Deathless Divide

by Justina Ireland

February 4, 2020 · Blazer + Bray

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Deathless Divide has women killing zombies while building complicated friendships, and that was delightful enough to make me (almost) happy. If I could excise the parts of the books that frustrated me, I would be even happier.

The first book in this series, Dread Nation, was a near-perfect book, so my hopes for Deathless Divide were high. This series is set in an alternate-history 19th century United States, where Civil War ends after the walking dead rose at Gettysburg, with both sides fighting the undead in unresolved union. The series is darkly funny and the first book is the story of two rival students at an elite zombie-fighting academy, Jane and Katherine, who are unwillingly caught up in an evil pioneer settlement scheme in Kansas. I love a book that pokes fun of the injustices of the past—especially when it involves women being underestimated. Deathless Divide also has plenty of zombie-vanquishing heroines and witty social commentary, but the pacing was off in the first half of the book, and the second half had unimaginative Asian-American rep. It’s imperfections didn’t reach problematic bae levels, but they didn’t leave me with the afterglow I expected after the first book in the series.

The story opens minutes after the first book ends, with Jane, Katherine, and their friends on the run, and looking for a safe zombie-free spot to land. Their first stop at a Quaker-run town ends with tragedy and their temporary separation, but they reconnect in California to fight a Big Bad together. I adored Jane and Katherine as frenemies in Dread Nation and they are even more enjoyable in this sequel, which is about the blossoming of their friendship while they make their way through the zombie-infested West. Katherine is the daughter of a courtesan, she loves fashion and killing things, but she isn’t interested in romance (or sex). Snarky Jane is a tomboy who falls in love more easily than she likes to admit. She’s guarded, but protective of other people. Jane and Katherine have quickly become two of my favorite fictional heroines. I loved their bravery, their tender hearts, and their anger. They both ended up at their school because they were let down by their mothers, and Jane in particular fears that she’s too broken to deserve care. But their dynamic is also very fun to read. Jane and Katherine learning to trust one another is the core of the book, with Katherine regularly scandalized by Jane’s lack of propriety, and Jane resisting Katherine’s nurturing tendencies, while being surprised by her capability.

Jane had two potential romantic interests in book 1, both of which fizzle in Deathless Divide. This book takes the tendrils of Jane’s young love and stomps on them, and while there is a teensy romantic subplot, it doesn’t end well. I can’t overstate that if you’re looking for romantic love, this book will disappoint you. It makes Lord of the Flies feel like Lord of Scoundrels, by comparison. However, the main emotional arc of the book is the growing friendship between Jane and Katherine. I love a good BFF love story and this met my hunger for emotional connection.

The book is split between Kansas (where the first book ends) and California, but the pacing felt off to me. The first half drags as the characters are trapped in a town they wish to leave. It’s hard to talk about the plot and the problems without massive spoilers.

I found myself skimming the Kansas sections, which were so clearly not going to end well, and were sometimes depressing to read. Jane and Katherine spend a large chunk of the book apart, and the story felt superficial when it wasn’t anchored by their relationship. Partly that’s because Katherine’s life without Jane is thinly sketched out across a handful of events and we don’t learn new information about the main characters in these scenes. Most of the secondary characters that I loved from the first book disappear early on, and those that remain have character arcs that are dramatically different from the direction they were headed in Dread Nation. I actually liked that the plot kept me guessing, but readers looking for the comfort of a continuing story may be disappointed. I particularly liked the way suspicious characters turn into allies in Deathless Divide, while some of the people I’d assumed would be helpful turn out to be villains, or simply flawed. Who can you trust when anyone could have been poisoned by this messed-up society? The book’s complex depiction of morally ambiguous and unusual characters was one of my favorite parts of reading it. Even people who only appear in a few scenes are still memorable to me.

The second half of the book was more of a travel adventure, and was pretty fantastic except for the strange racial dynamics depicted when our heroines reach San Francisco. Jane is seeking revenge, with a young boy as her sidekick/translator. Katherine has joined a woman-run wagon train to protect the remnants of their original group. Like the first book in the series, the focus here is young people saving themselves, in a world where America’s messily racist culture forces people of color to protect a White ruling class. The California of Deathless Divide is mostly Spanish-speaking, with Anglo settlers in an uneasy truce with a Chinese elite who rule San Francisco like the mafia. The witty reimagining of American racism is a big part of why I like this series, and California’s caste system is ripe for that kind of smart analysis. Which is why I was so disappointed in the depiction of Chinese immigrants as easily wresting power away from Whites by simply ignoring all the anti-immigrant laws they passed. The idea that a few people could organize themselves into power with no violent response from wealthy Whites felt like a stretch given the actual history of San Francisco, and the alternate history of the Eastern U.S. described in the first book. Most of the explanation of this history is described by Carolina, a sailor Katherine meets during her travels.

“The Chinese came here in the forties for the gold rush, just like everyone else, and when the dead overran Asia even more of them came. The West Coast is dotted with small settlements of Chinese folks, as well as people from Japan, India, and the Dutch East Indies. But San Francisco is the oldest and the largest Chinese community in the West. At first, the white folks who had settled the city welcomed them, since the Chinese worked cheaper than the Negroes or the Irish. They dug ditches, built levees, killed the dead, the hard work of establishing civilization. But then most Negroes moved on to Sacramento, a lot of the Irish headed north to the Willamette . . . and the Chinese got organized.”

“Organized how?” I [Katherine] ask.

Carolina digs a cheroot out of his waistcoat and lights it as we walk. “They set prices for work and told the rich white folks who hired them that they could either pay those prices or go without. And every time new Chinese immigrants came into the city there were people who were already here to welcome them and give them the lay of the land. The white folks in charge got mad and tried to keep the Chinese out, even passed some laws up there in the state capital. But without the Navy or any kind of army to enforce them, it didn’t matter.”

“That is brilliant,” I say. “To organize in such a way.”

Carolina shrugs. “Unless you’re a Negro. Our people have somehow ended up with the worst end of this market war. Whites refuse to pay us as much as they would pay the Chinese, and the Chinese refuse to hire us. To say nothing of how it’s impacted the Californios, who were here before either the whites or the Chinese and have had to mostly leave the city. Don’t let San Francisco fool you. It might seem pretty, but it’s been built on the same volatile mixture of greed and exclusion as the rest of this country. Now, it’s a powder keg just waiting for a spark.”

The sole Chinese-American character with dialogue is a brusque immigration agent who mistakes light-skinned Katherine for a White woman, pulls her out of line, and guides her through a truncated process at a reimagined Angel Island. Other Chinese characters are either mentioned in passing without appearing on the page, like Katherine’s landlady’s lover, or observed while main characters walk through San Francisco. Katherine and Jane are fascinating characters, but I wish the book followed up on subplot with the secondary characters, and in particular included a Chinese character that could have offered another perspective. I saw more nuance in the representation of Latinx, Black, White and Indigenous characters, so it felt particularly jarring to have Chinese people presented as exotic, insular, and one-dimensional.

We turn another corner and Carolina gestures toward a three-story building that dominates the block. It is painted red and the roof is emerald green, with inlaid writing on the front in what looks to be actual gold. A couple of very large men stand in front of the doorway, holding halberds and giving everyone who passes by a once-over. “That’s the Sze Yup Society. It’s run by the oldest established Chinese families in the city. They coordinate the labor pricing and negotiate contracts. There are smaller ones in places like Sacramento and down south in Los Angeles and San Diego, but this one is the biggest and most powerful in all the state. Nothing happens in the city without their okay.” His lips twist, and his gaze goes far away for a moment. “And that includes in the Negro sector.”

“This city is starting to sound like every other place I’ve been,” Sue says, staring at the men as we pass. They wear their dark hair in a long braid in the back, but the front part is shaved. I try not to stare, but I am only partially successful. They are striking and imposing.

It didn’t bother me to have Chinese characters presented as being in power, because I kind of love the idea of zombies killing a bunch of racists and toppling White supremacist systems. My problem is that the book didn’t have a believable explanation for how that would happen, and without that detail, it felt like it was just reverting to villainous Asian stereotypes of that era. Or at least leaving so much unsaid that readers could fill in the blanks with their own racist assumptions. This depiction happens over a very tiny portion of the story, maybe a few pages, so it wasn’t a dealbreaker for me, but it was annoying enough that I can’t fully recommend the book.

Deathless Divide builds on the excellent worldbuilding in Dread Nation, but it missed its opportunity to create realistic 19th century racial dynamics in California, and the pacing meant I almost gave up during the weaker first part of the book. Readers who love the heroines, aren’t attached to the secondary characters in the first book, and won’t miss the lack of romance might enjoy this installment in the series. There are great fight scenes and friendships. Fingers crossed that the next book is even better.