Last month, a new Marvel title hit shelves courtesy of Tiffany D. Jackson. The author of “Grown,” “What Happened to Monday,” and “The Weight of Blood” brings a young Ororo Munroe — the child who will become the superhero Storm — to life in “Storm: Dawn of a Goddess.” Jackson’s latest release is a delightful YA novel grounded in Storm’s East African origins and the hardships of teenage girlhood. “Dawn of a Goddess” is equal parts fantasy and coming-of-age, proving to be a great fiction pick for children and adults to read together this summer.
The most apparent strength of Jackson’s adaptation is her skill for writing young characters at pivotal crossroads.
In this new origin story, Jackson builds a fast-paced fantasy world infused with teenage angst, powerful mutants, tense combat, and lessons on belonging. She writes each layer of the nearly 300-page voyage with finesse. The most apparent strength of Jackson’s adaptation is her skill for writing young characters at pivotal crossroads.
Ororo Munroe is a thunderous mystery and an exhausted teenage girl. The story begins with a young Ororo, at age 6, and continues as she grows into a 15-year-old. Her age is a core distinction from other adaptations of her story. Many comics, television and film adaptations tell stories of Storm as an adult already tasked with leading the X-Men with her mastery of nature’s elements. This YA entry into Storm’s canon affords audiences an earlier introduction with a chance to understand the talented mutant’s journey in Africa before she meets Professor Charles Xavier.
Writing from the perspective of teenage leads is the heart of Jackson’s literary wheelhouse. Jackson shapes Storm’s origins with attention to the motivations and limitations of a teenage protagonist. My introduction to Jackson’s storytelling was in 2020, when I finished her novel “Grown” in one day. Her attention to detail when fashioning a child’s point of view is impressive. In “Grown,” as with “Storm: Dawn of a Goddess,” Jackson delivers engaging conflict about the material and emotional costs of coming of age. Both novels depend on readers’ willingness to peer deeper at the impact of class and adultification — a harmful process of perceiving children as older or more mature — on children.
In nearly all her published work, Jackson prompts readers to consider the power imbalance between childhood and adulthood with high stakes — her fiction holds a magnifying glass to American myths about freedom and innocence. The adults in Jackson’s novels inhabit worlds full of fear about homelessness, unemployment, and safety and so do the young people at the center of her stories. Her authorial choices invite audiences to challenge assumptions about childhood innocence and question the impact of power imbalances on young Black children. The relationships between adults and children, workers and bosses, and tourists and locals are examples of where Jackson explores power in her novels.
Through it all, young protagonists fight for a sense of self. An example of Jackson’s prowess for writing these costly tensions comes early in “Grown.” In a conversation with her father, Enchanted, the novel’s central character, broaches a familiar situation: she is a teenager asking for her first car. Her pitch is simple: “We can lease a car for two hundred and twenty-eight dollars a month. I’ll be able to help with the Littles. Take Shea and me to school.” Enchanted’s ask, however, comes at a difficult time. Her father’s union is preparing to strike.
A conversation that starts with Enchanted’s want for a car quickly burrows deeper into one about economic anxiety and labor organizing. In the end, Enchanted is left to wonder about the looming strike: “I’ve heard Mommy and Daddy talk about it. A union strike would mean no pay, and strikes can go on for months, maybe years.” By the end of the scene, the economic anxiety plaguing both characters — parent and child — is on full display. In Jackson’s fiction, children are not excused from the psychological and emotional impact of economic exploitation, and readers contend with that perspective.
With “Storm: Dawn of a Goddess,” Jackson’s talent for magnifying the toll of exploitation on children takes shape in a new genre. Even in fantasy, Jackson commits to the stakes that Ororo is still a young girl growing up in the souks of Cairo. Ororo must contend with classism, imperialism, and child neglect to figure out who she is. In the process, she (and other vulnerable children) try to survive starvation without being jailed or killed by adults in power. Jackson’s skill for careful world-building is evident in her handling of Indigenous African spirituality, PTSD and child poverty, even within the conventions of fantasy.
The quest to outwit the Shadow King, a terrifying psychic mutant with the power to possess the bodies of others, is only one obstacle in Ororo’s way.
The quest to outwit the Shadow King, a terrifying psychic mutant with the power to possess the bodies of others, is only one obstacle in Ororo’s way. Jackson composes a fantasy novel with a satisfying balance between the fight scenes that Storm fans expect and intimate moments of introspection that fans new to her writing will enjoy. Overall, Jackson pens a world of magic and mutants that remains grounded in the histories of colonialism in which we, the audience, live each day.
Jackson’s multilayered narrative brings waves of conflict that blow away the fantasy trope of one looming villain (usually known as “the big bad”).
Ororo’s journey from Egypt to Kenya also shatters the familiar idea that the superhero epic is only as good as its final battle. Jackson’s multilayered narrative brings waves of conflict that blow away the fantasy trope of one looming villain (usually known as “the big bad”). In discovering her talent for weather manipulation, she embarks on a path far more personal than any single fight with the traditional big, bad Marvel villain can hold. Jackson crafts a true heroine’s tale to captivate fans of all ages. And beyond Ororo, Jackson rounds out the narrative with a full cast of friends, foes and familiar faces (like T’Challa, the young crown prince of Wakanda). Every relationship invites Ororo to question herself and where her powers come from to discover who she is.
After reading “Storm: Dawn of a Goddess,” my initial skepticism about Marvel’s ability to handle Storm’s origin subsided. Jackson’s talent for writing heartwarming teen leads with compelling motivations is a major benefit to Marvel. The choice to hire her as the newest steward of Storm’s source material saves Ororo Munroe from falling victim to the uninspired direction of recent Marvel cinematic products. This latest adaptation makes the most out of the Marvel superhero pantheon. Jackson delivers an exciting young adult novel that encourages readers to imagine the world of Storm without fully succumbing to the limitations of Marvel’s Africa.
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