Two planets with a shared destiny.
Four communities bound in disability.
Two blind teens trying to love each other.
On the remote planet of Eloia, Dex and Leanora live in two worlds that intersect: the world of seeing and the world of the blind. Leanora alone travels between them. But she keeps her limited eyesight a secret from the boy she loves most in the world. When she catches her father blinding babies she must make a decision that will jeopardize her life.
The two teens are forced to trek across Eloia in search of answers, while struggling to survive in the harsh wilderness. Leanoraâs mother, believed to be dead, has left traces of herself in every community they meet. In the deserts of Hagoth they encounter a deaf community which was also affected by the Mists that had blinded most of Leanora and Dexâs relatives.
Each step of their journey takes Dex further away from Leanora and closer to someone new. Caught between her allegiance to their shared history and following her heart, Leanora must decide: is survival more important than love?
Two planets with a shared destiny.
Four communities bound in disability.
Two blind teens trying to love each other.
On the remote planet of Eloia, Dex and Leanora live in two worlds that intersect: the world of seeing and the world of the blind. Leanora alone travels between them. But she keeps her limited eyesight a secret from the boy she loves most in the world. When she catches her father blinding babies she must make a decision that will jeopardize her life.
The two teens are forced to trek across Eloia in search of answers, while struggling to survive in the harsh wilderness. Leanoraâs mother, believed to be dead, has left traces of herself in every community they meet. In the deserts of Hagoth they encounter a deaf community which was also affected by the Mists that had blinded most of Leanora and Dexâs relatives.
Each step of their journey takes Dex further away from Leanora and closer to someone new. Caught between her allegiance to their shared history and following her heart, Leanora must decide: is survival more important than love?
My mother said everyone has two hearts. At one point in our lives weâll wish one would stop beating so the other can live more peaceably. I didnât understand what she meant then. Now itâs too late to ask her.
Everyone, except father and me, lost their sight in the Mists that descended on Asanis nine years ago. The Mists moved swiftlyâlike a heavy, wet fogâclinging to our skin and rendering all of Asanis blind within a day. Hardly anyone talks about it. I donât know if itâs because of the new technologies my mother created before she died, or because pretending that our lives are better blind will make it so.
My life before the Mists was about snatching up the beauty all around our community of Asanis: the dark pines, the wildflowers in the meadow after springâs rains, the paintings of the ocean my mom created from her memories of Lepidaia, my birthplace.
After the Mists, I was lost, struck blind with everyone else, not understanding how to retrieve the joy I had felt in watching the seasons change in the surrounding fields and forests. However, my parents and I began to regain partial sight after a time. For awhile I could only perceive shapes and shadows, sometimes glares of light. Then the slivers of time passing in the landscape became clear again and I was left with permanently poor peripheral vision and night blindness.Â
My father recovered the fastest, I think, with his strange silver eyes. It was almost a year after the Mists when my mother admitted that she, like me, had regained some sight. We both agreed with my father that we shouldnât tell our neighbours about our partial recovery until they too showed signs of seeing again. They never did. Mom died with our secret when I was ten.Â
My father has been working for years to try and cure the communityâs cattle and waterborne diseases that transmit to people. We suspect other communities that we used to trade withâlike the desert people in Hagoth, the rainforest dwellers in Nedara, and the seaside city of Lepidaiaâ may have suffered like we did. But we are also afraid, because we have not heard from anyone on this side of the planet Eloia for six years. My father says that once everyone is cured, we will go to Lepidaia, because then his work here in Asanis will be finished.Â
I canât believe my father, because when I look at him, sitting in his study taking notes, I feel him slipping away every day since sheâs been gone. There doesnât seem to be anything I can do to bring him back to a place of understanding me or my heart.
Bass drums pounded the air through the loudspeakers on the dirt path outside our house. Everyone milling about on the footpaths to and from the center fields of Asanis would be stopping and waiting for the horns, the signal to recite our final daily oath, âOur sight blinds us to the truth of menâs hearts.âÂ
In the kitchen, Agda, short and pudgy, ignored the drums, continuing to sing an old song from Lepidaia instead. Almost all our songs come from the seaside city of my birth. She fried chicken and saffron in one pot and beans in another. I gladly joined her private rebellion, singing with her in hopes of killing my nerves about my final exams the next day.Â
Usually Dex was around when we cooked dinner, but for some reason he hadnât arrived. Girls at school had been bragging about what theyâd done with him during the spring festival a few weeks back. I figured that since Nati and Ayli were always lying about our classmates, including me, it would make sense that they embellished their adventures with Dex. I didnât know how to bring it up with him and maybe that was what was making me nervous, not my exams. I was running out of time to improve my scores in eight out of ten of my competancy subjects. It was the final year and the only things I had to show for my studies were my perfect scores in vocal harmonies and music composition.
Agda stopped stirring. âYou helping, Leanora, or just singing?â
âJust singing.â I laughed and took the chopped vegetables, dropping them carefully into another sauce pot sheâd prepared. âThere, I just put them in the pot.â
Agda put her hand on her hip. âHow do you know itâs the right one?â
âItâs the only one that has the scent of your exquisite sauce.â I tapped her on the arm, so she knew I was playing with her. Agda was the one person whom I thought might suspect I could see. Still, I tried to make light of my accuracy in finding things. Father said that my limited eyesight shouldnât be an impairment to my learning to touch-read. I often argued that Agda, who was fully blind, couldnât touch-read to save her life and she did okay. My father was not happy with these kinds of justifications from me. He could see and touch-read perfectly.
âWhereâs that Dex boy? Heâs usually here by now.â She started humming again as the front door banged open and the second trumpets sounded for evening oath. I ran to the door, thinking it was Dex, but it was Father. Heâd stopped for the daily oath, which wasnât surprising since he wrote it as a way of uniting us after the tragedy of the Mists. As much as I disliked the robotic repetition of the oath, it had helped Asanis. There were no more suicides after we started the daily oathâeven if it came too late to save Dexâs father.
Once the evening oath was over, father squeezed my arm and strolled past me, his tunic flapping behind him down the corridor that connected the infirmaryâs complex behind the house.
âThere he goes again. He donât eat dinner. Iâm bringing it to him, whether he likes it or not.â Agda grinned and I kissed her on the cheek.
âYou sweetie. Make sure you pop those kids at school. Getting meaner everyday, from my hearing at the market.â Her smile was missing several teeth from a poor diet before she came to live with us. But, to me, she was the most beautiful person in the world.
âEvery day, when youâre singing those little ditties, you remind me of your mom.â She wiped her brow. âI miss her.â She put her hand on my arm and sighed. âEven if he donât want to talk about it.â She indicated the corridor behind us where my father had gone.
She was the only person in Asanis who would still talk about my mother fondly, as if she still lived and breathed. She sang and put her arm around me, swaying, like Mom and I used to do.Â
âLua lu laiâŚâ her singing voice was steady in a way her gravelly spoken voice never was. While she sang, she was transformed into a younger woman, her eyes radiant, even though they were misaligned and unfocused.
âLua lu laiâŚâ I joined in. ââŚI caught you with my eye, the other day when we were walkinâ.â
âTalkinâ, tryinâ, tâbe betterân we wereâŚ,â Agda continued.
Father came back from the infirmary and interrupted us. âDinner ready?â
Agda released her hold on my waist, going back to the pots, carefully sniffing the contents and putting her navibelt earphones back in one ear.
âAlmost,â I said, and my father flashed me a look. He moved too quickly for me to catch what the look meant. Because of my severe tunnel vision, if someone moved too fast I couldnât catch everything. I needed objects to be within twenty feet of my eyes and time to track what I was seeing, especially if it was something unfamiliar.
âIt sounds like itâs done with all that singing going on.â He sounded tired, and he slumped down at the living room table.
âRest for a little bit and weâll all eat together,â I said brightly, hoping that he could join us at least once this week. But he went into his study in the next room and started reading one of his thick books, pretending that he hadnât heard me.
âFathâerrr.â I creeped up to him and nudged him on the side, trying to get a glance at what he was reading.
âDaughtâerrrr.â He tickled me and I rubbed my hand against his beard gristle. His brown hand against my tan one was so funny. His skin was almost shiny it was so dark. My mother had skin like clear glass when she was alive. Father would follow her with his eyes wherever she went. It was how I knew he loved her, that look in his silver eyes, his black brows furrowed.Â
Now his brows were gray and his hair cut so short that I wasnât sure what color it was anymore. I leaned my face against his bald head and it was hot and dry. Then I kissed him, to let him know that he didnât have to work so hard. He didnât like when I said it, so I hoped my kiss would convey the message.
âYou have exams tomorrow?â he asked, putting his arm around me.Â
âUnfortunately, yes. The kids⌠IâŚnevermind.â He didnât like it when I brought up how the other kids treated me. He thought it was my fault because I listened to them; I didnât guard my mind from their poisonous ways.
âWho are you?â he asked me, still looking at the book.
âA healerâs daughter,â I repeated, dully, hating his standard answer to my school troubles.
âAnd what should you be?â
I didnât want to say âProud of who I am,â for the billionth time, so I started to sing, hoping heâd join in. After a few refrains from âLua Lu Lai,â I was still the only one singing.
âFather, come on! Sing with us.â
Father stopped reading and leveled his face with mine, where he knew I could see both his eyes. âOnly if Dex isnât coming over.â Heâd started acting funny about Dex over the past eight months. Not outrightly rude, just different and very detached. It made me wonder, sometimes, if heâd changed how he felt about me too.
âHeâs my only friend, you know.â
Father gently held my head so I couldnât look away. His eyes were soft, all the flint of the dayâs toil gone from them. âI know. I wish you and Theresââ
I pulled away from him. âShe left me to my tormentors.â
âTormentors? Leanora, stop being dramatic.â He started to hum the refrain from âLua Lu Laiâ again, then stopped. âAgda, can you tell me why you and Leanora insist on singing sad songs?â
Agda hummed along with him and didnât answer. She never answered him when she thought he wouldnât like her answer.Â
âItâs because we miss Mom. Itâs our way of remembering her.â
Father took my hand and sang along with me,Â
âLua lu lai,
Why do I try,
The journey below,
To your heart,
Is a lie.
The gracken caws,
The marlbird sings so sweet..â
We harmonized on the last line, âswimming in the skiesâŚ,â and our voices faded away. It was almost as good as the times when Mom sang with us. When I looked at Father, his eyes were moist and I hugged him tight.Â
Dex snuck in behind my father and started singing âLua Lu Lai.â His voice was out of tune and Father stood stock still when he came around the other side of him, almost knocking him over.
âDid I hear a dog yowling instead of trying to sing properly?â Father joked with Dex before taking his hand and greeting him. âYouâre late. Weâve eaten all the food and youâll have to settle for some roasted nuts.â
âIâll take what I can get, sir,â Dex answered, a slight wobble in his normally radiant smile.
I tried to change the subject. âEveryoneâs gathering at the lake for a bonfire. Maybe you can both come with us.â
Agda poked me. âYou have exams tomorrow and your father is busy saving us and the cattle from disease. Everybody, sit down so the food donât get cold. Dex boy, you come here and help me.â
Dex followed her, touching my shoulder lightly on his way to the kitchen. As usual, he wouldnât let me help them, but insisted I sing while they finished taking out the food.
Once we were settled, he sat next to me and squeezed my hand under the table. Agda kept trying to put more food on my plate. âIâm fat enough. Eat more, skinny girl.â
Father watched me while I ate, not saying anything, looking strained. It kept me from doing what I liked, which was watching Dex: his clothes dusty, his tunic showing a little too much skin, his muscles thicker with each passing day. I didnât like that look in Fatherâs eyes and how they hardened at the edges when he caught me smiling at Dex. Recently, Father had taken to pointing out that Dex had food on his face when there was nothing there.
No one, except Father, knew that I could still see. Mom had taken this secret with her to her grave and now I was obliged to keep it.Â
As always, Agda finished eating first and had started to clear the leftovers. Dex got up to help, humming another song. Usually Father left to go back to the infirmary, but when he stood he put his hand on my shoulder, keeping me from getting up.
âDex, Agda, you hear me?â
âYes.â The water stopped.
Father moved to the kitchenâs opening. âDex, make sure you pick up Leanora early for exams tomorrow. Iâm tempted to match her if she doesnât pass her touch-reading.â
Dex came out, drying his hands on a towel. âYou arenât serious, are you?â
Father had joked about such things in the past, but his silver eyes were hard and opaque. âSheâs sixteenâthatâs old enoughâand what will another year of school do for her if sheâs not doing well in the important subjects?â
âBut sheâs a healerâs daughter.â
âEven the healerâs daughter has to follow the rules.â
I stood up. There was no way I was going to be matched.Â
âJanziâs father and I spoke today.â
âJanzi is a no-good, stupidââ Father stopped Agda.
âWeâll take it from here, Agda.â
Agda didnât move for a while, turning between the two of us. She always stood up for me. When Father gave her the earphones to her navibelt and turned up the volume, she snatched it away from him, refusing to put in her earphones. She slowly shuffled away, humming on her way to her room. I wished she had stayed.
Father put his hand on my shoulder. âLeanora, you have to do your best on your last exams tomorrow.â
âI canât be matched with Janzi. HeâsâŚ.â
âA complete moron.â Dex finished for me. He came to stand next to me and put his arm around me, taking me out of Fatherâs reach. The tension in the room felt like it was going to drown out any other sound. A group of teenagers strolled by, playing drums and singing. The younger kids had already finished their exams, giving them an extra two days before the farmers and cattle drivers put us to work in the fields and forests to start the summer gathering, planting and tending. Everyone, even the older kids with exams due the next day, was headed to the lake to celebrate.Â
Everyone except me.
âLeanora needs to stay behind and rest. You go on with the others to the lake, Dex.â My father tried to make his voice light, but I knew it was a command, not a suggestion.
Dex lingered at my side. Took my hand and kissed it lightly. âTomorrow morning, then.â He stood there, his light blue eyes unfocused, but his whole face turned toward me in expectation. I didnât want him to go and didnât know how to make him stay. I followed him to the door, afraid to touch him while my father was watching us. Once he finally closed the front door between us, I confronted my father.
âWhy canât I tell him that I can see? Whatâs wrong with telling the truth?â
My father exhaled. âAsanis changes slowly. Your mother and I saw that when we came from Lepidaia. But we knew we had a great work to do here. I still do.â He paused and cleared his throat. He hadnât spoken about Mom in such a long time that I was afraid he might lose control.
âSomeday all this restraint, all the changes Iâve worked so hard to make here in Asanis will make sense.â He looked away from me and turned toward the kitchen. He started washing the dishes. It had been years since Iâd seen him do any sort of kitchen work. I picked up a towel and I dried. He was so thorough he didnât miss a single bit of food sticking to the pans or plates. When he was finished he stood and looked at me. All the warmth was gone from his face, every muscle tight with strain.
âFatherâŚâ
âYour mother was too indulgent with you about your music. I am serious about Janzi. If you fail your exams you will be matched.â His silver eyes flashed at me and it was hard to hold his gaze. âThere are no apprenticeships for female musicians and you and I both know you canât work the fields the rest of your life.âÂ
When I started to speak he turned and walked out of the kitchen without saying another word. It wasnât like him not to hear my side of things. I didnât know how Iâd made him feel so differently about me in such a short period of time. I stood there for a long time, waiting for him to come back, hoping there was some way for us to change the rift that had started between us.
Leanora believes that everyone in her community was blinded by the Mists. She believes she is one of the few people to recover partial sight â a secret she is not allowed to share with anyone besides her father. She believes her mother is dead. She believes she is in love with Dex, the boy she's known since childhood.
The journey Leanora takes in Eloia Born shatters all of these beliefs â and more.
Eloia Born is both a dystopian narrative and a quest story; consider it a spiritual successor to Lois Lowry's The Giver and M. Night Shyamalan's The Village. We learn quickly that the people in Leanora's community are not blind by chance, but by design. We also learn â though the story does not state this outright â that the grand experiment of "a society without prejudice" has failed. Leanora and Dex are discouraged from pursuing a relationship due to their families' disparate standing among the community, for example. Blindness may prevent people from judging others on the basis of skin color or physical appearance, but they still judge.
When Leanora and Dex leave their community â as of course they do â the story begins to depart from similar, more predictable narratives. These two teenagers quickly discover that there are other people in the world, and other possibilities for friendship and romance. They learn new skills and their paths begin to separate. I appreciated Jensen's honest approach to the way people change in late adolescence, and the fact that "high school sweethearts" (for lack of a better term) do occasionally grow apart.
I am not blind, so I cannot speak to the authenticity of Jensen's depictions of living with limited visual ability; however, she includes a section at the beginning of the book explaining the research she did prior to crafting her characters.
The one false note I found in the story â and it is a jarring one â is the late addition of a character who speaks in a racialized patois: "Dey want you bless dem and stay wit dem," etc. This character has blue skin and is viewed as an "exotic beauty" by the white and brown-skinned characters, one of whom uses the phrase "like an animal."
For a world in which racial prejudices have been theoretically eliminated, it looks like some stereotypes are still going strong.