Book Review: Trajelon By Alyssa Marie Bethancourt

Front cover of Trajelon – The Way Of The Falling Star Book 2

Disclaimer: I received a copy of Trajelon in exchange for a review. While I attempt to keep my reviews as fair and unbiased as possible, it is important to note that I received this copy as a gift and read it in two sittings while traveling to/from Seattle while planning our upcoming move. Also, I have known the author since 2011, though I was unaware of her writing endeavors at the time.

Summary (Low Spoiler)

Before you proceed reader, I insist you go back and read the first book in this series: Mornnovin – you can buy it here. The digital version is currently on sale through 7 January 2021.

Welcome back to the world of Asrellion where, over 3,000 years later, the elves and humans are finally signing a peace treaty to officially end the genocide that sent all elves into hiding to the extent they were assumed extinct. Our Míyahídéna is still waiting for her prince of Grenlec to return from his quest to seek out the Elven god Vaian in the sea, and her coronation day is quickly approaching. But what will happen if he doesn’t arrive? And what evil forces lurking beyond the sea could be involved in preventing his return? As the ruler of Elvédíen becomes more erratic in her behavior and eventually disappears, what will her kingdom do?

Response (Spoilers & Content Warning)

Driven mad by the absence of the one other being to which her soul is magically bound, Loralíenasa descends into the depths of despair, bringing the reader along for the ride.

Dear reader, if you have never experienced a major depressive episode, dissociative episodes, personality changes due to severe trauma, or have first hand knowledge of various types of emotional, sexual, and physical abuse… you will. For readers that have experienced these abuses first hand, be assured that Bethancourt has taken great care in her writing on these topics. Chapter breaks, perspective changes, and timeline retrospectives are all used as mechanisms for grounding the reader when the scenes become too intense.

On the bright side, you won’t have to go through years of therapy after the fact to be able to recognize the warning signs for these traumatic experiences. Plus, you will enjoy the educational ride along the way through the incredible story telling mechanics, much like all of the Magic School Bus kids with their super secret Stockholm Syndrome.

If Mornnovin was the book to introduce us to Asrellion and the universe’s clashing cultures, Trajelon is the book that introduces us to the wide cast of characters. With this cast of a new and old characters, we explore the Elven world with new depth and breadth. With no character fully innocent, it’s easier to see these characters as flawed when put under duress. One thing is certain: every character has a unique perspective on events driven by their own motivations and this influences their actions accordingly. We also gain better understanding of how hard they work to appear as a singular presentation of their choosing on the surface as per their training with the Qíarnos – the “Seven Principles of Wisdom” and how these principles impact the culture we’ve come to expect from our cold, pointy eared companions.

With expansions on language and trade relations intermixed with customs, history, and a powerful storyline that will leave a reader emotionally scarred, but begging for more, Trajelon is the sequel we needed.

Yet another brilliant work of art by Bethancourt, Trajelon reveals that she can write epic adventures of the mind and spirit in addition to the sword.

LGBTQA

Major and minor characters represent all potential combinations and it is revealed that elves are very sexual creatures in ways that tend to be left to the imagination. While there are many questions I still have as a reader (re: Galvanos), I’m sure these will be answered in upcoming sequels. So many details have been slow, subtle reveals that are delightful puzzles in this series and I highly recommend readers paying attention to the uses of coding by the author.

Grammar+

This book meets or exceeds the 1/10,000 word error industry standard.

Twilight Zone Moment

What happened to the wedding ring? I know this is a very small and minor question, but I had to wonder.

About The Author And The First Book

You can read more about Alyssa Marie Bethancourt in her interview from last year here or on her website. Follow her on social media via Twitter. You can purchase a copy of Trajelon for yourself here or through amazon here (the digital versions of Mornnovin and Trajelon are on sale for $1.99 through 7 January 2021).

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A Draft Excerpt From “Little Earthquakes In The Sea”: Time For Goodbye

Content Warning: this piece discusses the death of a child and is based on a true story that took place almost a hundred years ago. For those wishing for a soundtrack while reading, I recommend this.


It rained that day in Bonaventure. The men in linen raincoats slicked with wet wax pried her blue and purple infant from her arms with kind eyes as they stood by the gravesite. He never cried. His eyes scrunched shut and mouth hung open to reveal white gums and a tiny receding purple tongue that never knew her breast. His little hands balled into stiff rigor mortis – the same little hands that once pressed through her skin to feel his parents’ palms. The wood and hammered metal wheelchair creaked beneath her in the gusting wisps of distant thunder carried on harried fat dollops of weather.

It was time to say goodbye.

Having never taken a breath of the sweet earthy air, she knew he only ever lived inside her. Her eyes hesitated on his blue lips. A different blue than the eyes she knew he must have beneath those unopened angelic lids. She imagined how if they had fluttered open she could have seen…

“Anna, it’s time to go.” The captain clasped a firm hand on her shoulder. “You have to say goodbye.” His body trembled, but his feet remained firm in the soggy ground.

Ever the polite grave diggers at Bonaventure – their patient spades waited for the captain’s call. To have her baby’s birth documented at all was a luxury. In the eyes of the state of Georgia and the city of Savannah, he never existed. At least Bonaventure gave her and her husband the dignity of recognizing the agony of her feverish labor after carrying her child for all those months; the right to mourn after knowing him all that time only to lose him before ever hearing his scream of life or giving him a name on paper.

In the distance, a bird flew into a patch of blue sky over the ocean on the blue-gold horizon beyond the mouth of the Wilmington River. Another drop of water hit her as she gazed over her child’s face once more. Her hand grazed the place on her stomach where she felt his final kick before the labor began – where she saw his little foot press through her skin. She let go – her tears hidden by the rain.

The men wrapped his little form in a thin damp cloth dusted with perfumed talc from a pouch on one of the digger’s belts. Smudging dirt on his forehead, the digger knelt and placed her unknown son as if asleep into the soft soil of the small pit. Beneath the morning clouds, the scene took on a light blue glowing hue. She closed her eyes and began to hum the lullaby she’d sung to him every night since she’d first felt his presence as the captain’s jerk of the chair indicated him turning away and processing along the ground. The exhaustion hit her again with a wave of nausea. Her baby boy gone forever as if he was never there at all.

In Bonaventure’s records they added:

1929 – Baby B— – Stillborn


If you want to read more, keep an eye out for future additional updates and excerpts from ‘Little Earthquakes In The Sea’. Liking, commenting, and sharing all helps me know which posts my readers prefer. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this today!

外人 (Gaijin)

A slightly different forgotten poem. This one is from December 2014. I found this one while organizing my office and included a horrendous drawing I found with it. Written while in San Francisco, it’s not anything I would submit for publication. I can’t provide insight into the title I gave it, but I’m open to any interpretations others may have.


外人

Ten floors above Mission
Car horns and clanging
Parking garage lights
Dabbling in polluting the sky:
Here I am standing on the ledge
Contemplating perspective –

Fires are not born; they are given
With the perpetuated myths of spontaneous
Combustion
In the depths of our primitive we wait:
Struck by lightning
Or by flint

We reach back into
Darkness of our memories
Pollute the idealized or traumatic sky
With knowledge

Where past: Plato’s Cave
And I: emerging into the light –

We are our own outsider
Reclaiming life
As we know it – our identity

Fighting the inner demons in darkness
Before we can escape into the light


Thank you for taking the time to read these today! Have you ever found any of your old writing? What did you think of it? What do you think of this one? I’d love to hear in the comments!

If you’d like to see more of my forgotten poetry, please like, comment, and/or share this post. It helps me know what content my readers are most interested in seeing, so I can better know what to share here.

An Examination of Death – A Poem

Here is the next of this series of forgotten poems from 2000 – 2005. I used to use a lot more structure in my poetry and didn’t actually start experimenting with avant garde/free verse until I was in college.

At the end of the poem I decided to add a final stanza to provide closure to the narrative and try to make sense of the story being told.



An Examination Of Death

Marybeth died at 65
Too bad her children aren’t still alive
No one was there to plant the tree
On top of her mound to set her free

Harold passed at only 7
Told his mama he was going to heaven
Didn’t hear the fights night and day
Or the shot fired when Mama got in the way

Tommy was gone in ’44
Never had been to war before
When his bride received the news
Next they found her in a noose

Kristy was only 18 years old
When her poor mama was told
She took her life one sunny day
Leapt from the building – cross the way

Daisy was a carefree girl
Loved her Johnny’s special lure
Watched him die before her eyes
At the hands of paradise

All the world can find its fate
Then associate and relate
With every death comes less time
All to end this awful rhyme

Daisy stands by Marybeth’s stone
Knowing they both were together alone
She kneels down to plant a seed
So finally her soul, from pain, is freed


Thank you for taking the time to read these today! Have you ever found any of your old writing? What did you think of it? What do you think of this one? I’d love to hear in the comments!

If you’d like to see more of my forgotten poetry, please like, comment, and/or share this post. It helps me know what content my readers are most interested in seeing, so I can better know what to share here.