How does it feel to have an integral part of yourself banished? With the knowledge she inherited from her grandmother, Nika is the only one who can pass it on to others. She is forced to secretly practice her blood-forming skills and use them to treat people to earn enough money to survive. However, being captured by her underground gang at her fake doctor's visit and then bought by her nobleman, Nika is allowed to learn the knowledge stolen from her and her people. One of the things fantasy as a genre lacks is a decidedly diaspora protagonist. It's so strange to me how many people I know long for a place that is no longer theirs, yet they rarely see it in their imaginations. But I feel a special bond with Nika. Because there's something about her that she's disconnected from. The way she desperately tries to learn more about herself and her heritage is a special kind of solemnity that I know well, in a world that has always seen her as someone who sees others. Her anxiety about trusting someone makes me homesick for this place. It doesn't even exist. I particularly like how this book highlights her two very different diaspora experiences within her one story. Although Nika and Cochin are from the same place, they have completely different experiences and ideas about themselves and their relationship with their homeland. I like how Lee emphasizes how each reached their conclusion. There are few clear diaspora narratives in second-world fantasy stories, so it's refreshing to see it clearly shown that diaspora experiences are not linear and everyone has different experiences. Diaspora experiences are not monolithic. By the way, I appreciated the emphasis on the use of promotional language. This is similar to how nations use certain languages to encourage the public to understand different ethnicities. This is the kind of subtle violence that can radicalize people without them even realizing it, and I love the call out here. Nyika is known as the Bloodcarver, and her name evokes fear because she can attack the insides of people's bodies. But her people, no longer able to speak for themselves, called people like her the healers of her heart. Because their purpose is healing. The difference between the two is very obvious and a powerful example of how language can change the minds of the masses. I appreciate this story, especially the way it presents the diaspora experience as a second-world fantasy. It's honest and sincere in every detail and reminds you that the author gets it. It’s in the details, the comments, the insecurities, the longings. This story is told from a diaspora perspective, and just as Nyika found a home in magic and knowledge, The Last Bloodcarver feels like a glimpse of home for me.