exordia by seth dickinson
Apr. 4th, 2024 11:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
meikureealternative title: i've forgotten how to write book reviews
note: not a spoiler-free review. also, can someone teach me how to create dreamwidth icons that won't get massively lossy in resolution after posting? I wish I could create a crisper jenny holzer slogan icon, but I'll take what I can get.
"where do I begin" is a common response to this book and I can see why. if you thought the locked tomb was adventurous for bending genres across books, Exordia does it six times or so in a single book.
perhaps I should start with how I got interested in reading this: i'd just come off the back of reading Serious Weighty books about memory, war atrocities, complicity and genocide, so I figured this would be a nice palate cleanser and 'transition' book. it's still about ethics and genocides after all, only dressed in the clothes of an author-described “fun” indulgent SFF book. a friend also sirened me with details and screenshots of a fraught central mother-daughter relationship (involving said mother [Khaje] pointing a gun to her daughter's head when she reunites with her) which I’ll admit expedited my interest.
long story short: I ended up so sucked into this that I was reluctant to put it down, and I inhaled it in 1.5 days. a 576-page book! that has happened a total of never times in my recent imaginatively parched life. this book reminded me in a way that reading can be limbically fun and unhinged, which sounds absurd and as if i should return to primary school but is true. i've been stuck in the academic reading mines for too long. I felt like my brain was being squeezed into a wormhole and emptied out in fragments on the other end, albeit in a nice and dysfunctionally salutary way reminiscent of crack.
the barebones plot is as such: anna sinjari (birth name jiyan) is a disenchanted 30-something office worker in new york city who's just been fired and is dealing with PTSD symptoms when she comes across an eight-headed "snake centaur hydra" eating turtles out of a pond. cue the rest of the plot. cue the second act, where a mysterious "spaceship" construct thing has landed near anna's hometown village Tawakul and she gets parachuted in to figure out what's happening and whether it'll accidentally spark off intergalactic conflicts. cue, also, a long ensemble structure that cycles between eight different characters' POVs and time and metaphysically-bendy happenings.
or, TLDR: it's a subversion (or rather anti-homage, cr. transversely) of first contact and geopolitical narratives with a relatively considered and considerate indictment of american imperialism, that also explores the practical ramifications of trolley problem-style situations*.
* fun fact: the beginnings of the trolley problem were developed in 1967 by british philosopher Philippa Foot. there may be something to be said for how the concept's been de-gendered since then, since I don't think it's really common knowledge these days that it was written about by a philosopher who was a woman
the not so much tone shift as tone derailing between acts 1 and 2 caught me off guard (the first act is very domestic and features cursed slice of life stuff, very much my thing!) but act 2 captured me once the bio-body horror shenanigans started happening, annihilation style, though... uh... with two of the characters (Erik and Clayton) who took up a lot of narrative time in early act 2, I was incredibly bored and going I'M JUST HERE FOR THE KURDISH FAILMOTHER [Khaje], GET OUTTA MY WAY GAYBOYS. but every character is important to the narrative and even if I think the 50 pages of davoud being plane-sexual should've been trimmed, they all add flavour!
arguably for instance the most beneficial purpose of davoud's interludes is to charm plane otakus into reading this book, which I can get behind. if I can get my plane otaku friends to be insane about this book along with me, even if it's for completely different reasons (I'm mooning over the complicated snake sisters and mother-daughter dynamics and kurdish side characters and worldbuilding) it'll have been worth it.
the big "scifi" element of this book centres around souls and narratives -- the snake alien Anna meets is called Ssrin (and also now my morally grey babygirl, more on that later) and also part of Exordia, the prevailing imperialistic system which 'pinions' (enslaves) other species' souls. this system's been explained better elsewhere, so I'll move on.
by the way, the marketing copy for this book by tor fails utterly to do it justice aside from Seth's own snake woman courts Kurdish faildaughter. just ignore it and go in blind like I did if you want. it's better that way.
what I liked
i've read the first Baru Cormorant book and bounced off it emotionally, even though cerebrally it should've been everything I'd have loved. bits where I would've exulted in war by inflation along with Baru, for instance, felt like I was simply revising my macroeconomics and monetary policy textbooks, and not in a positive way. well, I enjoyed this book a lot, which surprised me! there were many elements that were YMMV and which are usually incredibly inadvisable to pair together, but seth pulls it off. somehow. it's intentionally maximalist and deranged and A LOT but seth was clearly leaning into their id and if it works for you, it will work well.
this book directly references and subverts the whole anthropocentric "humans are destined saviours of the universe" shtick in the first act 1:
the story is often irreverent and driven by black comedy, but it does have real tragedy at its core (the Anfal genocide). the black humour isn't edgy, it's very resonant with the way communities who have suffered genocide or repression will use humour as a coping mechanism, something something sloppy james scott citation here.
the disavowal of humanity as a homogeneous group or race was refreshing, and I don't just mean in terms of the international posse of characters. I really appreciate the awareness in the narrative of the fact that apocalypses and disasters are nothing new to communities who have already experienced turmoil and the ongoing present/slow violence/necropolitics of colonialism and imperialism. as the common refrain in decolonial circles goes: the world already ended in 1492. and the book takes that seriously and grapples with why the residents of Tawakul would be deeply suspicious of the american secret ops teams coming to them, and is sympathetic to them if not siding with them. there's a good evisceration and explicit consideration of american imperialism and homo sacer regimes, eg. this segment where seth lays it bare and we're transparently not meant to see this as a good thing:
and the epigraph has this obama quote:
which seth includes a citation for probably because they anticipated people going "wait, obama really said that?"
I'm not inclined to laud seth dickinson just for depicting viewpoints that have long been the default in segments of fiction outside the US media landscape (all this is not new to anyone who's spent 30 minutes researching the CIA on wikipedia or read about the USA's interventions in Southeast Asia) but I do like the gumption in centering the wretched of the earth. and very few things in this book feel tacked on, from subaltern perspectives to sexuality to the magic system. for better or worse everything is very intentional and constructed. whether that feels like rigid artifice or art to you will depend.
I also have a line in my notes for this post that goes "seth is very sciencey: he expresses human insights via mathematical language. compare to anthropological slant of le guin" I've forgotten what I was going to say, but I like that seth is interdisciplinary to steal a friend's phrase. I was bamboozled by the abstract maths in this (I'm not conversant in mathematical theory, alas, I should fix that) but after a while I was like: oh! these math debates are just like the structuralism/poststructuralism split, albeit expressed in well, STEM language, and: hey, this sounds just like assemblage theory. I've connected the dots.
other things (actually very central):
segments I wheezed at:
1:
2:
3 (after a nuclear detonation):
the Erik and Clayton interludes. dear god. I'm sorry, they represent the key levers of the american imperialist establishment and their presence has narrative importance and clayton is an expy/critique of Obama and "first Black guy to drop an atomic bomb"-style diversity rhetoric + there's a scene where it all does pay off, but... to borrow a meme, I'm tired of hearing about all these american men. I just did not care about their childhood reminisces and I would've loved to hear more about Anna and Khaje's childhoods instead. their madonna complex over Rosamaria was also tiring
and a paratextual note: I came into this a little suspicious of Seth or at least not as generous as I could be after reading Baru 1. I was proven wrong. still, they have this annoying habit of chastising themself in interviews for not citing female writers as inspirations off the cuff more often when it's like... you could prepare your answers beforehand. but I digress.
things I'm musing about
I've been comparing this a little to le guin's oeuvre, because I'm thinking about stories that centre small interactions but have high-concept interplanetary stakes. both le guin and seth do that, but le guin's writing distinctly feels anti-epic to me in a way seth's doesn't. perhaps because seth appears to subscribe to a "maths and engineering is the answer to the universe"-style idea.
lastly: I've never really believed in the recent grimdark/cozy division in sff circles, it's as meaningless to me as angst/fluff categories in fic. form IS related to content but there are stories with grimdark or gritty aesthetics that have pretty hopeful conceptions of justice, ethics, history, revolution, etc. and feel-good stories that are the inverse, that refuse myopically to reckon with uncomfortable histories and ironically end up looking way more cynical and nihilist to me. in the first category I'd place films like mad max: fury road. this is a book that ironically does have a spark of hope at the end: anna's people survive a nuclear apocalypse. and this book, I think, might very loosely belong in the former, which is an endorsement coming from me.
note: not a spoiler-free review. also, can someone teach me how to create dreamwidth icons that won't get massively lossy in resolution after posting? I wish I could create a crisper jenny holzer slogan icon, but I'll take what I can get.
"where do I begin" is a common response to this book and I can see why. if you thought the locked tomb was adventurous for bending genres across books, Exordia does it six times or so in a single book.
perhaps I should start with how I got interested in reading this: i'd just come off the back of reading Serious Weighty books about memory, war atrocities, complicity and genocide, so I figured this would be a nice palate cleanser and 'transition' book. it's still about ethics and genocides after all, only dressed in the clothes of an author-described “fun” indulgent SFF book. a friend also sirened me with details and screenshots of a fraught central mother-daughter relationship (involving said mother [Khaje] pointing a gun to her daughter's head when she reunites with her) which I’ll admit expedited my interest.
long story short: I ended up so sucked into this that I was reluctant to put it down, and I inhaled it in 1.5 days. a 576-page book! that has happened a total of never times in my recent imaginatively parched life. this book reminded me in a way that reading can be limbically fun and unhinged, which sounds absurd and as if i should return to primary school but is true. i've been stuck in the academic reading mines for too long. I felt like my brain was being squeezed into a wormhole and emptied out in fragments on the other end, albeit in a nice and dysfunctionally salutary way reminiscent of crack.
the barebones plot is as such: anna sinjari (birth name jiyan) is a disenchanted 30-something office worker in new york city who's just been fired and is dealing with PTSD symptoms when she comes across an eight-headed "snake centaur hydra" eating turtles out of a pond. cue the rest of the plot. cue the second act, where a mysterious "spaceship" construct thing has landed near anna's hometown village Tawakul and she gets parachuted in to figure out what's happening and whether it'll accidentally spark off intergalactic conflicts. cue, also, a long ensemble structure that cycles between eight different characters' POVs and time and metaphysically-bendy happenings.
or, TLDR: it's a subversion (or rather anti-homage, cr. transversely) of first contact and geopolitical narratives with a relatively considered and considerate indictment of american imperialism, that also explores the practical ramifications of trolley problem-style situations*.
* fun fact: the beginnings of the trolley problem were developed in 1967 by british philosopher Philippa Foot. there may be something to be said for how the concept's been de-gendered since then, since I don't think it's really common knowledge these days that it was written about by a philosopher who was a woman
the not so much tone shift as tone derailing between acts 1 and 2 caught me off guard (the first act is very domestic and features cursed slice of life stuff, very much my thing!) but act 2 captured me once the bio-body horror shenanigans started happening, annihilation style, though... uh... with two of the characters (Erik and Clayton) who took up a lot of narrative time in early act 2, I was incredibly bored and going I'M JUST HERE FOR THE KURDISH FAILMOTHER [Khaje], GET OUTTA MY WAY GAYBOYS. but every character is important to the narrative and even if I think the 50 pages of davoud being plane-sexual should've been trimmed, they all add flavour!
arguably for instance the most beneficial purpose of davoud's interludes is to charm plane otakus into reading this book, which I can get behind. if I can get my plane otaku friends to be insane about this book along with me, even if it's for completely different reasons (I'm mooning over the complicated snake sisters and mother-daughter dynamics and kurdish side characters and worldbuilding) it'll have been worth it.
the big "scifi" element of this book centres around souls and narratives -- the snake alien Anna meets is called Ssrin (and also now my morally grey babygirl, more on that later) and also part of Exordia, the prevailing imperialistic system which 'pinions' (enslaves) other species' souls. this system's been explained better elsewhere, so I'll move on.
by the way, the marketing copy for this book by tor fails utterly to do it justice aside from Seth's own snake woman courts Kurdish faildaughter. just ignore it and go in blind like I did if you want. it's better that way.
what I liked
i've read the first Baru Cormorant book and bounced off it emotionally, even though cerebrally it should've been everything I'd have loved. bits where I would've exulted in war by inflation along with Baru, for instance, felt like I was simply revising my macroeconomics and monetary policy textbooks, and not in a positive way. well, I enjoyed this book a lot, which surprised me! there were many elements that were YMMV and which are usually incredibly inadvisable to pair together, but seth pulls it off. somehow. it's intentionally maximalist and deranged and A LOT but seth was clearly leaning into their id and if it works for you, it will work well.
this book directly references and subverts the whole anthropocentric "humans are destined saviours of the universe" shtick in the first act 1:
“Nooo,” Anna protests. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“We’re not unusually stubborn? We’re not particularly diverse? Experimental? Curious? Willing to take risks? Jacks of all trades but masters of none?”
“No,” Ssrin says, crossing two of her necks in a big X of negation. “You are jacks of running and masters of being inbred.”
[...]
“Good. You’re learning. The story of man is a story of mediocrity. But so are most stories, I think. Most things are average, or median; if they were not, nothing would make sense.” Ssrin begins to unwrap herself. “Anna, I came to Earth tracking a very old story, a story that goes back to the dawn of time. Your species is not special. It is not destined. But it is very, very inbred … and that makes it transparent to a certain kind of analysis. Your souls all bear the same tint. They are touched by the same story. It rings in your myths, deep down, lower than you know. [...]"
“That’s it.”
“We’re not unusually stubborn? We’re not particularly diverse? Experimental? Curious? Willing to take risks? Jacks of all trades but masters of none?”
“No,” Ssrin says, crossing two of her necks in a big X of negation. “You are jacks of running and masters of being inbred.”
[...]
“Good. You’re learning. The story of man is a story of mediocrity. But so are most stories, I think. Most things are average, or median; if they were not, nothing would make sense.” Ssrin begins to unwrap herself. “Anna, I came to Earth tracking a very old story, a story that goes back to the dawn of time. Your species is not special. It is not destined. But it is very, very inbred … and that makes it transparent to a certain kind of analysis. Your souls all bear the same tint. They are touched by the same story. It rings in your myths, deep down, lower than you know. [...]"
the story is often irreverent and driven by black comedy, but it does have real tragedy at its core (the Anfal genocide). the black humour isn't edgy, it's very resonant with the way communities who have suffered genocide or repression will use humour as a coping mechanism, something something sloppy james scott citation here.
the disavowal of humanity as a homogeneous group or race was refreshing, and I don't just mean in terms of the international posse of characters. I really appreciate the awareness in the narrative of the fact that apocalypses and disasters are nothing new to communities who have already experienced turmoil and the ongoing present/slow violence/necropolitics of colonialism and imperialism. as the common refrain in decolonial circles goes: the world already ended in 1492. and the book takes that seriously and grapples with why the residents of Tawakul would be deeply suspicious of the american secret ops teams coming to them, and is sympathetic to them if not siding with them. there's a good evisceration and explicit consideration of american imperialism and homo sacer regimes, eg. this segment where seth lays it bare and we're transparently not meant to see this as a good thing:
You are a contractor, and therefore you are not subject to American military law. But you are not on American soil, and therefore you are not subject to American criminal or civil law. No law exists for you. So I have created myself to enforce a deeper law. The law of right and wrong.
and the epigraph has this obama quote:
Turns out I’m really good at killing people. Didn’t know that was gonna be a strong suit of mine.
—President Barack Obama
—President Barack Obama
which seth includes a citation for probably because they anticipated people going "wait, obama really said that?"
I'm not inclined to laud seth dickinson just for depicting viewpoints that have long been the default in segments of fiction outside the US media landscape (all this is not new to anyone who's spent 30 minutes researching the CIA on wikipedia or read about the USA's interventions in Southeast Asia) but I do like the gumption in centering the wretched of the earth. and very few things in this book feel tacked on, from subaltern perspectives to sexuality to the magic system. for better or worse everything is very intentional and constructed. whether that feels like rigid artifice or art to you will depend.
I also have a line in my notes for this post that goes "seth is very sciencey: he expresses human insights via mathematical language. compare to anthropological slant of le guin" I've forgotten what I was going to say, but I like that seth is interdisciplinary to steal a friend's phrase. I was bamboozled by the abstract maths in this (I'm not conversant in mathematical theory, alas, I should fix that) but after a while I was like: oh! these math debates are just like the structuralism/poststructuralism split, albeit expressed in well, STEM language, and: hey, this sounds just like assemblage theory. I've connected the dots.
other things (actually very central):
- Khaje and Anna's relationship. THEIR RELATIONSHIP!!! the bit where khaje says "I should've asked my daughter to come home sooner so I could spend more time with her" ...
- Ssrin and Ssenenet (her sister), all the tantalising nuggets of complicated sister relationships Seth gave us. if you thought I wouldn't be going in the direction of lesbian snake incest, you thought wrong, I am entirely down for that shit and craving fic though we've gotten barely 4 paragraphs about them
- Khaje, Arin, and Anna/Jiyan, aka weird snarly triangle of platonic jealousy between a slighted actual daughter, her estranged mother, and said mother’s sort-of surrogate daughter
- THE BODY HORROR I didn't get nightmares but you might and the body horror is impeccable and mixes both metaphysical horror (what if Hell was an actual place?) and fleshly ones
- the ubiets and old gods, yay for cosmic
segments I wheezed at:
1:
Khaje groans. She can tolerate Arîn Tawakuli, but only when she has been awake for between three and eight hours, only if she doesn’t have a hangover, and only if she doesn’t hear any particularly cheerful birds. Arîn is too young to remember the hard times of civil war. She’s an Apoist and a true believer in jineology and Khaje resents her. Not for her beliefs, but for the ability to believe. Arîn also loves to tell people that Khaje isn’t really crazy, she just has PTSD. For that Khaje truly despises her.
2:
“He’s my uniformed prisoner now. What do you think I’m going to do, heval? Torture him?”
“You have been acting pretty strange!” Arîn blurts. “Sitting out there all night watching the Ugandans—skipping all the assembly meetings—I mean, you’re sober, that’s kind of out of character!”
People laugh. Khaje bristles: “Fuck your mother, Arîn.”
“Hey, we don’t curse mothers here,” Arîn snaps. “It’s bad jineology.”
“Can everyone stop talking about mothers!” Haydar screams.
“You have been acting pretty strange!” Arîn blurts. “Sitting out there all night watching the Ugandans—skipping all the assembly meetings—I mean, you’re sober, that’s kind of out of character!”
People laugh. Khaje bristles: “Fuck your mother, Arîn.”
“Hey, we don’t curse mothers here,” Arîn snaps. “It’s bad jineology.”
“Can everyone stop talking about mothers!” Haydar screams.
3 (after a nuclear detonation):
“How can our pickups be broken, but not their tanks?” Khaje demands. “Look at them, driving all over our meadow. Look, Arîn, they’re destroying your sustainably planted wildflowers. They’re ruining your topsoil.”
“This is amazing,” Arîn says. “Look, the blasts cover the whole sky! They must have hit the entire hemisphere, at least!”
“So?”
“So the power is out everywhere. This could be the intervention we need to break out of the trap of endless growth, Khaje! The end of the Anthropocene!”
what I didn't vibe with as much“This is amazing,” Arîn says. “Look, the blasts cover the whole sky! They must have hit the entire hemisphere, at least!”
“So?”
“So the power is out everywhere. This could be the intervention we need to break out of the trap of endless growth, Khaje! The end of the Anthropocene!”
the Erik and Clayton interludes. dear god. I'm sorry, they represent the key levers of the american imperialist establishment and their presence has narrative importance and clayton is an expy/critique of Obama and "first Black guy to drop an atomic bomb"-style diversity rhetoric + there's a scene where it all does pay off, but... to borrow a meme, I'm tired of hearing about all these american men. I just did not care about their childhood reminisces and I would've loved to hear more about Anna and Khaje's childhoods instead. their madonna complex over Rosamaria was also tiring
and a paratextual note: I came into this a little suspicious of Seth or at least not as generous as I could be after reading Baru 1. I was proven wrong. still, they have this annoying habit of chastising themself in interviews for not citing female writers as inspirations off the cuff more often when it's like... you could prepare your answers beforehand. but I digress.
things I'm musing about
I've been comparing this a little to le guin's oeuvre, because I'm thinking about stories that centre small interactions but have high-concept interplanetary stakes. both le guin and seth do that, but le guin's writing distinctly feels anti-epic to me in a way seth's doesn't. perhaps because seth appears to subscribe to a "maths and engineering is the answer to the universe"-style idea.
lastly: I've never really believed in the recent grimdark/cozy division in sff circles, it's as meaningless to me as angst/fluff categories in fic. form IS related to content but there are stories with grimdark or gritty aesthetics that have pretty hopeful conceptions of justice, ethics, history, revolution, etc. and feel-good stories that are the inverse, that refuse myopically to reckon with uncomfortable histories and ironically end up looking way more cynical and nihilist to me. in the first category I'd place films like mad max: fury road. this is a book that ironically does have a spark of hope at the end: anna's people survive a nuclear apocalypse. and this book, I think, might very loosely belong in the former, which is an endorsement coming from me.
no subject
Date: 2024-04-08 02:21 pm (UTC)I am the kind of person who did love all the main characters and all their nonsense, but I agree that I wish we'd gotten more about the women and their backstories. I get why Erik and Clayton had to be the keystone—they gave Blackbird a soul, so we need to understand why this is the form of that soul—but I also really wish that the same depth had been given to everyone else too.
Khaje as a character in general was such a delight. Not a type of character you see much in any media! Rich and complicated and scathing and I love the tangle she makes of every relationship she has but, yes, especially her relationship with Anna.
I don't think I actually read any marketing copy for Exordia. I just saw "Seth Dickinson wrote a sci-fi novel" and went "oh dang I need this", because I love Baru (as messy as those books can be) and seeing what Dickinson would do with a new world/set of characters compelled me. That said, I have no idea how one could market this easily; the subversions and questions it asks are not things that lend themselves to blurbs. It resists categorization and blends genres.
The comparison to Le Guin interests me. I can see it in the way they dig into people and cultures and ask "why is this society like this? what people come from this society?" but the modes and tones are so different. Still, interesting to mull over, would love to hear more thoughts about it!
no subject
Date: 2024-04-09 10:09 pm (UTC)laughed irl at this, because as a recent Seth convert I totally get it now, and i'm glad I had a friend who reacted just like you who could pull me into Exordia. the marketing blurbs have just been... mish-mashes of author comparisons that mean nothing to me, unfortunately, and also say so little about its humanistic, subversive and experimental content as you say! e.g. "Devilman Crybaby meets Marvel’s Venom" from Tor.
the Blackbird scenes where Erik/Clayton give her a soul were utterly magical, and I'll admit that clayton had grown on me by the end of the story (erik's still on partly thin ice, hahaha, but I mean this in a light-hearted way).
thank you for the kind words and I would love to share more if/when I have thoughts!
no subject
Date: 2024-04-09 10:30 pm (UTC)