goss

Barring the prologue, in which I feel thrown into a political scheme meeting right off the bat struggling to ensure I am a transparent ghost observing, it took me less than a chapter to buy into the story. One may argue that the first chapter is long, but let's flip to the second chapter on page 38, which is less than 10% into the book, and acknowledge that I rarely take interest in a story so quickly. I often find myself forcing my way through the first 100 pages of a book before really deciding whether I want to drop it or continue, but that was not the case here. I wanted to learn more about the universe, and I wanted to understand the main character's struggles. I wanted to know what she was going through, and I wanted to know why things had turned out the way it did. Though the worldbuilding came off as more "tell" than "show" at times, I find myself attributing this to the author spending a lot of time on linguistic differences, which can only really be explained and not heard when in text. The setup was not overkill, with just enough words for me to vividly imagine the empire without needing to stop at every intersection just to "take in the new environment." The characters were pretty memorable in the sense that I did not need to flip 30-40 pages back just to figure out who this person was, and each personal introduction in relation to the main character didn't feel forced. In spite of all the praise I have for this book, the pacing seems to diminish many key moments. Is this due to the way it was written, or was it deliberate from the MC's POV? The ups and downs toward a climax felt a little too level, as if I had been asked to ride a children's roller coaster. Enjoyable, but not exhilirating.

At its heart, A Memory Called Empire walks readers through a journey of diplomacy and colonial resistance. Mahit, a young woman chosen to follow in the footsteps of her predecessor, Yskander Aghavn, loses connection with her imago-machine, which holds Yskander's consciousness from over a decade ago. The imago-machine implanted into her brain is meant to guide her as an ambassador and save her the embarrassment of stumbling through Teixcalaanli custom and etiquette. Without access to outdated Yskander and only a cultural liasion by the name of Three Seagrass that functions as her right hand, Mahit seeks to find out how Yskander died—not by food poisoning, that's for sure. Mahit must place trust in Three Seagrass even though they have only just met, and scrambles around trying to figure everything out. Who were Yskander's friends and foes? Who can be her ally? Who is out for her life, and how long will it take for her to figure out why everything is blowing up in her face, figuratively and literally?

Key to understanding Mahit is how she is tethered to Lsel Station through her loyalty, and how her upbringing there nurtured her relationship with Teixcalaanli culture.

[S]he wanted her imago-line back, she wanted it preserved. She wanted to be a worthy inheritor of memory. To safeguard it, for the people she was meant to be serving here, as an extension of Lsel Station's sovereignty. For the people who might follow after her, and carry her mind and memory onward on her Station.

Ch. 14, pg. 304

She feels a sense of duty, not just because she is ambassador and is meant to carry the imago-line, but because she has been taught that it is morally right to do so, to carry and expand on the knowledge of each generation, to continue the imago-line and fulfill her role in this process. Successors are determined based on aptitude similarity, and cutting off the imago-line is seen to be a waste.

[A] person could take up an imago of their lover who had died—tragically, usually, this was a daytime-entertainment holovision plot—and carry them around instead of allowing that imago to go to the next aptitudes-identified person in the line, and destroy both themselves and the knowledge of generations in the process. That felt immoral.

Ch. 14, pg. 302

Her whole life, Mahit has studied Teixcalaan. What it means to live in that world, that empire, that city, what it means to be Teixcalaanlitzlim. How to carry herself as a Teixcalaanlitzlim would, and to study literature like she was one of them. To be cultured back on Lsel Station was to be well-versed in Teixcalaanli culture. She's proud to be from Lsel Station, to boast what she has learned, but it is also a place that immersed herself in another world.

It made her jealous in a way she recognized as childish: the dumb longing of anoncitizen to be acknowledged as a citizen. Teixcalaan was made to instill the longing, not to satisfactorily resolve it, she knew that. And yet it wormed into her every time she bit her tongue, every time she didn't know a word or the precise connnotations of a phrase.

Ch.7, pg. 159

Martine ensures that we witness the psychological effects of colonization shouldered by Mahit, but without a chauvinistic approach that can easily lend itself to dangerous ideology translated from the real world. I know, I know, it's fiction, but it's more common than not to see authors' dangerous prejudices and biases, whether conscious or not, seep into their writing. I really appreciated this bit, that Mahit does want to push back, but there are these feelings she has to acknowledge. Take it as intrusive thoughts, if you will. This, however, did make me uncomfortable, as Mahit is viewed as a "barbarian."

"That's a barbarian," said one of the newcomers.

"A foreigner," another one said, as if making a weary correction he'd made a hundred times.

Ch. 17, pg. 363

"Barbarian" is the Teixcalaanlitzlim's default when referring to Mahit, and even Three Seagrass, who is one of her main allies and claims to take interest in everything with regard to Mahit simply because she is not from Teixcalaan, jokes that Mahit is "her barbarian." Even explaining that Mahit has dedicated her entire life to studying and scoring high in Teixcalaanli studies is not enough to stop the others from looking down on her.

[S]he disliked Nine Maize's acknowledging smile, the condescension in his nod: of course new works were celebrated in backwater barbarian space. For that dislike, she went on, "But I've never before had the honor of hearing one of your pieces, patrician. They must not be distributed off-planet."

Ch.7, pg. 160

As mentioned above, I felt that the ups and downs in this book were a little too level. Even the climax being the emperor's death did not feel that impactful, though I cannot discredit the story for focusing on the humanitarian aspects instead of forsaking the characters, something many stories do. I don't know what to attribute my lack of enthusiasm to: the fact that I read this in three days? That I read this faster than I normally do a book? I cannot tell. I did, however, vastly enjoy the fact that Three Seagrass's cry for help to Nineteen Adze, one of their allies, had turned into a weapon of The Emperor.

The Emperor took two steps backward, into the center of the raised altar. With my blood I sacrifice for us, he said—broadcast, unstoppable, to every Teixcalaanlitzlim in every province, on every planet in Teixcalaanli space. Released, I am a spear in the hands of the sun.

Ch. 21, pg. 436

I admittedly did not anticipate The Emperor's death in any fashion. Perhaps I was still stuck on the faction wars and did not think that this was one way to end it so swiftly. I did not mind this one bit. Better to see a transfer of power to someone that was not expecting it and was not in the running for that position.

I do have a complaint about the romance, though. Or lackthereof?

<You have been flirting with her since the morning you met,> Yskander commented.

Ch. 18, pg. 386

There isn't really any romance in my books. What they call "flirting" is not flirting to me; it is called knowing how to have fun and not be a bore as a conversationalist. I was shocked when I hit this line. I know that the author was trying to weave in some subtle skin-to-skin moments, but they were not really doing anything for me. I guess they kissed, but the setup was not all that well done. Disappointing, once again!

I have received reports that the second book in the duology is not as good, so while I will look forward to it, I think I will also be annoyed. Here is to hoping I will somehow find the originally written in English book of my dreams.

"No one is dead," Mahit said carefully, "who is remembered."

Aftermath, pg. 446