I was having fun with this novel’s creative and interesting concepts, vivid and beautiful settings, and snappy pacing and humor—up until an on-page sexual assault, which was afterwards never addressed as such. There is context to the assault, and so your reaction may, in all fairness, vary. But to me it was entirely off-putting. It feels pointless, therefore, to even mention that, though the premise is unique, I think it would appeal broadly to urban fantasy readers. I did wish from the start that the novel had been more tightly edited. The pacing, while snappy and fun, also felt at times uneven and abrupt. While I don’t have opinions about chapter lengths in general, I did struggle with how wildly these varied. My edition was also chock-full of typos, which don’t generally catch my attention unless they’re copious and egregious.

I initially was looking for something more complicated, more challenging, more than a—beautiful—recounting of beliefs I already hold and live toward. I came, however, to appreciate the work’s straightforwardness and forthrightness. It is clear-eyed about the state of the world to which it speaks. It has both heart and analysis. It is direct about its demands of the reader and of the world. I highly recommend to anyone who enjoys memoirs!

No rating because I lack the capacity to fully comprehend and evaluate this—a fact that I find a bit galling to admit. I normally pride myself on being able to research and acquire any background knowledge required to appreciate the books I read. Here, though, I think I would need not just information about Angolan history and politics, but a good sense of the culture of Luanda, including some knowledge of Portuguese.

I was initially reading this as a novel about a city much like many others (especially in the Global South), full of characters whose stories were meant to feel real and human. Then, I came across this passage:

• “yes, you can, sure, have a good trip, the National Police wish you gentlemen scientists an excellent stay and concomitantly a correspondingly good eclipse!” “your Portuguese is wonderful!” the Brazilian appeared to be genuinely startled “thank you, have a good day,” the policeman saluted and went to divide up the pack of cigarettes with his colleague “the police here are nice guys except that they like to smoke other people’s cigarettes,” the scientist commented “they’re like me,” the agent remarked, “i smoke but i don’t assume” “you don’t inhale? you got some kind of health problem?” “no, i smoke but i don’t like to assume the losses from actually buying cigarettes” the Brazilian laughed, he liked the joke

There’s clearly meant to be humor here—at least one joke, probably a pun, maybe more—but I don’t think it translates into English at all. It made me wonder how many other jokes I’d been missing throughout the book. I can say with some confidence that the depictions of women are misogynistic. If they’re also meant as humorous, then, across cultures, I don’t find it funny. Are the men also meant to be simple caricatures, or something more?

There is some hallucinatory and enchanting imagery, especially in the first half of the novel. There are some touching and sad moments in the second half of the book. There is no plot; there are a few important events, but they happen without warning, anticipation, or—for the most part—consequence. I’m left feeling unsatisfied and wishing I hadn’t spent so much time reading this book, at least at this point in my life.