Kalyna The SoothSayer

Every now and again I get asked where my family is from, only to receive a roll of the eyes when I reply “here.”  In casual contexts this occurs when people want to place me neatly on geographic maps in relation to their own ancestors. Annoying, but mostly harmless. In publishing contexts, this question comes in the form of well meaning, but frankly wrongheaded, gatekeepers trying to suggest I should look “in my ancestry” for material that I can mine to make my writing more “authentic” and “exotic.” Yes, the word exotic has really been used in relation to Jewish themes in my writing. But I digress. The main issue at hand is that these people have zero concept of what it means to be a forced nomad.

How can one claim a geographic heritage when their forebears have been compelled to move from place to place due to relentless persecution and government sponsored genocide? How can one express their culture when the descendants of those very same pillagers will accuse you of appropriation because you “couldn’t possibly be from here. You’re Jewish.” To be a Jew is to be from everywhere and nowhere all at once, because each place will refute your possibly belonging to them while instead insisting you must belong to whichever bogeyman they currently fear. 

This is the central problem faced by the title character of Elijah Kinch Spector’s Kalyna the Soothsayer. Kalyna is the first soothsayer of her line that cannot actually see the future, has been kidnapped by a merciless prince, and is also tasked with preventing the complete and total annihilation of the world as she knows it (which has been foreseen by her debilitated father, who actually can see the future). These, while thrilling plot points, are minor problems compared to the overwhelming refusal of everyone around her to actually see her for who she is rather than who they assume her to be. 

The book is a second world fantasy, and I have no idea what religion is practiced in the kingdoms Kalyna journeys through, but there is such a Jewish sensibility about her plight. Everywhere she goes she risks being run out of town by a mob that accuses her of poisoning the water or turning men’s heads. Every (fake) prophecy she gives is viewed in the context of her being “clearly foreign.” 

I have never felt so seen. 

Adding to the delightfullness of this book is the fact that Kalyna is very clearly bisexual or pansexual and she is allowed to be so, unabashedly, on the page. Spector does not fall into the terrible stereotypes of greediness or indecision that sometimes plague writers of bisexual characters. In fact, while Kalyna is free to experience her desires, she very rarely acts on them because she has bigger fish to fry. Namely the whole end-of-the-world issue. She shows great care and consideration towards both the feelings and ability to consent of potential partners, even if it means she is more often than not left alone. 

I won’t give any spoilers, but I’ll just say that when we do find out who Kalyna ends up with romantically, it is deeply satisfying. I may have read the epilogue some fifteen times simply for how happy it made me. If the author would care to write me some apocryphal fanfic of later events and adventures of these two, I would cherish it deeply. If anyone would like to let him know of this request, I would certainly be cool with that.

Kalyna finds power in her “otherness” by using it to help her navigate a tangled web of court politics and escape some tricky situations. At her core though, she’s not a courtier looking for advancement or a political schemer trying to control the throne. She’s an often hilarious wandering soothsayer trying to keep her family together in the face of those that would hurt them. I can’t imagine anything more Jewish than that.  

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