Reviews

Arkady Martine’s A Memory Called Empire was a dedication “…to anyone who has ever fallen in love with a culture that was devouring their own.” It was about the power of memory and how empires are built on memories – be it oral or written history and fiction ingrained into public memory. Sitting in the global village of 2021, where cultures around the world have started melting into a in-differentiable puddle, it was especially relevant to find an author exploring the pull of an opressor’s cultural memory, and showing how it can devour and transform you.

But what is culture really, if not the collective memory of the people it represents. And even those enamoured by the culture of a different sect, group, or land, comprises within that culture. How much is ‘we’? How far does this bonhomie of ‘we’ extend? How do we segregate between who is one of our own and who is an outsider, a barbarian? Martine’s second book A Desolation Called Peace answers all that, and does it with her usual beautiful lyrical panache.

A Memory called Empire was the first in the Teixcalaanli duology, and Martine has been amply recognized for her dazzling debut, winning the Hugo and the Nebula. The second part of this duology, in a rare event, surpasses the first book in terms of quality of writing, philosophy of ideas, and the story in general. Structurally, it is similar to Memory – in the first time, it was a murder mystery which had to be solved in the backdrop of an all devouring, glittering empire, the human faces behind it, and Mahit Dzmare, the outsider enmeshed amidst these political manoeuvers. It was Foundation meets Game of Thrones in all the best ways possible. Desolation uses the same trick – it places Mahit in a first contact scenario – aliens with their armada and indecipherable language, laying waste to vast sectors of Teixclaanli space. And while she tries to negotiate with this unknowable force, the machinations of the empire’s fleets and their internal politics clash with the politics of her own station – Lsel, fiercely independent yet dependant on Teixcalaan.

In the first book, I, like Mahit, was enamoured by Teixcalaan, their shining city, and their lyrical poetry. But that was all we knew about Teixcalaan – a planet city. In this book, we get to view Teixcalaan a little more – see its fleets of warships in the vast expanses of space, its technology allowing the use of black holes as jump gates to materialise and set foot into new sectors of space, and the various planets that exist under its name. And this time, Mahit does not only deal with human beings from a different sovereign. This time, she is forced to be an Ambassador and broker peace with a race that neither looks nor behaves like human beings. All her oratory is useless in the face of an enemy which can neither understand nor empathise with her.

Desolation is narrated through three different voices – Mahit and Three Seagrass facing the aliens, Nine Hibiscus, the yaotlek (Commander) in charge of Teixcalaan’s space armada, and Eight Antidote and the emperor Ninteen Adze in their palace. As I started reading the book, I was reluctant to let the focus shift from my favourite pair Mahit and Three Seagrass. A few chapters down, I was hooked onto the narrative of an eleven year old, heir to the empire Eight Antidote. And the third narrative rewards us with not only the yaotlek but possibly the most beautifully written character in the entire series, Twenty Cicada or Swarm.

The crux of the book, the first contact scenario, has a novel setup. The aliens are not humanised. Like in Villeneuve’s Arrival, Martine explores the problem of talking to a species who probably have no concept of talking themselves. How to you clarify the difference between a specific “you” and a collective “you” to ask the alien race to stop their hostilities.

Amidst all the political intrigue, what really gets to shine is the character development. Young Eight Antidote gets first-hand experience of his empire’s politics, the good, the bad, and the ugly,and both Mahit and Seagrass’s experiences in the last book opens their eyes to view their own cultures more critically. The blossoming of this queer relationship, which already began in the first book is handled with nuance and subtlety. A closer view of the fleet soldiers and captains show a side of Teixcalaan we had not seen before. Teixcalaan, after all, is the most radiant character of the books.

At the heart of the story is the idea of desolation. This desolation evokes not only a sort of destructive emptiness but also a loneliness birthed out of alienation of both culture, spirit, and language. Martine’s writing is impressive in every level. Not only her characters have an incredible depth of emotion and nuance, her world building is imaginative and expansive, and her politics is clever. Every detail is stunning, creative, and vivid, and the plot is compulsive. The gender and biological politics of the book is refreshingly progressive. Arkady Martine is a historian, and the detailing and worldbuilding reflect that upon each page. If this is only her second book, I cannot wait for her next works.

voxon's review against another edition

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dark emotional mysterious medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? No
Loveable characters? No
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

2.5

claire_baco's review

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adventurous emotional reflective tense medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.0

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