Fall low-angle light on the mountains outside Seward
Alaska's state motto is "The Last Frontier." Perhaps this strikes at the heart of this burgeoning obsession with this state. Alaska represents what has, just about everywhere else, been lost. It is a place with a visceral grasp on our romanticized notions of the Wild West. 

It could be said that the death throes of Manifest Destiny will be coughed out in this final frontier. The rest of America, clinging desperately to a vision that is otherwise extinct, lives vicariously through the 700,000 inhabitants of Alaska. Perhaps that relatively infinitesimal grouping of hardy souls are the last true Americans. The fading spirits maintaining a toe in a world that vanished for everyone else a hundred years ago.

My own fascination with Alaska differs, however, though is related in some interesting ways. It is not some romanticized notion of the Old West that clutched my mind and drew me to the Great North but rather the last vestige of the once-worldwide wilderness. Yes, it was an echo of the old world, but not the world of people. The world before people. And here that memory is more alive than practically anywhere else.

But on both accounts, the remnants of old civilization and old wilderness are fading. Globalization has swallowed many things about Alaskan culture that once made it unique. Today, you can find some Alaskans just as obsessed with the doings of the Kardashians, or of all the national and global political discussions, as anywhere else. Sure, there remains a tendency for Alaskans to be self-sufficient in ways other places just can't emulate. They can fix a car, build an extension on their house, wire electricity, dig a well, butcher chickens, and gas up their skiff to captain out for a bout at the ole fishing hole all in the same day. Sure the land is rugged, the light strange and the air cold. The glaciers, though melting rapidly in many cases, continue their slow, scouring trjectory.

Alaska is not for everyone.

But ultimately, despite their distinct foibles, unique talents and alluring mysteries, Alaskans are just shades of the same bipedal creature as you and me.

The Harding Icefield. At 300 square miles, the Icefield is more a mother of glaciers than a glacier itself. At least 40 major glaciers spur off the Harding Icefield. I have never visited a place where I could see anything like it
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If you enjoyed this post, consider signing up for my mailing list. When not busy trying to decipher the meaning of life in Alaska, I blog about all sorts of crazy, educational, entertaining, and occasionally funny topics from what makes an effective first paragraph to giant redwoodsmedieval sailboats, the ancient Mayans and more. If you do sign up, you will get a once-a-week update on my posts and NOTHING ELSE! No spam, no selling your email to third parties. Okay, if I ever get around to publishing one of these works in progress that are constantly haunting me, I might send out an email letting you know. In the meantime thanks for reading!

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All writing is the original work of Brian Wright and may not be copied, distributed, re-printed or used any form without express written consent of the author. Find out here how to CONTACT me with publishing and/or use questions 


Thursday, June 8, 2017

This Broken Earth

Good Friday earthquake photo of damage
Massive damage from the Good Friday Earthquake
of 1964 near Anchorage, AK
March 27, 1964. Good Friday. The Aleutian Subduction Zone--where the Pacific tectonic plate collides with the North American plate--suddenly ripped loose, unleashing a massive magnitude 9.2 earthquake. It was the largest seismic event in North American history and the second largest ever recorded in the world.

For nearly five minutes the ground rolled and buckled, heaved and plunged. When the land finally settled, the damage was catastrophic. In some places the ground had risen as much as 38 feet. In others it had sunk nearly the same amount. Downtown Anchorage was in ruins.

Even more destructive than the quake itself, however, was the tsunami that raced across the Pacific Ocean.

Inundated within minutes were Alaskan communities like Portage, Whittier, Valdez and Kodiak. The waves clawed onto the shores, running up as much as 220 feet above average sea level. And it didn't stop there. The tsunami sped across the broad ocean, moving nearly 500 mph, striking the west coast of the United States. Thirteen people were killed in Crescent City, California and another five along the coast of Oregon. The tsunami was eventually registered in a least 20 countries, including Japan, New Zealand, Peru and even Antarctica.

By the end of the day, at least 139 were killed and some $311 million dollars in damage had occurred.

Believe it or not, this is eventually leading to a book review....

Seward, Alaska immediately after the quake
Near the exact crosshairs for this incredible event was the little town of Seward, Alaska, the place where I now live. Though the town was rocked by the massive earthquake, Seward was mostly affected by the large tsunami which flooded through downtown, destroyed much of the old harbor and laid to waste the bulk of Seward's economy, killing 12 of the tiny town's citizens in the process.

Nearly a mile of Seward's coastline fell into the ocean, and burning oil from a destroyed refinery was washed inland, sometimes nearly a mile, by the tsunami. The land was cracked and fissured. The Earth was broken. It must have seemed like Hell.

This Broken Earth (An Earthquake-related Book Review)

(Note: there may be a few spoilers in this review. Though I was careful not to reveal any major plot points, since I am reviewing a sequel even my description of the setting may give away some important points of the series's first installment)

So since we are on the topic of massive earthquakes, it seems only fitting to segue into a fantasy novel that is about, well, massive earthquakes....

The Broken Earth Trilogy by N.K. Jemisin is modern fantasy series which replaces a stereotypical medieval setting with a distant future on a nearly unrecognizable Earth. The planet, ravaged by rampant earthquakes and massive tectonic motion, has reformed into what is, apparently, a new, one-continent Pangaea.

Another pleasingly original notion in the The Broken Earth is that the "magic" comes not from wizards, witches and warlocks but from "orogenes," people with the incredible ability to harness orogeny, which according to dictionary.com means "the process of mountain making or upheaval."

The series's first novel, The Fifth Season, begins in this futuristic Earth in the immediate aftermath of a enormous earthquake, a "ten pointer at least," which has launched the civilization into post apocalyptic survival mode. This unprecedented earthquake, which would dwarf even the massive 9.2 that rendered so much destruction here in Alaska, has laid to waste all of the careful constructs of the human culture known as The Stillness.  

Amazon scores: 222 reviews
5 star: 77%; 1 star: 1%
As some may recall, I reviewed the The Fifth Season in a blog post on March 16th, giving the original, Hugo Award winning installment a "4.2 out of 5 stars." I praised Jemisin for bringing something fresh to the fantasy genre and for her pleasingly complicated story structure. Today, I would like to take a look at The Obelisk Gate, the second in the unfinished trilogy.

One of the things that was so enjoyable about The Fifth Season was discovering the strange and interesting world of Jemisin's creation and learning about the unique structure of the world's "magic." The novelty and adventure were what made the pages of The Fifth Season cascade away (I read the novel in just a few days). In comparison to its predecessor, however, The Obelisk Gate unfortunately strikes out.

The setting for the second installment in the series is disappointingly static. Although the town which the main character, Essun, now lives is interesting (it is constructed inside the heart of a massive geode) the primary group of characters never leaves it. This underground setting quickly begins to feel claustrophobic. As a reader who was delighted in the first novel, I desperately wanted to explore more of this world but was instead forced to remain underground in a bizarre, hard-to-visualize crystal city whose walls seemingly shrank in around me.

Another disappointment in this follow-up was how The Obelisk Gate failed to live up the pleasing complexity of The Fifth Season. In the first book of the series, I found Jemisin's cleaver weaving of its the three plot arcs distinctly gratifying. In the sequel, however, no such intriguing complexity exists. Instead, the second plot arc is instead rather frustrating and actually even a bit uncomfortable. I found myself almost wanting to skim through it and return to Essun's story, which (as previously mentioned) was already proving to be a significant let down. 

And  then there is present tense, second person...

Why? Please, can somebody tell me why? Half of the novel, Essun's story, is written in irritating second person. In my opinion, and feel free to differ, this unconventional move does nothing positive for the story but instead only presents a significant obstacle that the novel has to overcome. It's like cruising along a scenic road and running into a sea of potholes. You have to bump and grind your way uncomfortably through it to navigate what should have been smooth and beautiful. It feels like a forced concept, a heavy-handed attempt at originality. For my money, this novel would have been far better without it.

At this point I feel like I have been overly harsh on The Obelisk Gate and it's not entirely fair. If so it's only because I liked the first novel so much I felt like The Obelisk Gate was a missed opportunity. I still blazed through the story in a matter of days and there's no doubt I will read book three when it comes out this fall. There was plenty quality writing, the premise is still fresh and original, and the action plays out into an exciting and page-turning conclusion. The novel's weaknesses (which most reviewers on Amazon didn't seem to mind as the novel has some of the best scores a book can get) were a mere dip in the series that I believe the third installment can can easily redeem. 

In the meantime, I can't help but wish we had an orogene here in Alaska that might be able to stop the next major earthquake, should one happen again.

*** Overall I give The Obelisk Gate three out of five stars 
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