Magic in First Third of Adeyemi

Magic & Connection in Children of Blood and Bone

In the first third of the novel, Adeyemi introduces her readers to a world in which maji exists and magic, once thought dead, lingers—waiting to be freed—in everything. When first beginning this text, I had no clue what to expect. Unlike some of our other readings, this novel incorporates more fantastical elements (rather than those of science fiction). Nonetheless, it still functions as a way to imagine and evaluate through a different, fantastical lens a society that may deal with problems similar to our own. Adeyemi expertly crafts the world of Orïsha, a place where two kinds of people coexist—though not in harmony—those with the potential for magic, and those who lack such abilities or potential. As we learn through the first third of the book, the divîners face incredible persecution and oppression at the hand of the non-magical kosidan. The kosidan subject the divîners and those who sympathize with them to cruel treatment; sometimes this can take the form of ever-growing taxes, other times it may even lead to slavery and/or death. Form this, we follow our protagonist Zélie as she navigates the world as a dîviner—and, as we learn—magic isn’t dead after all.

I found Adeyemi’s exploration of class, spirituality, and ability to be fascinating. Specifically, Adeyemi’s world imagines a world in which latent ability leads to unquenchable hatred. As Mama Agba says, “‘They don’t hate you, my child. They hate what you are meant to become’” (13). From this, fear and then hatred grows. Those without this natural ability feel disadvantaged, and thus feel the desire to level the playing field—or recreate it to favor themselves, more often. In a way, this fear is understandable—particularly when you examine the King’s perspective. But is revenge enough to put aside all ethical and moral considerations? How does one reform such a society built on fear and loathing? Adeyemi seems to tentatively answer this with the princess and her sympathies, but I know there must be more to explore in the coming pages.

Lastly, I wanted to draw a few parallels between this world and our own, keeping in mind the other texts we’ve examined. I’m unsure if this will remain relevant, but the spirituality threaded throughout the narrative reminds me of indigenous connection to land and spirits. In a way, the maji have been disconnected from that which they draw all knowledge, power, and hope. Without magic, what can they do but merely physically exist? I hope that Adeyemi examines this later in the text, particularly if and when magic is released once again. But this connection to something bigger, yet innate to oneself is a theme I’ve recognized and can’t wait to explore further.