Once upon a time, I used to give authors 900 pages before I decided whether I was done with them, probably forever. That, ofc, was before I became a professional book critic and found myself inundated with more books than I have time for. In the before times, I might have extended that courtesy towards Arkady Martine. I really enjoyed the worldbuilding and cultural themes of her debut novel, A Memory Called Empire, but my God the writing. As memories (heh) of her fictional empire fade, I’m mostly left with the feeling of how deeply irritating her writing style was, with its overuse of italics and em dashes. And that’s even before thinking about the incredibly pedestrian mystery element of that novel.
So when I saw that she had a sci-fi noir nominated in the category of Best Novella for the 2024 Hugos, I girded my loins before diving in. I had no doubt that her strengths would remain strengths, but I worried that, without the rigor of an editor working over a debut, her faults would only grow harder to ignore.
Fortunately for me, the writing wasn’t even that bad here. There were a lot fewer italics than in AMCE, for a start, and while there were several pretentious paragraph breakages, it was nothing I couldn’t overcome with a grimace and an eye roll. The sci-fi wasn’t bad either, even if I did feel that this novella felt like an excuse for a recent monomania for architecture. And I get it, I love good construction, too. I enjoyed reading a lot of the philosophy of building design included in this novella, and even tho I absolutely think that the bedroom over a chasm is a wildly impractical construct that appeals only to certain types of people — and not necessarily the ones who share the protagonist’s point of view on it — I mostly agreed with Dr Selene Gisil on the utility of her chosen field.
But I also felt like the book fails from the very first conceit of having Selene tied to Rose House to begin with. Here’s the deal: years ago, Selene denounced her famous mentor, architect Basit Deniau, and moved half the world away from him to open her own practice. Basit was renowned for designing and constructing buildings infused with Artificial Intelligence, the most famous of which is Rose House, out in the Mojave Desert. When he died, he willed the house and its contents, which include pretty much his entire repository of knowledge, to Selene. She views the bequest as an anvil, as a twisted way to keep her entangled with him even in death.
So, why, I wondered, did she just not give the place up?