The Pandemic Trauma We Haven’t Processed: A Review of ‘Your Shadow Half Remains’ by Sunny Moraine

Listened to this on a drive to visit family a few weekends back and while I think the story is incredibly compelling — and can see why it was included in the Locust: 2024 Recommended Reading list — it is perhaps not exactly the sort of thing that will have you on an even keel as you chat idly over sandwiches, or sip beer at the bowling alley.

Your Shadow Half Remains is unsettling. Macabre, and gritty, it is a fictional lens through which we can see the world as it could be if we let the intrusive thoughts win. It is a lens through which we can see how little difference there is between that world and reality. What the world might look like if everything fell apart. And perhaps most surprisingly, how similar that would look to now.

Alright, enough theatrics, what the hell am I talking about? I don’t like to give spoilers or summaries in my posts, but a basic understanding of the book’s premise feels important to know going in. I sorta picked this one up based on its availability (the library had a copy ready to borrow) and its length (which coincided with how long I had to drive) and didn’t really read the premise further than its comps which are The Last of Us and Bird Box.

Note: I love The Last of Us (with a slight preference for the show over the game), but have never seen Bird Box though I have a vague understanding that it might be similar in vibe and premise to A Quiet Place which I thought was great.

Essentially YSHR is set during a sort of half-finished apocalypse caused by a pandemic in which looking someone directly in the eyes may cause you or them to go into a murderous rage in which someone usually ends up dying. Generally it is whoever is closest to the “infected”, and when there is nobody within range, the “infected” will generally kill themselves. Pretty brutal.

There’s no patient zero like in a traditional zombie apocalypse (it starts happening all over the world simultaneously) and no real defense other than locking yourself away, smashing all your mirrors (apparently even looking at your own face can “infect” you), and avoiding contact with anyone and everyone until you either make a mistake and accidently get infected, or crack under the pressure of isolation and kill yourself from the hopelessness of it all.

Yea. Not a light read (lol).

The main character, Riley, is already starting to buckle under the weight of it all when the story begins, however it seems to the reader like she has a pretty steady handle on things at the beginning of the story, lonely sure, but alive and steady; until a new person moves into town, and Riley and this new person form as much of a kind of friendship as one can in this bizarre and fearful world.

Two things stand out while reading (or listening to) YSHR. First and perhaps most obvious is the brutality of the situation. But the second thing is in the details, in the documentation of a sort of collectively remembered trauma which up until now, I don’t feel many are talking about.

The isolation, the anxiety and uncertainty, the constant evolution (or devolution really) of things we relied on. The incomprehensibility of the world around you, despite better and more up-to-the-minute coverage of the state of things through social media and regular news. The complete failure of the government or scientists (in the early days) to provide any real understanding or guidance. The inconsistency of experience. The constant change in the supposed “rules” of just about everything . . .

Feel familiar?

It’s an interesting approach. In many respects, the pandemic experienced in YSHR is clearly a lot worse than what we experienced in real life during Covid-19. And yet it feels like truth, and like the unsaid thing we all were feeling during those times as we tried to survive because seemingly the only way out was through.

I also can’t help but think about how this book will read maybe 15 years from now. Not by me, but by the kids who were young, or not even born yet when the pandemic happened. It obviously won’t hit in the same way, but I’m so curious as to how it will hit for those future generations.

If there is any part of YSHR which I feel is evergreen, or might hit similarly for readers whether or not they have lived through their own pandemic, it’s what Ancillary Review of Books called the novella’s “…most fascinating element…” which is:

“…the examination of our innate need for human connection. In our lives, we seek out human connection, even though there is always the possibility that the connections we form will end up hurting us.” – If Looks Could Kill: Review of Your Shadow Half Remains by Sunny Moraine

Give ‘Your Shadow Half Remans‘ a Read?

Yes, but maybe don’t rush into anything which requires you to be cheerful after you’ve read it. This story will sit with you, and I think it is worth the experience to sit with it for a while.

There were a few times while driving I thought to turn it off, but I think what kept me listening, was that despite all the broken glass littering the story, this novella is itself a kind of mirror, reflecting back the collective trauma of perhaps one of our toughest times to date. That despite the danger in looking, this book seems to make us feel seen.

That’s all I have for you this week. Has anyone read this one before? What where your thoughts? Is it too soon to be reading “Pandemic Novels”? Leave your thoughts in the comments section. I’m looking forward to talking about this one!

Until next time . . .

Should ‘Black Sun’ Get A Hugo? #WyrdAndWonder

For new viewers from the #WyrdAndWonder crowd (also check out my previous Wyrd And Wonder Posts), I’ve been working my way through a really long list of Hugo contenders and asking the question: “Should [book title] get a Hugo?”

Obviously, my priorities changed slightly once the Hugo Finalists were announced, but I’m still going to be blogging as many of the original list as I can until the award is given sometime in December.

Luckily for me, this book fits squarely into the Fantasy genre, and I’m not going to have any qualms reviewing it as part of Wyrd And Wonder.

Now, this is only the second book on the finalist list that I’ve finished, and for me, it is the front runner for the award right now. I reviewed Network Effect by Martha Wells, a while back, and concluded that while it was a great book (and I love me some Murderbot!), it was not the right choice for the Hugo this year, as I decided it wasn’t ‘new’ enough to really reflect the genre at this moment.

Black Sun by Rebecca Roanhorse is the first entry in (what I assume) will be a trilogy (or maybe a series), and there is very little here that I would not consider ‘new’, at least to me.

The first thing I noticed about the book (other than its harrowing first chapter), was the depth of the world in which the story takes place. In an interview with Roanhorse on NPR, the author says she’d been:

“. . . reading about Pre-Columbian cultures for decades. But for this book I really dug into everything from Polynesian sailing methods to what we know of the Maritime Maya to the habits of corvids. I also read a lot about crows.”

https://www.npr.org/2020/10/17/924734316/i-longed-to-see-something-different-so-i-wrote-it-questions-for-rebecca-roanhors

All of that is used to awe inspiring effect in Black Sun, whether it be out in the sea, sailing the mother waters under a Teek captain, or crossing the Holy City of Tova’s suspension bridges to be closer to the sky. And after 464 pages (well almost 13 hrs for me on audio), there is still so much more of this world I would like to see.

I also really enjoyed the role that crows played in this story. Our black feathery friends (or maybe enemies) are never skimped upon when it comes to depictions in literature – renown as tricksters, harbingers (of fate or death), and companions to the gods of many cultures – the crows in Black Sun felt fresh and different, and I’m anxiously awaiting more stories like it.

Also important, I learned a new (to me) pronoun. Shey/shem/sheir/shemselves. It’s no secret that people learn from the books we read, it is perhaps one of the most important reasons to read in the first place, to expand our horizons. I’m thankful to Rebecca Roanhorse for including this detail in her work.

Finally, the book felt like it had a story to tell that was more than just the events that happened in the plot (I suppose in English classes they call that theme). In particular, the book deals with prejudice in many varieties, but I felt that despite the darkness of the events that were taking place, I still held hope that perhaps those prejudices could be overcome.

So Hugo?

Yup! This one is the one for me so far (and actually a bit of a surprise since I did not much enjoy Roanhoarse’s other Hugo contender Trail of Lightning). I think what sold it for me (say over Network Effect I mentioned earlier), was the themes which seem so prescient, and of this moment, as to be a worthy representation of what the genre is considering during 2021 (well 2020 I guess but these lines are fuzzy).

Anyway, that’s all I have to say about Black Sun. Please let me know what you thought of the book in the comments! Thanks for reading!