Review: Plastic, Prism, Void by Violet Allen, at Locus

Violet Allen has been on my radar for years, since I read her transcendent short story "The Venus Effect" in Lightspeed Magazine. She's also a fun follow on BlueSky, which is where I learned that she was hard at work on her first novel. I've reviewed that novel, Plastic, Prism, Void, for Locus, and what I found in it more than delivers on the promise of that long-ago short story. Like "The Venus Effect", Plastic, Prism, Void is insouciant with a core of seriousness, experimental but also plotty. It follows a trans woman who may also be a witch, and her on-again, off-again boyfriend, a trans man who may also be a mech warrior, as they negotiate their relationship while saving (or is it destroying?) the world. It's also a novel that cheerfully demolishes every stylistic convention in existence, deploying multiple fonts, copious footnotes, and fourth-wall breaking interludes in a way that is delightful, but also invites readers to question the very foundations of its genre.

Allen maintains a satisfying tension between fantastical adventure and relationship drama, and even has time to add some metafictional flourishes to remind us how aware she is of the conversation her novel is wading into. A midnovel interlude features several one- and two-star reviews of Plastic, Prism, Void, which complain about its convoluted structure, pretentious literary refer­ences, unlikable heroine, and bad trans rep. ("We get it. You've read House of Leaves," one grouses.)

Allen's inclusion of these harsh judgments in the book might be taken as fishing for compliments from actual reviewers, and if so then I am happy to indulge her. Plastic, Prism, Void's stylistic excesses make it a thrilling, endlessly surprising read. But they would not work if the romance at the center of the novel were not deeply compel­ling. Acrasia and Opus have a delightful rom-com rapport, sparring winningly over everything from where to eat to what to watch on TV to what the fundamental nature of the universe is. The flash­backs allow us to witness how their relationship has grown, carrying them through their volatile twenties to a more measured present day, and to the realization of how much they need each other. But Allen is also honest about the challenges their relationship faces. As Opus points out, he and Acrasia have spent only a handful of interludes together over more than a decade. They don't know whether their chemistry can translate into something real, and whether they can overcome their differences to build a life together. Acrasia's solution to this dilemma is one last audacious magical act, which may heal her life, and may cost her Opus forever.
Plastic, Prism, Void is one of the most satisfying debuts of this year, and I hope to see it gain a wider audience going forward. Read my review to find out more.

To subscribe to posts on Asking the Wrong Questions, use the RSS feed, or sign up for email notifications at follow.it

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

X-Men: First Class

The first installment of the modern film incarnation of the X-Men franchise came out in 2000, and is generally held to have been the harbinger of the following decade's deluge of superhero and comic book films.  I remember going to see the film several weeks after its US release had been greeted by effusive reviews, which praised it for taking the comic book adaptation an enormous step forward, and wondering what all the fuss was about.  Even knowing next to nothing about the comics, it was clear to me that here was a complex setting that had been shoehorned into the standard Hollywood template of a single hero backed by a team.  The creakiness of that process's result was only exacerbated by a dull story, thin characterization, and lackluster action sequences.  I liked X-Men 2 a little better, but the third film was terrible, and X-Men Origins: Wolverine was even worse.  The franchise, which never seemed to have much life in it to start with, was clearly on i...
Read more

Use of Weapons by Iain M. Banks

Previously on AtWQ's adventures with Iain M. Banks: The Algebraist started out very strong but then descended into silliness (see review ). Consider Phlebas maintained a serious tone throughout, but was ponderous, overlong, and badly written ( review ). Feersum Endjinn was a hell of a lot of fun, not to mention very imaginatively constructed, but built up expectations of an explosive crescendo which it never paid off (no review, but check out item 3 on this recent reading roundup ). I'd like to report that Use of Weapons , by far Banks's most lauded SF novel, is Just Right, and in many ways it does answer my complaints about my previous forays into his back-catalogue. Unlike The Algebraist , it has the courage of its convictions, sustaining its theme of social commentary all the way to its end. Unlike Consider Phlebas , it is just about the right length, much better written, and manages to develop its characters and themes without stalling the narrative. Unlike Feer...
Read more

The Great Tolkien Reread: A Long-Expected Party

Image
"Eleventy-First Birthday" by Nicole Gustafsson He stepped down and vanished. There was a blinding flash of light, and the guests all blinked. When they opened their eyes Bilbo was nowhere to be seen. One hundred and forty-four flabbergasted hobbits sat back speechless. Old Odo Proudfoot removed his feet from the table and stamped. Then there was a dead silence, until suddenly, after several deep breaths, every Baggins, Boffin, Took, Brandybuck, Grubb, Chubb, Burrows, Bolger, Bracegirdle, Brockhouse, Goodbody, Hornblower, and Proudfoot began to talk at once. We begin the tale of The Lord of the Rings with a chapter that quite deliberately recalls and reverses the opening events of The Hobbit . Instead of an unexpected party, there is a long-expected one. Instead of Bilbo rushing out of his home towards adventure without even a single handkerchief, there is a minutely-planned and carefully-orchestrated plan of disappearance and departure. And instead of the incursion of weirdn...
Read more