This book - with its complex prose, unusual names, and political systems - reminded me of The Dispossessed by Ursula K. Le Guin. In the same way, it’s almost more anthropological than sci-fi, even though it’s set between a space station and an imperial city-planet.
Two weeks between the courier’s arrival and when Mahit learned that she’d be the next ambassador. Three more weeks for her and Yskandr to learn how to live together in the body that used to belong to her alone, under the supervision of the Station’s psychotherapists. A long, slow time on Ascension’s Red Harvest, traversing the sublight distances between the jumpgates that were scattered like jewels throughout Texcalaanli space. The seed-skiff peeled open like a ripe fruit. Mahit’s harness retracted. Taking hold of he luggage in both hands, she stepped onto the gate, and thus into Teixcalaan itself.
I liked it a lot, even though the political intrigues, long-wound probing conversations, as well as the extensive introspective thought processes of the main character (with the implanted “symbiont-memory”) lost me at times. It’s not a book that takes you by the hand and explains everything, which I generally love, but it’s a balancing act between being intrigued and losing interest. About half-way through the book I wished it would end soon, but in the last quarter it picked up the pace so much that I’m glad I stuck with it.
The writing is complex, but interesting and beautiful. It was nice to read a book again where I felt like the writer selected the words and crafted the sentences carefully - a nice mirroring of the importance that is put on literature and poetry in the in-book Teixcalaan world.
It was like climbing down into the heart of the world: chambers opening like valves between atria and shutting tight again behind them as they passed through. Even after midnight the innermost parts of the palace pulsed with a headlong rushing; the soft tramping of slippered feet, the whisk of some patrician’s suit around a corner. Distant low voices.
And, again similar to Le Guin’s novels, there are no unnecessary and tedious “conventional” gender roles, not even an in-story questioning of a character’s abilities or advantages because of their gender. It’s SO NICE. I hate it especially in sci-fi - where you could imagine anything - when typical stereotypes are used, e.g. the majority of important positions being held by men. I can’t recall a single instance in this book where gender was ever of importance. All characters are well defined, well described and interesting, without a strained gender cliché in sight (that I could detect). Also romance is just taken as the love or lust between two people, no matter their gender. And even a platonic friendship (between a men and a woman in this case) is “just” described as that - fiercely loyal and passionate, but platonic. Very refreshing.