Review – Death of the Author by Nnedi Okorafor

I’m bouncing off of this book even as I recognize it as a great book. It’s about Zelu, who is disabled due to paralysis, as well as Nigerian-American, as well as the author of the greatest science fiction book ever, which makes her instantly rich and famous. She also has a very close family, and a major part of the novel has to do with diplomacy between formidable people. Those last two are the elements that made it difficult for me to engage – overnight success and being part of a family unit full of people with strong opinions. 

The novel-within-a-novel, Rusted Robots, is written in a poetic style lots of modern writers seem to enjoy, which reminds me of people like Richard Brautigan, except to me it’s one of those red flags, like psionics, and it feels kind of like … the Reviewer contemplated the Reviewed as it sat there spinning in digital space in its nascent, pre-reviewed state. The Reviewer contemplated the Reviewed with the same diffidence she had displayed eating the Breakfast. It had been Breakfast, the same she ate every day. She consumed it following her daily escape from the Bed. A duality forever at odds, the Breakfast and the Bed, existing in a room where the Reviewed did not. 

So I had a hard time believing Rusted Robots was that big a bestselling fluke, especially when I’ve been having an extended affair with legit bestselling fluke DC Carl. 

I also had a hard time with the community-centric way the African people interacted. It was an interesting glimpse into a different world, and I kept wanting to tell Zelu to tell all those people off and run away with her robots and money to lead a more Zelu-centric life, and failing to understand why she kept going back for more. 

That’s the point of the story, though – Zelu’s uncomfortable transition into becoming a cyborg. The themes about accommodating and changing with new technology seemed far more mature and nuanced than a lot of voices in this discussion, possibly including mine. 

Both this book and Tchaikovsky’s address Big Themes with regard to technology, and inclusion, so it’s easy to see why they are nominated. The fact I bounced off of both of them halfway through, and then wandered over to the Wiki for enough summary to write a coherent review, isn’t detracting from their importance or quality. These are great books from an intellectual standpoint, and I’m more of a sensation-chasing barbarian when it comes to literature, or music, or food, or most things. 

Which kind of leaves me torn. Should I vote for the Important Book by the British guy who needs more acclaim? Or should I vote for the Important Book by the Nigerian-American woman who is getting plenty of deserved acclaim plus I got to be on a panel with her once, at Hawaiicon, and I’m still a little bit starstruck because she was glimmering with impending success vibes at the time. 

Or should I take a chance with the other three books to see if any of them have the qualities I seek? Or (and this is my current direction), should I just bounce off the Best Novel category and go read YA entries, because I definitely enjoyed the first chapter of Among Ghosts enough to feel an almost recreational vibe, where most Hugo nominees feel more like summarizing evidence. 

This one is good. It’s nuanced. It made me think. It revealed a world of classy smart Nigerian-Americans behind the handful of individuals I’ve personally met. Parts of it I found deeply engaging. I just couldn’t mesh with the story-in-a-story, or Zelu’s many frustrating encounters where she’s being misunderstood again.