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Perhaps the Stars by Ada Palmer

4/5. Final volume in this series about, um. *checks notes*. *checks other notes*. *Checks horoscope*. *Does today's Semantle*. *Opens this review*. *Closes this review*. *Has feelings about this book*. *Fails to accurately identify many of those feelings*.

Look, either you know this series is what it is or you haven't tried it yet, and if you haven't tried it yet God knows I'm not going to be able to adequately describe it.

This took me many months to read. Did I enjoy the experience? Yes, for the most part. Did I snap ugh this entire argument is such bullshit at least once? Oh yeah. Did I think several times that a particular scene was sublimely perfectly uniquely itself, and no one else in the entire field is doing things in the same zip code as that because Palmer invented a few zip codes of her own? Yeah. Did, at other points, I wonder if Palmer is okay because genuinely, truly, from the bottom of my heart, what the fuck was that? …Yeah.

Is it brilliant and layered and simultaneously shamelessly indulgent and deeply thoughtful and also, fundamentally, unhinged? Yep. Do I recommend it? Boy, IDK man, I feel like I'd have to have an intimate friendship with someone for like twenty years before I would begin to know whether they would love or loathe this.

Am I going to say anything of actual substance about this book? No, because my options are either to *gestures up* or write 10,000 words about it, and I don't have time for 10,000 words, so. This is what you get.

Amiright?
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The Will to Battle

3/5. Yeah, either you know what Ada Palmer is about by now or none of this is going to make sense.

It took me six months to finish this. To be fair, there has been something increasingly awry in my brain for about that length of time, rendering it difficult for me to start a book and read it straight through. (This is a great trial, let me tell you. I'm genuinely upset by how many books I have in progress at any given time). But also, this isn't really a novel? I mean, this entire series has been couched in enlightenment stylings and structures, rendering it odd to the modern sense of rhythm. But this book in particular flings a lot of science fictional and novelistic conventions out the window and strings together a lot of set pieces and philosophical dialogues with, I am not kidding, increasingly bizarre imagined conversations between the narrator, the reader, and Thomas Hobbes.

Either you're down for that or you're not. I mostly was – this is a kind of diverting batshit erudition that you just don't see every day. But also, it's becoming increasingly clear that the philosophical questions Palmer is interested in may be interesting to me, but only so far as they are an unusual frame for science fictional storytelling. And not because, say, I'm actually interested in thinking deeply about providence.
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Seven Surrenders

4/5. Oh man. Oh man oh man. This is so great. And so batshit. Like, currently 8/10 on the WTF scale, and I am pretty certain Palmer is still only revving up. I can’t wait to be boggled and croggled and outraged and exasperated and delighted by the next two books in the series.

So the thing I really like about this series is that it’s science fiction set centuries from now, and many of the characters are obsessed with seventeenth and eighteenth century French philosophers. And the book plays – and cosplays – with historicity. There’s a single house, for example, where – it is a shock and a scandal, I know – but in this house, people use gendered pronouns.* And what I really like is that the historicity this book is playing with is ultimately not play. And not cosplay either. Because the questions the characters wrestle with are seventeenth and eighteenth century questions. If God is benevolent, how could they be the silent watchmaker who never shows their hand to anyone? What role can providence – as a force, not just a belief – play? Are humans capable of living without violence? These are not the questions modern science fiction is concerned with, and I love the way this book sent me tumbling way out of my familiar ruts.

I get why a lot of people bounced off of Too Like the Lightning because this whole thing is, uh. A very particular flavor. But I am so here for it.

*Still processing a lot of the gender stuff. The first book indulged in a lot of gender play. This one was less playful and more interested in a particular point about the vulnerabilities that people are left with when gender is taken off the table as a topic of acceptable discussion or even of language. Still processing.
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Too Like the Lightning (Terra Ignota)

4/5 (this is me leaving some room for the rest of this series). I read this months ago while traveling, and also explaining this book takes many many words, so let me shorthand. Futuristic post nation state post organized religion sorta post gender science fiction about powerbroking and politics and miracles. And really, really awesome. Have some bullet points.

• I think the SF field is going to bend around this series, once it's done. Just a feeling. And I'm personally looking forward to all the books that are going to be fans of this series and arguing with this series and really mad at this series. Not just that I think some of those books are going to be good books, but also that I think it will all take us through some philosophical territory that I'm looking forward to.

• Remember how I complained that the linguistic gender stuff in Ancillary Justice was fun but kinda pointless? Yeah, this book is set in a culture where the polite pronoun for everyone is ungendered, and it is doing so much stuff with that, I probably lost track. Our narrator plays with gender occlusion and disclosure in hilarious and pointed ways. You end up in the end with a pretty clear idea of who is supposed to be what gender, but very little certainty that you are right, but a lot of certainty that being right is so not the point. Because fundamentally, gender in this book is about performance of a gendered role – often a gendered stereotype – and the narrator is therefore generally uninterested in what is actually in people's pants. It's great, and I look forward to future developments, and I also think this Strange Horizons reviewer really did not get it (that review does give a much more detailed picture of the worldbuilding than I do, though, along with what I consider a spoiler).

• This book fucks with genre. It's science fiction that uses the word "miracle" with deliberation. And the miracle in question – animating objects like toy soldiers with a touch – is jarringly weird in this secularized, very sciency future. I struggled with this for a while, until a twist introduced a particular kind of ridiculously terrible, over-the-top violence into the book, into this society that barely knows what murder is anymore, and I went 'ah' and started looking for other pieces that don't fit. That break the pattern in your head, break your assumptions, make you uneasy and unhappy the way the word "miracle" made me uneasy and unhappy. If this society makes it through the whole series intact, I am going to be very very surprised.

• I laughed. Out loud, unexpectedly, and very ungracefully, in the middle of a sidewalk. It was at the word "Jehovah." Oh, how I laughed. You'll know it when you see it.

• A lot of specfic set in the future is anchored unmistakably in the twenty-first century. Like there are two points in history – today and the speculated future – and the only work of worldbuilding is to draw a line from here to there. This book draws its line instead from the nineteenth century (mostly), which makes for an entirely different and richer experience of created history. Not a totally new idea – Robert Charles Wilson tried this in his Julian Comstock, but this is far more successful.

Next book in December, please and thank you.

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