It’s been a while since I’ve had so much difficulty writing a book review. This has nothing to do with my current work load, or even with the book being bad—far from it, the book is absolutely brilliant. You can see why it won a Nebula. It’s just surreal And a little opaque. But in a very impressive way. Especially when you consider that this is the author’s debut novel.
The Saint of Bright Doors is the story of a young man named Fetter, who was born to serve as a tool: “The moment Fetter is born, Mother-of-Glory pins his shadow to the earth with a large brass nail and tears it from him.” This act leaves Fetter almost weightless—he has to concentrate to keep himself tethered to the ground. Mother-of-Glory raises Fetter to kill his father—The Perfect and Kind—a distant, charismatic cult like figure. But Fetter does not want that for himself; something about Mother-of-Glory’s urging of “The only way to change the world is through intentional, directed violence” does not resonate with the teenager. Instead, he makes a small life for himself in the city of Luriat—and small he mostly stays.
Luriat is a fascinating character in and of itself, a product that only a certain strain of magical realism could conjure. It is, in some ways, very modern, with its plastic furniture, dating apps and crowdfunding campaigns. It is also a city with a strong hierarchical structure and the constant threat of state violence hanging over it. No one lives easily in Luriat. There are a lot of new immigrants settling in, bringing new faces, and more than notable number of minacious disappearances off the street that keep the populace on their toes, forever cautious. And if the state doesn’t get you, perhaps one of the plagues will. Something like Fetters mysterious lack of shadow? To a populace always looking over their shoulder, it’s barely worth commenting on.
And then there are the Bright Doors. These strange doors are the only doors in Luriat that are ever fully shut. Any door could become a Bright Door if left closed long enough, so the majority of doors and gates in the city are left slightly ajar. Once a door has become a Bright Door, they become oddly indestructible. There are many people in the city who study, worship, and work towards the containment of the Bright Doors, with the most active area of research being the act of ‘translation’; when a regular door becomes something else, something more. But that seems to be the purview of rich privileged graduate students; when Fetter is given the opportunity to study the doors, it’s under an assumed name and identity.
Interestingly though, despite the oppressive nature of Luriat, Fetter comes across as very listless and detached, especially in the first half of the novel. And the narrative reflects that; there’s less focus on the big picture and more on day to day goings on between different factions, all with a dream-like patina covering them. You drift from one scene to the next, with little tension. You get the impression that Fetter is someone who mostly gave up on agency long ago. He has one trick left—he tries to compartmentalize his life. From one angle, he’s a failed Chosen One. Then he’s Fetter, an immigrant to Luriat who wants to continue an unassuming existence with his boyfriend. Then he’s Peroe the well-to-do student from an acceptable caste who gets overly involved in Bright Doors. And no matter what compartment he finds himself in, Fetter still drifts. Not even aggressive phone calls from Mother-of-Glory can really pin him down. (Maybe she should blame herself for her son’s lack of tether.)
But in the end, it doesn’t help him. There is no insulating yourself form the politics of the state. This is especially the case if your father and his cult frequently serve as the justification for the censorship and the violence being carried out.
While I have given it my best try, I’ll confess, I’ve had a very hard time trying to explain—even to myself—the atmosphere presented in The Saint of Bright Doors. The city itself sometimes reminded me of some of China Miéville’s works, while some of the more bizarre scenarios could be compared to those conjured up by Josiah Bancroft. And, not for a spoiler per se, but perhaps a small peak behind the curtain: Tamsyn Muir’s Harrow the Ninth. But really, it is as much as its own thing as anything else, but I could see fans of these other authors appreciating what they might find.
I also have to add that while reading The Saint of Bright Doors, I frequently found myself sitting there thinking about how I really don’t have the background knowledge to parse all of this. The author, Vajra Chandrasekera, is Sri Lankan, and while I recognize that he is pulling from recent events in his country’s history, I am not really knowledgeable enough. There are absolutely things I am missing here. The same goes with the references to Buddhism* I know enough to recognize them, but I feel that there is a lot more I’d be able to appreciate if I knew more.
But despite my difficulties reviewing this book, The Saint of Bright Doors is both impressive, and refreshingly original. It’s just not straightforward.