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Albert Einsteinin väitetään sanoneen, että mikäli mehiläiset häviäisivät maailmasta, ihmislajilla olisi nelisen vuotta elinaikaa jäljellä.On 2010-luvun jälkipuolisko. Ennennäkemättömän laaja ja tuhoisa mehiläisten joukkokatoaminen ravistelee Yhdysvaltoja.
Suomessa mehiläishoitaja Orvo löytää tarhastaan tyhjän pesän. Onko Euroopan ja ehkä koko ihmiskunnan lähtölaskenta alkanut?
Orvon elämällä on tähän asti ollut kaksi keskipistettä: mehiläispesät ja hänen poikansa Eero. Kun Orvon elämän perustukset romahtavat, hän joutuu huomaamaan, miten vähän hän on itse asiassa tiennyt pojastaan, tämän salaisesta elämästä internetissä ja sen ulkopuolella. Ja Eeron ja mehiläisten kohtalot linkittyvät odottamattomilla tavoilla yhteen...
Orvo ottaa epätoivoisen askeleen. Jonnekin, mihin vain hän ja mehiläiset tuntevat tien.
Suomessa mehiläishoitaja Orvo löytää tarhastaan tyhjän pesän. Onko Euroopan ja ehkä koko ihmiskunnan lähtölaskenta alkanut?
Orvon elämällä on tähän asti ollut kaksi keskipistettä: mehiläispesät ja hänen poikansa Eero. Kun Orvon elämän perustukset romahtavat, hän joutuu huomaamaan, miten vähän hän on itse asiassa tiennyt pojastaan, tämän salaisesta elämästä internetissä ja sen ulkopuolella. Ja Eeron ja mehiläisten kohtalot linkittyvät odottamattomilla tavoilla yhteen...
Orvo ottaa epätoivoisen askeleen. Jonnekin, mihin vain hän ja mehiläiset tuntevat tien.
229 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 24, 2011
19 people are currently reading
980 people want to read
About the author
Johanna Sinisalo
65 books292 followersENG: Johanna Sinisalo is an award-winning Finnish author. She was born in Sodankylä in 1958. During 1984-1997, she worked as a professional designer in advertising, after which she started as a screenwriter and writer. Sinisalo's first novel, Troll, won the Finlandia prize, the most important literature award in Finland. As her hobbies, Sinisalo mentions astronomy, gastronomy, hiking, literature and comics.
The author notes that her novels always feature a bit of the small everyday reality. However, overcoming the borders of realism does not mean that the author's works were to be classified as sci-fi or fantasy – from Sinisalo's point of view, categorizing literature by genre should be left behind.
FI: Johanna Sinisalo on syntynyt Sodankylässä vuonna 1958. Hän valmistui ylioppilaaksi Tampereella 1977 ja suoritti kandidaatintutkinnon Tampereen yliopiston yleisen kirjallisuustieteen draamalinjalla vuonna 1986. Markkinointi-instituutissa opiskellessaan hän sai vuoden parhaan diplomityön palkinnon 1987. Vuosina 1984–1997 Sinisalo toimi ammatikseen mainonnan suunnittelijana, sittemmin hän ryhtyi vapaaksi käsikirjoittajaksi ja kirjailijaksi. Sinisalon esikoisromaani Ennen päivänlaskua ei voi voitti vuoden 2000 Finlandia-palkinnon. Sittemmin Sinisalo on saanut muun muassa James Tiptree Jr. -palkinnon, Tampereen kaupungin kirjallisuuspalkinnon ja Prometheus-palkinnon.
Kirjailijan perheeseen kuuluu avomies ja aikuinen tytär. Harrastuksikseen Sinisalo mainitsee tähtitieteen, gastronomian, vaelluksen, kirjallisuuden ja sarjakuvan. Sinisalo asuu lapsuutensa kotikaupungissa Tampereella.
Tärkeitä kirjailijoita Sinisalolle ovat olleet Tove Jansson, Astrid Lindgren, L. M. Montgomery, Ray Bradbury, Volter Kilpi, Vladimir Nabokov, Michel Tournier ja Margaret Atwood. Tieteiskirjallisuuden lukemisen Sinisalo aloitti lapsena Edgar Rice Burroughsin seikkailukirjoilla. Niiden jälkeen hän löysi George Orwellin ja Aldous Huxleyn, joiden teoksissa science fiction on yhteiskunnan havainnoinin ja arvostelun väline.
Kirjailija toteaa, että hänen romaaneissaan on aina jokin pieni piirre arkitodellisuuden ulkopuolelta. Sinisalo on useiden muiden tavoin muistuttanut, että puhdas realismi on varsin nuori, 1800-luvun lopulta peräisin oleva kirjallinen suuntaus. Realismin rajojen ylittäminen ei kuitenkaan tarkoita, että kirjailijan teokset olisivat lajityypiltään scifiä tai fantasiaa. Sinisalon mielestä lajityyppiajattelusta pitäisi irtautua.
Sinisalo painottaa, että spekulatiivisuus ei ole kirjallisuudessa itseisarvo, vaan että sen kautta voidaan sanoa jotain oleellista jopa paremmin kuin realismin keinoin. Fantasian tai science fictionin kirjoittaminen ei ole päämäärä vaan väline kirjallisuuden tuottamiseen. Sinisalo käyttää sanaa ”viistovalaistus” kuvaamaan tämän välineen toimintaa: todellisuuden tutkiminen uudesta ja ennenkokemattomasta näkökulmasta voi paljastaa uusia puolia, joita ei ole voinut aikaisemmin nähdä.
The author notes that her novels always feature a bit of the small everyday reality. However, overcoming the borders of realism does not mean that the author's works were to be classified as sci-fi or fantasy – from Sinisalo's point of view, categorizing literature by genre should be left behind.
FI: Johanna Sinisalo on syntynyt Sodankylässä vuonna 1958. Hän valmistui ylioppilaaksi Tampereella 1977 ja suoritti kandidaatintutkinnon Tampereen yliopiston yleisen kirjallisuustieteen draamalinjalla vuonna 1986. Markkinointi-instituutissa opiskellessaan hän sai vuoden parhaan diplomityön palkinnon 1987. Vuosina 1984–1997 Sinisalo toimi ammatikseen mainonnan suunnittelijana, sittemmin hän ryhtyi vapaaksi käsikirjoittajaksi ja kirjailijaksi. Sinisalon esikoisromaani Ennen päivänlaskua ei voi voitti vuoden 2000 Finlandia-palkinnon. Sittemmin Sinisalo on saanut muun muassa James Tiptree Jr. -palkinnon, Tampereen kaupungin kirjallisuuspalkinnon ja Prometheus-palkinnon.
Kirjailijan perheeseen kuuluu avomies ja aikuinen tytär. Harrastuksikseen Sinisalo mainitsee tähtitieteen, gastronomian, vaelluksen, kirjallisuuden ja sarjakuvan. Sinisalo asuu lapsuutensa kotikaupungissa Tampereella.
Tärkeitä kirjailijoita Sinisalolle ovat olleet Tove Jansson, Astrid Lindgren, L. M. Montgomery, Ray Bradbury, Volter Kilpi, Vladimir Nabokov, Michel Tournier ja Margaret Atwood. Tieteiskirjallisuuden lukemisen Sinisalo aloitti lapsena Edgar Rice Burroughsin seikkailukirjoilla. Niiden jälkeen hän löysi George Orwellin ja Aldous Huxleyn, joiden teoksissa science fiction on yhteiskunnan havainnoinin ja arvostelun väline.
Kirjailija toteaa, että hänen romaaneissaan on aina jokin pieni piirre arkitodellisuuden ulkopuolelta. Sinisalo on useiden muiden tavoin muistuttanut, että puhdas realismi on varsin nuori, 1800-luvun lopulta peräisin oleva kirjallinen suuntaus. Realismin rajojen ylittäminen ei kuitenkaan tarkoita, että kirjailijan teokset olisivat lajityypiltään scifiä tai fantasiaa. Sinisalon mielestä lajityyppiajattelusta pitäisi irtautua.
Sinisalo painottaa, että spekulatiivisuus ei ole kirjallisuudessa itseisarvo, vaan että sen kautta voidaan sanoa jotain oleellista jopa paremmin kuin realismin keinoin. Fantasian tai science fictionin kirjoittaminen ei ole päämäärä vaan väline kirjallisuuden tuottamiseen. Sinisalo käyttää sanaa ”viistovalaistus” kuvaamaan tämän välineen toimintaa: todellisuuden tutkiminen uudesta ja ennenkokemattomasta näkökulmasta voi paljastaa uusia puolia, joita ei ole voinut aikaisemmin nähdä.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 136 reviews
January 21, 2017
Vuoden ensimmäinen äänikirja kuunneltu. Oli myös ensimmäinen Sinisalon kirja minulle. Mielenkiintoinen tuttavuus, joka tosin ei tainnut olla parasta mahdollista kuunneltavaa autossa työmatkoilla. Painava asia ei jaksanut aina pitää keskittymistä yllä. Lukija sopi erinomaisesti tähän kirjaan.
February 15, 2017
[3.5] Eco-dystopia from Finland, about a world in crisis from the collapse of bee populations - as may not be apparent from the title. The book turned out not to have much of what I look for in a cli-fi story - adventure and roaming about, plus frequent news bulletins about parts of the world far away from the characters - as the narrator, a middle-aged amateur beekeeper named Orvo, never goes far from home; and it's fairly reflective because for most of the few days the story covers, he is grieving. However, I was so interested in the topic, and the subplot of a portal to a beautiful pristine world without humans (naturally, found in the wall of that site magical in several Northern European folk traditions, the household sauna), and found the narrator interesting and likeable, that the lack of much action before the last 10% didn't really matter. Orvo was not at all blokeish but initial doubts about whether he was convincing were offset via further insight into his personality and history that made sense of him. (e.g. as combination of conscientious Nordic dad type as seen on TV - plus grey-A/demisexual, in so far as I understand those whilst being neither)
The Blood of Angels was also a great deal better than another Finnish cli-fi novel I've read, The Healer, both in plot and writing. The style is mostly simple and functional; in this sort of of book all I ask is that the writing is not noticeable, and communicates well because it's never distracting by being bad. At times it's also heightened, lyrical and arguably quite moving, especially when describing the other world. The perhaps too frequent subchapters containing blog posts by Orvo's animal rights activist son Eero were likewise convincing because, although basically well written, they weren't quite as good as the rest of the narrative and contained the sort of topic leaps and early-draft feeling found in many nonetheless intelligent blogs, and posts on sites like Goodreads; I recognised something of myself in the style although not to the point of cringing.
(Eero's interests & story mean that vegetarians, vegans and those sympathetic to eating less meat will probably warm to this book more than proud carnivores, even if many won't agree with all his actions.) The family structure, including four generations of men with contrasting professions and personalities, was perhaps a little too neat: including Orvo's late grandfather the quiet wise old-time beekeeper, his son Ari, the Americanised meat-farming entrepreneur, and Orvo himself, a funeral director with a modern, sensitive & tech-aware business but too much gravitas to be actually hip (very Nordic). It meant that significant characters outside the family were barely required but it all worked pretty well.
As said, I'd have welcomed more 'news' about other parts of the world - the main thing is that the USA is beginning to collapse as it experiences food shortages - but there's a lot of other good info in the book about bees as creatures and their history in folktales around the world. Not an action-packed adventure, but if you're interested in the scenario anyway, certainly worth a look. Rounded up to 4 stars for no more reason than I liked it.
The Blood of Angels was also a great deal better than another Finnish cli-fi novel I've read, The Healer, both in plot and writing. The style is mostly simple and functional; in this sort of of book all I ask is that the writing is not noticeable, and communicates well because it's never distracting by being bad. At times it's also heightened, lyrical and arguably quite moving, especially when describing the other world. The perhaps too frequent subchapters containing blog posts by Orvo's animal rights activist son Eero were likewise convincing because, although basically well written, they weren't quite as good as the rest of the narrative and contained the sort of topic leaps and early-draft feeling found in many nonetheless intelligent blogs, and posts on sites like Goodreads; I recognised something of myself in the style although not to the point of cringing.
(Eero's interests & story mean that vegetarians, vegans and those sympathetic to eating less meat will probably warm to this book more than proud carnivores, even if many won't agree with all his actions.) The family structure, including four generations of men with contrasting professions and personalities, was perhaps a little too neat: including Orvo's late grandfather the quiet wise old-time beekeeper, his son Ari, the Americanised meat-farming entrepreneur, and Orvo himself, a funeral director with a modern, sensitive & tech-aware business but too much gravitas to be actually hip (very Nordic). It meant that significant characters outside the family were barely required but it all worked pretty well.
As said, I'd have welcomed more 'news' about other parts of the world - the main thing is that the USA is beginning to collapse as it experiences food shortages - but there's a lot of other good info in the book about bees as creatures and their history in folktales around the world. Not an action-packed adventure, but if you're interested in the scenario anyway, certainly worth a look. Rounded up to 4 stars for no more reason than I liked it.
November 11, 2016
Olipa se vahva. Vaikuttava, voimakas ja koskettava. Pieni ripaus maagista realismia toi hienon sävyn kirjaan, ja vaikka tarina näennäisesti pyörikin päähenkilönsä ympärillä, oli teemasti globaalia ja ajatonta. Tämä oli ensimmäinen Sinisaloni, mutta jo nyt haluan lukea pian muutakin.
January 5, 2015
Most readers could fly through Lola Rogers’ translation of The Blood of Angels by Finnish author Johanna Sinisalo in a handful of hours. Yet, as the relatively brief enjoyment of a spoonful of honey belies the phenomenal labor of countless bees, so too does consumption of this novel’s simple, flowing prose hide the rich, complex depth of its construction and significance. Sinisalo’s novel captures an apocalyptic, large-scale focus on humanity that is typical of speculative fiction, yet keeps a keenly literary focus on the psychological trials of an individual and family.
In a near future of worldwide catastrophic ecologic change and economic crisis, apiarist Orvo finds his life personally shaken when his long-absent, inattentive father, Ari, returns from the devastated United States and when his activist son, Eero, tragically dies. Ari had taken over Hopevale Meats slaughterhouse, putting him in opposition to Eero’s dedication to animal rights and leadership in organized disruption of industries that utilize – and in Eero’s mind exploit – animals. Eero’s activities and passionate beliefs are only fully revealed to Orvo after his son’s death and discovering Eero’s posts in a personal blog and on the extremist Animalist Revolutionary Army website Eero ran.
Interspersed with extracts from Eero’s blogs, The Blood of Angels tracks Orvo’s response to the loss of his son and the growing environmental threats to his livelihood. The mysterious Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD) of honeybee populations appears responsible (along with climate change and drought) for agricultural disruptions and the resulting shortages in national food supplies that have global society reeling. Though CCD hasn’t yet manifested in Finland, Orvo fears his beloved apiary that he inherited from his grandfather, Pupa, may be threatened.
He discovers that the bees of one hive have inexplicably vanished, abandoning their queen and compounding Orvo’s recent personal loss. However, in the loft of his barn, Orvo also discovers a strange window looking out upon a naturally pristine scene of a seemingly foreign world. Reading up on mythology associated with bees, Orvo begins to wonder if honeybee migration to this other universe may account for CCD, and he soon realizes that the bees may not have been the only ones to flee the distress of our Earth for Paradise.
This plot permits Sinisalo to delve into ecological issues of humanity in its relation to fellow animals and its connectedness to the biology of Earth. The instinctual devotion of honeybees at all costs to their role in pollination – and the vital pillar this job forms in the ecology of Earth – contrasts with the behavior of humanity, which for all its intelligence creates technology that destroys habitats, and which appears unable to change in response to the environment when unpleasant, no matter how vital.
“I am a fleer from evil, a dodger of difficulty.
I could at least sometimes not avoid the things that I know are going to turn out badly or upset me or cause me extra trouble. How many times have I left an email unopened for days when I know the sender can’t have anything pleasant to say to me… gone online to change my appointment for a check-up at the dentist that’s already been put off too long, avoided looking at a stain on the shower wall that might be an omen of expensive and difficult-to-repair damage?
[…]
But unpleasantness, misfortune, wrongs that concern me I prefer not to face. It’s a trait I no doubt share with the rest of the world. We prefer to put off inconvenient truths until the very last minute.” (23)
Whether early or late, the consciousness of humans does ultimately compel action against wrongs. In this regard, The Blood of Angels makes key observations regarding activism. First, the best intentions don’t always end up well. Human intervention is inherently disruptive, with unforeseen effects beyond the benefits sought. Would it be good for the environment if everyone stopped eating meat? If we eliminate factory farming, but still need to maintain current product levels, would that then use more land and energy? If we alter apiary practices to combat CCD and use antibiotics – or stop antibiotic use – what will happen? The more we meddle, the worse things may become.
Second, activism in one direction paradoxically engenders withdrawl from others. In The Blood of Angels, the admirable ecological consciousness of the characters comes at the price of personal disconnect from self-awareness and family relation. Orvo’s devotion to the apiary separates him from his son so that he isn’t aware of Eero’s extremist activities. It transposes honeybee behavior onto his perception of his ex-wife. Until the novel’s end, Orvo is defined almost through his inactivity and the misfortune that causes. Ultimately, his one decision to act is not due to any individual need, but for the good of the environment at large. Likewise, Eero’s fanatical devotion to broad animal rights prevents him from relating with his grandfather Ari and takes any time away from closeness with his father.
In regard to these traits, the human characters of the novel act much like honeybees, sacrificing individual relations and regard for devoted focus on the hive (the ecosystem).
However, it also makes the characters less likable or perhaps relateable to the reader. This is particularly true in the blog post portions of the novel, where Eero’s opinions could provoke a negative reaction in the reader, particularly if one is fine with eating meat and strongly disagrees with Eero’s politics and sanctimonious air. Eero’s voice is also balanced by equally extreme voices from comments left in response to his posts. Additionally, the portion of text written in Orvo’s third-person point of view indirectly shows the complexity of Eero and his opinions and the virtues and weaknesses alike that arise from his activism.
Though not about the science of CCD with its hypothesized causes and possible cures, The Blood of Angels could be classified as science fiction with its inclusion of multiple universes. Most would probably classify it more as fantasy or magical realism, which is in line with Sinisalo’s hesitance (to my knowledge) for genre labeling. Only briefly does Sinisalo imply that the other world through the window that Orvo finds is a reality rather than a product of Orvo’s imagination. A symbolic reading is still feasible, and the other world with its Paradise-like aspects is clearly used as an allegory for the after-life, with life “moving [on] to the Other Side”:
“[The bees] own Elysian Fields where angels’ blood is never shed. Immortal, forever young…
The darkness grows thicker and I wait for the stars, holding my breath. I believe that even at its darkest the night on the Other Side isn’t impenetrably black, its darkness never as thick as sludge. I can imagine that even on the most moonless, starless winter night the black of the sky must be transparent, stealthily see-through, so that you sense the flaming heat of a hidden summer beyond it.
A spotless sky.
Euripides’ paradise.” (194)
Tying into the animal rights themes of the novel, this Other Side is accessible to both humans and other animals (bees), illustrating a shared property of having an immortal soul. This harkens back to one of Eero’s posts on what some might argue is the only characteristic separating humanity from other Earthly beasts.
“What if scientists one day locate the soul – if, for instance, it’s shown to be a magnetic field that can perhaps be photographed? I’ll bet you anything that if animals are found to have a similar ‘soul’ then it will be the wrong size, the wrong colour or in some other sense clearly not as good.” (149)
The novel’s thematic focus on ecology and humanity’s responsibility to other life isn’t surprising given Sinisalo’s previous work. What is unexpected from the James Tiptree Jr Award-winning author, however, is the near exclusive feature of male characters. Women in The Blood of Angels are not simply absent, they are creatures that have abandoned, most particularly Eero’s mother Marja-Terrtu who has left Orvo for another man. This interpretation largely comes from the often-misogynistic point of view of Orvo. Readers soon discover that the mother’s ‘abandonment’ is not simply her decision, but rather arises from the power and control of men.
Human society in the novel is thus presented as male-dominated. Here the generations follow Pupa, Ari, Orvo, and Eero, and the women are merely shown as present for the biological role of procreation. This take on gender seems to reinforce the comparison that Sinisalo makes throughout the novel between human society or behavior and that of honeybees. Nonetheless, as noted by Nina Allan in her review of the novel on Strange Horizons, the meaning Sinisalo intends with connections between the portrayal of women and the novel’s themes is not entirely clear.
The Blood of Angels nicely welcomes many interpretations. I, for instance, do not see problems with the ‘passivity’ of the characters that Allan brings up in her review. It clearly could provoke quite different reactions depending on the reader. Beautifully well-written on important issues, it is a novel to check out and a quick read that will linger like honey on the tongue.
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this novel from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. This review was originally published at http://skiffyandfanty.com/
In a near future of worldwide catastrophic ecologic change and economic crisis, apiarist Orvo finds his life personally shaken when his long-absent, inattentive father, Ari, returns from the devastated United States and when his activist son, Eero, tragically dies. Ari had taken over Hopevale Meats slaughterhouse, putting him in opposition to Eero’s dedication to animal rights and leadership in organized disruption of industries that utilize – and in Eero’s mind exploit – animals. Eero’s activities and passionate beliefs are only fully revealed to Orvo after his son’s death and discovering Eero’s posts in a personal blog and on the extremist Animalist Revolutionary Army website Eero ran.
Interspersed with extracts from Eero’s blogs, The Blood of Angels tracks Orvo’s response to the loss of his son and the growing environmental threats to his livelihood. The mysterious Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD) of honeybee populations appears responsible (along with climate change and drought) for agricultural disruptions and the resulting shortages in national food supplies that have global society reeling. Though CCD hasn’t yet manifested in Finland, Orvo fears his beloved apiary that he inherited from his grandfather, Pupa, may be threatened.
He discovers that the bees of one hive have inexplicably vanished, abandoning their queen and compounding Orvo’s recent personal loss. However, in the loft of his barn, Orvo also discovers a strange window looking out upon a naturally pristine scene of a seemingly foreign world. Reading up on mythology associated with bees, Orvo begins to wonder if honeybee migration to this other universe may account for CCD, and he soon realizes that the bees may not have been the only ones to flee the distress of our Earth for Paradise.
This plot permits Sinisalo to delve into ecological issues of humanity in its relation to fellow animals and its connectedness to the biology of Earth. The instinctual devotion of honeybees at all costs to their role in pollination – and the vital pillar this job forms in the ecology of Earth – contrasts with the behavior of humanity, which for all its intelligence creates technology that destroys habitats, and which appears unable to change in response to the environment when unpleasant, no matter how vital.
“I am a fleer from evil, a dodger of difficulty.
I could at least sometimes not avoid the things that I know are going to turn out badly or upset me or cause me extra trouble. How many times have I left an email unopened for days when I know the sender can’t have anything pleasant to say to me… gone online to change my appointment for a check-up at the dentist that’s already been put off too long, avoided looking at a stain on the shower wall that might be an omen of expensive and difficult-to-repair damage?
[…]
But unpleasantness, misfortune, wrongs that concern me I prefer not to face. It’s a trait I no doubt share with the rest of the world. We prefer to put off inconvenient truths until the very last minute.” (23)
Whether early or late, the consciousness of humans does ultimately compel action against wrongs. In this regard, The Blood of Angels makes key observations regarding activism. First, the best intentions don’t always end up well. Human intervention is inherently disruptive, with unforeseen effects beyond the benefits sought. Would it be good for the environment if everyone stopped eating meat? If we eliminate factory farming, but still need to maintain current product levels, would that then use more land and energy? If we alter apiary practices to combat CCD and use antibiotics – or stop antibiotic use – what will happen? The more we meddle, the worse things may become.
Second, activism in one direction paradoxically engenders withdrawl from others. In The Blood of Angels, the admirable ecological consciousness of the characters comes at the price of personal disconnect from self-awareness and family relation. Orvo’s devotion to the apiary separates him from his son so that he isn’t aware of Eero’s extremist activities. It transposes honeybee behavior onto his perception of his ex-wife. Until the novel’s end, Orvo is defined almost through his inactivity and the misfortune that causes. Ultimately, his one decision to act is not due to any individual need, but for the good of the environment at large. Likewise, Eero’s fanatical devotion to broad animal rights prevents him from relating with his grandfather Ari and takes any time away from closeness with his father.
In regard to these traits, the human characters of the novel act much like honeybees, sacrificing individual relations and regard for devoted focus on the hive (the ecosystem).
However, it also makes the characters less likable or perhaps relateable to the reader. This is particularly true in the blog post portions of the novel, where Eero’s opinions could provoke a negative reaction in the reader, particularly if one is fine with eating meat and strongly disagrees with Eero’s politics and sanctimonious air. Eero’s voice is also balanced by equally extreme voices from comments left in response to his posts. Additionally, the portion of text written in Orvo’s third-person point of view indirectly shows the complexity of Eero and his opinions and the virtues and weaknesses alike that arise from his activism.
Though not about the science of CCD with its hypothesized causes and possible cures, The Blood of Angels could be classified as science fiction with its inclusion of multiple universes. Most would probably classify it more as fantasy or magical realism, which is in line with Sinisalo’s hesitance (to my knowledge) for genre labeling. Only briefly does Sinisalo imply that the other world through the window that Orvo finds is a reality rather than a product of Orvo’s imagination. A symbolic reading is still feasible, and the other world with its Paradise-like aspects is clearly used as an allegory for the after-life, with life “moving [on] to the Other Side”:
“[The bees] own Elysian Fields where angels’ blood is never shed. Immortal, forever young…
The darkness grows thicker and I wait for the stars, holding my breath. I believe that even at its darkest the night on the Other Side isn’t impenetrably black, its darkness never as thick as sludge. I can imagine that even on the most moonless, starless winter night the black of the sky must be transparent, stealthily see-through, so that you sense the flaming heat of a hidden summer beyond it.
A spotless sky.
Euripides’ paradise.” (194)
Tying into the animal rights themes of the novel, this Other Side is accessible to both humans and other animals (bees), illustrating a shared property of having an immortal soul. This harkens back to one of Eero’s posts on what some might argue is the only characteristic separating humanity from other Earthly beasts.
“What if scientists one day locate the soul – if, for instance, it’s shown to be a magnetic field that can perhaps be photographed? I’ll bet you anything that if animals are found to have a similar ‘soul’ then it will be the wrong size, the wrong colour or in some other sense clearly not as good.” (149)
The novel’s thematic focus on ecology and humanity’s responsibility to other life isn’t surprising given Sinisalo’s previous work. What is unexpected from the James Tiptree Jr Award-winning author, however, is the near exclusive feature of male characters. Women in The Blood of Angels are not simply absent, they are creatures that have abandoned, most particularly Eero’s mother Marja-Terrtu who has left Orvo for another man. This interpretation largely comes from the often-misogynistic point of view of Orvo. Readers soon discover that the mother’s ‘abandonment’ is not simply her decision, but rather arises from the power and control of men.
Human society in the novel is thus presented as male-dominated. Here the generations follow Pupa, Ari, Orvo, and Eero, and the women are merely shown as present for the biological role of procreation. This take on gender seems to reinforce the comparison that Sinisalo makes throughout the novel between human society or behavior and that of honeybees. Nonetheless, as noted by Nina Allan in her review of the novel on Strange Horizons, the meaning Sinisalo intends with connections between the portrayal of women and the novel’s themes is not entirely clear.
The Blood of Angels nicely welcomes many interpretations. I, for instance, do not see problems with the ‘passivity’ of the characters that Allan brings up in her review. It clearly could provoke quite different reactions depending on the reader. Beautifully well-written on important issues, it is a novel to check out and a quick read that will linger like honey on the tongue.
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this novel from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. This review was originally published at http://skiffyandfanty.com/
September 8, 2020
Tavallaan todella ennalta-arvattava ja yllätyksetön, toisaalta raivokkaisiin tunnekuohuihin ajava teos maailmanlopun eteisestä. En osannut nimen perusteella odottaa näin voimakasta sanomaa eläinten orjuuttamisen lopettamisen puolesta. Tässä oli monia onnistuneita vertauksia ja kielikuvia, joista erityisesti naisten markkina-arvoteoreetikkojen fantasioiden ja maatalouden tehotuotannon käytänteiden yhdistäminen jäi kummittelemaan pitkäksi aikaa mieleen.
Erityisesti pidin päähenkilön ammatista sekä hänen uusista innovaatioistaan hautaustoiminnan saralla. Paikoin hänen henkilöhistoriaansa kuitenkin keskityttiin mielestäni jopa liikaa, vaikka isä-poika-suhde oli todella hyvin rakennettu.
Lukukokemukseni pilasi hetkittäin se, että tämä muistutti aivan kamalan paljon kahta tätä myöhemmin ilmestynyttä kirjaa, jotka kuitenkin itse olin lukenut ennen tätä. Ja vaikka tiesin ilmestymisjärjestyksen, vei huomio paljon intoa lukemisesta.
Tämä antoi valtavasti uutta tietoa ja ruokki sisälläni palavaa vihaa maailman tilasta, mutta kirjallisesti tässä ei ollut juuri uutta tai oivaltavaa rakenteessa, kielessä tai juonenkuljetuksessa, mikä syö arviostani yhden tähden.
Erityisesti pidin päähenkilön ammatista sekä hänen uusista innovaatioistaan hautaustoiminnan saralla. Paikoin hänen henkilöhistoriaansa kuitenkin keskityttiin mielestäni jopa liikaa, vaikka isä-poika-suhde oli todella hyvin rakennettu.
Lukukokemukseni pilasi hetkittäin se, että tämä muistutti aivan kamalan paljon kahta tätä myöhemmin ilmestynyttä kirjaa, jotka kuitenkin itse olin lukenut ennen tätä. Ja vaikka tiesin ilmestymisjärjestyksen, vei huomio paljon intoa lukemisesta.
Tämä antoi valtavasti uutta tietoa ja ruokki sisälläni palavaa vihaa maailman tilasta, mutta kirjallisesti tässä ei ollut juuri uutta tai oivaltavaa rakenteessa, kielessä tai juonenkuljetuksessa, mikä syö arviostani yhden tähden.
February 12, 2019
It took me a really long time to read this book. It's short, but HEAVY. The narration skips around in time some, but it's fairly easy to understand what's going on, although the subject matter is difficult (advanced impacts of climate change, very strained family relationships, murder, dealing with close death).
The main character is a good person, if a somewhat simple man. He's never wanted much out of life, and does his best at the things he elects to do. His care for his bees is a central part of the story, and the mystery of the bees is certainly what pushes the book into the realm of spec fic.
I'd recommend it for those who want an intimate cli-fi novel, someone who wants a not-quite dystopia but still uncomfortably true possible future, and those who are looking for a bit of the hidden in everyday life.
The main character is a good person, if a somewhat simple man. He's never wanted much out of life, and does his best at the things he elects to do. His care for his bees is a central part of the story, and the mystery of the bees is certainly what pushes the book into the realm of spec fic.
I'd recommend it for those who want an intimate cli-fi novel, someone who wants a not-quite dystopia but still uncomfortably true possible future, and those who are looking for a bit of the hidden in everyday life.
November 27, 2021
Enkelten verta onnistui yllättämään, en oikein tiedä mitä kirjalta odotin, mutta en tätä. Kirja on erittäin ajankohtainen ja kantaaottava, tuntumatta kuitenkaan saarnaavalta. Kuuntelin tämän äänikirjana, ja kirjaan keskittymisen kanssa ei ollut kertaakaan ongelmia, vaan se piti erinomaisesti otteessaan.
January 18, 2016
In The Blood of Angels, Johanna Sinisalo has returned to the themes of her previous novel, Birdbrain - the thoughtless use and abuse of the ecosystem by humans intent on their own needs, disharmony among humans and between humans and nature, and the idea of a consciousness in nature that responds to the damage wrought on it.
In The Blood of Angels, Sinisalo focuses on bees, and the mystery of Colony Collapse Disorder, which in this near-future world has become Colony Collapse Catastrophe (CCC) - the sudden disappearance of the worker population of a major proportion of the industrialised world's hives, each abandoned hive leaving behind only a few immature bees and a dead or dying queen. The loss of so many bees, particularly in North America, has resulted in food crisis as plant crops dependent on bees for pollination are dying out, and meat, reliant on plant feeds for its continued production, is becoming a rare and expensive food. Parts of Europe - including Finland where the novel is set - and most of Africa and Asia are not yet as hard hit by CCC, but there are signs that more trouble is coming.
Against this background, the novel is structured around four generations of a family. Pupa the beekeeper, the protagonist's grandfather, is seen only in remembrance, and Ari, his son, the industrialist beef producer, only in a few scenes. The novel belongs to Orvo and his son Eero, both of whom are shaped by their relations to their fathers and grandfathers, and the relations of those men to the natural world.
Orvo is a funeral director by trade, but his heart is in the bee colonies he inherited from his grandfather. Eero is a student and ecological activist, one of the key members in the Animalist Revolutionary Army (ARA), whose main focus is animal rights. He blogs about animal rights, and selection from his blog - many of them dealing with, on the one hand, the role of bees in the ecology and the importance of CCC, and on the other, the corrupt and cruel practices of factory farming of animals.
When CCC strikes in one of Orvo's hives, and tragedy occurs during an ARA action at Ari's Hopevale Meats factory, Orvo discovers what may lie behind the disappearance of the bees, and a multitude of ancient myths linking bees, the gods, and the souls of men.
A stark tale of family tragedy, an ecological activist's primer, a narrative of a slow apocalypse of human making, an indictment of man's inability to think beyond his own needs and desires, an examination of death and and the potentials for rebirth, this novel functions on many levels, and exquisitely so.
In The Blood of Angels, Sinisalo focuses on bees, and the mystery of Colony Collapse Disorder, which in this near-future world has become Colony Collapse Catastrophe (CCC) - the sudden disappearance of the worker population of a major proportion of the industrialised world's hives, each abandoned hive leaving behind only a few immature bees and a dead or dying queen. The loss of so many bees, particularly in North America, has resulted in food crisis as plant crops dependent on bees for pollination are dying out, and meat, reliant on plant feeds for its continued production, is becoming a rare and expensive food. Parts of Europe - including Finland where the novel is set - and most of Africa and Asia are not yet as hard hit by CCC, but there are signs that more trouble is coming.
Against this background, the novel is structured around four generations of a family. Pupa the beekeeper, the protagonist's grandfather, is seen only in remembrance, and Ari, his son, the industrialist beef producer, only in a few scenes. The novel belongs to Orvo and his son Eero, both of whom are shaped by their relations to their fathers and grandfathers, and the relations of those men to the natural world.
Orvo is a funeral director by trade, but his heart is in the bee colonies he inherited from his grandfather. Eero is a student and ecological activist, one of the key members in the Animalist Revolutionary Army (ARA), whose main focus is animal rights. He blogs about animal rights, and selection from his blog - many of them dealing with, on the one hand, the role of bees in the ecology and the importance of CCC, and on the other, the corrupt and cruel practices of factory farming of animals.
When CCC strikes in one of Orvo's hives, and tragedy occurs during an ARA action at Ari's Hopevale Meats factory, Orvo discovers what may lie behind the disappearance of the bees, and a multitude of ancient myths linking bees, the gods, and the souls of men.
A stark tale of family tragedy, an ecological activist's primer, a narrative of a slow apocalypse of human making, an indictment of man's inability to think beyond his own needs and desires, an examination of death and and the potentials for rebirth, this novel functions on many levels, and exquisitely so.
March 30, 2015
This was an interesting and powerful little book, very unique and frightening in a matter of fact and realistic way. The author has an impressive grasp of many environmental and ethical problems with our world today and manages to present them in a way that never feels preachy or browbeating, even to someone like me who is not much for environmentalism or animal rights activism. A haunting and sad story that is part family drama and part impending apocalypse with a whiff of the supernatural, really just a well written and unusual novel.
May 11, 2022
2,5 stars. Edelleen erittäin ajankohtainen. Tärkeä ja törkeä ja välillä koskettava, mut silti jotenkin en jaksanut tai ei toiminut äänikirjana parhaiten.
March 26, 2021
Jännittävä, koskettava ja ajatuksia herättävä lukukokemus.
March 1, 2015
johanna sinisalo's the blood of angels (enkelten verta), a fantastical work of speculative fiction, is set in a near-future in which colony collapse disorder has left the global agricultural network ravaged. without bees to pollinate food crops, america (and later other parts of the world) slips into rapid decline and devastation. finnish science fiction writer sinisalo adeptly employs environmental disaster as a way to explore our relationship to the natural world (and each other).
the blood of angels's dual narrative (one follows orvo, a finnish beekeeper mourning the loss of his activist son, eero -- while the other is a series of interspersed blog posts about animal rights, written by eero) lends the story a strong framework and convenient way to philosophize and consider the subject while avoiding overt preachiness. sinisalo's novel deals with some very timely issues, of course, but the subject of her book is perhaps more compelling than the story itself. hopefully the blood of angels proves to be more a precautionary tale than a prescient one.
*translated from the finnish by lola rogers
the blood of angels's dual narrative (one follows orvo, a finnish beekeeper mourning the loss of his activist son, eero -- while the other is a series of interspersed blog posts about animal rights, written by eero) lends the story a strong framework and convenient way to philosophize and consider the subject while avoiding overt preachiness. sinisalo's novel deals with some very timely issues, of course, but the subject of her book is perhaps more compelling than the story itself. hopefully the blood of angels proves to be more a precautionary tale than a prescient one.
there's another sense in which i've long pondered the way animals perceive us. bees aren't necessarily able to fathom our existence. i'm sure they don't 'apianize' us, thinking of us as some other kind of bee. to bees, humans must be a malignant, tyrannical force of nature, a spiteful god who torments his servants like yahweh did poor job - paying faithfulness and obedience with evermore burdens piled on their backs. what amazes me is why the bees haven't risen in rebellion long ago.
*translated from the finnish by lola rogers
November 24, 2015
Ihan keskiverto romaani. En päässyt sellaiseen imuun, josta nautin kirjoja lukiessa, mutta kyllähän tämän luki ja pääsääntöisesti teksti oli mielenkiintoista.
September 26, 2017
Johanna Sinisalo to fińska pisarka, krytyk, redaktor antologii oraz scenarzystka programów i seriali telewizyjnych, kreskówek i filmów a także słuchowisk, autorka powieści science fiction i fantasy. Napisała ponad 40 opowiadań i jak dotąd 7 powieści. Ich gatunek sama pisarka określa mianem „Finnish weird”. W Polsce na tę chwilę wydano jej dwie powieści – debiutancką „Nie przed zachodem słońca” i przedostatnią, czyli „Krew aniołów”.
Pszczoła miodna, o czym nie każdy wie, hodowana jest najczęściej nie ze względu na owoc swej pracy (czyli miód, wosk, propolis, mleczko), ale jako owad zapylający. Dzięki „współpracy” z roślinami kwiatowymi, nastąpiła wyraźna symbioza: pszczoły mogą korzystać z nektaru i pyłku konkretnych roślin, a te z kolei są zapylane niemal wyłącznie przez pszczoły i ich bliskich kuzynów. Dzięki pszczołom zapyleniu ulegają drzewa owocowe (od poczciwych jabłoni po egzotyczne migdałowce i bananowce), rzepak (najpopularniejsze źródło oleju spożywczego), rośliny pastewne (m.in. koniczyna, lucerna). Poza tym pyłek przenoszony jest na maliny, gorczycę czy leszczynę i wiele innych. Niemal 80% roślin jest owadopylna. Szacuje się, że w samych Stanach Zjednoczonych wartość pracy pszczół-zapylaczy to około 9 miliardów dolarów rocznie uzyskanych w płodach rolnych. W skrócie – jeśli znikną pszczoły, będziemy biedni i będziemy głodować.
Polskie media poinformowały nas o tym zjawisku trzy lata temu, jednak informacje o Colony Collapse Disorder – czyli tzw. zespole masowego ginięcia pszczoły miodnej – znane są od lat 90. XX wieku. Pszczoły znikały bez śladu. Większość zapewne ginęła podczas zbierania pożywienia poza ulem. Straty w rodzinach pszczelich wynoszą 17-20% rocznie. Przyczyn jest zapewne wiele: od używania coraz doskonalszych (sic!) pestycydów i insektycydów, poprzez jednorodne uprawy, nadmierne wykorzystywanie pszczół, ich naturalną niewielką odporność na choroby...
Temat jest fascynujący i przerażający jednocześnie. „Krew aniołów” to chyba pierwsza książka, która poruszyła go w skierowany do zwykłego czytelnika sposób. To powieść, w której realizm magiczny miesza się z ponurą rzeczywistością.
Orvo to spokojny Fin. Mieszka na swojej części farmy odziedziczonej po dziadku i posiada dziesięć uli. Jest pszczelarzem z zamiłowania – kocha pszczoły. Pewnego dnia zauważa, że jeden z uli opustoszał, a po rodzinie pozostała jedynie martwa królowa…
W miarę śledzenia przemyśleń Orva dowiadujemy się, że czas w powieści wybiega – kilkanaście bądź kilkadziesiąt lat naprzód w stosunku do naszej rzeczywistości. Tyle wystarczyło, żeby Stany Zjednoczone stały się bankrutem. Gdy kilka lat przed wydarzeniami w książce zniknęła większość pszczół, ucierpiała cała gospodarka, zapanował głód, ceny żywności skoczyły o setki procent, a eksport przestał istnieć. A pszczoły nadal znikają.
„Krew aniołów” nie jest jednak tylko powieścią o pszczołach. Syn Orva, Eero, jest działaczem organizacji na rzecz praw zwierząt. Fragmenty prowadzonego przez niego bloga czytamy na przemian z opowieścią głównego bohatera. Ta przeplatanka prowadzi nas przez dwa tygodnie życia starszego mężczyzny – życia, które w jednej chwili straciło sens, by potem uchylić przed nim rąbka mistycznej tajemnicy związanej z pszczołami.
Trudno opisać tę powieść tak, by przyszłemu czytelnikowi nie zdradzić najważniejszych wydarzeń. Odkrywanie kolejnych elementów układanki to największa przyjemność tej lektury. Sinisalo skonstruowała całość naprawdę przemyślnie. Czytelnik stopniowo dochodzi do tych szczegółów życia Orva, które tworzą cudowną, ale też przeraźliwie smutną mozaikę. Jednocześnie w dziwnym kontraście do pierwszoosobowej, delikatnej i ciepłej narracji bohatera pozostają wpisy z bloga Eera wraz z przytoczonymi komentarzami. Dotyczą one praw zwierząt, tego, jak widzą świat nasi „bracia mniejsi”, ale też sposobów produkcji mięsa, hodowli zwierząt użytkowych, upraw jednorodnych, polityki gospodarczej. Te opisy miejscami irytują, wpadają w ton moralizatorskiej pogadanki. Zawarte w nich informacje są za to prawdziwe, przez co powieść sama w sobie staje się naprawdę smutna.
Książka opowiada też o żałobie i dojrzewaniu. Mówiąc szczerze, to jedno z najciekawszych i najbardziej poruszających przedstawień żałoby, jaką można znaleźć w popularnej literaturze. Johanna Sinisalo w swojej narracji nie popada w patos, tanie chwyty o „wyciu z rozpaczy” i podobne ograne sentencje o „skamieniałym sercu”; nie bawi się także w cynizm, którego można by się spodziewać po profesji Orva (będącego pszczelarzem z zamiłowania, a nie z zawodu), a którą poznajemy dość późno. My, czytelnicy, do straty dorastamy razem z bohaterami.
Ta na pozór moralizatorska, a w rzeczywistości prosta i gorzka powieść pozostawia po sobie wrażenie na długo. Sinisalo to doświadczona autorka, która tutaj balansuje na granicy mistycyzmu, realizmu magicznego i literatury faktu. Nieco niewyważone są ekologiczne wykłady Eera, kojarzące się czasami z forami internetowymi wojujących wegan. Na szczęście to wrażenie szybko zostaje zatarte. Jako że niewiele u nas fińskiej literatury, a już zwłaszcza tej naprawdę dobrej, warto sięgnąć po „Krew aniołów”. Ta powieść porusza i jednocześnie edukuje.
Recenzja dostępna również na straszliwabuchling.blogspot.com
Pszczoła miodna, o czym nie każdy wie, hodowana jest najczęściej nie ze względu na owoc swej pracy (czyli miód, wosk, propolis, mleczko), ale jako owad zapylający. Dzięki „współpracy” z roślinami kwiatowymi, nastąpiła wyraźna symbioza: pszczoły mogą korzystać z nektaru i pyłku konkretnych roślin, a te z kolei są zapylane niemal wyłącznie przez pszczoły i ich bliskich kuzynów. Dzięki pszczołom zapyleniu ulegają drzewa owocowe (od poczciwych jabłoni po egzotyczne migdałowce i bananowce), rzepak (najpopularniejsze źródło oleju spożywczego), rośliny pastewne (m.in. koniczyna, lucerna). Poza tym pyłek przenoszony jest na maliny, gorczycę czy leszczynę i wiele innych. Niemal 80% roślin jest owadopylna. Szacuje się, że w samych Stanach Zjednoczonych wartość pracy pszczół-zapylaczy to około 9 miliardów dolarów rocznie uzyskanych w płodach rolnych. W skrócie – jeśli znikną pszczoły, będziemy biedni i będziemy głodować.
Polskie media poinformowały nas o tym zjawisku trzy lata temu, jednak informacje o Colony Collapse Disorder – czyli tzw. zespole masowego ginięcia pszczoły miodnej – znane są od lat 90. XX wieku. Pszczoły znikały bez śladu. Większość zapewne ginęła podczas zbierania pożywienia poza ulem. Straty w rodzinach pszczelich wynoszą 17-20% rocznie. Przyczyn jest zapewne wiele: od używania coraz doskonalszych (sic!) pestycydów i insektycydów, poprzez jednorodne uprawy, nadmierne wykorzystywanie pszczół, ich naturalną niewielką odporność na choroby...
Temat jest fascynujący i przerażający jednocześnie. „Krew aniołów” to chyba pierwsza książka, która poruszyła go w skierowany do zwykłego czytelnika sposób. To powieść, w której realizm magiczny miesza się z ponurą rzeczywistością.
Orvo to spokojny Fin. Mieszka na swojej części farmy odziedziczonej po dziadku i posiada dziesięć uli. Jest pszczelarzem z zamiłowania – kocha pszczoły. Pewnego dnia zauważa, że jeden z uli opustoszał, a po rodzinie pozostała jedynie martwa królowa…
W miarę śledzenia przemyśleń Orva dowiadujemy się, że czas w powieści wybiega – kilkanaście bądź kilkadziesiąt lat naprzód w stosunku do naszej rzeczywistości. Tyle wystarczyło, żeby Stany Zjednoczone stały się bankrutem. Gdy kilka lat przed wydarzeniami w książce zniknęła większość pszczół, ucierpiała cała gospodarka, zapanował głód, ceny żywności skoczyły o setki procent, a eksport przestał istnieć. A pszczoły nadal znikają.
„Krew aniołów” nie jest jednak tylko powieścią o pszczołach. Syn Orva, Eero, jest działaczem organizacji na rzecz praw zwierząt. Fragmenty prowadzonego przez niego bloga czytamy na przemian z opowieścią głównego bohatera. Ta przeplatanka prowadzi nas przez dwa tygodnie życia starszego mężczyzny – życia, które w jednej chwili straciło sens, by potem uchylić przed nim rąbka mistycznej tajemnicy związanej z pszczołami.
Trudno opisać tę powieść tak, by przyszłemu czytelnikowi nie zdradzić najważniejszych wydarzeń. Odkrywanie kolejnych elementów układanki to największa przyjemność tej lektury. Sinisalo skonstruowała całość naprawdę przemyślnie. Czytelnik stopniowo dochodzi do tych szczegółów życia Orva, które tworzą cudowną, ale też przeraźliwie smutną mozaikę. Jednocześnie w dziwnym kontraście do pierwszoosobowej, delikatnej i ciepłej narracji bohatera pozostają wpisy z bloga Eera wraz z przytoczonymi komentarzami. Dotyczą one praw zwierząt, tego, jak widzą świat nasi „bracia mniejsi”, ale też sposobów produkcji mięsa, hodowli zwierząt użytkowych, upraw jednorodnych, polityki gospodarczej. Te opisy miejscami irytują, wpadają w ton moralizatorskiej pogadanki. Zawarte w nich informacje są za to prawdziwe, przez co powieść sama w sobie staje się naprawdę smutna.
Książka opowiada też o żałobie i dojrzewaniu. Mówiąc szczerze, to jedno z najciekawszych i najbardziej poruszających przedstawień żałoby, jaką można znaleźć w popularnej literaturze. Johanna Sinisalo w swojej narracji nie popada w patos, tanie chwyty o „wyciu z rozpaczy” i podobne ograne sentencje o „skamieniałym sercu”; nie bawi się także w cynizm, którego można by się spodziewać po profesji Orva (będącego pszczelarzem z zamiłowania, a nie z zawodu), a którą poznajemy dość późno. My, czytelnicy, do straty dorastamy razem z bohaterami.
Ta na pozór moralizatorska, a w rzeczywistości prosta i gorzka powieść pozostawia po sobie wrażenie na długo. Sinisalo to doświadczona autorka, która tutaj balansuje na granicy mistycyzmu, realizmu magicznego i literatury faktu. Nieco niewyważone są ekologiczne wykłady Eera, kojarzące się czasami z forami internetowymi wojujących wegan. Na szczęście to wrażenie szybko zostaje zatarte. Jako że niewiele u nas fińskiej literatury, a już zwłaszcza tej naprawdę dobrej, warto sięgnąć po „Krew aniołów”. Ta powieść porusza i jednocześnie edukuje.
Recenzja dostępna również na straszliwabuchling.blogspot.com
November 18, 2018
Alku oli vähän kankea ja blogimerkinnät tuntuivat erillisiltä, mutta tarinan edetessä kaikki loksahti kohdilleen ja blogikin muuttui mielenkiintoisemmaksi (vaikken kaikkia ajatuksia allekirjoitakaan). Erityisesti blogin kommenttiosio toi kivaa kevennystä muuten vakavia aiheita käsittelevään kirjaan. Haustaustoimistosta kertova sivujuoni ja spefielementti kiehtoivat myös. Tämä kirja on edelleen ajankohtainen ja ajatuksia herättävä.
March 24, 2017
Part ecological warning, part fable, part story of a man who's just lost his son, part discussion of the pros and cons of meat, and maybe most of all an all-too possible picture of how the world could fall apart without bees. More alternate near-history than science fiction.
I hope I get to hear her speak at Worldcon this year.
I hope I get to hear her speak at Worldcon this year.
February 10, 2024
I really liked the blend of environmental issues and a grief story.
November 25, 2018
Ei huono. Mutta toisaalta ei myöskään minkäänlaista todellisuuspakoa, kun kaikkia mahdollisia todellisuuden ikäviä puolia hierotaan naamaan oikein urakalla.
September 1, 2024
Ajatuksia herättävä ja hyvä lukukokemus. Valitettavasti nautin netti osuuksista huomattavasti enemmän kuin toisesta näkökulmasta.
November 25, 2012
I managed to finish this book in something like 6 hours. That just shows how much I like Sinisalo's writing style, and, admittedly, how short the book was. I enjoyed this immensely, like all the books of hers I've read (yes, I am a lil' fangirl, and not afraid to admit to it), but for the first time I did feel like it was a tad... preachy. Then again, it was used in a way that I did found believable, in a blog inside the book and in comments to said blog. This made it feel less like preaching and more like one way of perceiving things, although the things stated in there were at least mostly true. I guess I am still too much of a meat-eater to enjoy reminders of how the world actually works, but still too much of a "yay let's be nice to everything!" hippie to let Sinisalo get away with all these details without descending into an ape-like rage over trying to make an impact on my choices when I'm food shopping. Nevertheless, I'm quite happy that I've planned only vegetarian food for the next few days.
For a piece of fiction, it did made me think more than I would've thought. The last time I felt like this, I had just read Jonathan Safran Foer's Eating Animals (which I really enjoyed, too), although that one was clearly written by someone who usually writes fiction, too. I guess that is what keeps drawing me to Sinisalo, really: the way she manages to make me think about the world around me and how I might have an effect on it with the most trivial of choices. And it doesn't even take her a whole novel to do that, a short story can do the same thing.
And now, reminder that I'm seriously a fan girl, if you are not, I'm not sure you would enjoy this book as much as I did. Actually I'm quite sure you won't, especially if you think that meat is a part of every meal. If you think bacon is the best thing in the world and Sinisalo is over-hyped, don't even touch this book, you'll hate it. I, personally, loved it (although bacon is quite good).
For a piece of fiction, it did made me think more than I would've thought. The last time I felt like this, I had just read Jonathan Safran Foer's Eating Animals (which I really enjoyed, too), although that one was clearly written by someone who usually writes fiction, too. I guess that is what keeps drawing me to Sinisalo, really: the way she manages to make me think about the world around me and how I might have an effect on it with the most trivial of choices. And it doesn't even take her a whole novel to do that, a short story can do the same thing.
And now, reminder that I'm seriously a fan girl, if you are not, I'm not sure you would enjoy this book as much as I did. Actually I'm quite sure you won't, especially if you think that meat is a part of every meal. If you think bacon is the best thing in the world and Sinisalo is over-hyped, don't even touch this book, you'll hate it. I, personally, loved it (although bacon is quite good).
February 1, 2024
As a beekeeper with a vested interest in the health of bees and already a fan of Johanna Sinisalo, I HUGELY enjoyed this book. I already knew her facts were accurate when discussing CCD (Colony Collapse Disorder), but I appreciated that she also included a list of sources. Like her switching between narrators in The Core of the Sun, she flips between an elderly beekeeper and mortician, Orvo, and his deceased animal-activist son's blog. Johanna's hypothesis on how CCD would affect the global economy really make this book shine, though I also loved her darkly-comedic takes on the funeral industry. (Honestly, Orvo's totally-customizable take on burials made me consider switching into funeral services!) I also have had a difficult time eating meat since reading this book, and am thinking I'd like to cut out pork and beef after learning more about animal personalities.
The only bit preventing me from giving this book *five stars* was the switch into the Other Side. It didn't add much to the story for me and instead took away from science fiction to surrealism. Johanna's speculations were so good, I didn't want to give up my suspended belief to fantasy!
The only bit preventing me from giving this book *five stars* was the switch into the Other Side. It didn't add much to the story for me and instead took away from science fiction to surrealism. Johanna's speculations were so good, I didn't want to give up my suspended belief to fantasy!
December 21, 2013
Lomalukemistoa, osa 1. Sinisalolla on kyllä taito kirjoittaa sellaista tekstiä, ettei kirjaa malttaisi laskea käsistään. Tästä kirjasta tulee sellainen olo, ettei yhtään mitään saisi enää syödä ja kaikki maailman elukat pitäisi vapauttaa. Toisaalta se pohjaa hyvin pitkälti autenttiseen aineistoon ja ihan totta, aika helisemässä kai sitä oltaisiin ilman mehiläisiä. Miinusta vain dokumenttiaineiston (kera huippuakateemisen lähdeviittauksen: "osa eläinoikeuskeskustelujen aineistosta perustuu aitoihin keskusteluihin internetissä") ärsyttävyydestä.
March 25, 2012
En ole tähän päivään mennessä onnistunut nimeämään suosikkiani Sinisalon kirjoista, mutta Enkelten verta ainakin teki minuun lähtemättömän vaikutuksen. Kirja tuntui talviselta, kovalta ja pimeältä, se näytti maailman kahden eri miehen silmin, avarsi omia näkymiäni ja koversi tiensä jonnekin syvälle sisälleni. Muistan, että kirjan päätyttyä tunsin oloni ontoksi, ja vasta sitten ryhdyin herkistelemään sen kantamalle koskettavalle tarinalle. En ole törmännyt vastaavaan vuosikausiin.
February 10, 2020
Ei ollut minun kirja kyllä. Tylsähkö ja välillä vähän sekava. Toisaalta kirjassa oli hyvää keskustelua eläinten oikeuksista vaikkakin aika överilla tavalla. Kiihkoilulla ei saa mitään aikaiseksi. Välillä mietin jopa kirjan keskeyttämistä mutta koska kirja ei ollut niin kovin paksu niin luin sitten loppuun.
June 26, 2013
An interesting read on an important topic; made me think about my own relationship with nature and food. While I liked the structure of the book, there was also something about it that was putting me off a bit. A good take on dystopian future with a fantasy twist that could have been better.
January 15, 2015
Sinisalo on uskomaton! Vau. Hänen tekstissään on semmoista imua, ettei lukemista meinaa pystyä lopettamaan. Ja tarinakin oikein kylmää selkäpiitä. Onneksi hyllyssä odottaa Lasisilmä!
May 27, 2020
Too much lecturing and not enough story. Disappointing.
December 4, 2017
This book was an absolute fantastic read.
If you’re jumping into this book thinking it’s just about the bees, then you’re wrong. It’s so much more than that. You travel through several of Orvo’s days, delving into the past of what makes him the man he is, and the recent tragedy that has befell him. He’s definitely a tragic character, one that doesn’t have all the answers, but that’s why I love him.
You’re not only getting the viewpoint of fifty-year-old Orvo but also his son (who I believe/assume was in his 20’s). Orvo’s connection to the environment is through his bee’s and the bee’s impact on the environment, but his son was an extremist, and I found his blog post to be so thrilling to read and also dissect. When they first start, you can see that Eero is passionate about his beliefs, and as the book goes on you can see them transform into something so much more, with his inclusion in the animal rights group, and even the comments on his blog and how his group interacts and feeds off each other online. It was so wonderful.
When the element of the fantastic was first introduced I was a bit skeptical of Sinisalo, but it definitely worked after it got explained. I wasn’t sure if I was going to love it and thought that it was going to be the breaking point of me reading past the halfway point, but I’m glad I stuck with it. It was simply a stunning world.
This book took me through so many twist and turns, despite it lasting a mere 219 pages. It was unpredictable for me, which seems to be a rare occurrence in books, and I think that’s because it was super character driven and not plot. Every time I tried to guess something, I was wrong, and I think that’s what kept me so engaged while also filling me with a sense of dread.
My favorite part of this novel that made me have to put the book down for a few minutes before inevitably picking it back up again because I was feeling a personal void was at page 200 (once we hear of the Colony Collapse spreading cross-continentally). I don’t want to copy it all here, especially for people who haven’t read the book, because it was so absolutely resonant, impactful, and filled me with such a sense of dread and sadness about the inevitability of the planet.
The one problem I have with this novel is the fact that the ending was super unsatisfying. There were some spots after the page 200 mark that I thought would have been a satisfying ending, but it kept going and then ended in a way that seemed a bit out of character, especially for Orvo.
Overall, I couldn’t recommend this book more.
If you’re jumping into this book thinking it’s just about the bees, then you’re wrong. It’s so much more than that. You travel through several of Orvo’s days, delving into the past of what makes him the man he is, and the recent tragedy that has befell him. He’s definitely a tragic character, one that doesn’t have all the answers, but that’s why I love him.
You’re not only getting the viewpoint of fifty-year-old Orvo but also his son (who I believe/assume was in his 20’s). Orvo’s connection to the environment is through his bee’s and the bee’s impact on the environment, but his son was an extremist, and I found his blog post to be so thrilling to read and also dissect. When they first start, you can see that Eero is passionate about his beliefs, and as the book goes on you can see them transform into something so much more, with his inclusion in the animal rights group, and even the comments on his blog and how his group interacts and feeds off each other online. It was so wonderful.
When the element of the fantastic was first introduced I was a bit skeptical of Sinisalo, but it definitely worked after it got explained. I wasn’t sure if I was going to love it and thought that it was going to be the breaking point of me reading past the halfway point, but I’m glad I stuck with it. It was simply a stunning world.
This book took me through so many twist and turns, despite it lasting a mere 219 pages. It was unpredictable for me, which seems to be a rare occurrence in books, and I think that’s because it was super character driven and not plot. Every time I tried to guess something, I was wrong, and I think that’s what kept me so engaged while also filling me with a sense of dread.
My favorite part of this novel that made me have to put the book down for a few minutes before inevitably picking it back up again because I was feeling a personal void was at page 200 (once we hear of the Colony Collapse spreading cross-continentally). I don’t want to copy it all here, especially for people who haven’t read the book, because it was so absolutely resonant, impactful, and filled me with such a sense of dread and sadness about the inevitability of the planet.
The one problem I have with this novel is the fact that the ending was super unsatisfying. There were some spots after the page 200 mark that I thought would have been a satisfying ending, but it kept going and then ended in a way that seemed a bit out of character, especially for Orvo.
Overall, I couldn’t recommend this book more.
August 17, 2017
Reviewed on Books Cats Tea
Don't let the title of the book fool you. The Blood of Angels is a quick, but somber eco-speculation on what has happened to the disappearing bees. It is less focused on the global disaster and repercussions of the lack of pollination plants are receiving (though you get snippets of what is going on outside of Finland) and more about a man coping with loss.
The book moves between the (present) story of Orvo and that of his son's (past) blog posts over the course of 16 days. Interesting information and opinions are presented in the posts on animal welfare and intelligence, humanity's place in the animal kingdom, and the ecological impact humans have. (I love when an author has a bibliography at the end of their fiction.) Whether you agree with some of the opinions people make or not, Sinisalo doesn't hold back to expose the reader to differing ideas/opinions and the escalation that anonymity on the internet can bring.
The Blood of Angels intricately weaves together pieces of different stories. Generational family discontent, ecological disaster, death and grieving, murder, divorce/separation, animal rights, myth, and a magical portal all come together in this small book to bring a unique story into view.
Being a lover of bees, I was drawn in immediately. I devoured the book, despite the somber tone. That is, up until the very last page. It felt like a complete change of pace in many ways. I was left with a great big WHY!? This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it certainly wasn't what I would have liked to have seen. This, coupled with the feeling that I was missing something, which I am partially attributing to being lost in translation, left me feeling hazy and confused. I was so taken aback that I re-read the last chapter once again with little relief. I couldn't get the ending out of my mind. Orvo's certainty in his actions made me doubt his logic even more. However, the more I thought about Orvo's certainty, the more it started to become clear that he was following the five stages of grief and loss (and, perhaps, so was I in trying to understand the ending). The last stage is acceptance and, oddly enough, is how I feel about the ending of The Blood of Angels.
Don't let the title of the book fool you. The Blood of Angels is a quick, but somber eco-speculation on what has happened to the disappearing bees. It is less focused on the global disaster and repercussions of the lack of pollination plants are receiving (though you get snippets of what is going on outside of Finland) and more about a man coping with loss.
The book moves between the (present) story of Orvo and that of his son's (past) blog posts over the course of 16 days. Interesting information and opinions are presented in the posts on animal welfare and intelligence, humanity's place in the animal kingdom, and the ecological impact humans have. (I love when an author has a bibliography at the end of their fiction.) Whether you agree with some of the opinions people make or not, Sinisalo doesn't hold back to expose the reader to differing ideas/opinions and the escalation that anonymity on the internet can bring.
The Blood of Angels intricately weaves together pieces of different stories. Generational family discontent, ecological disaster, death and grieving, murder, divorce/separation, animal rights, myth, and a magical portal all come together in this small book to bring a unique story into view.
Being a lover of bees, I was drawn in immediately. I devoured the book, despite the somber tone. That is, up until the very last page. It felt like a complete change of pace in many ways. I was left with a great big WHY!? This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it certainly wasn't what I would have liked to have seen. This, coupled with the feeling that I was missing something, which I am partially attributing to being lost in translation, left me feeling hazy and confused. I was so taken aback that I re-read the last chapter once again with little relief. I couldn't get the ending out of my mind. Orvo's certainty in his actions made me doubt his logic even more. However, the more I thought about Orvo's certainty, the more it started to become clear that he was following the five stages of grief and loss (and, perhaps, so was I in trying to understand the ending). The last stage is acceptance and, oddly enough, is how I feel about the ending of The Blood of Angels.
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