Get yourself a copy, and you won’t be disappointed. A Thousand Perfect Things by Kay Kenyon combines magic, science, and adventure with a rare talent.
Kay Kenyon is a growing powerhouse in the Sci-Fi/Fantasy community, and an even bigger powerhouse in her native Pacific Northwest. She has published eleven books and was nominated for the Philip K. Dick award for her novel Maximum Ice. At the SFWA October Reading in the Seattle area last week, Kenyon graced the Wild Rover Pub with a reading from a work in progress, an alternate history of World War II where psychic powers may tip the balance between European powers. I’m sitting there completely enthralled, but who has time to wait for a work in progress? I ended up buying a copy of Kenyon’s 2013 novel A Thousand Perfect Things, her first foray into the fantasy realm.
A Thousand Perfect Things is close to perfection itself, at least as far as entertainment is concerned. It didn’t take me long to feel fully absorbed and invested in this alternate retelling of British imperialism and of the battle between Western “reason” and Easter mysticism, or “magic” as it is in this fantasy novel. In this universe, the scientific Anglics have colonized and extorted the India-like Bharata. Kenyon’s protagonist, the young aspiring botanist Astoria “Tori” Harding, is a well-wrought character with realistic flaws: she’s confident in her scientific prowess, but self-conscious of a limp she’s carried since birth; she’s open-minded for the aristocratic circles she was born into, but she’s undeniably naive in all matters cultural, sexual, and magical. When a series of terrorist attacks (in the form of iron lion statues coming to life and giant snakes made from the Thames’ stinking waters) plague “Londinium,” the upper echelons of Anglic government decide a harder hand is needed with the upstarts in the colonies of Bharata. Tori accompanies her military father to a new post in Poondras, where she encounters a world she couldn’t have imagined and can’t empirically analyze. Kenyon keeps a wonderfully fast pace without mincing on beautiful descriptions of the landscape, exotic (to Tori) clothing, and fantastical wildlife.
Among the fantastical animals are “krakens.” Not the giant squids we’re used to seeing in fantasy depictions, but more like massive sea snakes that plague the oceans between Anglica and Bharata.
Tori’s journey to Bharata is inspired by one thing: the last quest of her beloved grandpapa to find the Nelumbo aureus, the golden lotus said to emanate magical properties. She’s willing to brave the hostile politics, hostile wildlife, and even more hostile bush priests to prove her grandfather’s theory. She and the characters in this novel are pursuing their hearts’ desires. Many will fall short and many will be surprised at what their hearts truly desired.
The golden lotus of A Thousand Perfect Things is an object of scientific discovery for Tori Harding, but it’s an object of spiritual revelation to the people of Bharata. (Pic from NatureProducts.net)
The tale in itself is wonderful. Tori’s goal to redeem her grandfather is inspiring and sympathetic. The political scene of an uneasy colony of a patronizing, militant occupier is familiar enough that I wasn’t lost, but different enough to not read like a carbon copy of our universe’s history books. However, I can’t help coming to books such as this without distinctly feeling my non-whiteness, and while I appreciate Kenyon’s attempt to tackle the difficult issues of colonization and racial discrimination, I’m not quite convinced that an opportunity wasn’t missed here. The fantasy and sci-fi genres allow for new perspectives to be applied to age-old, human controversies like these, but the characters in ATPT seem to still exist in a world where Western thought is considered reasonable and Eastern thought considered mystical. With the exception of two characters, all Bharatis are depicted as bitter, violent malcontents, while the atrocities of the occupying Anglic force are downplayed. Tori eroticizes one of the two sympathetic Bharati characters, using him for sexual experience. The protagonist’s objectification of the exotic Prince Jai slightly sours what was supposed to be a powerful moment of sexual liberation. Granted, the protagonist is Anglican, and therefore her biased perspective is expected, but I was hanging onto the hope that Kenyon would find a way to resolve my feelings of otherness by the end of the book. And by the end (no spoilers, don’t worry) I did feel better about the situation, but this is not a story about Bharata–it is the story of Anglics in Bharata.
On a grand scale, Kenyon succeeded with A Thousand Perfect Things. She created a story that felt new, bettered the genre of alternate histories, and was almost entirely enjoyable. I can’t ignore my own albeit mild frustrations and discomfort regarding race, though, and while that’s my only criticism of this book, it’s a legitimate issue for me and worthy of analysis. That being said, I’ll still be reading more of Kay Kenyon, who is a fabulous storyteller, and A Thousand Perfect Things will still hold a special place on my shelf!
I have a signed thing! It was a joy to meet Kay Kenyon at the SFWA reading, and she graciously autographed my book. Equally joyous was her reading from her novel-in-progress, At the Table of Wolves.
*** MINOR SPOILERS ***
My other disappointment came at the very end of the book. Don’t read this book if you don’t like happy endings. Having just finished the novel, I’m still feeling sore about this, but an ending so neatly wrapped up doesn’t feel right to me, especially after the heart-wrenching, gory climax Kenyon constructs. I felt a little let down.
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