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The title of book two of The Convergence Saga trilogy tells you exactly where the narrative is headed. Book one: No Gods, No Monsters (which I encourage you to read or re-read first) introduced us to a world underneath our own, of battling supernatural forces, and allegorical references to otherness. It's absolutely a social commentary about power and marginalization, and left us asking ourselves who in our society are the real monsters? Turnbull further complicates the monster metaphor by introducing members of marginalized communities who are capable of transformation. Does this change our sense of the definition of monster? Who are we othering, and why?
From the first book in the series, we know how Turnbull cares for his characters. Instances of harm and injustice are keenly felt, but also surrounded by, and infused with, a complicated kind of love. With deft, precise, prose about the lives of individuals, the author communicates larger concepts about our greater society.
The author also perfectly encapsulates the kind of grief and pain which no amount of screaming can scare away. There is no doubt that this is horror, on several different levels. Sometimes the world beneath our own comes through for us, and at other times, it compounds our fears. Turnbull answers the question "If there are cracks in the Universe, what gets let in?" Ordinarily, anything one can imagine actually does exist, but not where we can get to it. We get ghostly iterations, but nothing concrete. Usually, that is. But, what if the rule regarding the veil between worlds is broken, for nefarious reasons? The story reminds us that we have monsters among us, who don't follow the rules, who have horrifying aims, and who are too chicken to do their own dirty work.
The contrast between those who want to perpetrate evil horrors for their own satisfaction, and those who want to cooperate for group benefit, could not be more stark.
I like that the author presents family relationships as they actually are in life: messy, frustrating, sometimes strained. Those who have had tragedy associated with family, often develop a keen sense of readiness for any outcome, any danger, and at the same time, a deep-level insecurity and vulnerability (which of course, drives their state of constant alertness). The idyllic family is either a façade, or a unicorn. I also like that the dialogue is natural. If a character spouts some cheesy line, another character is quick to parrot the line back to them, just to emphasize its preposterousness.
In terms of the specific plot, the second book opens with Laina, Rebecca, and Ridley on the road. Two years have gone by since the protest, and they are no closer to figuring out how to stay safe, or how to find allies. They sense danger that is always infuriatingly vague. Until it isn't. In this case, danger finds them. There is an unexpected lesson from this early confrontation, about our responsibilities to each other, and how often we neglect to do right by each other, out of fear. The experience seems to bond the trio even stronger, and make them even more determined to figure out what is happening. Turnbull makes good use of one of the oldest tropes around: how warning folks against investigating events they cannot possibly understand, is actually an invitation to do just that.
They are not sure what supernatural group they are up against, but they do know of a radical extremist human group which wishes them harm. It appears that monster hunters have morphed into a kind of monster themselves. Transformation has reached a full circle of meaning. The secret societies in this story, are the most hidden, yet have the most impact, which mirrors our society exactly. We already know that the ultrawealthy and the ultrapowerful direct everything from behind the scenes. Most people are manipulated and don't even know it. This is especially evident in the attempt by those in power behind the scenes to get two different groups to go to war against each other. Each group will think it's their own idea, that they weren't moved by an unseen hand.
It took me a while, deep into the second book to realize the beauty of Turnbull's choice of magic as metaphor. After all, what is magic, but a power greater than our own, which we don't have access to?
There are a bazillion insights to glean in this Convergence Saga, and subsequent readings reveal more of them each time. In this reading, it strikes me that the author has created parallels inside parallels. The multiverse, which the dictionary defines as "an infinite realm of being or potential being" has its conceptual counterpart in the way we bring infinite iterations of ourselves to every interaction. It's poetic and mind-expanding. It gives new meaning to the phrase "You contain Universes," because occasionally, someone does, or at the very least can traverse them.
Some of the author's concepts are more straightforward, like the attempt by the government to force monsters to carry identity cards, out of stated "concerns for the safety of the people." Every marginalized group knows the slippery slope this represents.
One of the most amazing sequences in the book, comes at the end: disaster befalling the characters at the same time, from different sources, in different places. By rotating through their points of view, the author is creating symmetry, tying the chaos together into a pattern. The source of danger could be a terrorist organization (supported clandestinely by the police), an approaching hurricane, even a supernatural cult. Or, ya know . . . all of the above.
The things to love about this book are legion. It's a perfect sequel to NO GODS, NO MONSTERS.
Thank you to NetGalley and to Blackstone Publishing, for providing an e-proof of this novel for review. And please, do not make me wait forever for the final book in the trilogy, even though you know I will.