Yesterday I finished the audiobook version of A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine. It was really really good.
While I read a lot of Science Fiction, "Space Opera" isn't usually my cup of tea as it can sometimes read as fantasy-but-in-space, and I've got normal fantasy for that. I want philosophy and anthropology from my sci-fi. It turns out, however, that I can be perfectly satisfied with a good story in space.
The book opens with an absolutely fantastic dedication:
“This book is dedicated to anyone who has ever fallen in love with a culture that was devouring their own."
What a fucking concept and dedication! As someone born and raised in North America this isn't something I've ever given much thought to, and the dedication kept echoing throughout the story. It's rare that I remember a dedication by the time I finish a book, but I had to go back and re-read this one at the end.
After the dedication, we're presented with what is the most preposterously over-jargoned prologue I've ever had the displeasure of reading. Especially in audiobook form, the prologue was almost impenetrable. I have a friend who actually quit the book before even finishing the prologue.
Once you're through those weeds, however, the story unfolds. A story about the ambassador from a small space station to a galatic empire, replacing her somewhat estranged predecessor and equipped with secret technology. The protagonist's love for the empire she's working in is sold really well, and I've got people in my life which I'm sure could relate strongly to her.
There's politics and violence and a bit of romance, some fancy technology that makes one wonder about its implications (though this isn't speculative sci-fi, so those implications aren't very thoroughly explored), and jump gates. I had a great time all the way through, but it really picks up in the second half.
Something I found very clever in the book was the way names were designed. In the Empire, people's names are a number followed by a noun (usually a flower or plant). This leads to names like "Twelve Azalea" and "Thirteen Seagrass", but also plays into some pretty funny opportunities. What's neat is this feels really scifi, while making all the names extremely easy to remember. I didn't once find myself wondering "who is Xlaxcalon again?" like one often will do in these kinds of stories (warning: the prologue and sequences from the protagonists home station absolutely do have ridiculous names like Yskandr Aghavn".
The difference between the names of the Empire's citizens and those on the station is only one of many, and the book takes a lot of looks at what one can feel like being treated like "a barbarian" when one is a foreigner in a new land (even when one is well versed in the language and culture).
I really appreciate how much the author worked towards making the Empire feel like a fleshed out culture, from the facial gestures to the poetry to the religion it felt very cohesive and well defined.
It was a great read, and I've already started on the sequel!