I bought Chameleon Moon by RoAnna Sylver within five minutes of it being recommended to me, because the premise was something I knew I needed in my life: queer superheroes. We all need queer superheroes in our lives, really, even if they only exist in the
pages of books. We deserve to know that there’s hope, and that we’re not alone.
And that’s exactly what Chameleon Moon told me: there’s hope, and I’m not alone. From the first pages, I got to see people like myself: nonbinary people, asexual people, transgender people, polyamorous people, neurodivergent people, disabled people. People like me, who the mainstream too often pretends don’t even exist, got to be the stars of an action-packed, high-intensity narrative. And, gods, was that good. That was so good.
Chameleon Moon is set in Parole: a gutted, run-down city that sits above a fire that’s been burning for years. It’s perpetually on the verge of crumbling into the flames, and water is so precious it’s used as currency. Those left in Parole have strange abilities, given by a drug that didn’t work as planned when introduced to the populace. They’re under forced quarantine by a military police force, and everyone is in a perpetual state of waiting for the city to completely collapse.
The narrative follows Regan, the asexual lizard king of my heart, as he tries to recover his memory. He falls in with Evelyn Calliope, a trans woman whose voice dominates the stage at the Emerald Bar, and whose grace under pressure is, honestly, utter goals. Because she’s one of the Helpers that Mr. Rogers told us to look for in times of trouble, Evelyn takes Regan under her wing. She takes him home, where the rest of her family is introduced: her wives Rose and Danae, their son Jack, and the family robot-dog, Toto-Dandy.
From there, the story is a rollercoaster, but in the absolute best way.
Chameleon Moon was fast-paced and brutal. People get hurt, and struggle, and suffer. They get put through the wringer, and they earn every last second of downtime they get. There is no “dead queer” trope to be found, blessedly, but be advised that there is violence and serious injury. The ending is what I’d call a bittersweet victory--mysteries get solved, goals get met, and conflicts get resolved, but there are definitely still plotlines to be resolved. My copy came with a bonus short story set not too long after the book, which was a wonderful treat, but I’ll still be buying book two as soon as I can.
Overall, I adored Chameleon Moon. The story was a thrilling ride, but what really sold it for me was the characters. They were so real, and refreshingly relatable. They have panic attacks, they deal with PTSD, they dissociate, they validate each other's’ struggles and needs. As a neurodivergent person living in a world where triggers are all-too-often mocked, I needed Chameleon Moon. I needed queer, neurodivergent, disabled characters whose struggles aren’t just relatable, but validated and worked through and shown as normal.
Chameleon Moon is set in Parole: a gutted, run-down city that sits above a fire that’s been burning for years. It’s perpetually on the verge of crumbling into the flames, and water is so precious it’s used as currency. Those left in Parole have strange abilities, given by a drug that didn’t work as planned when introduced to the populace. They’re under forced quarantine by a military police force, and everyone is in a perpetual state of waiting for the city to completely collapse.
The narrative follows Regan, the asexual lizard king of my heart, as he tries to recover his memory. He falls in with Evelyn Calliope, a trans woman whose voice dominates the stage at the Emerald Bar, and whose grace under pressure is, honestly, utter goals. Because she’s one of the Helpers that Mr. Rogers told us to look for in times of trouble, Evelyn takes Regan under her wing. She takes him home, where the rest of her family is introduced: her wives Rose and Danae, their son Jack, and the family robot-dog, Toto-Dandy.
From there, the story is a rollercoaster, but in the absolute best way.
Chameleon Moon was fast-paced and brutal. People get hurt, and struggle, and suffer. They get put through the wringer, and they earn every last second of downtime they get. There is no “dead queer” trope to be found, blessedly, but be advised that there is violence and serious injury. The ending is what I’d call a bittersweet victory--mysteries get solved, goals get met, and conflicts get resolved, but there are definitely still plotlines to be resolved. My copy came with a bonus short story set not too long after the book, which was a wonderful treat, but I’ll still be buying book two as soon as I can.
Overall, I adored Chameleon Moon. The story was a thrilling ride, but what really sold it for me was the characters. They were so real, and refreshingly relatable. They have panic attacks, they deal with PTSD, they dissociate, they validate each other's’ struggles and needs. As a neurodivergent person living in a world where triggers are all-too-often mocked, I needed Chameleon Moon. I needed queer, neurodivergent, disabled characters whose struggles aren’t just relatable, but validated and worked through and shown as normal.
The story was good, yes, but the characters made me feel good about myself. They made me feel loved. They made me feel like I, too, can get through the day even when I want to shut down and give up.
Read this book. If you ever need a reminder that you matter, please, read this book.
Until next time,
Jenn.
Read this book. If you ever need a reminder that you matter, please, read this book.
Until next time,
Jenn.
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