A “highly imaginative and utterly exhilarating” (Thrillist) debut that is “the best of what science fiction can be: a thought-provoking, heartrending story about the choices that define our lives” (Kirkus Reviews, Best Debut Fiction and Best Science Fiction & Fantasy of the Year).FINALIST FOR THE LOCUS AWARD • NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY TORDOTCOM AND KIRKUS REVIEWSA mysterious … TORDOTCOM AND KIRKUS REVIEWS
A mysterious child lands in the care of a solitary woman, changing both of their lives forever.
I expected many things from this trip. I did not expect a family.
A ship captain, unfettered from time. A mute child, burdened with unimaginable power. A millennia-old woman, haunted by lifetimes of mistakes. In this captivating debut of connection across space and time, these outsiders will find in each other the things they lack: a place of love and belonging. A safe haven. A new beginning.
But the past hungers for them, and when it catches up, it threatens to tear this makeshift family apart.
Praise for The Vanished Birds
“This is the most impressive debut of 2020.”—Locus
“This extraordinary science fiction epic, which delves deep into the perils of failing to learn from one’s mistakes, is perfect for fans of big ideas and intimate reflections.”—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“A lyrical and moving narrative of space travel, found families, and lost loves set against an evocative space-opera background.”—Booklist (starred review)
“The Vanished Birds finds an intimate heartbeat of longing in a saga of galactic progress and its crushing fallout. . . . A novel of vast scope that yet makes time for compassion, wonder, and poetry.”—Indra Das, author of The Devourers
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The Vanished Birds by Simon Jimenez is a slow dance through space and time that spans a thousand years of love, hate, friendship, and everything that ties humanity together. This complex Space Opera is thought-provoking, heart-wrenching, and it will make you miss the planet you never lost.
When reading Sci-Fi, I usually steer towards fast-paced books, with lots of action, and stakes higher than Olympus Mons’ peak. So this book rocking my world so much is no small feat. I felt as if it were written exclusively for me, and all the elements I’ve ever wanted in a book combined into the perfect storm. Diverse cast? Check. Sci-Fi elements? Check. Compelling characters? Check. Great prose? Check Music? Check. Birds. Birds? Yes, birds. Check.
Don’t get me wrong. The stakes are definitely high but in a different way. Almost in an “I don’t want this event to happen, but I know it will and my heart is already broken” kind of way.
The Vanished Birds seems like a strange title for a Space Opera, but the whole novel is full of bird metaphors, bird imagery, bird everything and I can’t tell you without spoilers how it all fits so well, but it does. And it’s just perfect. Everything about this novel has a purpose. Every. Single. Detail. Even the seemingly abstract cover.
I don’t even know how to put into words the sheer beauty of this book. It’s melancholy, nostalgia, rage, and love woven together into a symphony through the stars. Literally. Music plays a huge role in the events and it’s practically present in every page eve if in a subtle way. It was all made even better with how well Simon Jimenez employs language to keep the perfect beat with all the elements that make this whole universe unique. The writing is just perfect.
The novel is purposely slow-paced but in a good way! And I never thought I’d ever say that from a Sci-Fi novel. Every character has a journey. It sometimes gets tiresome to jump from one perspective to the next (sometimes across centuries of time), but by half of it you can see a glimpse of how it all comes together and it’s just perfect. I actually found myself trying to stretch this novel as much as possible because I just didn’t want to finish. Like sipping on good wine with some decadent dark chocolate on the side.
The characters would stay with me forever. Their complicated past and how they all came together to live in this future. I especially loved Fumiko Nakajima. Not only because I could relate to her obsession with birds (and how it drives her creative side and the plot), but also because her journey of self-discovery, empowerment, and acceptance makes this novel come to life right until the end.
The world, and how humanity has spread its wings to inhabit the different planets, was well built. The relationship between big corporations and the little guy was nuanced. The politics behind humanity’s new fate and new homes felt realistic. It’s a bleak take on our nature. A reflection about how we never learn and never will. An ode to the mistakes we’ll keep making even when have lost everything.
If you enjoy the works of Gabriel García Márquez, David Mitchell, and Ursula K. LeGuin, you’ll definitely love this novel. Especially if you enjoyed One Hundred Years of Solitude and Cloud Atlas. This is a debut novel by the author, and I will definitely keep an eye out for more.
I received a free electronic ARC of this excellent debut SciFi novel from Netgalley, Simon Jimenez, and Random House, Ballantine. Thank you all for sharing your hard work with me. I have read this novel of my own volition, and this review reflects my honest opinion of this work. Simon Jimenez writes a fine tale, one that keeps you reading long after lights out.
When my children were tween’s we all, as a family, watched the TV series ‘FireFly’. Could that have really been 2002-2003? How time does pass. We have watched it together again a couple of times over the last 15 years, always finding something new to marvel over, and appreciating very much the shear talent expressed by the special effects crew. I read this novel feeling that same connection and excitement, that dread as the pages dwindled and the ending is nigh. This is a novel to savor and share. You too will adore Ahro and Nia and feel comfortable in the Pocket and on various city planets. This is definitely a trip worth taking…
Thank you NetGalley for a complimentary copy. I voluntarily reviewed this book. All opinions expressed are my own.
The Vanished Birds
By: Simon Jimenez
REVIEW
The Vanished Birds is an excellent story with beautiful writing, and it’s lovely to read. My issue is with comprehension, or incomprehensible, as it were. Science fiction is the type of genre with ever deepening levels, and this story dives deep into the philosophical unknowns. I know it’s about human relationships and interconnectedness and the universe, which I understand in theory, but in reality, I’m easily lost in the meaning of it all. This is the perfect book for deeper philosophical readers who question and debate narratives such as this. The narrative is everywhere at once, and the descent is further than I want to delve. The fault lies with me, not the story. It’s worth reading simply for the lyrical experience, whether you understand it or not, and I recommend it for this reason. I tip my hat to you if you grasp the ideas on these pages with some certainty.
Not sure how I like this book. The story is clear and obvious, but I again think it’s the Fictive Dream that I am missing. The writing is top notch, the concept intriguing, the characters interesting, for a Space Opera.
The first chapter doesn’t open with the main character which I always think is a tough pull. The opening words are the contract with the reader that says, “take a look, this is what and how I’m going to tell the story.” The first chapter is historical information in the point of view of a throw- away character and was interesting enough to hold my attention, but it felt more like a too-long prologue. The next chapter is the main character and I was right there with the story, all though I would have preferred more scenes instead of the summary “telling.” The next chapter we are back in history, giving background setting up the space stations so we were not in the main character’s point view long enough to grab hold. The rest of the book had a similar feel. This book has interesting prose and a great concept I just don’t find myself thinking about the characters. In writing voice is king and I’m not sure-for me anyway-that it’s here. I was on the fence about how to rate this one, between a three and a four. If asked to recommend this book, I’d have to say, I’m indifferent
The Vanished Birds is a challenging novel that fails to capture the readers’ attention early on. That is not to say that it is a bad novel, but the transition, the chapters, they seem disjointed and do not seem to connect cohesively.
In some ways, this novel is reminiscent of Cloud Atlas. In contrast, the reader can tell that the story is about connection and that each segment relates a different time and different characters, this novel fails to be that cohesive for the first third of the book.
The novel starts in one way that seems to introduce an allegory on slavery. It is a very long first chapter, which makes it a bit daunting to follow up with and read. It follows a young man and the connections he is seeking with the people around him and the people that visit from space to collect the harvest. Then it snaps to another direction, what the synopsis is talking about, following Nia and her connection to the young man she has taken under her wing. Then the story snaps again to a different character and a different time, and at this point, it all seems disjointed. The story’s core conveys the human desire to connect with others, and it does get that across to the reader. Still, it is hard to reconcile the first three chapters having anything much to do with one another. Especially when chapter three does not seem to connect at all, it just discusses the life of the creator of the space stations. That is how she relates to the main character Nia who finally becomes the center of the story. Putting the reader in the position of not understanding the plot’s direction creates a barrier between the reader and the story, which contradicts the meaning of the story.
The novel requires a slow and measured reading for the reader to connect. The central theme of connection rings out, so the author does get their point across. However, the disconnect between the story and the reader remains. The characters lack personality, they read as static characters, and it takes a lot of time for the main character to develop her perspective. Perspective is critical here because, again, her voice lacks character; it lacks substance and personality to pull the reader in and connect to her. Overall, the characters are all bland. The author loses their voices in the story that, for the most part, seems disjointed.
Originally posted on Tales to Tide You Over: https://margaretmcgaffeyfisk.com/category/reviews/
Let me first state this is not your typical science fiction novel. It has spaceships traveling through pocket space, space stations and colonies, and agreements made between commercial and political authorities, for sure. But these elements, though critical, are handled in a literary science fiction style, focusing on the how the people function within this system and with each other whether in the distant past on a dying Earth or in their present.
The book’s literary leanings show in an omniscient narrator who, while taking on the personality of the character holding the viewpoint, speaks of times before and after as well as outside of the viewpoint character’s knowledge. This omniscience is only broken in one voice, where the narration is revealed through journal pages sent as progress reports, limiting us to the knowledge of that one character.
As the book reaches its climax, the separation of viewpoints shrinks from the length of a scene down to paragraphs moving vast distances as things coalesce. It could be confusing, but I found the structure strengthened the tension and offered both hope and despair simultaneously as the reader teeters on the edge of what might be, praying it will tip to the happier side in the final moments. I won’t give details or even say where things end. That’s for you to discover.
The story begins with a boy raised to a destiny that exists only in his father’s mind. Yet knowing that destiny, the boy takes steps others do not and reaches for the unattainable.
Kaeda is not the most important boy in the story, though. That role falls from the sky, literally, to dump a mystery into Kaeda arms after he has achieved the highest stature possible in his village. The company that owns the colony, the harvest, and the people locks their society in an early agricultural state.
Every fifteen years, winged ships appeared to collect the harvest and return it to the space station, a journey of months for the crew. This brings us to our next perspective, Nia, who captains one of these ships and makes a connection with Kaeda first over music then sex and finally over the boy, who she is to take back to the company.
Kaeda and the boy (who remains unnamed for the majority of the book) have a singsong quality to their narration, a match to the music they share along with a bond to the cheap pipe Nia once gave to a curious boy. With every visit, Kaeda grew 15 years, becoming a young man, a mature one, and then old, while Nia lived less than a year each time, denying her the connection she doesn’t know she wants. The mystery boy comes with her though, giving her someone to love.
I’m telling more of the story than I usually do, but mostly in themes. The narrative is a series of long, dense passages that creep under your skin and ask you to look for the deeper meaning, to understand the psychology and history driving each of the characters. Poignant dialogue and tension-filled pronouncements or cliffhangers break into this narrative, but only for a short while. Instead, it’s the elaborate, but compelling description that pulls you into the story, sometimes lyrical and poetic, at other times self-depreciating with a humorous twist. Together, they paint a vivid picture of what drives humanity and where lines are drawn as much as what compels those who cross. This book is not for every reader, perhaps, and has its darker points, but it also possesses a draw worthy of the right ones.
The narrative moves to the character critical in that moment, sometimes denying rules of time and space to do so. This is never truer than when we meet Fumiko, a brilliant mathematician and designer responsible for the stations that have become humanity’s home, at least for the humanity sheltered by the main corporation. Her story begins back on the dying Earth when she finds love for the first time but cannot claim it. It’s a powerful glimpse at who she was so we can understand who she has become, a driving force striving under the thumb of the company she gave up Dana for a lifetime ago.
This is a story of love, many kinds of love in many places and people, but with love a driving force, whether for good or bad. Sometimes it’s a sexual love, sometimes asexual, sometimes maternal, sometimes one-sided, and at others reciprocated. The connection between them all is the search for connection when distance, inconsistent passage of time, and differing loyalties makes life difficult.
But it’s not just love tackled in these pages. The omniscient narrator allows for the description to reveal philosophy otherwise masked in the day to day. Whether in something as simple as a dismantled rifle or as huge as the desire to shelter the boy from the clarion call of puberty the characters and/or narrative ask you to consider the question more deeply.
The people drive this story in all their strengths, weaknesses, and faults. It calls on the craving for connection, the wish for death on their own terms, the struggle for independence against an overwhelming force, and the appeal of success bought on someone else’s terms but without a fight versus striving for independence you might never win.
Music underlies the story much like it does humanity. The pull home, the communication between people when language is forgotten or different, and the path of remembrance when all is lost. The other thread, though, is stubbornness. Those who strive when they have no reason to believe in their success but are too stubborn to give up. It’s like hope for a driving force but different as well because they’d keep going even when hope had long disappeared behind them.
This book is about people. Little people and ones with power at their fingertips, but people still, arrayed against corporations out to profit with little thought to the cost. It speaks to the cogs in this profit machine who are caught by a single moment of consideration, sympathy, compassion, or even love, and the veil tears from their eyes. Laughable rumor becomes hard truth, acceptable concessions gain too much weight, and people who followed the pattern are driven to step outside it or concede what makes them human.
It’s a powerful, meaningful tale that might not offer an easy or gentle read, for all there are tender moments, but it gives a lot to think about. Some might point to how corporations are demonized, and they are, but nothing I read here has not been done in our timeline on some scale. The question, then, is whether a well-founded picture is held valid by its truth even when offering a harsh view.
The Vanished Birds is an economic and environmental story of those who don’t establish the rules, but live under or break them. It’s working against grand excess at the cost of others, but even so, their choices are made on a smaller scale for much the same reasons: vanity, money, and time. Though tempered by connections made between them and feeling the cost when those who have become family are lost or walk away, it serves to remind us the excess is a matter of scale and distance rather than monsters in the night.
The book is almost hypnotic in its entrancing power. It contains characters from all social and economic strata, different races, and sexual identities. The most important aspect, though, is how the characters are not bland representations of their slot on the chart, but rather people we come to love or hate, and sometimes both.
Whether for its compelling tone, beautiful narrative, underlying messages, interesting people problems, or all of the above, this is a book worth reading on its own and for its reflections of our own times.
P.S. I received this Advanced Reader Copy from the publisher through NetGalley in return for an honest review.
The Vanished Birds finds an intimate heartbeat of longing in a saga of galactic progress and its crushing fallout… A novel of vast scope that yet makes time for compassion, wonder, and poetry.
The future world-building is rich and smart, the prose assured, and the story both intensely personal and a blistering commentary on capitalism and colonialism… Highly recommended.
I was on the fence about reviewing The Vanished Birds. To make up my mind, I read the first four reviews on Goodreads. That is something I never do, but I was conflicted. The reviews were evenly conflicted about the book. So, I decided to take a chance on it. For the most part, it was a good book. But some parts made me wonder why they were written, even after finishing the book.
The Vanished Birds had a slow to a medium-paced plotline. When the book focused on Nia and her relationship with Ahro/their travels until he was 16, the book moved at a medium-paced. But, when the book focused on Fumiko Nakajima (past and present) and her travels, it slowed to a crawl. I will be honest; I skimmed over a large part of her story. I started paying attention when she was on the secret base and the events afterward.
I enjoyed reading about the type of space travel that Nia used to go between planets. It fascinated me. I couldn’t imagine being in space for what I would have thought would be a few months and to find out that 15 years have passed.
Nia was a tough cookie to like during the book. She made some questionable decisions that affected the people around her. Nia kept people are arm’s length. She did unbend, slightly, when she met Ahro. She unbent, even more, when Fumiko asked her to keep him safe for 15 years. But, I couldn’t quite bring myself to like her.
When Fumiko was introduced in The Vanished Birds, I didn’t understand what her role was. I mean, it was explained relatively early on that she was the founder of the colonies in space, and she invented the engine that allowed space travel. But I didn’t know why her backstory was being told. It didn’t go with the flow of Nia’s story. Even when her story was brought to the present, I still wondered: “Why?” I also wondered why she was so invested in Ahro. It was explained, and it didn’t show her in a good light.
I loved Ahro. I loved seeing his character growth throughout the book. I wasn’t prepared for what his secret was, though. I honestly thought that it had something to do with music and his affinity for it. So, when it was revealed, I was shocked. I loved watching his relationship with Nia and her crew grow, which made what happened and who caused it such a shock.
I do wish that more time had been spent on the times they visited the planets. There were so many locations!!! All exotic and all made me want more. But that didn’t happen.
I wasn’t a fan of the last half of the book. I had questions about what was going to happen to Nia and Ahro once the dust settles. I also had questions about Fumiko. I can only assume what happened to her. And then there is the question about where Ahro originally came from and who The Kind One was.
I have never read a science fiction novel that is so rich and colorful that it is almost poetic, but The Vanished Birds is precisely that. It packs a subtle but definite punch with plenty of sci-fi gadgetry and an emotional plot that takes the story to a whole new level.
Favorite Character: Nia Imani. Nia is a woman of few words, who quickly earns the respect of her crew with her consistency and authoritative manner. Always moving from planet to planet, her career does not leave room for personal attachments, so she goes through life with a hefty dose of detachment. She loves collecting musical instruments and writing haikus. But most of all, she loves Ahro like the son she never had. He is the one person she has let down the wall around her heart for, and she will not lose him, no matter the cost.
What I Liked About The Vanished Birds
It is beautifully written with vibrancy and flow that make the setting come alive. Every planet, moon, or station the Debby lands on is full of unique character, and I felt like I was experiencing it along with the characters. There isn’t any element of the setting that is a vague impression.
I love how the story comes full circle, starting and ending at the same place. This circle brings a level of symmetry and balance to the story, creating a satisfying feeling knowing that the story ended where and how it should. I also love the themes of sacrifice, choices, and consequences that run throughout the novel. The metaphysical manner in which they are explored in The Vanished Birds provides a depth and poignancy to the story that resonates long after you finish reading.
To Read or Not to Read
It is a beautiful journey but not a quick one. If you are ready to sit back and enjoy the ride, no matter how long it takes, this is the book for you. It has a beautiful message and setting that really should not be overlooked, as you will be missing out if you don’t take the time to appreciate the wonder of this story.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for providing me with an advanced copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.
This is definitely one of those books that I need to subject to a reread. I tend to never read books twice, but I feel to truly understand every moving aspect of this story, I want to open it and read it again.
This book is an intricate spiderweb of intergalactic characters, plots, and politics that makes you want to crawl inside of the author’s mind and ask how were you able to fit all of this in your head??.
The book is structured like many short stories woven together in a novel format. Almost like seasons in a TV series; each season presents a different story that was created by the domino effects of the previous seasons. Truly, I feel like this book is MEANT for the big screen. We have a new-and-improved Star Wars on our hands here that presents much more complicated alternatives to humans’ space-travel future.
I would 20/10 recommend to read this. I will be keeping a close eye on this author for future books because truly Simon Jimenez, how did you fit this inside of your brain? It’s a mystery to us all.
BOOK REVIEW: The Vanished Birds: A Novel, by Simon Jimenez
Rated four stars out of five by reviewer Iris Chacon.
I received a free copy of the book from the publisher via NetGalley, and I am voluntarily posting my honest review.
If you loved Isaac Asimov’s Foundation trilogy, or Frank Herbert’s Dune series, you will quickly become a fan of author Simon Jimenez. The Vanished Birds: A Novel is billed as his debut, and science fiction readers will enjoy sinking their teeth into this one. Readers will be eager to read subsequent novels by Mr. Jimenez.
The author’s voice is mature and confident, and many passages are poetry-like, with nebulous, mysterious, and/or multiple meanings.
In the tradition of the best science fiction stories, the story manages to comment on present-day societal issues without specifically naming them or becoming involved in 21st-century politics.
Central character Fumiko Nakajima starkly contrasts with a second character, Nia Imani. Fumiko is obsessed with her work, at the expense of even the most important personal relationships. Fumiko is a loner.
Nia Imani, a spaceship captain who takes in a mysterious orphaned boy, has created a family out of the crew of her ship. Nia is more concerned with personal relationships — and her love for the orphaned child — than she is about her career.
These two opposites, both strong female characters with both virtues and flaws, live out their separate dramas that are connected in unpredicted ways. The story spans futuristic space-dwelling cultures and primitive feudal farming planets. Centuries of time are compressed by the Nakajima method of space travel.
The reader’s perception of what is “rudimentary” and what is “advanced” will change in the course of Simon Jimenez’s fascinating, multi-faceted, sweeping space saga.