{"id":2761,"date":"2025-05-05T12:03:08","date_gmt":"2025-05-05T12:03:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/?p=2761"},"modified":"2025-05-05T12:03:08","modified_gmt":"2025-05-05T12:03:08","slug":"notes-from-a-regicide-by-isaac-fellman","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/?p=2761","title":{"rendered":"Notes from a Regicide by Isaac Fellman"},"content":{"rendered":"

Isaac Fellman\u2019s latest novel, Notes from a Regicide<\/em>, stands as a testament to the power of narrative innovation, weaving together science fiction, family drama<\/a>, and trans literature in a way that feels both revolutionary and deeply intimate. Following his Lambda Award-winning The Breath of the Sun<\/em> and the critically acclaimed Dead Collections<\/em>, Fellman continues to push boundaries while crafting stories that speak directly to the heart of what it means to find\u2014and lose\u2014yourself in the family you choose.<\/p>\n

A Structure as Complex as Memory Itself<\/h2>\n

At its core, Notes from a Regicide<\/em> is a Russian doll of narratives: Griffon Keming\u2019s quest to understand his deceased parents through his father Etoine\u2019s prison memoir, written while awaiting execution, which itself contains layers of history, revolution, and love. The book oscillates between three distinct worlds\u2014Stephensport (a fantasy city-state with political intrigue and frozen electors), the Nameless City (born from revolution), and modern-day New York, where Griffon pieces together the fragments of his family\u2019s past.<\/p>\n

This narrative structure mirrors the way we often discover our parents\u2019 true selves\u2014fragmentarily, through artifacts they leave behind, stories half-told, and silences that speak volumes. Fellman handles this complexity with remarkable skill, allowing each layer to inform and enrich the others without becoming unnecessarily convoluted.<\/p>\n

The Revolution of the Self: Trans Identity Across Generations<\/h2>\n

Perhaps the most poignant aspect of Fellman\u2019s work is how it handles trans identity across different generations and contexts. Etoine and Zaffre\u2019s experiences in Stephensport\u2014where medical transition is forbidden but gender expression is somewhat accommodated through \u201csworn\u201d identities\u2014contrast sharply with Griffon\u2019s relatively accessible path to testosterone and top surgery in New York.<\/p>\n

The generational gap in trans experiences includes:<\/strong><\/p>\n

The trauma of living before medical transition was possible
\nThe internalization of societal judgments about \u201cworthy\u201d versus \u201cunworthy\u201d trans people
\nThe complex relationship between personal identity and revolutionary politics
\nThe ways communities create their own forms of care when official systems fail<\/p>\n

Zaffre\u2019s character\u2014a trans woman artist who forges paintings for revolution funding while battling mental illness\u2014particularly embodies this intersection of identities. Her journey from hiding her femininity to eventually accessing estrogen through the underground network of nuns reveals how resilience can manifest in unexpected forms.<\/p>\n

The Weight of History: Political Art and Personal Revolution<\/h2>\n

Fellman excels at exploring how personal identity cannot be separated from political context. The famous \u201cAntoninos Portrait\u201d\u2014painted by Zaffre but attributed to Etoine\u2014becomes both a catalyst for revolution and a symbol of how art can be weaponized for change<\/a>. This painting, initially misunderstood as propaganda for an aristocratic rebel, transforms into an emblem of popular uprising.<\/p>\n

Key themes of political engagement include:<\/strong><\/p>\n

The responsibility artists bear for how their work is interpreted
\nThe impossibility of remaining apolitical when your existence is politicized
\nThe complex morality of revolutionary violence
\nThe personal cost of fighting systems of oppression<\/p>\n

The novel particularly shines in its portrayal of how revolution affects individual lives. Neither Etoine nor Zaffre emerges unscathed from their involvement in overthrowing Prince Stephen, and their physical and psychological scars become part of the legacy they pass to Griffon.<\/p>\n

Love in the Time of Revolution<\/h2>\n

At its heart, this is a love story\u2014not just between Etoine and Zaffre, but between parents and child, between artists and their craft, between revolutionaries and their cause. The romance that blooms between Etoine and Zaffre after decades of friendship is rendered with exquisite tenderness, particularly as they navigate the complexities of transitional bodies and the fears that come with finally having something to lose.<\/p>\n

Fellman\u2019s prose in these intimate moments is particularly striking:<\/p>\n

\u201cShe was a magnificent woman, and I would do anything to press my face once more to the hollow of her breast, to feel her firm hands at the small of my back. Those hands touched me more intently than other hands. They always had just enough pressure in them to relieve the ache of my muscles, the ache inside my skull.\u201d<\/em><\/h4>\n

The tragedy of their love\u2014constrained by political circumstances, separated by imprisonment, and ultimately ended by violence and suicide\u2014gives the novel its emotional core.<\/p>\n

The Art of Memory and the Memory of Art<\/h2>\n

Throughout the novel, Fellman employs art as both metaphor and mechanism for understanding identity and history. Etoine\u2019s tarot deck, featuring friends and revolutionaries alike, becomes his way of processing trauma and preserving memory. Zaffre\u2019s abstract paintings evolve from her struggle with mental illness to become her most honest form of expression.<\/p>\n

The relationship between art and memory manifests in:<\/strong><\/p>\n

Paintings as historical documents
\nThe way trauma shapes artistic vision
\nArt as both personal therapy and political statement
\nThe preservation of identity through creative work<\/p>\n

Griffon\u2019s eventual understanding that he cannot publish his parents\u2019 story without fundamentally altering it reflects Fellman\u2019s nuanced approach to questions of truth, memory, and the ethics of representation.<\/p>\n

A Critique of Paradise Lost<\/h2>\n

While the novel\u2019s strengths far outweigh its weaknesses, there are moments where the dense layering of narratives can feel overwhelming. The shift between Etoine\u2019s prison memoir, Griffon\u2019s contemporary narrative, and Zaffre\u2019s occasional interjections sometimes creates a disorienting effect that, while intentional, may challenge some readers\u2019 patience.<\/p>\n

Additionally, the world-building of Stephensport, while fascinating, occasionally overwhelms the more intimate human drama at the story\u2019s center. The concept of the electors (ancient beings kept in suspended animation to choose rulers) and the complex political machinations sometimes feel underdeveloped compared to the richly realized emotional landscapes of the characters.<\/p>\n

A Legacy of Love and Loss<\/h2>\n

Perhaps the novel\u2019s greatest achievement is how it handles grief\u2014not just the loss of individuals, but the loss of possibilities, of identities left behind, of revolutions incomplete. Griffon\u2019s journey to understand his parents becomes a meditation on how we inherit not just genetics, but trauma, resilience, and the capacity for extraordinary love.<\/p>\n

The novel\u2019s ending, with Griffon choosing to keep his parents\u2019 story private, suggests that some forms of love are too precious for public consumption\u2014a fitting metaphor for the trans experience itself, where the most intimate journeys of self-discovery often occur in the liminal spaces between public and private life.<\/p>\n

A Modern Classic in the Making<\/h2>\n

Notes from a Regicide<\/em> stands alongside works like Becky Chambers\u2019 A Psalm for the Wild-Built<\/em> and Casey Plett\u2019s Little Fish<\/em> as essential reading for anyone interested in how speculative fiction can illuminate the trans experience. Fellman\u2019s novel manages to be simultaneously epic in scope and painfully intimate, creating a work that resonates on multiple levels.<\/p>\n

For readers familiar with Fellman\u2019s previous works, this novel represents a maturation of themes present in Dead Collections<\/em> and The Two Doctors G\u00f3rski<\/em>\u2014the exploration of chosen family, the weight of history, and the transformative power of art. Yet Notes from a Regicide<\/em> pushes these concepts further, creating a multi-generational saga that speaks to the complexity of trans identity in both fantastical and contemporary settings.<\/p>\n

Final Verdict<\/h2>\n

Isaac Fellman has crafted a novel that refuses easy categorization, blending genres and narrative techniques to create something uniquely powerful. While occasionally challenging in its structure, the emotional core of Notes from a Regicide<\/em> remains crystal clear: the profound love between parents and child, partners and comrades, artists and their creations.<\/p>\n

This is not merely a book about revolution\u2014it\u2019s about the daily revolutions required to love, to transition, and to survive. It\u2019s about understanding that our parents are never quite who we think they are, and that sometimes the greatest gift we can give them is to let their mysteries remain unsolved.<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Isaac Fellman\u2019s latest novel, Notes from a Regicide, stands as a testament to the power of narrative innovation, weaving together science fiction, family drama, and trans literature in a way that feels both revolutionary and deeply intimate. Following his Lambda Award-winning The Breath of the Sun and the critically acclaimed Dead Collections, Fellman continues to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":0,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2761","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-bookreviews"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2761"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2761"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2761\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2761"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2761"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2761"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}