Tasha Suri’s Realm of Ash is a beautifully dark tale where finding meaning in life after tragedy is unheard of and we can’t stop thinking about the depth portrayed in every line (minor spoilers).
In 2018, Tasha Suri made a name for herself with her epic debut Empire of Sand, a rich fantasy world inspired by Mughal India that left a lasting impact on readers. Her sophomore novel, Realm of Ash, is a companion to Empire of Sand that can be read as a standalone, but I recommend reading Empire of Sand first to get the full breadth of her exquisite world building.
Tasha has an ability to present readers with a fantasy world drenched in familial duty and a lack of autonomy for its female protagonists while also showcasing their resilience in the face of danger and decisions made for them where they are unable to control the outcome. It is jaw-droppingly stunning to behold, and I’m not saying that lightly.
Realm of Ash isn’t a book to be consumed greedily and as quickly as possible, but a slow burn book where the longer you take, the more the implications and decisions made will sit with you and ruminate, making the impact of Arwa and Zahir’s journey even more palpable. At least that’s how I read Realm of Ash, and I didn’t regret it.
The depth of emotion felt throughout Realm of Ash wouldn’t be as apparent if it wasn’t for Tasha’s masterful world and character building. From Arwa’s first scene to her last, the turmoil and hardships that she’s put through, along with her quiet, simmering anger throughout, brings about a sense of kinship with the reader that will linger once the final page is turned.
Empathy for what Arwa goes through doesn’t seem to be a strong enough word. She isn’t helpless, not with her powers that she has to keep a secret since it’s illegal in the Ambhan Empire to possess them. Her vulnerability comes up again and again in Realm of Ash, and her strength lies within that sense of vulnerability.
When we think of strong female characters, we generally think of women with masculine traits, like Brienne of Tarth in A Song of Ice and Fire or Cara from Sword of Truth, but strength isn’t only found in being able to swing a sword or make men cower.
Female characters should be dynamic, written with as much depth as any male character, and this is exactly what Tasha Suri has done with Arwa in Realm of Ash.
After the death of her husband, Arwa is sent to live with other widows, her hair chopped off, her life essentially over in the eyes of the Ambhan Empire. She has no autonomy, no expectation to become anything again, as she’s effectively cut off from the world. Not only is she a widow, but her blood holds power, isolating her even more.
She finds purpose in helping Zahir travel through the realm of ash, a place between worlds where they can walk the path of their ancestors with the help of her forbidden blood.
Slowly, Arwa gains a sense of self, her autonomy blooming around her, freeing her from the invisible chains that society put around her with restrictions. In some ways, she’s naive, which makes sense when she’d been kept safe and confined throughout her childhood, marriage, and widowhood. Her naivety doesn’t take away from her drive, though, or her wants and needs.
Though her life has restrictions, it doesn’t stop her from growing and allowing herself to become something she didn’t think she could, opening herself up to a life to live, to love. The slow build in Realm of Ash is just that: slow and barely there until it swells up and bursts free.
Slow building a relationship is an art, and Tasha Suri’s portrayal of such a powerful relationship dynamic within the scope of a standalone novel showcases the emotional depth of her characters. It felt as though their slow build spanned books, simmering on a back burner for years.
The subtle nuances of it makes it even more powerful. It’s one of my favorite aspects of Realm of Ash because of how it trickled into the story, never overpowering it.
There is something about non-toxic masculinity in books written by women that gives me hope. Much like my thoughts on internalized misogyny, toxic masculinity is something that runs rampant in fantasy, but it doesn’t have to be this way. I talked a bit about this in YA fantasy earlier last year, but Tasha Suri reminded me of it with her character Zahir.
Described as beautiful, Zahir is gentle and understanding. From his introduction onward, I melted at every description. Not because of traditional strength, but of his empathy, his respect for Arwa. Respect is sexy, and from the way he averts his eyes from her unmasked face to his simply asking for her opinion in a world where a woman’s opinion isn’t ever asked for, Zahir is the epitome of non-toxic masculinity.
That isn’t to say that he isn’t strong, because he is. But that strength and ability to do what needs to be done isn’t his main asset, isn’t on display for all to see. In fact, he hides that strength, because he doesn’t want to use it. He’d rather be a scholar than fight, would rather help his country by finding answers than using brute force. His selflessness shows more strength than any physical attack ever could.
Tasha Suri hasn’t announced her next project, but no matter what it is, I’ll be first in line to pre-order it. Her grasp on emotional and physical world-building within both Empire of Sand and Realm of Ash envelops the reader and brings them on a journey that I’d gladly go on no matter the plot. Her craft is just that: words molded in such a way that I can’t wait to go back and reread them in order to live in the dangerous world that is Ambha.
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