Book Review: "Voyage of the Damned"
Agatha Christie meets magic in this delightful murder mystery that's deliciously and chaotically queer.
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Warning: Spoilers for the book follow.
Voyage of the Damned is one of those books that I just happened to see in the “New Release” section at my local library and, since it sounded like it was going to be Agatha Christie but with magic, I knew that I was going to have to read it. I mean, what’s not to love about a murder mystery that takes place on a magical ship with a bunch of young people who are blessed with particular magical gifts? Sure enough, this is very much in the Christie tradition, though much messier and queerer (and more violent). It’s the kind of book that keeps you turning the pages, desperate to find out who is responsible for the murders–and there are quite a few of them–and why.
The center of the story is one Ganymedes. On paper he’s the heir to the Fish province (in this world the empire, known as Concordia is split into several different provinces, each with their own symbol and powers). However, he has a secret: despite being officially recognized as Blessed, he doesn’t seem to have any power. He’s thus dreading spending time with the other Blessed as they undertake a sacred ship journey to the Goddess’s Mountain. Almost as soon as the ship takes off, moreover, things start to go even further awry, as various Blessed end up murdered (many of them in particularly horrifying fashion), starting with the heir to the throne herself. It thus falls to Ganymedes to figure out who is responsible for the murders, even though doing so forces him to confront some of his traumas and those who share the ship.
I’ll admit that Ganymedes can be a bit of a pill sometimes. Like many other fantasy heroes of late he’s undeniably a flibbertigibbet, which helps to explain why he exasperates–and sometimes downright infuriates–almost all of his fellow Blessed. You really can’t blame them for wanting to strangle him at times. At the same time, he really does seem to have a good heart, and he really does want to solve the mystery and figure out who is killing what their motivations might be.
The book is an unalloyed pleasure, in large part because it so skillfully blends together the fantastical and the mysterious. I’ve often thought that fantasy and mystery are two genres that go well together, and Voyage of the Damned shows why this is the case. Even though most of the action takes place on-board a ship, there are still quite a few gestures to the world outside, so we have a good sense of its central mythology and its various political rifts. As some other reviewers have noted, the magic system and its manifestations don’t always make a great deal of sense, but I’m willing to cut White some slack and hope that these get cleared up in subsequent volumes.
I must admit that the revelation of the murderers–yes, there’s more than one–took me by surprise, but in hindsight it all makes perfect sense. I appreciate a murder mystery that doesn’t just spring the murderer on you at the very end but instead gives you the information that you, the reader, would need to solve the crime for yourself. I’ll admit that there were more than a few signs of who was responsible for the whole thing. Moreover, all of those involved have their own motivations for their actions. This doesn’t make them any less monstrous, of course, but it does at least allow you to understand them as people rather than simply killers.
It’s also worth noting that this book is brashly and unapologetically queer. The heart and soul of the book is the relationship between Ganymedes and Ravi, the latter of whom is arguably the book’s most fascinating and tragic character. Theirs is a bond that has been forged in adversity, since neither of them have come from a happy home and both have had to labor under a secret regarding their abilities (or supposed lack thereof in Ganymedes’ case). For much of the book Ganymedes is convinced that Ravi is dead, and it’s only toward the end that the truth comes to light. If anything, though, the revelation that Ravi has been alive all along is devastating in its own way, even if they do end up finding their way forward into their own happily ever after.
Now, I will say that the ending felt a bit rushed. Once Ganymedes takes all of the power into himself, the stage is set for him to dissolve the wall separating Concordia from the exiled Crabs. Given how important this moment is for both him as a character and for the realm as a whole, it seems as if there needed to be some more connective tissue binding these two elements together, perhaps an entire volume dedicated to his efforts to forge this world anew and create a path forward in which the various peoples and provinces can live together in something resembling harmony and accord. In any case, I hope that there is a sequel that will give us some more important details about Ganymedes and his efforts to make a better future for everyone.
Just as importantly, the book also engages with some very pressing philosophical and moral questions. After all, the empire that is at the center of the story is by definition a despotic one and, chillingly, it’s also rather parasitic, since the Blessings always end up taking an enormous toll on the user, including the Emperor. In that sense, the entire magical system is built on a certain sacrifice, for anyone who is Blessed has to contend with the fact that their power will ultimately begin to destroy their own body. It remains to be seen whether this will continue to be the case now that Ganymedes has shaken things up. Just as importantly, the novel points out that one’s upbringing and the prejudices of others–whether as individuals as a society–don’t have to dictate one’s life and that, in queerness there is power.
Overall, I found myself quite enjoying Voyage of the Damned. It’s the kind of novel that just sweeps you up in its story and its world, keeping you flipping through the pages as Ganymedes attempts to pin down the murderer. What’s more, I was very relieved that these two messy and very complicated queer protagonists got their own happy ending, even if it took a different form than either of them would likely have been able to predict. However, in fiction as in life, things rarely work out quite the way that you might have wanted them to.
While I don’t think it will please everyone, for my part I think it makes a very strong contribution to the growing body of queer fantasy literature. The fact that Ganymedes is also a chubby character is also worth noting, since there is still a paucity of fat representation both in fantasy and in literature more generally. It’s important to remember that everyone has a part to play in fantastic settings and that you don’t have to be sculpted like a Greek god in order to save the world.
I don’t know if White has more plans to write in this universe, but I do truly hope so. We’ve only begun to scratch the surface of this world, and it seems to me that there are plenty of opportunities for more stories set in it, whether these be focused on Ganymedes or someone else. In fact, I wouldn’t mind seeing Ravi get his own book. In any case, give this book a read. You won’t regret it!