Eric A. Ponce

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A girl from Zimbabwe finds new ways to read the stars in Novuyo Rosa Tshuma’s second novel after House of Stone (2019). When Athandwa Rosa Siziba is born in 1994, her astronomer father leaves her and her mother, traveling to the United States to participate in the Program, a mysterious and highly selective astrophysics program for radical and non-Western approaches to science.

Athandwa’s father finds great success at the Program and even takes a ride on a billionaire’s rocket into space. He teaches Athandwa to appreciate the beauty of the cosmos as well and eventually tries to bring her to the U.S. These plans fall apart when he returns to Zimbabwe with the intention of convincing Athandwa’s mother to let her move but is killed in a car crash. Over the next few years, Athandwa works hard and eventually gets accepted into the Program, where she can finally fulfill her father’s dreams of researching Indigenous astronomies and perhaps uncover the truth behind his death.

Tshuma writes beautifully about the stars and the people who watch them, mixing poetic prose with tangibly emotional descriptions. In the first part of the book, when Athandwa visits the U.S. and stays with her father and his new family (his new wife is a Haitian immigrant), Athandwa’s childish jealousy provides a hilarious and touching counterpoint to the vexing complexities of immigration. While her father tries to convince her mother to let Athandwa become a U.S. citizen, Athandwa mocks her stepmother and pinches her stepbrother, unsure where her anger is coming from but nonetheless expressing it—showing the depths of her displacement and her desire to belong. This palpable emotional confusion continues in the later parts of the book when Athandwa returns to the U.S. to join the Program. While she feels welcomed at first, she finds that her father’s reputation looms large, and soon she is forced to carve her own niche in astronomy while finding a way to continue honoring her father’s legacy.

The layered nature of Digging Stars allows readers to uncover new ideas and emotions well into the book. Between Athandwa’s desire to follow her father, the rejection she faces from American society and the distressing backdrop of a war-torn Zimbabwe, this book re-creates an intricate web of immigrant life. Tshuma traces multiple stories of family, immigration and self-discovery into a thrilling and beautiful constellation.

Novuyo Rosa Tshuma writes beautifully about the stars and the people who watch them in her second novel, Digging Stars.
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Justin Torres’ Blackouts, released over a decade after his brilliant, successful debut, We the Animals, is in conversation, literally and figuratively, with several other important works of literature. The story takes the form of a dialogue between two men, one at the end of his life and the other young and spry. Juan Gay lies dying in the Palace, a strange, decrepit place in the middle of the desert, where he has brought the narrator, whom he affectionately calls “nene.” The two men discuss how they met in a psychiatric ward and the trajectories of their lives before and after that point, which they describe as both a peak and nadir. Most importantly, they discuss a book on Juan’s shelf, Sex Variants: A Study in Homosexual Patterns written by Jan Gay, who Juan claims to have no relation to. With blacked out passages and beautiful, surreal images woven throughout the narrative, Torres delivers a feverish, thrilling and envelope-pushing novel.

Blackouts brings together several strands of both Latin American and queer literature, making for a moving metatextual conversation. The novel’s form is taken from Argentinian writer Manuel Puig’s 1976 Kiss of the Spider Woman in which two inmates discuss their lives. This dialogic setup allows Torres to mimic and build upon Puig’s ambition to delve into the political and social lives of his characters, illustrating their milieu while piercing their complex interiorities. Another touchstone is Mexican legend Juan Rulfo’s 1955 novel Pedro Páramo in which a man uncovers his family history from the ghostly inhabitants of a desert town. The arid, sweltering setting combined with the preeminence of death and an obsessive search for personal origins connect Torres to this classic and give the novel a mythic quality. At the same time, Sex Variants: A Study in Homosexual Patterns, which is a real book, gives Blackouts a slanted verisimilitude, placing it somewhere between delusion and dream.

Latino identity plays a significant role in the narrative, though it is not solidly defined, nor do the characters, or Torres, claim to have any authority over the matter. Early in the novel, Juan and nene wonder why they were drawn towards each other, and Juan suggests it was their Latinidad, though he clarifies, “I don’t just mean ethnicity, or skin tone; the resemblance is deeper, it carries over to manner as well, doesn’t it?” Here, manner is something like a way of being and acting, a way of holding memory, and Blackouts limns it intimately, in all its cultural and geographical insanity. Juan and nene see each other, they come together and they bring us with them.

With blacked-out passages and beautiful, surreal images woven throughout the narrative, Justin Torres delivers a feverish, thrilling and envelope-pushing novel.

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