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Ink
Her name is Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand glows world-wide welcome. "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me." America has lost its way. The strongest of people can be found in the unlikeliest of places. The future of the entire country will depend on them. All across the United States, people scramble to survive new, draconian policies that mark and track immigrants and their children (citizens or not) as their freedoms rapidly erode around them. For the "inked"—those whose immigration status has been permanently tattooed on their wrists—those famous words on the Statue of Liberty are starting to ring hollow. The tattoos have marked them for horrors they could not have imagined within US borders. As the nightmare unfolds before them, unforeseen alliances between the inked—like Mari, Meche, and Toño—and non-immigrants—Finn, Del, and Abbie—are formed, all in the desperate hope to confront it. Ink is the story of their ingenuity. Of their resilience. Of their magic. A story of how the power of love and community out-survives even the grimmest times.
464 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 3, 2012
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2419 people want to read
About the author
Sabrina Vourvoulias
30 books63 followersMy novel, Ink, was published by Crossed Genres in October of 2012. (http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15...)
I was born in Bangkok, Thailand -- the daughter of a Mexican-Guatemalan artist and an American businessman. I grew up in Guatemala, and moved to the United States when I was 15. I studied filmmaking and creative writing at Sarah Lawrence College in Bronxville, N.Y., which -- it has to be said -- suited me for none (and every one) of the occupations I've plied since.
I've done stints as everything from art gallery assistant to the director of a historic opera house, but eventually found my way, permanently, to newspapers. I've been staff writer, production coordinator, editor and managing editor at a string of local weekly newspapers in New York and Pennsylvania; I briefly edited a monthly magazine as well. I'm currently the managing editor at Philadelphia's largest Spanish-language newspaper, Al Día news.I'm something of a social media enthusiast, at both work and play, and habitually haunt the Latinos in Social Media twitter party (#latism) and Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Chat (#sffwrtcht).
In addition to news, I write speculative fiction and poetry. My poetry has appeared in Dappled Things, Graham House Review, We'Moon, La Bloga's Floricanto online and Scheherezade's Bequest at Cabinet des Fees. My fiction has appeared at Tor.com, Strange Horizons, Crossed Genres #24 and in the Long Hidden: Speculative Fiction from the Margins of History; The Many Tortures of Anthony Cardno; Menial: Skilled Labor in Science Fiction; Fat Girl in a Strange Land and Crossed Genres Year Two anthologies and is slated to appear in an upcoming issue of GUD magazine and in the anthology Latino/a Rising.
Though my favorite place in the world is a small log cabin in the Central New York woods, I live in a charming, dilapidated old farmhouse about an hour outside of Philadelphia, with my husband (a diehard Minnesota Twins fan) and a brilliant and cantankerous teenage daughter who refuses to speak Spanish though her pronunciation is perfect.
I was born in Bangkok, Thailand -- the daughter of a Mexican-Guatemalan artist and an American businessman. I grew up in Guatemala, and moved to the United States when I was 15. I studied filmmaking and creative writing at Sarah Lawrence College in Bronxville, N.Y., which -- it has to be said -- suited me for none (and every one) of the occupations I've plied since.
I've done stints as everything from art gallery assistant to the director of a historic opera house, but eventually found my way, permanently, to newspapers. I've been staff writer, production coordinator, editor and managing editor at a string of local weekly newspapers in New York and Pennsylvania; I briefly edited a monthly magazine as well. I'm currently the managing editor at Philadelphia's largest Spanish-language newspaper, Al Día news.I'm something of a social media enthusiast, at both work and play, and habitually haunt the Latinos in Social Media twitter party (#latism) and Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Chat (#sffwrtcht).
In addition to news, I write speculative fiction and poetry. My poetry has appeared in Dappled Things, Graham House Review, We'Moon, La Bloga's Floricanto online and Scheherezade's Bequest at Cabinet des Fees. My fiction has appeared at Tor.com, Strange Horizons, Crossed Genres #24 and in the Long Hidden: Speculative Fiction from the Margins of History; The Many Tortures of Anthony Cardno; Menial: Skilled Labor in Science Fiction; Fat Girl in a Strange Land and Crossed Genres Year Two anthologies and is slated to appear in an upcoming issue of GUD magazine and in the anthology Latino/a Rising.
Though my favorite place in the world is a small log cabin in the Central New York woods, I live in a charming, dilapidated old farmhouse about an hour outside of Philadelphia, with my husband (a diehard Minnesota Twins fan) and a brilliant and cantankerous teenage daughter who refuses to speak Spanish though her pronunciation is perfect.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 123 reviews
December 12, 2021
3.5 stars
A timely dystopian novel for adults that’s actually pretty good, despite its obscurity: this book tackles growing anti-immigrant sentiment in the United States and presents a near-future taking it a few steps further. Though, having been initially published in 2012, a few elements already seem quaint in comparison to the intervening reality. Like most dystopian novels—or at least dystopias with something to say, not those bandwagon dystopias published because The Hunger Games was popular—this one presents an intense story, in which readers can’t assume happy endings for either the characters or the world. The plot can be a bit rough around the edges, but overall I enjoyed it and found it a worthwhile commentary on nativism and xenophobia.
The central conceit involves immigrants and their children being marked by color-coded tattoos, in a time of increasing discrimination. Some of it (actual segregation) I found unlikely given the legal history on the issue, but many other elements, such as the vigilante groups kidnapping immigrants and dumping them across the border, and the shadowy “medical facilities” where healthy people are warehoused without trial under the pretext that they carry disease—and babies born there adopted out to wealthy families—seems scarily plausible. The book is not concerned with tracing the specifics of how the U.S. might get here, and there is no villain, which works well; you can’t really lay the blame for social trends and national policy at the feet of a single person. And I think the point is less that this specific scenario is likely to occur (almost never true even with the best dystopias), and more about recognizing that there’s a segment of the public who would welcome this future.
The novel follows four narrators through its changing landscape: most of them non-immigrants, as the focus is more on themes of privilege and responsibility (even the three major immigrant characters all have a certain amount of privilege) than drawn-out victimization. It begins with Finn, a journalist writing about the increasing restrictions. He falls in love with Mari, who was born in Guatemala and has a spirit twin (nagual). Then there’s his brother-in-law, Del, a small-town artist who feels a strong connection to the land, and Abbie, a teen from the trailer park doing community service at one of the shady medical facilities. Perhaps because the language isn’t particularly fancy or figurative, having four narrators didn’t bother me much in terms of sounding overly alike; they also come in large chunks (three segments per narrator), which gives readers time to settle in, though it also means a character can disappear for awhile.
But the story is intense, and Vourvoulias does an excellent job getting readers invested in the characters and their problems, if perhaps not equally so (Abbie was my favorite; I never cared much for Finn). It’s gripping and had me thinking about the book when not reading it. The pages turn quickly, the dialogue is good and while the characters might not be the most complex, they’re certainly easy to empathize with.
That said, it is rough around the edges. The book spans a few years and some important events are briefly summarized or entirely skipped; sometimes this works (a series of traumatic events involving Mari, in which the reader doesn’t really need more detail to plug into how she’s feeling) and sometimes it doesn’t (a traumatic event involving Abbie that makes little sense, psychologically or even logistically; a major happy event that we learn about only in retrospect). Some characters shoot off in really strange directions. Various romances, though individually well-written, consume a lot of pages; there’s something to be said for this—love raises the stakes—but it can also be a distraction. Meanwhile, the magic realism elements mostly worked for me, but can feel a little too convenient.
It’s also perhaps worth noting some oddities around race. Abbie and Del are both explicitly mixed race—her father is Mohawk; his grandmother was black and Seminole—but treated as white by other characters and the narrative, to the point that even the introduction writer for the 2018 edition messed it up. Perhaps Vourvoulias is making the valid point that native-born privilege exists, even for racial minorities. But while no one novel needs to deal with every social justice issue, introducing black and Native American characters in a book about racial injustice and then portraying them as never once having to even think about racism, while immigrants are persecuted, strikes an unfortunate chord for me. You don’t have to win the oppression Olympics to have real problems, after all.
Overall, my level of engagement with the story and characters has me rounding my rating up, though this is not a book for every reader. It’s a good story and the issues it raises very relevant.
A timely dystopian novel for adults that’s actually pretty good, despite its obscurity: this book tackles growing anti-immigrant sentiment in the United States and presents a near-future taking it a few steps further. Though, having been initially published in 2012, a few elements already seem quaint in comparison to the intervening reality. Like most dystopian novels—or at least dystopias with something to say, not those bandwagon dystopias published because The Hunger Games was popular—this one presents an intense story, in which readers can’t assume happy endings for either the characters or the world. The plot can be a bit rough around the edges, but overall I enjoyed it and found it a worthwhile commentary on nativism and xenophobia.
The central conceit involves immigrants and their children being marked by color-coded tattoos, in a time of increasing discrimination. Some of it (actual segregation) I found unlikely given the legal history on the issue, but many other elements, such as the vigilante groups kidnapping immigrants and dumping them across the border, and the shadowy “medical facilities” where healthy people are warehoused without trial under the pretext that they carry disease—and babies born there adopted out to wealthy families—seems scarily plausible. The book is not concerned with tracing the specifics of how the U.S. might get here, and there is no villain, which works well; you can’t really lay the blame for social trends and national policy at the feet of a single person. And I think the point is less that this specific scenario is likely to occur (almost never true even with the best dystopias), and more about recognizing that there’s a segment of the public who would welcome this future.
The novel follows four narrators through its changing landscape: most of them non-immigrants, as the focus is more on themes of privilege and responsibility (even the three major immigrant characters all have a certain amount of privilege) than drawn-out victimization. It begins with Finn, a journalist writing about the increasing restrictions. He falls in love with Mari, who was born in Guatemala and has a spirit twin (nagual). Then there’s his brother-in-law, Del, a small-town artist who feels a strong connection to the land, and Abbie, a teen from the trailer park doing community service at one of the shady medical facilities. Perhaps because the language isn’t particularly fancy or figurative, having four narrators didn’t bother me much in terms of sounding overly alike; they also come in large chunks (three segments per narrator), which gives readers time to settle in, though it also means a character can disappear for awhile.
But the story is intense, and Vourvoulias does an excellent job getting readers invested in the characters and their problems, if perhaps not equally so (Abbie was my favorite; I never cared much for Finn). It’s gripping and had me thinking about the book when not reading it. The pages turn quickly, the dialogue is good and while the characters might not be the most complex, they’re certainly easy to empathize with.
That said, it is rough around the edges. The book spans a few years and some important events are briefly summarized or entirely skipped; sometimes this works (a series of traumatic events involving Mari, in which the reader doesn’t really need more detail to plug into how she’s feeling) and sometimes it doesn’t (a traumatic event involving Abbie that makes little sense, psychologically or even logistically; a major happy event that we learn about only in retrospect). Some characters shoot off in really strange directions. Various romances, though individually well-written, consume a lot of pages; there’s something to be said for this—love raises the stakes—but it can also be a distraction. Meanwhile, the magic realism elements mostly worked for me, but can feel a little too convenient.
It’s also perhaps worth noting some oddities around race. Abbie and Del are both explicitly mixed race—her father is Mohawk; his grandmother was black and Seminole—but treated as white by other characters and the narrative, to the point that even the introduction writer for the 2018 edition messed it up. Perhaps Vourvoulias is making the valid point that native-born privilege exists, even for racial minorities. But while no one novel needs to deal with every social justice issue, introducing black and Native American characters in a book about racial injustice and then portraying them as never once having to even think about racism, while immigrants are persecuted, strikes an unfortunate chord for me. You don’t have to win the oppression Olympics to have real problems, after all.
Overall, my level of engagement with the story and characters has me rounding my rating up, though this is not a book for every reader. It’s a good story and the issues it raises very relevant.
February 15, 2019
I loved the combination of science fiction and magical realism throughout the book. To me, it felt right and effortless, reflecting the varying worldviews of characters who nonetheless live in the same, palpable world.
The march of political events sometimes felt hand-waved. Perhaps not coincidentally, there are no villains, as such. There are several nasty side characters & one out-and-out sociopath, but Vourvoulias does not explore the mindset of The Powers that Be. Much of the time, the characters struggle against authorities we never see. That may preoccupy other readers less than it did me.
Likewise, there were life-changing moments in the characters' lives that Vourvoulias skipped over, as if hesitant to push on a bruise. I enjoyed Abbie's story best--perhaps there were fewer moments when readers were asked to look away?
In any case, I went on a long weekend before finishing the book and (foolishly!) did not take INK with me. I missed it! I kept thinking about the characters and wondering what was happening to them. I expect I'll keep thinking about them even now. And I'll definitely read Vourvoulias's next book!
The march of political events sometimes felt hand-waved. Perhaps not coincidentally, there are no villains, as such. There are several nasty side characters & one out-and-out sociopath, but Vourvoulias does not explore the mindset of The Powers that Be. Much of the time, the characters struggle against authorities we never see. That may preoccupy other readers less than it did me.
Likewise, there were life-changing moments in the characters' lives that Vourvoulias skipped over, as if hesitant to push on a bruise. I enjoyed Abbie's story best--perhaps there were fewer moments when readers were asked to look away?
In any case, I went on a long weekend before finishing the book and (foolishly!) did not take INK with me. I missed it! I kept thinking about the characters and wondering what was happening to them. I expect I'll keep thinking about them even now. And I'll definitely read Vourvoulias's next book!
March 15, 2017
With a story about the tattooing of immigrants and the attempt to disappear this second class part of society, it came across a little disturbing considering all the discussions of immigration going on at the moment. I liked the concept and the writing but I wanted something deeper and ended up with a more superficial tale.
March 29, 2023
Actual rating is probably closer to 3.5
I tend to rate books based on what kind of book they are; I don’t rate romance books the same way I rate literary horror because I’m reading them with very different goals in mind. I read this book for my Latinx studies class, and I enjoyed it as a text for class. As a YA dystopian novel I’m reading for fun? I’m not sure I would like it quite so much.
That being said, I think it has some important messages. I think I took it a little more seriously just because I was reading it for class so I think I may have read it in a more literary way than some others might.
If I’m reading it as a piece of literary fiction, then the biggest issue is the romances, which essentially serve no purpose other than to entice the reader where the plot fails to do so.
If I’m reading it as YA dystopian, I find the plot somewhat disjointed and confusing. Some parts, like the magic system and social commentary, may not be spelled out enough for easy comprehension.
I tend to rate books based on what kind of book they are; I don’t rate romance books the same way I rate literary horror because I’m reading them with very different goals in mind. I read this book for my Latinx studies class, and I enjoyed it as a text for class. As a YA dystopian novel I’m reading for fun? I’m not sure I would like it quite so much.
That being said, I think it has some important messages. I think I took it a little more seriously just because I was reading it for class so I think I may have read it in a more literary way than some others might.
If I’m reading it as a piece of literary fiction, then the biggest issue is the romances, which essentially serve no purpose other than to entice the reader where the plot fails to do so.
If I’m reading it as YA dystopian, I find the plot somewhat disjointed and confusing. Some parts, like the magic system and social commentary, may not be spelled out enough for easy comprehension.
November 23, 2021
The best word I can use to describe this book is 'compelling'. Once I started reading it, I was whisked into this alternate US landscape and I could not put the book down until I finish it. I read the entire thing in one session, which I rarely do these days.
But it was by no means an easy read, or a fun read, or a heartwarming read, which is primarily why I am not sure how to articulate my thoughts about this book.
It takes some of the worst atrocities that we see happening in the US in the last handful of years and extrapolates that to a dreadful conclusion similar to WWII Germany. What makes the events so painful to read, I feel, is because they could so easily occur. Thinking back on the BLM protests, what we see among Q and Antivax supporters denying reality right in front of their eyes, and how most people just go on with their daily lives even though climate change is wrecking havoc all around us, all of these have been clear mirrors reflecting humanity, and this book creates a similar mirror.
I loved the magical realism aspects. It's been a long long time since I came across a magical realism book I found both interesting and wanting to believe in it. So often I've felt that the magical realism of recent publications has to be darker, grittier, rougher, meaner. And here there was some of that, but also the whimsicalness of previous generations embrace of magical realism returned.
The part I found least believable was the ending. But upon reflection since finishing the book, it too makes sense. Once hardship passes people will put in a lot of effort to pretend it never happened. Life feels safer that way. It's unfortunate, but also truthful.
Ultimately, I feel Sabrina Vourvoulias captured the essence of truth in it's myriad forms through these protagonists and their individual stories which make up the whole. There is a smoothing of the edges, there is a rose-colored filter applied for us to see through, but it's still a very important and beautiful piece of art.
EDIT: Two questions I have about events:
1.
2.
But it was by no means an easy read, or a fun read, or a heartwarming read, which is primarily why I am not sure how to articulate my thoughts about this book.
It takes some of the worst atrocities that we see happening in the US in the last handful of years and extrapolates that to a dreadful conclusion similar to WWII Germany. What makes the events so painful to read, I feel, is because they could so easily occur. Thinking back on the BLM protests, what we see among Q and Antivax supporters denying reality right in front of their eyes, and how most people just go on with their daily lives even though climate change is wrecking havoc all around us, all of these have been clear mirrors reflecting humanity, and this book creates a similar mirror.
I loved the magical realism aspects. It's been a long long time since I came across a magical realism book I found both interesting and wanting to believe in it. So often I've felt that the magical realism of recent publications has to be darker, grittier, rougher, meaner. And here there was some of that, but also the whimsicalness of previous generations embrace of magical realism returned.
The part I found least believable was the ending. But upon reflection since finishing the book, it too makes sense. Once hardship passes people will put in a lot of effort to pretend it never happened. Life feels safer that way. It's unfortunate, but also truthful.
Ultimately, I feel Sabrina Vourvoulias captured the essence of truth in it's myriad forms through these protagonists and their individual stories which make up the whole. There is a smoothing of the edges, there is a rose-colored filter applied for us to see through, but it's still a very important and beautiful piece of art.
EDIT: Two questions I have about events:
1.
2.
April 18, 2014
This dark tale, seeped in magical realism, has the feel of a great dystopian young adult novel. What strikes me as unique, however, is that the whole society that this story is set in is not a dystopian one. Most people within the society go about their lives with little awareness about the fate their governments draconian policies are inflicting upon the minority population. In creating a dystopia in and among every day life, Sabrina Vourvoulias has created an engaging love story/ war epic that deeply explores the concept of privilege.
The immigrant population in this society (which seems otherwise indistinguishable from modern U.S.)are "inked" or tattooed with identifying bar codes that track their immigration status. We enter the story at a point in which the policy had already taken hold and it's consequences began to spin out. Those marked became even easier to discriminate against. Fear, hatred, racism; the focal point for all became anyone who was "other-ed" in this way. Volunteer border patrol agents would take the law into their own hands... law enforcement agents would see color as a mark of criminal intent... ultimately marginalization wouldn't satisfy and things got increasingly worse. The consequences are laid out in manner similar to what we have witnessed throughout history.
Though dark and realistic, the story is threaded through with hope, passion, love and magic. Vourvoulias incorporated some of the more mystical aspects of Latin American culture into the lives of her characters. Magic was used as a natural tool of survival and a deep well of emotional strength.
Her characters loved deeply and in realistically flawed ways. Not every love story had its "happily ever after," making each more precious for the time it had in this world.
I read Ink obsessively and was sad to have to leave the world and vibrant characters Vourvoulias had developed.
The immigrant population in this society (which seems otherwise indistinguishable from modern U.S.)are "inked" or tattooed with identifying bar codes that track their immigration status. We enter the story at a point in which the policy had already taken hold and it's consequences began to spin out. Those marked became even easier to discriminate against. Fear, hatred, racism; the focal point for all became anyone who was "other-ed" in this way. Volunteer border patrol agents would take the law into their own hands... law enforcement agents would see color as a mark of criminal intent... ultimately marginalization wouldn't satisfy and things got increasingly worse. The consequences are laid out in manner similar to what we have witnessed throughout history.
Though dark and realistic, the story is threaded through with hope, passion, love and magic. Vourvoulias incorporated some of the more mystical aspects of Latin American culture into the lives of her characters. Magic was used as a natural tool of survival and a deep well of emotional strength.
Her characters loved deeply and in realistically flawed ways. Not every love story had its "happily ever after," making each more precious for the time it had in this world.
I read Ink obsessively and was sad to have to leave the world and vibrant characters Vourvoulias had developed.
July 30, 2012
Ink by Sabrina Vourvoulias is a mind bending story that interweaves 5 seemingly “normal” individuals through a time where who you are is decided by the color of the tattoo on your wrist. The twists and turns of this near future thriller will have you wanting more and more. Time and again I found myself looking at the clock and realizing that hours had gone by, and I thought it had been five minutes.
As a coworker of Sabrina I have had the enjoyment of talking to her every morning about what had just happened with the latest part of what I read. I enjoyed her reactions to my thoughts and ours discussions how certain parts could be perceived differently by different people.
This novel takes you on a reality-bending ride where inkatorium’s and tattoo scanners are the norm, and losing your rights just because of where you’re from, is federal law.
Read, INK by Sabrina Vourvoulias.
As a coworker of Sabrina I have had the enjoyment of talking to her every morning about what had just happened with the latest part of what I read. I enjoyed her reactions to my thoughts and ours discussions how certain parts could be perceived differently by different people.
This novel takes you on a reality-bending ride where inkatorium’s and tattoo scanners are the norm, and losing your rights just because of where you’re from, is federal law.
Read, INK by Sabrina Vourvoulias.
March 11, 2013
I loved this book. It was troubling, funny, beautiful, exciting. The near-future dystopian crisis of immigration rings truer every day and the characters are alive. INK guides us through a broken, angry world through the POVs of various players in the coming culture wars. Each struggles through the emotional, political landscape of privilege, power and heartbreak as the carnage of xenophobia drives faultlines between families, friends and lovers. There are a few moments I wanted more from; at times we switch into someone else's mind just when I was warming to the character we'd been with. Ultimately, INK achieves that most-difficult balance between telling the hard truths about our troubled future and weaving an engaging, page-turning story.
July 6, 2015
Ink is a captivating, page-turner that kept me up reading but in the end, for me, it had some identity issues that kept it from fully committing and becoming the amazing story it could have been. On the one hand, it's a magical realism story awesomely incorporating indigenous Indian and Latino mythology and folk lore; on the other, it's a contemporary fiction tale of the dangers of xenophobia and American immigration policy. Unfortunately, I felt like these two sides of the story competed with each other and weakened the overall story. I think it was a huge disservice to the immigration story to make most of the non-white characters be "magical"/have magical abilities. The entire point of railing against xenophobia is that "otherness" is a social construct; skin color, like eye color and hair color and height and weight, is simply a physical feature and not a mark of "otherness" or "the alien." However, in this case, the "inks" really were alien/other and having magical abilities gave other characters a reason for reacting to them with fear, aversion, and distrust, diluting the "moral" of the story. Furthermore, it does a disservice to those who have fled persecution and those who have helped them by having "magical" solutions to their problems - Del's ability to hide people on his farm, Del lowering the tire spikes so they can flee the check point, Mari surviving internment... many real, live, flesh and blood people have had to survive this and more without the help of magic and I felt it diluted the bravery that these people displayed to have magic involved.
At the same time, the magical realism and the contemporary fiction story fight to be a character-driven story and a plot-driven story, diluting both and resulting in some missing chunks of the narrative. Mari is interned up north after her kidnapping and is pregnant and to serve the plot-driven aspect of the book, the next time we see her she's had the baby, the baby's been forcibly given up for adoption, and she's back in Smallville. All of the character-driven narrative of the pregnancy, the birth, and the theft of her child (plus surviving in the internment camp) are all skipped - pivotal character development story that should have been told. Similarly, Finn and Mari getting their baby back is never shown - it mysteriously happens off-page. This would have been an important scene for both the character driven and plot driven parts of the story - how are these adoptions handled, who adopts an "ink" baby, how did they manage to get the baby back (when the government would want to cover all this up)? It's not clear. There are large gaps in the story like this that were frustrating.
All of the characters felt real and vibrant and distinct; I had a hard time with Finn's voice at first, because he's an investigative journalist and his opening narrative reads like a hard-boiled detective novel - one of my least favorite genres. However, after his first PoV section, when we jump to another character, the story really picked up (for me) and I was hooked, even coming to love Finn's PoV. I felt like Abby was given short-shrift however; she begins as a brash, head-strong, no-nonsense young woman. However, in the critical scene with John, she makes an insane bargain/promise - to go back to John/sleep with only him (ever) - that I didn't feel felt authentic to the character. Then she goes through with the promise, turning herself over to John, and then there is no reaction/it's not fully explained what happens during the scene that follows. Does John beat her up/knock her out first, tie her up, what? Or does she just lay down like a lamb to slaughter and let him carve her up? There's no reaction from her, not even a protest, let alone a tear of fear or pain. The entire thing is glossed right over. Then again, her mourning Tono is skipped over, the formation of her relationship with Neto is glossed over (and the two seem to have no chemistry, no compatibility, and Neto doesn't even seem to like her so I was confused as to where that relationship had come from). Abby, who is so brash and brave and righteous at the beginning of the book even fails to shoot at (let alone shoot) the guy murdering Neto in front of her and let's herself get nearly killed instead, saved only by the intervention of a magical toddler. The worst part is that the critical pivot point of why Abby turns herself over to John is that she supposedly always keeps the promises she makes - except she promises to only sleep with him forever and then she ends up never sleeping with him and instead goes on to have relationships with Tono and Neto, explicitly breaking her promise! It's as if the promise and the "john is a pyscho" scene all happen just as a narrative device to create tension where none was needed/between her and John, rather than being an authentic part of her story. I was also frustrated that Abby never explicitly confronts her mother about her job at an inkatorium - this is a key and crucial issue in the real world (what do we do when we don't agree with our parents' politics/actions/morality? What happens when the illusion of the infallability of our parents is shattered?) and I would have liked to see the author wrestle with it a bit via Abby and her mother, rather than pulliing punches and having the two women tacitly agree to disagree and never actually discuss the issue/face it head on.
Finally, in the end, the plot-driven arc of the story - the anti-"ink" legislation and policies - just sorts of peters out/is glossed over and is wrapped up with a neat bow. Everyone realizes the error of their ways, new legislation is passed, bad legislators are punished, and everyone goes about their lives - sad and emotionally scarred but eager to forget and move on. This felt too easy and neat. The coda at the end, of Mari returning to her native village, signified, once more, a sacrifice of plot-driven for character-driven, returning the story to a character-driven narrative that fit the character driven story but was a huge disservice to the plot driven story. Again, the two facets of the book seemed to be competing/taking from each other, rather than complementing each other (I will fully admit, however, that the ending scene had me in tears; again this is not a bad book - it's beautiful, well-written, poignant, emotional, and gripping).
None of this is to say that this is a bad book - just the opposite. This was a really good book, and as I said, it kept me up nights, turning pages. However, there were narrative choices made that I found very frustrating as a reader and which, ultimately, for me, cut the knees out from under the story and kept it from being a great novel, fearlessly grappling with one of the key divisive issues of our time.
At the same time, the magical realism and the contemporary fiction story fight to be a character-driven story and a plot-driven story, diluting both and resulting in some missing chunks of the narrative. Mari is interned up north after her kidnapping and is pregnant and to serve the plot-driven aspect of the book, the next time we see her she's had the baby, the baby's been forcibly given up for adoption, and she's back in Smallville. All of the character-driven narrative of the pregnancy, the birth, and the theft of her child (plus surviving in the internment camp) are all skipped - pivotal character development story that should have been told. Similarly, Finn and Mari getting their baby back is never shown - it mysteriously happens off-page. This would have been an important scene for both the character driven and plot driven parts of the story - how are these adoptions handled, who adopts an "ink" baby, how did they manage to get the baby back (when the government would want to cover all this up)? It's not clear. There are large gaps in the story like this that were frustrating.
All of the characters felt real and vibrant and distinct; I had a hard time with Finn's voice at first, because he's an investigative journalist and his opening narrative reads like a hard-boiled detective novel - one of my least favorite genres. However, after his first PoV section, when we jump to another character, the story really picked up (for me) and I was hooked, even coming to love Finn's PoV. I felt like Abby was given short-shrift however; she begins as a brash, head-strong, no-nonsense young woman. However, in the critical scene with John, she makes an insane bargain/promise - to go back to John/sleep with only him (ever) - that I didn't feel felt authentic to the character. Then she goes through with the promise, turning herself over to John, and then there is no reaction/it's not fully explained what happens during the scene that follows. Does John beat her up/knock her out first, tie her up, what? Or does she just lay down like a lamb to slaughter and let him carve her up? There's no reaction from her, not even a protest, let alone a tear of fear or pain. The entire thing is glossed right over. Then again, her mourning Tono is skipped over, the formation of her relationship with Neto is glossed over (and the two seem to have no chemistry, no compatibility, and Neto doesn't even seem to like her so I was confused as to where that relationship had come from). Abby, who is so brash and brave and righteous at the beginning of the book even fails to shoot at (let alone shoot) the guy murdering Neto in front of her and let's herself get nearly killed instead, saved only by the intervention of a magical toddler. The worst part is that the critical pivot point of why Abby turns herself over to John is that she supposedly always keeps the promises she makes - except she promises to only sleep with him forever and then she ends up never sleeping with him and instead goes on to have relationships with Tono and Neto, explicitly breaking her promise! It's as if the promise and the "john is a pyscho" scene all happen just as a narrative device to create tension where none was needed/between her and John, rather than being an authentic part of her story. I was also frustrated that Abby never explicitly confronts her mother about her job at an inkatorium - this is a key and crucial issue in the real world (what do we do when we don't agree with our parents' politics/actions/morality? What happens when the illusion of the infallability of our parents is shattered?) and I would have liked to see the author wrestle with it a bit via Abby and her mother, rather than pulliing punches and having the two women tacitly agree to disagree and never actually discuss the issue/face it head on.
Finally, in the end, the plot-driven arc of the story - the anti-"ink" legislation and policies - just sorts of peters out/is glossed over and is wrapped up with a neat bow. Everyone realizes the error of their ways, new legislation is passed, bad legislators are punished, and everyone goes about their lives - sad and emotionally scarred but eager to forget and move on. This felt too easy and neat. The coda at the end, of Mari returning to her native village, signified, once more, a sacrifice of plot-driven for character-driven, returning the story to a character-driven narrative that fit the character driven story but was a huge disservice to the plot driven story. Again, the two facets of the book seemed to be competing/taking from each other, rather than complementing each other (I will fully admit, however, that the ending scene had me in tears; again this is not a bad book - it's beautiful, well-written, poignant, emotional, and gripping).
None of this is to say that this is a bad book - just the opposite. This was a really good book, and as I said, it kept me up nights, turning pages. However, there were narrative choices made that I found very frustrating as a reader and which, ultimately, for me, cut the knees out from under the story and kept it from being a great novel, fearlessly grappling with one of the key divisive issues of our time.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
dnf
December 20, 2023I didn't get far. Time of death 14%
I'm not finding much to like and actively disliking a lot more.
I'm having a hard time following the story because the writing is quite choppy, with weird time jumps and scene changes that I kept stuttering over, wondering if I'd missed something.
I don't like how stalkery and non-consentual it feels.
And of course it's not pleasant to read about displaced and oppressed people, especially when those people are tattooed and forced into camps and forced out of their country and left without protection...
There's a lot of that going on and if the "good guy" in this one is gonna feel like a predator too, I don't want to witness this fiction when it's too real for other places in the world
I'm not finding much to like and actively disliking a lot more.
I'm having a hard time following the story because the writing is quite choppy, with weird time jumps and scene changes that I kept stuttering over, wondering if I'd missed something.
I don't like how stalkery and non-consentual it feels.
And of course it's not pleasant to read about displaced and oppressed people, especially when those people are tattooed and forced into camps and forced out of their country and left without protection...
There's a lot of that going on and if the "good guy" in this one is gonna feel like a predator too, I don't want to witness this fiction when it's too real for other places in the world
December 18, 2022
Great concept with a really shaky execution. I wish there had been more active weaving of the myth/magic subplots, as well as more time to get to know / intimacy with individual characters and their relationships. I cant help but notice how much time was wasted on zinger-type dialogue vs. the actual architecture of the story and world building info.
Read
October 5, 2012A strong and promising first novel with an engaging voice, INK tackles a number of difficult topics (racism, immigration, xenophobia) through the eyes of four varied and engaging protagonists. Vourvoulias is an accomplished writer on the scene and sentence level, and though it seemed to this reader that she lost control of the novel's structure somewhere in the middle, the fragmentation of the second half is not distracting enough to ruin the narrative arc. I could have used a little more diversity in the eventual fates of the characters, and the integration of fantasy and science fiction worldbuilding was not as smooth as it could have been--but this is a very good debut, well-worth reading, and it makes its ideological and thematic arguments well.
February 7, 2018
This book had so much opportunity to be great. The premise is excellent but the execution is terribly lacking. The characters are either so obnoxious that you can't stand them (Finn), or so perplexing and random that they lose all sense of being real (Abbie). The "hacking" that Abbie does is as bad as any 90s movie, and the sections meant to feel suspenseful end up boring, stop short of action, or just jump forward to some random period in time (a day? An hour? Years, even). And don't get me started on the "magic" that was so lazily included. No character finds this the least bit interesting?!
I really wanted to like this book because of its topic and timeliness in our culture, and was disappointed in the outcomes. It's a shame.
I really wanted to like this book because of its topic and timeliness in our culture, and was disappointed in the outcomes. It's a shame.
May 29, 2014
I found the issues confronted affecting and deeply infuriating, and the book well-written and compelling. The structure, though, didn't entirely hold up--the four separate POVs weren't always distinct, the time jumps were a little disorienting, and the science fiction and magical realism elements weren't always seamless. The magic in particular felt like it came and went without being woven deeply enough into the fabric of the novel. Still, something I would recommend reading.
February 20, 2018
It's shocking that this book hasn't gotten more attention tbh.
The romance is awful - that typical question of why does the book have to be about white/non-white relationships, though here it's ink/non-ink relationships. Also why all the gendered violence? Also why all the pregnancies? The magic subplot doesn't really come to much either and that's a disappointment.
But, it's a really necessary dystopian scenario imo.
The romance is awful - that typical question of why does the book have to be about white/non-white relationships, though here it's ink/non-ink relationships. Also why all the gendered violence? Also why all the pregnancies? The magic subplot doesn't really come to much either and that's a disappointment.
But, it's a really necessary dystopian scenario imo.
June 26, 2017
When I started it I knew this would be a difficult read, but I wasn't expecting it to be forget-my-tea gripping as well.
Further thoughts to come.
Deals with racial representation, particularly Latinx. Background queer characters.
Further thoughts to come.
Deals with racial representation, particularly Latinx. Background queer characters.
April 7, 2024
read for class. intriguing concept kneecapped by unmemorable characters and poor writing. my biggest frustration was how often the narrative jumps forward days, months, or years and then TELLS the reader that a chase scene, skirmish, political event, sexual encounter, trauma, conversation, birth, or death has happened, without letting anyone actually READ the scene. this phenomena occurs so many times it feels like a joke. characters constantly refer to major plot events as if they are common knowledge without ever having them actually presented in the text. the whole text just IMPLIES the existence of a more interesting novel. most characters seem to act at random— even when they speak directly to the audience the motivations for their choices are unclear. such a disappointment. can’t believe i have to go write a paper on it.
February 21, 2019
A powerful, imaginative dystopia about immigration. Written with a journalist's eye for detail and truth, it comes closer to reality every day.
January 24, 2022
I thought the plot was interesting and the characters complex, but I wasn't a fan of the magic in this dystopia. With such serious issues at hand, it felt unnecessary.
January 4, 2023
maybe more like 3.5 ?? chose to read as example of latine spec fic / critical dystopia for thesis, writing wasn’t the most elegant + some of the descriptions of women were 👎🏼👎🏼 but i enjoyed the magical
realism elements
realism elements
January 9, 2015
I really enjoyed this book. It was chaotic and real. What I appreciated more than anything is the honest portrayal of discussing the experience of discrimination with well meaning (ally) white people. Vourvoulias doesn't try to explain away the awkward interaction nor does she allow the space for forgiveness just because they don't understand but they mean well. It was truly beautiful. It's just there in all of its everyday awkwardness.
This is a short novel that is jam packed full of complexity and tension. We are introduce to the world through the eyes of Finn, who is a white cis-gender man who is a journalist. When we first meet him we learn that everything is about the news story for him. He's wants to tell the story of injustice but it doesn't affect him. He is just like all of the white people in this novel. He calls the barcoded immigrants "inks" just like everyone else. He doesn't question the label because he doesn't remember how it came to be in the first place. That's just who they are. Oy, I really dislike Finn. He's a frat boy convinced that he'll find the story that will bring him fame and recognition. Yep I have a frat boy bias.
I liked Mari and Meche. They are so complex. Mari appears to be a woman who has assimilated into white culture and she's just trying to survive it to the best of her ability. She makes sure that she never does any of the banned cultural things and she somehow falls in love with Finn. Their relationship did not work for me. Finn evolves over the course of the novel but never seems to change at his core. Mari seems to just deal with him. He's problematic but she loves him. She suffers and she is persecuted but she still loves him in his cluelessness? Nope didn't work for me. Mari is the strong one. Her animal twin is the source of her survival and ability to cope with torture and trauma. She's the person who makes a way out of nothing. When the rest of us would have given up, she doesn't and I admire that strength.
Meche is also a survival but she's a rebel and a sometimes exploiter or maybe I mean capitalist... Anyway, she is a chemist who uses her skills to create false legitimacy for "inks." She helps and exploits people. And that's a complicated space to consciously hold. And she holds it boldly. People who challenge her are challenged back. She calls everyone out on their issues and then she has a drink. She has money which keeps her safe for a while but eventually the government comes for her as well.
There are a few other characters and perspectives in the book but Mari and Meche are my favorite characters even though the story is mostly told through the eyes of white people. Initially I was very upset about this, but then I started to understand why. Finn, Del, and Abbie are impacted by the perscution of "immigrants" but they are not directly in the line of fire. This book answers the question of what white people do when people of color are under attack. It's not real when it's not you. Even in the midst of change it still feels abstract. You do what you can to help but you don't actually risk yourself and you still maintain the privileges you had in the first place. Well done!
Things I wish were added, I really wish that the book were longer. I enjoyed the complexity of this world and the characters. But I wanted to really understand how barcoded tattoos came to be. I want to know why Native Americans and African Americans weren't targeted. I want to know what the initial policy was. I want to learn more about Mari, Meche, Tono, and Nely. I really enjoyed this book as is and plan to read it again. I definitely highly reccommend it!
This is a short novel that is jam packed full of complexity and tension. We are introduce to the world through the eyes of Finn, who is a white cis-gender man who is a journalist. When we first meet him we learn that everything is about the news story for him. He's wants to tell the story of injustice but it doesn't affect him. He is just like all of the white people in this novel. He calls the barcoded immigrants "inks" just like everyone else. He doesn't question the label because he doesn't remember how it came to be in the first place. That's just who they are. Oy, I really dislike Finn. He's a frat boy convinced that he'll find the story that will bring him fame and recognition. Yep I have a frat boy bias.
I liked Mari and Meche. They are so complex. Mari appears to be a woman who has assimilated into white culture and she's just trying to survive it to the best of her ability. She makes sure that she never does any of the banned cultural things and she somehow falls in love with Finn. Their relationship did not work for me. Finn evolves over the course of the novel but never seems to change at his core. Mari seems to just deal with him. He's problematic but she loves him. She suffers and she is persecuted but she still loves him in his cluelessness? Nope didn't work for me. Mari is the strong one. Her animal twin is the source of her survival and ability to cope with torture and trauma. She's the person who makes a way out of nothing. When the rest of us would have given up, she doesn't and I admire that strength.
Meche is also a survival but she's a rebel and a sometimes exploiter or maybe I mean capitalist... Anyway, she is a chemist who uses her skills to create false legitimacy for "inks." She helps and exploits people. And that's a complicated space to consciously hold. And she holds it boldly. People who challenge her are challenged back. She calls everyone out on their issues and then she has a drink. She has money which keeps her safe for a while but eventually the government comes for her as well.
There are a few other characters and perspectives in the book but Mari and Meche are my favorite characters even though the story is mostly told through the eyes of white people. Initially I was very upset about this, but then I started to understand why. Finn, Del, and Abbie are impacted by the perscution of "immigrants" but they are not directly in the line of fire. This book answers the question of what white people do when people of color are under attack. It's not real when it's not you. Even in the midst of change it still feels abstract. You do what you can to help but you don't actually risk yourself and you still maintain the privileges you had in the first place. Well done!
Things I wish were added, I really wish that the book were longer. I enjoyed the complexity of this world and the characters. But I wanted to really understand how barcoded tattoos came to be. I want to know why Native Americans and African Americans weren't targeted. I want to know what the initial policy was. I want to learn more about Mari, Meche, Tono, and Nely. I really enjoyed this book as is and plan to read it again. I definitely highly reccommend it!
July 27, 2023
Four point-of-view characters make their way through several dark years of state persecution of non-white American immigrants. These immigrants are dubbed 'inks'. (The word 'ink' does double duty, referring to immigrants who exceed the "ideal" amount of skin pigment and also to the tattoos used by the government to brand and track them.)
Ink is three books rolled into one:
---It's a socio-political dystopia in the vein of The Handmaid's Tale, although much smaller in scope. The social and political injustice components are riveting, and uncomfortable to read; published in 2012, Ink anticipated some aspects of real world inkophobia, such as the mass incarceration of refugees and sometimes-permanent removal of children.
---It's a cloying romance novel ("her eyes were magical limpid pools of blah blah"). All four POV characters get romance subplots and they are uniformly bad. Distracting, unconvincing, irritating, boring.
---And it's a quasi-exciting crime thriller. The crime stuff...eh, it was there. The novel was better for not letting these elements take over. The oppression, the ink experience, that's the core of the book.
There's an odd, light treatment of personal 'magicks': one character speaks to land, convincing it to keep intruders out or turn steps briefly into ramps; others are 'twinned' with spirit animals, who don't do much, really, beyond soothing their humans when they're distressed. Evil ghostly spirit-dwarfs appear a few times but their relevance is unclear. I'm not sure what to make of the thread of supernatural running through. It was sometimes appealing but frequently felt out of place.
It's interesting that there's no xenophobic leader to focus our anger on, no reactionary president or demagogue or media giant leading the charge against multiculturalism. The antagonist is simply the system. Society. It's the wave of anti-immigrant sentiment that sweeps across the country and lasts some number of years until it ebbs...somewhat. A fascinating choice by the author. We can't pin the atrocities on some bad guy, because the bad guy is us.
Ink is three books rolled into one:
---It's a socio-political dystopia in the vein of The Handmaid's Tale, although much smaller in scope. The social and political injustice components are riveting, and uncomfortable to read; published in 2012, Ink anticipated some aspects of real world inkophobia, such as the mass incarceration of refugees and sometimes-permanent removal of children.
---It's a cloying romance novel ("her eyes were magical limpid pools of blah blah"). All four POV characters get romance subplots and they are uniformly bad. Distracting, unconvincing, irritating, boring.
---And it's a quasi-exciting crime thriller. The crime stuff...eh, it was there. The novel was better for not letting these elements take over. The oppression, the ink experience, that's the core of the book.
There's an odd, light treatment of personal 'magicks': one character speaks to land, convincing it to keep intruders out or turn steps briefly into ramps; others are 'twinned' with spirit animals, who don't do much, really, beyond soothing their humans when they're distressed. Evil ghostly spirit-dwarfs appear a few times but their relevance is unclear. I'm not sure what to make of the thread of supernatural running through. It was sometimes appealing but frequently felt out of place.
It's interesting that there's no xenophobic leader to focus our anger on, no reactionary president or demagogue or media giant leading the charge against multiculturalism. The antagonist is simply the system. Society. It's the wave of anti-immigrant sentiment that sweeps across the country and lasts some number of years until it ebbs...somewhat. A fascinating choice by the author. We can't pin the atrocities on some bad guy, because the bad guy is us.
June 16, 2023
Ідея така: у недалекому майбутньому ксенофобія до іммігрантів у США розвинулась до такої міри, що приїжджі ідентифікуються за спеціальними татуюваннями, залежно від статусу - громадяни, іноземці з постійним правом на проживання, тимчасові робітники. Історія фокусується в основному довкола кількох людей латиноамериканського походження, а також білих американцях, які самі не зазнають утисків у правах, але з різних причин переймаються долями тих, хто зазнає.
Тут зібрано і поєднано в одну з різних історичних контекстів приклади різних утисків "інших", починаючи від обмежень права на роботу і проживання у певних районах, аж до насильницької стерилізації і відбирання дітей для всиновлення.
Написано - чудово, тому п'ять зірочок без питань. Плюс магічно-реалістичний шар.
Але на рівні месиджу мене весь час щось бісило в цій книжці, і це її неймовірна америкоцентричність. І не в тому сенсі -центричність, що всі події відбуваються в США (за винятком спогадів однієї з героїнь з її дитинства у Ґватемалі), а в тому, що найрізноманітнішим людям в уявлення авторки в Америці як медом намазано, попри всі утиски. Навіть у найсуворіші моменти розвитку цієї антиутопійної ксенофобії, найгірше, що іммігрантам світить - це депортація, а зовсім не газові камери, заради уникнення яких варто було б піддавати себе усім поневірянням. "Просто поїдьте звідси" - так мені весь час хотілося нагарчати на персонажів. Я ще можу зрозуміти якісь емоційні міркування про те, що варто залишатися і боротися за своє місце у країні з боку тих персонажів, які вже у США народилися (але все одно дискриміновані через походження їхніх батьків-дідусів). Але ж там окрім таких є і ті, що легально і нелегально прибувають, причому ми не дізнаємося, що в інших країнах такого коїться (крім громадянської війни у Ґватемалі десятиліття тому, за часів дитинства Марі), причому у всіх, включно з "розвиненими", що ці дискримінаційні умови нібито все одно кращі, ніж повернення на батьківщину чи переїзд деінде. Ні, все одно чомусь краще спершу підробляти татуювання (щоб імітувати наявність права на роботу), згодом підробляти відсутність татуювань, наражатися на фізичну небезпеку під час бунтів, але все ж залишатися в цій благословенній державі.
Тут зібрано і поєднано в одну з різних історичних контекстів приклади різних утисків "інших", починаючи від обмежень права на роботу і проживання у певних районах, аж до насильницької стерилізації і відбирання дітей для всиновлення.
Написано - чудово, тому п'ять зірочок без питань. Плюс магічно-реалістичний шар.
Але на рівні месиджу мене весь час щось бісило в цій книжці, і це її неймовірна америкоцентричність. І не в тому сенсі -центричність, що всі події відбуваються в США (за винятком спогадів однієї з героїнь з її дитинства у Ґватемалі), а в тому, що найрізноманітнішим людям в уявлення авторки в Америці як медом намазано, попри всі утиски. Навіть у найсуворіші моменти розвитку цієї антиутопійної ксенофобії, найгірше, що іммігрантам світить - це депортація, а зовсім не газові камери, заради уникнення яких варто було б піддавати себе усім поневірянням. "Просто поїдьте звідси" - так мені весь час хотілося нагарчати на персонажів. Я ще можу зрозуміти якісь емоційні міркування про те, що варто залишатися і боротися за своє місце у країні з боку тих персонажів, які вже у США народилися (але все одно дискриміновані через походження їхніх батьків-дідусів). Але ж там окрім таких є і ті, що легально і нелегально прибувають, причому ми не дізнаємося, що в інших країнах такого коїться (крім громадянської війни у Ґватемалі десятиліття тому, за часів дитинства Марі), причому у всіх, включно з "розвиненими", що ці дискримінаційні умови нібито все одно кращі, ніж повернення на батьківщину чи переїзд деінде. Ні, все одно чомусь краще спершу підробляти татуювання (щоб імітувати наявність права на роботу), згодом підробляти відсутність татуювань, наражатися на фізичну небезпеку під час бунтів, але все ж залишатися в цій благословенній державі.
January 25, 2023
On dehumanisation in ‘Ink’, by Sabrina Vourvoulias
This post briefly summarises and discusses themes in the novel, Ink, by Sabrina Vourvoulias. The 2012 novel was provided as a set text during the Posthumanism module of my Cultural and Critical Studies (MA) degree. For that reason this post is ‘part mini-review’ and part discussion on how the novel provides a way to explore ideas related to posthumanism; specifically for this text, the concept of dehumanisation.
Vourvoulias’ ancestry is fascinating in its own right and explains much of the passion with which she writes on certain topics, specifically immigration and South American mythology. Vourvoulias’ father was American, born in Chicago to Greek immigrant parents, but raised in Latin America. Vourvoulias’ mother was born and raised in Mexico, then Guatemala, becoming a U.S. citizen two years before her death. This short bio could be described as the backstory, almost the plot, of Ink.
The genre of the book I would describe as supernatural (as in magical realism) dystopian fiction. I can’t decide if I agree with describing this as dystopian. Reading it in 2023, many of the issues dealt with in the text feel hyperreal and current or historically true. The book relates a story in a world where immigrants in the United States have been marked indelibly with biometric tattoos. These immigrants, mostly from South America, are given colour coded tattoos which signify their origin and status. These people are referred to as “inks”. Anti-immigrant rhetoric results in the inks being scapegoated and subjected to increasingly harsh reprisals from the both the government and vigilantes. The “Cleanse America” vigilante group which kidnaps inks and dumps them over the border did not feel like a stretch of the imagination in today’s world.
Many of these inks (and some of the non-inks) possess spirit animals (los nahuales) with varying associated magical powers. The story is narrated by different characters throughout the novel as the lives of the inks are made increasingly awful by an authoritarian government and angry mobs spurred on by anti-immigrant rhetoric. I could just as well be describing Britain in 2023 by this point. As the plot unfolds, various alliances are formed between citizens, spirits, gangsters and geeky teenagers. The love story between one of these teenagers and a gang member has made the book popular and I am not the only reader that was surprised to find themselves rooting for the gang! It’s almost a fun YA romp, except when it’s not because the story had me in tears multiple times and there are some really unpleasant (but not gratuitous) scenes. It’s solid and that’s as much of a review as I am going to attempt here. The rest of this post explores how the story allows for a good discussion on the posthuman themes mentioned at the beginning.
The following section contains spoilers
It will be interesting to hear the views of other students and how they interpreted dehumanisation through their reading of this text.
This post briefly summarises and discusses themes in the novel, Ink, by Sabrina Vourvoulias. The 2012 novel was provided as a set text during the Posthumanism module of my Cultural and Critical Studies (MA) degree. For that reason this post is ‘part mini-review’ and part discussion on how the novel provides a way to explore ideas related to posthumanism; specifically for this text, the concept of dehumanisation.
Vourvoulias’ ancestry is fascinating in its own right and explains much of the passion with which she writes on certain topics, specifically immigration and South American mythology. Vourvoulias’ father was American, born in Chicago to Greek immigrant parents, but raised in Latin America. Vourvoulias’ mother was born and raised in Mexico, then Guatemala, becoming a U.S. citizen two years before her death. This short bio could be described as the backstory, almost the plot, of Ink.
The genre of the book I would describe as supernatural (as in magical realism) dystopian fiction. I can’t decide if I agree with describing this as dystopian. Reading it in 2023, many of the issues dealt with in the text feel hyperreal and current or historically true. The book relates a story in a world where immigrants in the United States have been marked indelibly with biometric tattoos. These immigrants, mostly from South America, are given colour coded tattoos which signify their origin and status. These people are referred to as “inks”. Anti-immigrant rhetoric results in the inks being scapegoated and subjected to increasingly harsh reprisals from the both the government and vigilantes. The “Cleanse America” vigilante group which kidnaps inks and dumps them over the border did not feel like a stretch of the imagination in today’s world.
Many of these inks (and some of the non-inks) possess spirit animals (los nahuales) with varying associated magical powers. The story is narrated by different characters throughout the novel as the lives of the inks are made increasingly awful by an authoritarian government and angry mobs spurred on by anti-immigrant rhetoric. I could just as well be describing Britain in 2023 by this point. As the plot unfolds, various alliances are formed between citizens, spirits, gangsters and geeky teenagers. The love story between one of these teenagers and a gang member has made the book popular and I am not the only reader that was surprised to find themselves rooting for the gang! It’s almost a fun YA romp, except when it’s not because the story had me in tears multiple times and there are some really unpleasant (but not gratuitous) scenes. It’s solid and that’s as much of a review as I am going to attempt here. The rest of this post explores how the story allows for a good discussion on the posthuman themes mentioned at the beginning.
The following section contains spoilers
It will be interesting to hear the views of other students and how they interpreted dehumanisation through their reading of this text.
January 4, 2017
The first thing I read by Sabrina Vourvoulias was her awesome short story El Cantar of Rising Sun in Uncanny Magazine. That's what made me read "Ink", and what a fantastic book this is. Blending fantasy, mythology, love and social strife, politics, history... into a complex and multi-layered story that is a joy to read. The stories and voices of several characters weave and twine together in the telling of "Ink", and each story and character grabbed a piece of my heart.
"Ink" deals with so many things that feel ripped from today's headlines: immigration, xenophobia, the harassment and persecution of people who move into other countries to find a better life (or to save their lives); the use of technology to control and monitor people; the problem of truthful news reporting in an age of fake news, government interference, and social media; and many other political and societal issues. All of that is woven skillfully into the story without ever weighing it down. The scariest part? None of it feels far-fetched. Rather, it sounds eerily like it might happen any day now...
I love how Vourvoulias puts magic right into this story, too. There are other worlds, other powers (both good and evil) that influence the characters and are bound to them, and all this is presented as though it is part of the natural order of things. It creates another unique and interesting layer to the story, and is a big part of what makes this books special.
"Ink" deals with so many things that feel ripped from today's headlines: immigration, xenophobia, the harassment and persecution of people who move into other countries to find a better life (or to save their lives); the use of technology to control and monitor people; the problem of truthful news reporting in an age of fake news, government interference, and social media; and many other political and societal issues. All of that is woven skillfully into the story without ever weighing it down. The scariest part? None of it feels far-fetched. Rather, it sounds eerily like it might happen any day now...
I love how Vourvoulias puts magic right into this story, too. There are other worlds, other powers (both good and evil) that influence the characters and are bound to them, and all this is presented as though it is part of the natural order of things. It creates another unique and interesting layer to the story, and is a big part of what makes this books special.
July 13, 2014
I enjoy dystopian novels; especially when they're well-written. Ink has a great premise and the author, Sabrina Vourvoulias, has an interesting quality to her writing that is reminiscent of a naturally carbonated mineral water. My enjoyment of the novel was repeatedly derailed by the paranormal subplot, which was never fully enough described to elevate it from a solid work to a truly great work; instead the lack scaled my estimation of the work down moderately. I expect that other readers may not be as distressed by the vaguely represented under current.
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October 18, 2016The emotional work that went into reading this story was valuable to me, but the flaws of the storytelling make it hard to recommend it to anyone not specifically looking for near-future dystopian views of immigration policies in the US. I'm inclined to believe that the most unlikeable aspects of the story are commentary and not trope, but it requires giving the author a benefit of the doubt that the narrative does not always earn.
September 15, 2015
More of a 3.75 star. I liked this book, I liked the characters, but I almost wanted more world-building, especially about how ink worked and how the egregious Nazi parallel didn't shut down the idea. I mean, there are plenty of plausible ways to get from there to here, but more of the backstory would have been welcome, especially with so many stories being told at once.
January 28, 2017
With the administration's calls for mass deportation and a Muslim registry, and this country's legacy of internment camps, forced sterilization, and displacement and detainment of its own people and those born elsewhere, how terrifying it is to understand that a novel is foreshadowing our future and reiterating our past. Ink is eerie, timely, and necessary reading.
July 31, 2017
If you're looking for an intense, well-written book that requires only the teeniest tiniest stretch of imagination to make it relevant to contemporary American culture, Ink is for you. Read it alongside The Handmaid's Tale for a one-two punch of dystopian possibility.
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