Wonderblood Is an Impossibly Weird and, Yes, Wondrous Post-Apocalyptic Science Fantasy
Wonderblood, the debut novel by Julia Whicker, feels timeless, like a classic fairy tale rediscovered. In her novel of prophecy, science, strange “magic,” and even stranger people, there’s a lyricism even at the most grotesque moments, a method of finding beauty even in the most disfigured prophetess or shrunken head. The same lyricism creates a vibrant world and characters, lending Whicker’s epic, apocalyptic fantasy an air of wonder and danger that permeates the world in much the same way the titular toxic substance infects the land. The result is a gorgeous, heady, and deep science fantasy, one that could call such works as A Canticle for Leibowitz and Gormenghast both kin, and signals a new, truly weird voice to watch in fantasy.
Wonderblood
Hardcover $26.99
Wonderblood
Hardcover $26.99
In a future devastated by an unspecified toxic disaster, where science has been perverted into a form of magical ritual wielded only by those who rule, the world is controlled by a despotic kingdom whose seat rests in the shadow of Cape Canaveral’s rocket towers, awaiting the prophesied return of the space shuttles. The lands outside Canaveral are ruled by the Carnivals, nomadic travelling shows featuring executions, head-shrinking, and numerous other forms of depravity in service of their own twisted rituals. Into this world comes Aurora, a young woman, taken as a hostage when her brother’s carnival falls, pressed into “marriage” to an ambitious carnival leader named Mr. Capulatio, a ruthless man with designs on the world and a strange book of prophecy that tells him exactly what he needs to know. But fate has other designs, and as two mysterious lights appear in the night sky, the kingdom’s Hierophant, Mr. Capulatio, and his resourceful companion all have their roles to play in the days to come.
In a future devastated by an unspecified toxic disaster, where science has been perverted into a form of magical ritual wielded only by those who rule, the world is controlled by a despotic kingdom whose seat rests in the shadow of Cape Canaveral’s rocket towers, awaiting the prophesied return of the space shuttles. The lands outside Canaveral are ruled by the Carnivals, nomadic travelling shows featuring executions, head-shrinking, and numerous other forms of depravity in service of their own twisted rituals. Into this world comes Aurora, a young woman, taken as a hostage when her brother’s carnival falls, pressed into “marriage” to an ambitious carnival leader named Mr. Capulatio, a ruthless man with designs on the world and a strange book of prophecy that tells him exactly what he needs to know. But fate has other designs, and as two mysterious lights appear in the night sky, the kingdom’s Hierophant, Mr. Capulatio, and his resourceful companion all have their roles to play in the days to come.
If there’s one thing that stands out above the embarrassment of riches in Wonderblood, it’s Julia Whicker’s ability to find beauty even in the most grotesque of circumstances. Her eye transforms the post-apocalyptic America into a surrealist painting, at once beautiful but also horrifying to behold, lending an odd, disquieting poetry to things like the diseased legs of a religious figure in the palace at Cape Canaveral, the earless surgeon imprisoned by the Kingdom’s hierophant, the vision of the central character as a girl in a pure white dress in the center of a battlefield, or the central character’s shrunken head, adorned with sigils and black jewels. Adding to the surrealistic beauty of the work, Whicker has seventeen black and white drawings further illustrating the bizarre world of Canaveral, the Carnivals, and the surrounding environs, depicting the Royal Court and the surrounding environs in a loose, lush style that only helps outline the grotesquerie and beauty in equal measure.
A Canticle for Leibowitz
Paperback $9.99
A Canticle for Leibowitz
In Stock Online
Paperback $9.99
The lyricism also lends itself to the book’s atmosphere and tone. Wonderblood has a timeless feel to it, like a classical fantasy novel made exceptionally dark in the telling. The timeless, lyrical feel of the work doesn’t just begin and end with bizarre visuals and colorful characters like Hierophant Marvel and Mr. Capulatio, but extends itself to the dialogue (characters frequently use “O” instead of the more modern “Oh,” for example), the way even the scientists of the setting use methods of science even more antiquated than what might usually be found in a post-apocalyptic setting, and the way all the rituals have a certain significance (as well as the grotesquerie of the participants, such as Marvel’s attempt to atone for something he hasn’t done yet) evokes shades of Mervyn Peake in its depictions of a crumbling kingdom full of beauty, wonder, and insanity. Whicker’s post-cataclysm America is one so far removed from any sort of time as to be an entire realm unto itself, with some familiarities (the idea that people borne of Florida are mostly madmen, for example) to connect it to the America it draws inspiration from.
The lyricism also lends itself to the book’s atmosphere and tone. Wonderblood has a timeless feel to it, like a classical fantasy novel made exceptionally dark in the telling. The timeless, lyrical feel of the work doesn’t just begin and end with bizarre visuals and colorful characters like Hierophant Marvel and Mr. Capulatio, but extends itself to the dialogue (characters frequently use “O” instead of the more modern “Oh,” for example), the way even the scientists of the setting use methods of science even more antiquated than what might usually be found in a post-apocalyptic setting, and the way all the rituals have a certain significance (as well as the grotesquerie of the participants, such as Marvel’s attempt to atone for something he hasn’t done yet) evokes shades of Mervyn Peake in its depictions of a crumbling kingdom full of beauty, wonder, and insanity. Whicker’s post-cataclysm America is one so far removed from any sort of time as to be an entire realm unto itself, with some familiarities (the idea that people borne of Florida are mostly madmen, for example) to connect it to the America it draws inspiration from.
Wonderblood is something special and timeless, a book that evokes the best of classic fantasy with its odd humors, dark magics, and surrealistic bent. Whicker’s debut novel shows tremendous imagination, and her command of the surreal and sometimes grotesque imagery and weirdly lyrical atmosphere combine to make something truly original. This is a book that people will hopefully read and talk about for years to come, and it deserves all the attention it could possibly be given. If her first novel is any indication of Whicker’s power and talent, she will definitely be one to watch, as Wonderblood‘s unnerving poetry proves that weirdness can (and has a right to) exist fully in the mainstream.