The sky shatters into smoking pieces that dissipate like dust in water as the veil comes falling down, revealing a painfully azure sky from the realm beyond. The mountains groan as dunes of golden sand rush to swallow them, their life snuffed out.”
PLEASE NOTE: THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR THE CITY OF BRASS IN THIS REVIEW.
The Kingdom of Copper by S.A. Chakraborty is the second title in her #OwnVoices Islamic fantasy series, The Daevabad Trilogy. Taking place five years after the climactic events of book one, the story focuses on the almost tangible political tension that plagues the city, and our main characters, upon Darayavhoush’s savage attack.
The Kingdom of Copper fully embraces the three facets of storytelling that I originally fell in love with via the first instalment and nurtures them into a spellbinding masterpiece. With this continuation, the world-building is further fleshed out, the characters are more refined through devastating experiences with new characters being introduced that are as equally developed as the main cast, and with scorching political intrigue to rival that of fantasy (or sci-fi) epics such as A Song of Ice and Fire or Dune.
The creation of the city of Daevabad—and the overall universe of the series—is chock full of multi-dimensional characters that evoke an array of emotional responses. It consistently maintains some of the best individuals I have ever come across in the genre.
With Nahri, we have a woman that has always been fiercely independent, but now has to bow to a tyrannical king in order to save the lives of her people while trying to find a way to wrestle away their freedom from this dehumanising oppression. With Ali, we have a royal who was betrayed and thrown out by his own family, forcing him to survive in a way that shall test everything that he as ever believed in. With Dara, we have someone who has spent centuries being nothing more than a tool and slave for power-hungry persons claiming peace with some grand, self-righteous saviour complexes. Each one of these individuals is given their own unique journey of self-discovery in The Kingdom of Copper. Sometimes it is beautifully inspiring, whilst at other times, it breaks the reader’s heart and wraps them in a great sense of grief and sadness.
Out of the three of them, Alizayd was my second favourite to read about. In The City of Brass he was a spoiled palace brat that could never formulate political opinions that were distinctly his own; ideas and beliefs that were not tainted by the influences of a brother he worshipped and a father he respected above all else. Now that he has been exiled, having to fight for the simplest of things changes him in ways that are astounding as the narrative moves forward. He really comes into his own and becomes a man that is much more than his brother’s keeper or his father’s pawn. He is carved into a person with a ferocity and strength that only comes from wanting to abate suffering.
A second perspective that was as delightful as it was distressing to read about (and also my favourite in the whole book) was Darayavahoush’s. For the first time, we get a glimpse of how the world works through his eyes. There are so many moments when Dara has clarity and understands what it is that should not be done versus what should yet falls utterly powerless to help alter the actions that unfold in the pursuit of tragedy. The more darkness he witnesses with regard to the people he respects and admires, the more he comes to comprehend that things are not as blatantly black and white as he perceived them to be. It causes him to open his mind to the possibilities that he has been wrong for a very, very long time. These newfound personal revelations create an internal conflict within Dara that is breathtakingly sorrowful and perversely compelling as he is forced to choose sides.
“It was a grin that made Dara sick. That was what he looked like now when he shifted, his fire-bright skin, gold eyes, and clawed hands a mirror of the demons who’d enslaved him. That his ancestors had looked the same before Suleiman’s curse was of little comfort. It hadn’t been his ancestor’s grin he’d seen just before the fetid water of the well closed over his face.”
We also have a plethora of side characters that play key roles in keeping the main cast plunging onwards with their narratives. What I love about these more supporting individuals is how much attention they are given. They are not merely unnamed pieces on a board but have difficulties and morals and individualism all their own that helps the reader to formulate an intense emotional bond to them. I became wholly invested in their desires and pursuits, at times more so than the main trio. Everyone has phenomenal chemistry relative to their relationship to each other as well, whether they are friends or foes.
The rudimentary examination of the city’s tightly knit political atmosphere is taken up quite a few notches in The Kingdom of Copper. There is a near-labrynthine connection between the different factions, their faith and what they believe they’ve been owed for centuries, their right to exist, their desire to break from subjugation, and more. Betrayal is as common as the desert sand with compounding duplicities and jumbling loyalties. The intrigue is methodical with a slow-burn build of attrition that is provoked by dwindling hope and a fierce exhaustion of constant brutal persecution.
The Kingdom of Copper is very different than the first book in that The City of Brass was jam-packed with action and snappy comebacks as well the magical acclimation of characters. Whereas, this sequel is dedicated in fleshing out the people we know and love and the minute yet vastly vital details of the city of Daevabad, particularly where stateship is concerned. Both are equally thrilling and irresistible without losing sight of the ultimate story and should be devoured by all fans of the fantasy genre.