Navigating the Tides of Change In Eliza Chan’s Fathomfolk

These point of view characters show very different sides of Tiankawi, giving readers a full picture of this strange, half-submerged city. Despite its flaws, Mira views it with the deepest love, while Nami has a newcomer’s wide-eyed awe (and, sometimes, disgust). As their paths swim in and out of the waves, sometimes in tandem and sometimes far apart on their own distinct journeys, readers get to experience all the wonder and the grime along with them. As the larger setting unfolds around them, the history of the war between humans and folk that nearly drowned the world becomes clearer—though it’s never fully divulged. The results are plain enough: what human cities remain have the technology to stay in power, and doing so further pollutes the waters, driving more and more fathomfolk from their underwater havens.

The two characters’ approaches to making change are just as different, and neither is positioned as a true answer to the city’s problems. Mira knows that she’s being treated as a publicity stunt. But she’s determined to be the face of fathomfolk to humanity, at least in terms of worth and value. If she can only pave the way, things will be better for those who come after her. But any time there’s the possibility that a scapegoat might be needed, she knows she’ll be the first targeted. Then the powers that be will be able to argue that including her didn’t work out. Fathomfolk weren’t suited for leadership positions after all. It means she has to walk a delicate line, playing to what humanity wants to see while also working toward change, incrementally. As a girl who grew up poor, courting the attention of human patrons who waste more wealth than most fathomfolk refugees have in their lifetimes makes her livid. She doesn’t respect them, and yet she needs their respect to get things done. It’s a tight box, and a very narrow blade to walk, and the only way she can know if it’s worth it is to live each day like it will be.

Nami, on the other hand, can’t see the good that being a human pet project will do. The pace of change it results in is so slow it barely counts as change at all. And the humans are to blame for all the ailments fathomfolk face—so why should they be mollified instead of fought? In the case of Tiankawi, humans have put laws into place to prevent fathomfolk, many of them stronger or more magical than they, from being able to harm humans. Each new folk who arrives in the city has to wear an armband that causes them immense pain, to the point of blacking out, if they attempt to hurt any human, even in self-defense. The injustice of it inflames Nami’s already stoked anger. And yet, any time there are people in front of her who need to be saved, human or folk, she charges ahead to save them. Nami values life, even the lives of those she doesn’t respect, which puts her at odds with the change-at-any-cost revolutionaries. How many lines can she cross and still remain herself?

While Fathomfolk is clearly inspired by diverse Asian settings and cultures, with references to foods from the Indian subcontinent as well as East Asia, the diversity of the fathomfolk isn’t limited to Asian inspirations. Several of the revolutionaries are kelpie, a Scottish shapeshifting creature that sometimes appears as a horse; Chan makes lovely use of their underwater horse forms, as well as their human appearances. Selkies are Celtic and Norse in origin; sirens hail from Greek mythology. But perhaps the most delightful inclusion is the reinvention of the sea witch, not as a title but as a people, a choice that evokes Ursula from Disney’s The Little Mermaid. Though sea witches are the most talented of all fathomfolk at shapeshifting—the octopus’s natural camouflage surely an inspiration for that—the callback to a sea creature brought into mythology through modern animation. (One word for a half-human half-octopus, Cecaelia, was only coined in the early 2000s, specifically to refer to creatures like Disney’s Ursula; earlier references to tentacled sea creatures in mythology exist, but typically of the monstrous kind, not the kind that might be people.)

The way that Chan draws her folk inspiration from so many mythologies truly makes Tiankawi feel lived in. It’s a cosmopolitan city, with trams and skyscrapers, as well as waterweaving magic users and underwater bars. This mesh feels at once like both high fantasy and a modern city, with its immigrant neighborhoods and its high-rise apartments for the wealthy. The writing submerges readers in the world, until everything familiar seems strange, and everything strange becomes familiar. While the ending indicates a sequel to come—not all the loose ends have been tied—it also shows how the stakes change in unexpected ways, and suggests that those changes may bring more troubles…or a better future.

Alana Joli Abbott is a reviewer and game writer, whose multiple-choice novels, including Choice of the Pirate and Blackstone Academy for Magical Beginners, are published by Choice of Games. She is the author of three novels, several short stories, and many role-playing game supplements. She also edits fantasy anthologies for Outland Entertainment, including Bridge to Elsewhere and Never Too Old to Save the World. You can find her online at VirgilandBeatrice.com.