"There is no longer any such thing as tradition. We are at the end of the world.
Burn my eyes from my head. Burn us all to death. Get it over with. Finish it. Burn us into living matter again."
If this was 2014, this would probably be the most quoted line of all time, plastered on T-shirts, mugs, posters, Tumblr text posts and probably even on some fangirl's skin, freshly inked. If this was the year that Hollywood took to dystopian movies and the trope of teenage brave hearts flipping it off to sadistic authority figures and rigid political systems, this would have been the dialogue that would fetch a fiery young actress (who would go on to become an icon to girls like me) an Oscar.
But this is 2022, the third year of a global pandemic. This could be Greta Thunberg's speech. or AOC's. Or an Instagram post. In 2022, this isn't just a quote. This is an emotion that runs in many minds restlessly. In 2022, this isn't fiction anymore. It is our reality.
I remember reading a thought experiment nearly four years ago for a philosophy 101 class during the initial days of my life in uni. The article was titled "Four futures" and it was a well written piece that fleshed out four possible futures that awaited humanity- two leading towards utopia and two towards dystopia. It was a class full of people raised on dystopian fiction, which at that time (2018) still seemed futuristic and distant. Although things were getting bad since 2016, there was still foolish hope amongst some of us that dystopia wouldn't be the final future. I don't think any of us, the author of the piece including, expected our future to unravel itself so quickly in a matter of four years. I don't think any of us are now surprised that its dystopia.
At such a climate, where we have successfully re-shelved all the dystopian books into the non-fiction section, writing a book about the dying Earth, the war ridden people of this planet, megalomaniac politicians and young altruistic heroes is an act of self sabotage. Who would read a story that they already know by heart? When we have already shed tears about the ending, is there still mystery?
Somehow Lidia Yuknavitch has done the impossible. She had me engrossed, captivated and at the edge of my seat whilst reading a dystopian novel- a tale told many times- almost like it was my first time discovering the genre. I don't know many authors who possess this magical ability to do so but I am grateful to each one of them that has the power to open up a portal in my mind.
The Book of Joan made me want to roll my sleeves up aggressively on many occasions. It made me want to hug the mango tree in my yard that I grew up with. It inspired an urge to fall on to the ground and kiss Mother Earth repeatedly. It made me bawl out for animals and their kind little eyes that watch their lives burn. Because in this book, whatever's left of the Human species lives on a strange floating entity above Earth called Ciel in a post apocalyptic future. The Earth is uninhabitable and most of its animals and resources are dead or dying. Only the rich survive on Ciel- until they hit 50, after which they are casually pruned out of existence.
We've seen similar cityscapes in books like Dune and Hunger Games but what makes this book stand apart and send chills down your spine is that it is a very unique re-telling of the Joan of Arc's story. Even the supporting characters are famous people brought alive from the depths of history. The narrator of the book and Joan's ardent supporter is none other than Christine AKA Christine de Pizan, famous Italian poet in the French court during the early renaissance period. Back in the day she was a vocal advocate for equality and women's empowerment; which is legendary considering the time she belonged to. I wasn't surprised by this casting when I found out that Christine de Pizan famously wrote a long poem in honour of Joan's bravery and courage. Her literary counterpart does something similar in the story that we have here. She grafts Joan's song all over her skin as a form of protest and as a legacy. It is the only way of keeping record of past in Ciel- by grafting words over your skin.
The antagonist, the celebrity turned dictator is none other than Jean de Meun, French poet who was a contemporary to Christine Pizan during the renaissance. His work was extremely misogynistic and awful even for that time, and Ms. Pizan chewed him up constantly with her criticism. So, in the book Christine and Jean are still nemeses and we get to see Joan kick some misogynist ass- its a win-win for everyone.
Over the years there have been many retellings of Joan of Arc's story. Some have raised her as a Feminist icon, some have adorned her as a Queer icon, some have her shelved on the mantle as a religious martyr and lately she is being raised as a young activist. In all of the retellings, Joan of Arc's bravery and nerve are standard. They build her up to be a selfless, rebellious young woman. Lidia Yuknavitch borrows from the previous stories to make her Joan a bolder Greta Thunberg. I like her take because it is particularly relevant to today's social climate where young people are passionate and fearless and add their voices to important causes. This story stresses on the need for everyone to listen to these young voices, and that is something I fully resonate with.
Yuknavitch doesn't just reimagine Joan and other historical figures in this gripping story, she also radically reinvents the idea of a selfless, young, protagonist-saviour. The book strays from the classic The world is saved trope and flows into an uncharted territory where the main character, Joan, is weighed down by the truth- the singular epiphany- to save the world you must destroy it.
This realisation splits the book into two; before and after. Who is a hero? Is destruction salvation? Would you trigger the Earth to crumble and swallow everything familiar to you if that meant it would save the world?
Not many dystopian novels make you question the familiar. This one does. Which is why you should read it, treasure it and retain it. Especially now because this might as well be a prophecy.
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