In Northaven, the presence of songlight is seen as a dangerous burden. On occasion, a note can be sensed in the air, akin to the shifting shades of a weaving loom, or a sigh echoing like water spiralling down a drain. At times, it’s as if a thought is hanging in the air, akin to the flicker of a flame. However, when the origin of this resonance is exposed, the environment becomes oppressive and it’s difficult to draw breath. In this seemingly idyllic town, telepathic abilities are frowned upon, considered as stains on our soul’s purity. Not only those with psychic abilities but also unfaithful spouses, deviants, runaways and thieves live in trepidation. As men are due to select their brides, young women like Lark, our primary protagonist, find themselves suppressing any unsavoury aspects of their personality.
Paralleling the suppression and control, is the pervasive propaganda. The Brightlings are engaged in a conflict with the Aylish. The reported cause of this conflict is the Antagonist’s egregious deeds and a looming dread of returning to an era where the “Light People” ravaged the planet, hinting at our current society. These are recognised elements in dystopian literature, but it’s understood that recognising them doesn’t imply a flaw in the narrative. The more intriguing query is whether these motifs have been skillfully navigated.
In brief: absolutely. Songlight (Faber, £8.99), the initial installment of a proposed trilogy, is the inaugural narrative debut by seasoned playwright and scriptwriter, Moira Buffini. Themes she’s previously tackled in her screenplays subtly permeate throughout the story, such as brothels, politics and complex females. Her grasp on the genre she navigates here (the setting pays tribute to John Wyndham’s The Chrysalids, with traces of Atwood and Orwell discernible) is remarkable. Through the multiple narrative perspectives, a plethora of nuanced viewpoints shed light on the various aspects of Brightland. Lark not only observes but instigates disturbances in her home town, while also offering glimpses of life beyond her hometown, in the urban areas as well as the corridors of power. The narrative offers a captivating and intellectually stimulating experience for the reader.
Neil Taylor, a software industry veteran, is set to make his literary debut with a thrilling novel, “Anticipation” (published by Neem Tree Press, priced at £8.99). Drawing upon his personal expertise, the book paints an unnerving picture of future-predicting artificial intelligence.
The tale follows Riya, a 17-year-old girl who becomes a Keyholder following her father’s mysterious plane crash. The Keyholders are a chosen few responsible for guiding ‘Art’, a past-behaviour-analysing software, capable of eerily accurate future predictions.
The concept of life being stringently controlled by past behaviours, as constantly tracked by ever-present technology, raises doubts in Riya. She is told, however, that everyone’s actions are merely the product of their unique personal algorithms; accepting information from the environment, processing it within the brai, resulting in varying behaviours. The ethicality of ‘Art’ remains ambiguous, as it provides crucial assistance to Riya and her allies while evading the social media tycoon, Jim Booker.
Booker’s platform, Indigo, excels in consumer data analysis and self-promotion, painting him as a potential threat if armed with such pioneering technology.
“Briefly distant from reality, this action-packed novel lightly touches on character development, but provides a chillingly relevant narrative. Particularly resonating with Riya, we glimpse into the trade-off we continue to make: offer our data to tech giants in exchange for a playground to connect and interact in. We believe ourselves not susceptible to manipulation, under the illusion of independent thinking. Future sequels of the series are much anticipated, promising exploration of uncharted narratives and philosophical debates.
The esteemed presenter of RTÉ Nationwide, Zainab Boladale, has penned her first work of fiction, Braids Take A Day (O’Brien, €11.99). The novel tells the story of Abidemi’s final summer in her quaint native town before she proceeds to study at a college in Dublin. Abi co-resides with her father, with the absence of her late mother often leaving her yearning for a larger family unit. She finds solace and a sense of familiarity in the camaraderie formed around the cultural significance of Black haircare, so much so that it often leads her to contemplate life surrounded by significant kin in Nigeria.
Abi finds emotional support via an unexpected friendship with a Nigerian lady she encounters on Instagram, correcting the flawed perceptions of cultural appropriation and Black history she is often quizzed on by her schoolmates. Since Abi’s understanding of such matters is primarily sourced from the internet, this relationship offers a gentle, authoritative perspective in contrast. Though the narrative might seem more journalistic than fictitious at times, the Irish context adds a unique layer of intrigue.
Boladale successfully portrays the simplicity and nuances of life in a small Irish town, complete with the usual weekend grocery hauls and meticulous planning to attend the closest disco. Hints at her father’s linguistic shift depending on the audience, be it international colleagues or local folks, are subtly weaved into the narrative. As Abi continues her transition into adulthood, she emerges as a lovable protagonist navigating her future goals and aspirations.
The conundrum of life-choices also makes an appearance in Maggie Horne’s insightful work, Don’t Let It Break Your Heart (Penguin, £8.99), offering a detailed exploration of life in an American small town. Amidst her final school year, Alana’s life gets disrupted when a new girl, Tal, who seems too substantial to be ignored by the world, enters the scene. This stimulates Alana to reassess her usual rut – her unhealthy attachment with her ex-boyfriend Gray, her future education prospects, and her acceptance of the friend who disclosed her secret the year before. The theme of first love permeates heavily in YA fiction not just because teenagers are hormone-ridden (though that’s a factor as well), instead, it presents a strong perspective for self-introspection and a new outlook on the world. This aspect has been masterfully portrayed in this book.
In Meg Rosoff’s latest offering, Almost Nothing Happened (Bloomsbury, £12.99), the question, “Why an oboe?” recurs. Callum spends an unfulfilling summer in France on a cultural exchange, hopelessly enamoured with an older girl while also grappling with the language barrier: “The yearning for love was so powerful, it inflicted actual bodily torment… How torturous it is to be young”. With a premonition of impending disaster back home, he impulsively flees from the Eurostar before it departs for London. His instinct for evasion is instantly put to the test when, after an evening outing with a relative, he discerns that his considerate host has somehow got caught up with a relentless gang of felony masterminds specializing in wind instruments. Consequently, he finds himself on a racing motorbike circling Paris, uncertain if he’s friend or captive, embarking on the sort of whimsical rite of passage most merely fantasize about. With Rosoff’s writing, the narrative is impeccably balanced – showcasing the quintessential adolescent blend of yearning and wit, naivety and cynicism – resulting in a captivating tale throughout.