Over the next five months, I’m reading and reviewing ten pioneering works of science fiction written by women. This is my eighth pick. Stay tuned for more.
Who Fears Death is the coming of age story of Onyesonwu as she becomes a sorceress and hunts her father, the sorcerer who has been trying to kill her. The book is set in a future, post-apocalyptic Sudan with relic technology — computers and electronics — and relic societal baggage — pervasive rape and racially motivated genocide. Past and present, technology and magic mix into an epic tale.
The prose of Who Fears Death is curt, with short repetitive sentences delivered in quick succession. For example, Onyesonwu narrates at the end of Chapter 39 “That night, Diti slept alone, though I doubt she slept at all. And Luyu and Fanasi spent the first full but quiet night together in Fanasi’s tent. And Mwita and I found comfort in each other’s bodies well into the night. Come morning, the sun was blotted out by an approaching wall of sand.” Each of these sentences is approximately fifteen words, several sentences begin with “and”, and the prose is delivered with little emotion or commentary. Read silently, this gives a jagged feel to the narration. Who Fears Death is framed as an oral history to a scribe, so it is no surprise that listening to an audio narration as I did makes the prose come alive.
I alternated between reading the text and listening to the audiobook, and found the oral presentation significantly more engaging. Moreover, the audiobook was read in Onyesonwu’s native accent. Initially, I found this off-putting as it was performed Anne Flosnik, a reader who did not have the accent in her native wheelhouse and took audible pains to get each and every syllable right, to the point the reading seemed forced and artificial. However, I settled into the rhythm of the language and the accent — however labored — morphed sentences which sounded curt on the page into an experience that was musical and epic in tone.
Who Fears Death is a work approachable by young adults, despite its serious themes. The book is on the short side for a science fantasy novel: it begins and ends with Onyesonwu in her teens, covering relatable teenage problems alongside its driving plot. Yet the work is not censored by any readership target and is equally appropriate and accessible to adult readers. Its treatment of sex and violence is frank, complicated, and nuanced. The young women enjoy sex while also being subject to cultural forces that tell them they should not be doing so. The most powerful scene in the work is one in which Onyesonwu voluntarily undergoes a clitoridectomy at eleven years old, in a bid not to be ostracized by her classmates and a misguided attempt to protect her family’s reputation. Onyesonwu forms a bond based on shared trauma with the other young girls who underwent the procedure, and these girls later join her on her quest. Onyesonwu regrets her decision and works to repair the damage through her growing magical powers.
Onyesonwu’s quest is presented as just, but she herself is a complicated, flawed protagonist, quick to anger and slow to reflect on her shortcomings. When a friend traveling with her on her quest suggests that Onyesonwu “is used to living like an animal in the sand,” Onyesonwu brutally beats her, saying “she screamed and kept trying to scramble away but I held her tightly. I flipped her over. She screeched again, slapping me in the face. I slapped her back even harder. I grabbed her hands, sitting on her chest. I held them together with my right hand and then proceeded to slap her face back and forth with my left. ‘You vapid whore! You diseased goat’s penis! You stupid idiotic breastless little girl.’”
This treatment is given to a friend; Onyesonwu’s enemies and acquaintances fare much worse. Along her quest to stop genocide and find her father, Onyesonwu murders countless strangers, good and evil alike, without a deep examination of her own brutality. Her personality flaws balance her growing strength as a sorceress, making the work richer and more nuanced. Her powers might be magical, but her character flaws and personal journey are grounded in everyday experience.