Afterworlds by Scott Westerfeld

⭐⭐⭐⭐

I read this in middle school and was probably not the target audience, coming close off reading Westerfeld's Uglies series, a fairly typical but engrossing dystopian series, the kind of book my mother would call "candy" and where I was cringing with second hand embarrassment at the main character's lies to her new revolutionary crew and would skim uncomprehendingly through the bland straight teen romance. But finding Afterworlds one day in the public library was a quiet revelation to me, something new and fascinating, something to fold up and keep in my backpocket to wonder at and slowly chart a future into.

Published in September 2014, before # own voices campaigns rose and as We Need Diverse Books was just getting started that April, Scott Westerfeld released a novel that weaved two narratives together, first; the story of Darcy Patel, a debut author navigating her somewhat abrupt move to New York City, where she goes on sort-of dates with more prolific authors in hidden gem noodle resturants, has anxious late night conversations about the politics of pulling from one's cultural mythologies for profit, falls for a woman who's pen name has become real, and has awkward small talk about the of author last names to shelf eye level. Full disclosure, I didn't reread the book for this review so just the bits that I'm starting to remember and the quiet way that it comes back to me is kind of amazing, like pulling details from an old dream, or stepping stones emerging in front of you that you never realized were there. The second narrative, though, which holds Darcy's second book, a thriller much more in Westerfeld's Uglies vein, feels like a faint nightmare, I can only remember a scene where the main character finds something horrifying in her neighbor's garden and a circular chase scene, and it's possible that I made this up and that I never even read most of the second story, which seemed much less appealing than a young lesbian coming of age in the publishing world that I desperately wanted to get my claws into. Afterworlds still has a special place in my heart, it's clearly not perfect, I'm sure if I read it back now I would cringe at pieces of the men-writing-women (especially lesbians- especially lesbians of color) syndrome, or as a college student around the same age as Darcy now (which is terrifying by the way, I still think of Darcy as at least 24) question some age differences and ways in which the publishing industry might be idealized. A lot of the scenes really rang true for me at the time though, specifically when Darcy recieves her first round of editor notes and has to deal with pride and pain in getting truthful feedback, something I struggle with so much that at the time I don't think I'd shown my writing to another soul-RSD is a true joy. Seeing Darcy being able to call her girlfriend and talk about that hurt and how authors navigate all the reviews nd comments that can feel so deeply personal was so comforting. Their relationship always felt so homey to me, dates like the noodle shop I mentioned that feel realistic, the two of them hanging out on rooftops at author parties to hide from small talk, sharing manuscripts when her girlfriend admits something along the lines of "I was so scared I would have to pretend to like it, but you- you've got the juice". I've always been a sucker for lesbian writing power couples who make their own families, and looking back, it's fucking amazing that I got a taste of that in 2014 from Scott Westerfeld, of all people. I talked about how if I read it now I would likely have more critiques of him as a white man (I won't speculate on his sexuality) writing a Indian lesbian woman and discussing cultural appropration and ethics with other writers of color. Clearly I can't comment on the Indian representation (I've looked a little and can't find a review that speaks to that yet, feel free to link one if you find it though!) but I remember the lesbian representation being thoughtful and heartwarming, not falling into the lesbian oversexualization trope. It gave me a small hope and note of acceptance in a young adult landscape that at the time felt pretty homogenously cis straight dystopian thrillers, which to me felt like fun rides but vaguely and inexplicably hollow. Afterworlds held that empty space for me for a time, and the rush at finding a book that feels like home, even if you don't know why yet is something that I kept chasing for years. The nonbinary actor Bridgette Lundy Pain once said that queer people are scavengers- "As queer viewers, we have to be such scavengers. Those of us who consume art, mainstream art, fucking dig. We look around."

Scavenging can be exhausting, but when you find what you're looking for, it's a shot of hope in the dark. It might not make much sense to write a review for a book that came out six years ago, with no huge popularity, a mediocre 3.7 rating, that doesn't have any new buzz or relevance, in a time where new, own voices content is coming out strong with new and thrilling books to read. But as I stumble through my old memories of this book, I find myself quietly impressed and appreciative that it existed at all, for me to find at the public library that day sandwiched between beatup dystopian paperbacks.