A review by kikireads
Dew Angels by Melanie Schwapp
In interviews Melanie Schwapp has recounted how her experiences living in the UK and the US and then the return to life in Jamaica, land of her birth, opened her eyes to how "colour prejudice" existed in all three places. One has to wonder, then, why Schwapp did not write a story closer to her own life rather than try to transmute it through Nola, a poor, underprivileged, dark skinned teen born and raised in a rural Jamaican village.
Racism and colourism work differently in all three countries (indeed even within those countries). Being marginalised in such situations does not preclude persons from internalising ideas that are harmful to them and those with whom they may wish to ally. It takes years of mental and emotional labour informed by research and, in many cases, activism to root out and overcome racist concepts which are entrenched in our society's very foundations. When you write from a position of colour privilege, as Schwapp did with Dew Angel's Jamaican setting, you have to be extra careful, thorough, meticulous and sensitive in your approach.
Her writing style reflects that effort. At over 400+ pages I hardly felt the length at all. There is a memorable cast of characters and a strong sense of community that brings to mind the better, more entertaining Jamaican of plays. Nola is an easy to character to love and cheer for even in implausible action scenes that strain credulity. (It's that Jamaican play vibe. I really liked it.) The switch from third to first perspective in the epilogue was masterfully done. It gave it a based-on-a-true-story verisimilitude through which I could hear Nola's voice in my ear quietly and confidently declaring her truth.
None of that could overshadow the fact that this book, nominally one against colourism, misogynoir, classism and ableism, is steeped in 3 and wobbly on 4. That evergreen racist myth that 4 type hair can't grow makes an appearance along with the curious assertion in the novel's very first paragraph that the newborn baby had kinky hair. That's not how our hair works, Schwapp. Even if it was literary license, exaggerating a character's blackness has a problematic history, to put it mildly. These worrisome undercurrents finally generate a scene that should have been excised before publication: one of the villain's ordered a violent assault on Abediah, a Rastafarian, during which the hired assailant cut off his locs. Some time later the Abediah's mother, also rasta, unearths them from a brown paper bag (??) to give to Nola who then used it to help create a "homeless person" costume complete with "kitchen grease" on her face and black polish on her teeth.
A toxic Christianity permeates the story leading Nola to the kind of conclusions usually debunked in the most basic anti-gender based violence workshop. She took no pleasure from seeing her violently abusive father grovel, for if she did it would have made her "no better than the rest of them". Actually, no, Nola, taking delight in a grovel is not equivalent to the actions of a violent father and abusive community. But that was nothing compared to the revelation that caps Nola's years of heartbreaking struggle: "she could not hate a match for its flame, for that was what it had been created to do". Oh. God made her horrible father that way, him couldn't do no better. Right.
What would I have become if my papa had not deemed me different and unworthy of his love? I would have become one of them, looking for a fair-skinned donor to 'wash the black' out of me.
Oh. Is that what happens when fathers love their dark skin daughters?
What (and I cannot stress this enough) the actual fuck?
I am, at this point, too exhausted to get into the curious representation of the two disabled characters. Schwapp was determined to present them as lovable beings worthy of respect while letting you know they were very very ugly. (Schwapp devoted an entire paragraph to how "ugly!" Hopey was, a favour done for no neurotypical character in the entire novel.) Also, there was a scene in which the visible evidence of her father's abuse saved Nola from rape--truly a touching moment every victim whose accusations were ever dismissed because they did not fit into society's beauty ideals will really appreciate!
Cyaan even bodda fi get into the classist subtext crystallised in the book's conclusion.
Just...no.
Racism and colourism work differently in all three countries (indeed even within those countries). Being marginalised in such situations does not preclude persons from internalising ideas that are harmful to them and those with whom they may wish to ally. It takes years of mental and emotional labour informed by research and, in many cases, activism to root out and overcome racist concepts which are entrenched in our society's very foundations. When you write from a position of colour privilege, as Schwapp did with Dew Angel's Jamaican setting, you have to be extra careful, thorough, meticulous and sensitive in your approach.
Her writing style reflects that effort. At over 400+ pages I hardly felt the length at all. There is a memorable cast of characters and a strong sense of community that brings to mind the better, more entertaining Jamaican of plays. Nola is an easy to character to love and cheer for even in implausible action scenes that strain credulity. (It's that Jamaican play vibe. I really liked it.) The switch from third to first perspective in the epilogue was masterfully done. It gave it a based-on-a-true-story verisimilitude through which I could hear Nola's voice in my ear quietly and confidently declaring her truth.
None of that could overshadow the fact that this book, nominally one against colourism, misogynoir, classism and ableism, is steeped in 3 and wobbly on 4. That evergreen racist myth that 4 type hair can't grow makes an appearance along with the curious assertion in the novel's very first paragraph that the newborn baby had kinky hair. That's not how our hair works, Schwapp. Even if it was literary license, exaggerating a character's blackness has a problematic history, to put it mildly. These worrisome undercurrents finally generate a scene that should have been excised before publication: one of the villain's ordered a violent assault on Abediah, a Rastafarian, during which the hired assailant cut off his locs. Some time later the Abediah's mother, also rasta, unearths them from a brown paper bag (??) to give to Nola who then used it to help create a "homeless person" costume complete with "kitchen grease" on her face and black polish on her teeth.
A toxic Christianity permeates the story leading Nola to the kind of conclusions usually debunked in the most basic anti-gender based violence workshop. She took no pleasure from seeing her violently abusive father grovel, for if she did it would have made her "no better than the rest of them". Actually, no, Nola, taking delight in a grovel is not equivalent to the actions of a violent father and abusive community. But that was nothing compared to the revelation that caps Nola's years of heartbreaking struggle: "she could not hate a match for its flame, for that was what it had been created to do". Oh. God made her horrible father that way, him couldn't do no better. Right.
What would I have become if my papa had not deemed me different and unworthy of his love? I would have become one of them, looking for a fair-skinned donor to 'wash the black' out of me.
Oh. Is that what happens when fathers love their dark skin daughters?
What (and I cannot stress this enough) the actual fuck?
I am, at this point, too exhausted to get into the curious representation of the two disabled characters. Schwapp was determined to present them as lovable beings worthy of respect while letting you know they were very very ugly. (Schwapp devoted an entire paragraph to how "ugly!" Hopey was, a favour done for no neurotypical character in the entire novel.) Also, there was a scene in which the visible evidence of her father's abuse saved Nola from rape--truly a touching moment every victim whose accusations were ever dismissed because they did not fit into society's beauty ideals will really appreciate!
Cyaan even bodda fi get into the classist subtext crystallised in the book's conclusion.
Just...no.