Mayim de Vries's Reviews > The Ten Thousand Doors of January

“It is at the moments when the doors open, when the things flow between the worlds, that stories happen.”

Ten thousand doors no’s. Twenty thousand doorways no-way’s.

Sometimes I shamelessly fall for those hyped bestsellers, but most often I cannot stand them. Funnily enough, I loved what most people hate about this book: the flowery, flowing prose. I admired the writing style so much that I wanted to rate the book with full five stars, a priori, before I even finished the second chapter.

How sensible of me — not.

The Idea

This novel has two main cornerstones: portal fantasy and a book in a book. The first one is a sham, and if you expect the main protagonist to gallivant around different worlds and have adventures there, forget this book this instant. This is not happening. Oh, we know the worlds are there, the oozing transcendence of their realities somewhat influences the story, but it is not a “butterfly effect” influence. It is the very same influence that Cameroonian social housing policy has on me. That is: negligent and anecdotal. Fantasy is a bi-product of the tale, not its pivot; an unwilling companion travelling in the same (quite crowded compartment).

The second means that with each chapter the focal point of the story alternates, and while it does not take long to see how both tales are connected, this impedes the dynamics of the book and its pacing. Most importantly, because both histories are essentially retold by a narrator, somewhere in the future, it is more difficult to engage because huge parts are just overtalked. This is inevitable because January tells things as opposed to taking part in them, everything is retrospective and I have had a feeling of looking into a quirky aquarium not being a part of a grand adventure.

The Setting

And then there is the context in which both stories are immersed. Have I written “the context”? Silly me, I meant politics. This book is inherently political, to this extent that at a roughly 30% in, I needed to check whether I am not reading the minutes from a Democrat rally. The thing is: if I wanted all this social justice posturing, virtue signalling and other political gibberish on colonialism, oppression, and marginalisation, I would read political novels. You will notice, sometimes I do that. But the reason I read fantasy is because it allows me to escape the mundane realities of our world. This book shuts this escape door straight in my face. Ouch!

But then it gets worse, because when the whole identity politics agenda exposition is done, the narrative moves swiftly to preaching. Now, if I wanted to hear sermons (and pay for them dearly), I’d frequent some mega church or other. And this is something I definitely do not do and do not appreciate.

In short, there is no world-building in the novel; it is more a world-interpretation. And I had a distinct feeling that the book has been written by somebody who does not like our world too much. Which is a shame. To the contrary, the vision of an ideal world (Arcadia: any real or imaginary place offering peace and simplicity) comes down to civilisational squat in a habitat that has been conveniently abandoned (so that we can avoid those nasty colonial dilemmas).

The Protagonist

“January Scaller, 57 inches, bronze; purpose unknown.”

The main protagonist describes herself as an in-between girl. This is also a lie. She is firmly and totally an out-there girl with no room whatsoever for negotiation, compromise or even adjustment. Consequently, what you should understand as the “in-between” is the fact that January Scaller is irrevocably, dramatically, and entirely… unique. There is no other like her. She does not fit in preconceptions, conveniences, societal structures, systems, or norms. Now, I don’t know what you call it, but a special MC in a fantasy book is normally classified as a snowflake with everything that comes with this concept.

What we have is a classic YA drama: a heroine who is trapped in a fancy house and lives a different life than what she would prefer (she is practically fostered by her father’s wealthy employer while her father travelling for business purposes). Essentially, January is a young woman on a quest to reach her potential and discover Freedom. Love. Something.

Perhaps it all comes down to the fact that he wants to belong. But don’t have an image of a puppy taken from a shelter in mind. Those puppies are grateful for what they get and ready to love anyone, while January Scaller has very precise ideas who might be worthy of being her friend, her confidante and her companion. Who is good enough to be accepted and tolerated. Let me tell you, there are not many of those.

And what disqualified her from the list of favourite acceptable heroines, is the fact that she is, quite frankly, not that smart. In fact, she is unaccountably stupid for an obviously educated girl (and the narrative is both poetically abstract and acerbically snarky, intermittently that is, which requires intelligence). She messes all she can and then some more. How can an intelligent person do all the stupid things that January does is beyond me (view spoiler)[if I was offered membership in a secret society by people I consider to be my enemies, I’d accept already plotting how to proceed with a takeover and ultimate annihilation, the evil overlord wannabe that I am (hide spoiler)] and I really could not shrug it with: “ah, well! adolescence!” excuse. Yet, she has regular fits typical for a spoiled brat which is the mundane equivalent of a “willful and temerarious” (January calls herself temerarious several times so I gather she must be quite proud of it).

The Rest

What is interesting, is that there are more wilful and temerarious girls in this book. One is adopted and loves it (because who would not love to be a polyandrous community where women go and hunt and men wait for them with fat babies on their hips and mugs full of beer in their hands (snort). The other hates it because who would not hate to be adopted into an oppressively clean house with pristine lawns, private tutors and governesses (here I’d like to apologise to all the German governesses out there) and loads of travel. Let that sink in.

You will also find love stories, but both romances are kind of insta ones and both feature strong women versus rather miserable men so if you like the tender boy type you will be thrilled. I prefer my men just as I like my books: in leather jackets, quite rough around the edges and with an aura of experience (Mr de Vries also makes the best coffee in the world and recites poetry, so it is really hard to impress me). The moping, delicate types that need to be rescued are definitely putting me off.

January’s father is a particularly miserable specimen and for the love of books, I could not understand or empathise her pining after such hapless and a spineless creature. For some time I kept thinking rather unfavourably about January’s parents due to their egoism of cosmic proportions and feeling for their poor (view spoiler)[and neglected (hide spoiler)] daughter, but then I realised that the daughter is equally self-centered and absorbed in her own needs that she does not really deserve my empathy.

I’d be less frustrated if there was somebody else to latch on to. Unfortunately, all the characters are very unidimensional to be honest, including the main antagonist. Everyone has only one role, and character development, meager at best, does not extend beyond this aspect. To introduce tensions is entirely beyond the author. She kind of attempts to lead a reader on a merry dance, but every other sentence she keeps contradicting herself making this attempt both futile and unnecessary. Why would we believe something the author clearly doubts?

This renders the novel so painfully schematic with the rich white men being the villains and the ultimate villain tells it all scene (view spoiler)[which really made me wonder: she finds the door as a little girl, tells her guardian about it and he burns it. Then promptly ignores this fact and the meaning and yet afterwards he is surprised that the girl has some strange inclinations and abilities? now if I were an evil overlord in a story, I would definitely be interested in exploiting my ward’s uncanny abilities (hide spoiler)]. The superb concept of the power of the word has not been properly explored (worse, the distinct smell of Mary Sue should waft in your direction) and rests mainly on the idea that January can do things no-one else is able to when necessary, without explanations how or why or what are the rules that bound her power. The door as an agent of change and the belief that stagnation is the absolutely worst what can fall upon humanity leads to a not very surprising conclusion.

It might be that if you like the message, you will like the book, and you will excuse the additional deficiencies of world-, character-, and plot-building. I did not so let me close these doors behind me and pretend they have never been opened.