This review first appeared on my Substack newsletter, Omnivorous.
Full spoilers for the book follow.
Sophie Burnham’s Sargassa was one of my favorite reads last year, and not just because it had a truly unique take on ancient Rome. It was filled with all of the things that I love about speculative fiction: big ideas, compelling characters, queers galore. I devoured it from the first page to the last, and I’ve been impatiently waiting for the second volume to become available, and I was very lucky to get approved for one from NetGalley (you can imagine the squee that I let out when I got that e-mail).
In the aptly-titled Bloodtide we return to this tumultuous world, rejoining our characters as they all contend with the aftermath of the first book, which revealed that Roma is, in fact, a lie cooked up by the powers that be to bring the world to some sort of stability. This world is, in fact, our own, with only a select few knowing the truth about its origins. Much of the action revolves around the various main characters–Selah, Tair, Theo, Darius, and Arran–grappling with what this means for them and for their world. At the same time, more secrets are revealed and, as if all of that weren’t enough, a hurricane also bears down on Luxana, threatening terrible destruction and loss of life, particularly for those not born into privilege.
As with the first book, Bloodtide is a well-woven tale of political intrigue, revolutionary politics, and deep personal drama. We’re led to feel with these characters as they grapple with the enormity of the revelations from the first book and what they mean for their lives going forward. For Selah, her entire life has been turned upside down by the knowledge that not only was her father a liar, but that the entire world to which she has given her loyalty is one giant fabrication. That would be a great deal for anyone to absorb, let alone a young woman of privilege and power. As the hurricane bears down on the city and its people, she makes some pretty tremendous decisions and, for all that she was raised with every advantage, she does truly seem to care about those lower on the social order, even if doing so comes with a tremendous cost.
Tair, likewise, has a lot resting on her shoulders, especially since she is the one who now has custody of the all-important Iveroa Stone. However, Tair learns that with great power comes great responsibility. Just because she has this powerful artifact in her possession doesn’t mean that she can do whatever she likes. Indeed, in some important ways her actions are even more circumscribed by the fact that she has the knowledge of centuries right at her fingertips. It’s hard to feel like you’re in control of your destiny when everyone wants a piece of you, and adding to the tangled mess is the fact that her feelings for Selah are still very much unresolved.
As both Selah and Tair learn, there’s only so much you can do to protect yourself and those you love when there’s a tremendously powerful hurricane bearing down on you and preparing to destroy most of the city that you’ve called home your whole life. That job gets even harder when those in power are determined to exploit those who have lost everything, turning them into indentured laborers for the state. I’m old enough to remember the disaster that was Hurricane Katrina, and there’s more than a few echoes of that nightmare in this hurricane and its aftermath. Not only are the lower classes left to fend for themselves by those who should be looking to their welfare; they’re also tormented by rogue legions and set up for a future of enslavement. Roma, as this novel makes clear and as Selah and Theo continue to realize, is a yawning maw that will devour them all if given half the chance.
Meanwhile, Arran, Theo, and Darius Miranda also contend with their fair share of revelations. To some extent this isn’t a surprise. After all, when your entire civilization is built on a foundation of lies, it’s only a matter of time before those lies come to light. And, like their counterparts back east, they also have to figure out just what they’re going to do about all of this. Assuming, that is, they survive.
One of the things that I continue to love about this series is just how unapologetically queer it is. There are same-sex couples and people who don’t fit into the gender binary; there are badass crime bosses and messy gay pairings. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that this is a queer normative world, exactly, because it’s clear that the powers-that-be don’t have any love for those who exist outside the gender binary. Nevertheless, it is thrilling to see characters like Theo live their lives authentically and also be badasses while they do it.
Like the best speculative fiction, this series is about some pretty big issues. Key to these is the nature of tyranny and how willing people are to accept things that they think they cannot change. Our characters’ fortune (or misfortune, depending on how you look at it) is that they know that Roma is all an elaborate lie, that it’s a fiction used to keep people docile and to prevent the destruction that almost wiped out humanity. When I read Sargassa we were still living in the United States that many of us grew up in. That is to say, it was a flawed republic with some noble ambitions that it might sometimes have struggled to fulfill but which still meant something, if at least as an ideal. Now, however, we’re all living under a very different system. There is a deranged dictator sitting in the White House, and he is being enabled every day by a team of toadies and sycophants who are willing to bow and do his every whim, no matter how much it tears at the fabric of the constitutional order.
A novel like Bloodtide, however, reminds us that there is always power with us, the people, that it lies within each of us to do what is right and to strike back against the forces that would forever oppress us. No matter how powerless we might feel, and no matter how effective the authoritarian government might be in crushing even the vaguest whisper of dissent, there will always be worth those who resist. This book, in the tradition of the best pop culture fictions of ancient Rome, uses Rome to hold a mirror up to America in all of its beauty and its ugliness. Burnham has delivered once again, and I can’t wait to see what further adventures await.