"Oh, Papa's a 'she' today," said Remi, as if that were a normal thing. [loc. 1535]
Sequel to Sword Dance, and also featuring characters from One Night in Boukos, this novel is set in Demas' alt-historical version of the ancient Mediterranean: for Zash read Persia, for Boukos read Athens.
In Sword Dance, ex-soldier Damiskos and eunuch dancer Varazda pretended to be having an affair in order to investigate a crime: as is so often the case, at least in fiction, the pretence became real. Now, it's a month since the end of Sword Dance and Damiskos is visiting Varazda at his home in Boukos. Varazda has told his family -- Yazata and Ariston, two eunuchs who were freed at the same time as Varazda, and Rish, a little girl whose provenance is unclear -- of Damiskos' arrival, and of what Damiskos means to him. Although it is possible that his family have not wholly understood him ... The day of Damiskos' arrival is a catalogue of domestic disasters, including a horrible goose and a deliberately over-spiced welcome meal: and things become ever more vexing from there on in.
This novel is told entirely from Varazda's point of view, and he is a fascinating narrator. He doesn't dwell on his past, but he is constantly aware of his difference, and often insecure about whether he can give Damiskos what he deserves, sexually or emotionally. Yet despite Varazda's self-doubt, it's clear that he is beloved by friends and family (except the horrible goose) and valued by the wider community of Zashians in Boukos.
Much of the humour in this novel comes from the way that Ariston's perception of his 'brother' is altered by events. Ariston (nee Tash: he's assumed a Pseuchian name) is a eunuch, like Varazda, but eager to be considered a Man (capital M), while Varazda accepts and sometimes foregrounds his feminine side, and identifies as gender-fluid. (He does tend to use male pronouns, except when he's explicitly being female: so I've used male pronouns in this review.) "My brother is so comfortable being himself," Ariston tells another character. "I wish I could be like that." His growing respect for, and acceptance of, Varazda's unique nature is one of the joys of Saffron Alley.
There is a strong theme of communication (and its lack) in this novel. Damiskos and Varazda are very good at asking one another what they want (though not always quite so good at hearing the meaning behind the answers); Varazda's family are less ready to accept that Varazda likes men and loves Damiskos, regardless of how often he tells (or shows) them. There are further mishearings and misunderstandings, some more momentous than others, that drive the broader political plot: Ariston eavesdropping, rumours being spread, truths being concealed.
My only criticism of Saffron Alley is that the ending is abrupt, and too much of a reversal of what's gone before. The tumultous political plot doesn't really get going until the last third of the novel, and then everything is suddenly wrapped up very quickly: I'd have liked an epilogue, or just another chapter of settling. But I understand there is another novel to come, and I look forward to it very much.
This novel fulfils the 'a queer love story' rubric of the Reading Women Challenge 2021. I received a free ARC from the author (thank you, A J Demas!) in exchange for this honest review.
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