M is for Martine – Book Review (SERIES): Teixcalaan

A duology where language and poetry meet with space opera science fiction – all the rich world of Dune and the language of Lord of the Rings.

Teixcalaan by Arkady Martine

  1. A Memory Called Empire
  2. A Desolation Called Peace

Amazon Cover

BOOK BLURB ON AMAZON for A MEMORY CALLED EMPIRE

Ambassador Mahit Dzmare arrives in the center of the multi-system Teixcalaanli Empire only to discover that her predecessor, the previous ambassador from their small but fiercely independent mining Station, has died. But no one will admit that his death wasn’t an accident—or that Mahit might be next to die, during a time of political instability in the highest echelons of the imperial court.

Now, Mahit must discover who is behind the murder, rescue herself, and save her Station from Teixcalaan’s unceasing expansion—all while navigating an alien culture that is all too seductive, engaging in intrigues of her own, and hiding a deadly technological secret—one that might spell the end of her Station and her way of life—or rescue it from annihilation.

Arkady Martine’s debut novel A Memory Called Empire is a fascinating space opera and an interstellar mystery adventure.

MY REVIEW for A MEMORY CALLED EMPIRE

Worldbuilding, Characters, Plot, and … something not quite right? maybe? (spoiler area)
Or … wow, is my book club going to have a LOT to talk about when we meet.

Worldbuilding
Ms. Martine explores how language and cultural heritage drives a government’s, a people’s future. The City/World/Empire (same word/symbol) is the center of their own world, anyone not them is a barbarian. Poetry and story and art drives choices from encrypting letters to declaring war. Names, web-eye interfaces, and careful release of information combine to create the world of the City-Empire. Into this world comes an Ambassador from a mining conglomerate-colony-government, not of Empire descent – either herself or the people she represents. They have an alphabet, spin-stations, and inserts of mental scans. She is seduced by their poetry, but the ambassador is not them and can never be them.

The poetry dependence reminds me of Japan, and India, and Viking heritages. Rune or kanji for the language where one picture means one thing and a thousand things at the same time. A Memory Called Empire is rich in worldbuilding and I loved every moment of it.

Characters
These are people of Empire and Indigenous/the Colonized. The Ambassador both totally in love with the big, beautiful, brutal empire and its hundreds of years of culture and history – and totally tied to her upbringing where generations count at 14 – so around 300 years. She will never be Empire. Back home, her government strives to be just helpful enough that the Empire doesn’t try to fix them and useless enough to not be worth taking over.

Meanwhile the Ambassador makes friends with the locals and Ms. Martine hits pitch perfect the patronage and patronizing of people who earnestly want to help the poor barbarian navigate in civilization. Except Mahit (the Ambassador) isn’t as barbaric as they expect and they are not as civilized as they thought. The first thing they have to help her with is investigating the last Ambassador’s possible assassination.

Plot
So many strands weaving together. The murder investigation, the Ambassador integration into the political world, the Ambassador integration with herself, the empire sliding into the end of a reign with big unknown of succession, and the secrets the small mining government is holding very tightly to its chest. There are hints of love, sabotage, war, plus poetry structure impacting everything.

Overall, no matter what type of thing you read for, this book has it in spades.

So why didn’t I completely love it? (on to editorial analysis – if not your cup of teach skip it, also lots of spoilers here. If you like hyper analysis and have read the book, continue on.)

SPOILER START
I never really liked the main character. I emphasized, I understood, I sympathized … but liked, not so much. And she doesn’t change. Who she is at the end of the story is the same as the beginning. Don’t get me wrong, part of the story is “coming of age” and she does come of age. But she just becomes more “her” in the process.

And that is true about all the characters. No one changes, except to become more of themselves. Plot doesn’t drive them or twist them. When they enter a scene in the book, they leave with nearly all the same goals and drives intact.

In fact, the only thing that really changes is the Empire. It was pouring in one direction, roaring like a river, an ocean, to drown a quadrant in an aggressive acquisition/assimilation. The Ambassador manages to put a pebble into the bed of the river and sends it spinning off into a slight change of direction. Will it return to the old bed? That will be revealed in the next book. But right now, the Empire’s war horn is singing a different tune.

It’s weird to have a book with so little character growth. Instead of growth, we have character polish. Each character is shaped like a statue, not pottery – instead of adding clay, the author chips away the stone until only the character remains. Within the story, each strikes the other, creating facets along the fractures to become the perfect true-self gems. Mahit, Three Seagrass, Nineteen Adze, and Twelve Azalea all shine so … brightly … tragically … perfectly … by the end.
SPOILER END

(checked out through the library system – support your local library)

 

Amazon Cover

BOOK BLURB ON AMAZON for A DESOLATION CALLED PEACE

An alien armada lurks on the edges of Teixcalaanli space. No one can communicate with it, no one can destroy it, and Fleet Captain Nine Hibiscus is running out of options.

In a desperate attempt at diplomacy with the mysterious invaders, the fleet captain has sent for a diplomatic envoy. Now Mahit Dzmare and Three Seagrass—still reeling from the recent upheaval in the Empire—face the impossible task of trying to communicate with a hostile entity.

Their failure will guarantee millions of deaths in an endless war. Their success might prevent Teixcalaan’s destruction—and allow the empire to continue its rapacious expansion.

Or it might create something far stranger . . .

MY REVIEW for A DESOLATION CALLED PEACE

The star-spanning Teixcalaan space saga continues with all the poetry, politics, and personalities of the first installment. If you love epic science fiction, the likes of Dune but more accessible, you need this series.

The first story covered the fall and rise of an Emperor. Book two focuses on a possible war on many fronts. The depth of worldbuilding of the internal Empire politics of the military crossing swords with the greater politics of the Empire politicians, with their ankles being nibbled on by rats from systems which haven’t been conquered yet, while a new threat that is actually an EXTERNAL threat to the Empire as it devours the Edges of the World.

The first story is about poetry and culture; the second is about language and society.

There is no promise of a third book that I can find, but the unrest of the Empire and the City’s AI continues its threads in the second book. I fully expect the third book to focus on this … maybe … if there is a third book. Book one was published in 2019, book two in 2021. With that schedule book three in 2023 … and it is mid-2025 now. I want the third book of this series. I can see the shape of the poem – like Xanadu, unfinished yet the ghost edges provide structure leaving you hungering for more.

Each story has worked as a complete stand-alone. People sometimes ask if you would be willing to live in the world you love to read. This is a universe I want to inhabit.

(Read through Kindle Unlimited AND also borrowed from a library, support your local library system!)

Writing Exercise: Genderless

Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash

Can you write a story with no gendered pronouns? The most common substitution by authors is “them/they’re”.

I’ve been really impressed with the Murderbot Diaries series by Martha Wells. Her main character is never defined with gender as a mechanical being. At the book club where we talked about the book “All Systems Red”, half of us thought the main character had “he/him” pronouns and the other half used “she/her” pronouns talking about the character. I went through the first book again and discovered a complete blank and none of us had noticed while reading the books.

That is some awful good writing.

WRITING EXERCISE: Write a flash or scene where at least one of the characters’ genders is never defined.

My Attempt: The Dream of You and I (2/4/2024).

Other Cool Blogs: Sistah SciFi

Company logo from website

In 2023 I got called out on TikTok … well, not directly, but Directly – you know how that works right? The reaction of “why didn’t you just @me?”

Well, @serareadthat commented on how black content creators on BookTok constantly made videos and did reviews for white authors and books, but white content creators didn’t do the same for BIPoC authors. Why should the BIPoC community invest in the white community if they are not returning the favor?

Here on my blog, I have worked hard at making sure I have equal representation of women and men. My annual spreadsheet is broken up in alternating reviews and blogs between the genders. I even pay attention to the queer community and endeavor to include diverse characters in my stories. But on TikTok, at that point I got called on the carpet, I hadn’t been making an effort.

Fortunately my efforts of equality on Erin Penn’s Second Base carried the gender work to my BookQuotes. But … big BUT … I still complete Fell Down on BIPoC. I also, during my TBR Project, got a good intense look at my actual reading. It wasn’t pretty how much I leaned on a system that I knew was broken but didn’t try to avoid the embedded bigotry. I needed to do better.

First, and immediately, I created a system for creating my BookQuotes where BIPoC consideration is a step. No matter what 25% of the BookQuotes  for TikTok will be BIPoC. Took nearly two months, but I managed to turn the percentages around. To do so used up every indigenous, Hispanic, Immigrant, and black book I had read in recent memory. So next, I had to set up a system to READ books by BIPoC so I could keep up the BookQuotes in an appropriate ratio in the future. I had to Read with Intent. (I created a whole series of why Reading with Intent is important and you can find it on my YouTube channel – @erinpenn7745.)

Sistah Sci-Fi has helped a lot. Rather than curate through Amazon’s crazy mess, I can focus on solid science fiction by black woman science fiction authors. Completely online, this store has been perfect to get me connected to the books I would want to read.

Let me tell you, there are books in here you want to add to your Christmas List too: https://sistahscifi.com/

Sign up for their newsletter and kept informed.

Writing Exercise: Rep-Pre-Sent!

Image by Luiz Gustavo from Unsplash

(Aqui não existe barreiras . Projeto social Amar e vida Surf transforma vidas)

The photo is from Loving the Surfing Life Project (?? – not sure about the direct translation from Spanish), There Are No Barriers Here.

Representation matters. Latino and physically challenged. Immigrant or homeless. Black and people of color. Gender fluid or gray-haired. All types need to exist in stories. Not just for people to see themselves as the hero, but also to see that other people can be the hero as well.

And to be aware that as their identity changes, they can still be a hero.

Will reading Ms. Pollifax as a teen affect me now that I am reaching retirement age? We shall see. The Chosen One is not a trope restricted to people coming-of-age. Everyone ages, even the Chosen One.

I should note, with age comes injury. Between ages 5 to 15, only about 5% of all people are disabled. At 75 and older, nearly half are disabled (46.1%). (https://www.statista.com/statistics/793952/disability-in-the-us-by-age/).

So while a reader might not change skin color, they could change social standing, age, religion, or become challenged physically or mentally. They could be forced to flee their home and become a refugee. Their cognitive abilities might become compromised, like a friend of mind whose ability to make decisions went from “high power” to limited – she can still make decisions, but the energy they take destroy her after a few each day. Reading about characters who are living in different circumstances can help a reader survive these seismic shifts of identity.

WRITING EXERCISE: Today write a Representation Matters scene or flash – between 100 to 500 words. Age, race, gender identity, sexuality, disabled, religion. (Somehow, the person you are writing about should not “look” like you, now or in your past.)

My attempt: Join the Crew (5/5/2024). Writing a science fiction where the planet was settled by Spanish speakers created a set of challenges for me, barely remembering the void that was my high school language, but I have two niblings who look like the characters in this story. They should be able to see themselves when they read fiction.

Flash: C is for Cheerwine Christmas Courtship Choices

Image from icecreaminspiration.com )

“So how about him?” I point at Randall from Sales where he ladled out the punch bowl concoction where someone had dumped Cheerwine, Reed’s ginger ale, a couple cans of adulterated pineapple juice, and some vanilla ice cream in a bowl. “Swipe left or right.”

“Oh, left all the way. I don’t date white boys.” Wanda responded.

“Well, that is racist,” I joke. Wanda and I worked the front desk at the company, covering twenty incoming lines plus all visitor badge check-ins. We judge everyone coming in that door. Not out loud, mind you, at least not when they are at the desk and we make very sure the mics on our headsets are on mute before comments start flowing. The politically correct boat sailed the first hour of me joining her at the desk, and had disappeared over the horizon by the end of that day never to be seen again. I recently got happily hooked up, the boyfriend promising me a ring at Christmas when we are visiting his family, so now I am working on matching her up for similar domestic bliss.

“Yeah, well, they always try and call the cops on me the first time I attempt to stab them.”

I choked on the punch, which actually is quite good, Cheerwine for the caffeine kick, Reed’s for the ginger kick, ice cream for the smooth, and the pineapple because fermentation. Someone in maintenance worked magic. “You stab your boyfriends often?”

“Only twice, but white guys just get so angsty when you threaten them with a knife or cast-iron frying pan.”

“So, you know how I said I was finally starting to understand black Southern culture after growing up as North White?” I rubbed shoulders with her. “Consider that statement retracted.”

“Bless your heart.” A sly smile crossed her face as she sipped the Pepsi-zero. Her diabetes limited her sugar intake.

“Hey now!”

We made eye contact and both fell into giggles.

“Well, if it isn’t the twins.”

Tyrone from accounting towered over us. CPA and thought he was god’s gift to numbers and the company ledger. Problem was, he was god’s gift to numbers, the company ledger, and sexy as hell.

“Left or right?” I ask out of the corner of my mouth. I may have been on my second cup of the punch. Maybe third. Who counts at the company mandatory holiday parties? Especially when you were the one who spent the day, being “only receptionists”, decorating the meeting room and entry way for the party, while still covering the desk and the phones. Yes, we are that good, but it was hot thirsty work and I was trying to rehydrate with the punch. Maybe not my wisest choice. My boyfriend will be picking me up after he gets off work, so not my worst choice either.

“Right.” Wanda said without hesitation. “In fact, right now. Hey Tyrone.” She stepped closer and pressed her arms against her sides, causing her cleavage to jump in her deep cut red blouse. Wanda both got it and flaunted it. Not normally, dress codes for a welcoming professional appearance being written by the HR sticklers, but today is for exceptions of all sorts of things.

I think Tyrone swallowed his tongue and I double-checked the floor as I took a step back, because his eyeballs had popped out of his head. Pity, they had been the perfect brown soulful set to drown in, when not hardened by the end-of-quarter recordkeeping. Oh wait, looks like he got them back because they managed to track up to Wanda’s face.

Good luck girl, I thought as I move away.

We, as the receptionists, had an unfair advantage for picking out dating material internally that Tyrone likely also had being in accounting. We know exactly what everyone makes.

Payroll drops off the paystubs with the envelopes at the front desk, claiming they didn’t have time to deal with stuffing them or handing them out and since everyone went through us anyway, and we were “only receptionists” it would be a perfect way to fill in all our free time. The results is we knew exactly who was being garnished for child support, who was putting money into their retirement accounts, who didn’t get regular raises, and who did.

Tyrone did not have any garnishments, put aside the max into his 401K, and got raises like clockwork. A good hard worker if obnoxious during the end-of-quarter accounting crunches. But at six foot, a regular at the company gym, especially for the inside running track, and no one regularly calling through the front desk asking to be put through to their “pudding” on his behalf, he had been always high on both our fishing lists.

If he didn’t mind being stabbed on the regular, Wanda just might be giggling beside me as we plan our weddings. I hoped he liked cast-iron frying pans.

(words 820; first published 4/3/2024 – text flash inspired by the FB meme of “I can’t date white guys. They’re going to try and call the cops on me the first time I try to stab them.”)