The narrator in this book, Gyen Jebi, is a nonbinary artist who just wants to make art and would rather ignore the intricacies of politics and war, which allows the author to paper over a lot of the details of strategy and occupation. Jebi is a native of an alternate version of Korea, in a region under the control of an alternate version of Japan; as an alt-Korean, they find themselves without employment options as the alt-Japanese crack down on the local culture and language. To their militant sister’s dismay, they pursue a position with the local government, and find themselves unwillingly helping the war effort against their own people; no spoilers but it’s a really pointed reference to cultural erasure committed by colonizers. Jebi tries to find ways to express their rebellion, despite their pacifist artistic temperament and their inconvenient attraction to a certain deadly swordswoman. I really liked the characters, particularly the mecha steampunk (silkpunk?) dragon which reminded me a lot of Temeraire; pity it didn’t show up until quite a ways into the book. Although it would have been easy to make the rebellion into the good guys fighting against the occupiers for freedom, the author instead turns the book into a denunciation of war. Both sides are problematic, violence is terrible, and innocent dragons and dreamy artists are the ones who are the most unready to deal.
Tag: genre-alt history
The Apollo Murders, by Chris Hadfield
I was looking forward to this because I figured that Hadfield, being an astronaut, would be great at dropping in very technical and accurate details about the mechanics and procedures of spaceflight, and in this I was not at all disappointed. (I love Hadfield, for the record; his nerdiness is infectious, as is his clear enthusiasm for public outreach. I still enjoy rewatching his videos from space.) I also figured that Hadfield’s forte was likely not character development or beautiful prose, and in this I was also correct. This is a Cold War what-if thriller, in which the Americans and Russians jockey for primacy with moon rovers, spy satellites, and competing space missions. Hadfield sprinkles in real people with his fictional characters, and although his characters have no real depth or growth, they serve the purpose of moving the plot along. I loved the very technical descriptions of everything, from helicopter mechanics to how a loose solder blob could cause severe damage (see, this is why you don’t skimp on shock testing) to how communications lags meant that you had to deliver and receive information at a remove; that palpable joy in the details made the overall awkwardness of the story easier to swallow.
Declare, by Tim Powers
This book peers into the corners and shadows of established history and unfolds into an absolutely stunning and fantastical premise. It’s not the first time I’ve read a book about shadow intelligence agencies focused on the supernatural, but this is by far the most ambitious and dare I say successful insertion of magical weird (in this case, djinn with almost alien psychologies) into actual history. The characters, both real and imagined, are established beautifully; their interactions are layered and tense; the descriptive writing is gorgeous. I did find the plot development to be a bit confusing and the pacing uneven; for a while the book didn’t seem like it didn’t know where it was going (or didn’t bother to tell you) and basically let you flounder around for a while. The last quarter or so was the best though and it absolutely stuck the landing. Fantastically good finish.
Iron Widow, by Xiran Jay Zhao
Part mecha monster battles, part Chinese alt-history, part propaganda warfare, 100% unbridled feminist rage. Wu Zetian is being groomed by her family to follow in her sister’s footsteps, as a concubine for the mecha-pilot warriors that protect the population from the hordes of “Hundun” monsters beyond the Wall. Zetian, however, is resistant to the idea; not just because she already chafes at her assigned gender roles (foot binding, illiteracy, general submissiveness), but because the fate of concubines is to be the qi battery that the pilots use to power the mecha fighters… and when the battery is drained, the concubine is dead, hence the constant need for replacements. Zetian rampages through this book in a constant primal scream of fury at the unfairness of everything around her. There’s a lot of background politicking, a great nod to information warfare, and a truly unsettling reveal near the end. Unfortunately, the plot is at times confusing, the development uneven, the characterization flat or inconsistent; definitely a book that wants you to rush through without thinking too hard about the details. Mostly though, this book is Zetian taking out her righteous anger on the misogynist cruelty around her, and it’s hard not to enjoy that. Mad kudos for the love triangle aspect, the equal and opposite power balance providing a refreshing change from the norm. Warning: cliffhanger epilogue.
She Who Became the Sun, by Shelley Parker Chan
I do not have words for how awesome this book was. It’s about fate, and how you make your peace with it (or not). A girl from a rural village in China, so poor and unvalued that she was not even given a name, is told that her brother is fated for greatness. When he dies, she assumes his identity and goes on to doggedly pursue his glorious fate as well, disguising herself as a boy and getting admitted to a monastery. In time, she finds herself set against the Mongol conquerors that are ruling harshly over the land, one of whom is struggling to accept the fate that he has decided upon for himself. The book is just brilliant, full of piercing insights about gender, destiny, and self-determination, and characters who don’t let the other characters get away with anything. I loved every moment.
Everfair, by Nisi Shawl
The book opened with the author announcing that she wanted to rewrite the genocide that happened when Belgium ran roughshod over the people of the Congo Free State in pursuit of rubber, which was an entirely new and terrible eye-opener for me. In this revisionist steampunk history, horrified missionaries band together with secular British technocrats to purchase vast tracts of Congolese land, providing a haven for Congolese fleeing the brutal rubber farms, building prostheses for the many who had hands cut off by the corporate mercenaries (a thing that actually happened! The mass amputations, not the prosthetics), and banding together with local leaders to defend themselves with airships and other technologies. It would have been a fine enough ride to leave it there, but then the book fearlessly dives into the consequences: at what point would the king and his people begin to chafe under the well-intentioned rule of their white saviors? What would the consequences be around the world, for their allies as well as those seeking to take advantage of their resources? And at what point would the alliance between the missionaries and the technocrats break down, as they begin to pursue their differing priorities? It’s a phenomenally ambitious book with a wonderfully diverse cast in all aspects. It does drag a bit in places, but nothing feels forced about any of the character interactions, and the whole is very detailed and very well thought out.