Nuanced critiques of imperialism are having a bit of a moment in
science fiction and fantasy. The simplistic, moustache-twirling
villain is in no danger of extinction, but an increasing amount of
speculative fiction is instead taking up more complex visions of
empire: as systemic, as seductive, and as power structures with which
even the most rebellious protagonists are complicit. How to reform—or
destroy—something as large as imperialism itself is the core
question in recent SF work like
Leckie’s Ancillary Justice
and Lee’s Ninefox Gambit,
while novels like Dickinson’s The Traitor Baru Cormorant
or Addison’s The Goblin Emperor
use it to reconsider the conventions of epic fantasy.
Arkady
Martine’s A Memory Called Empire
takes up these questions at at personal and governmental levels. It’s
a thoroughly diplomatic novel: there’s no separation between her
enchanting characters and the taut political maneuvering that drive
the plot. While
it is a space opera—set against the background of the
Teixcalaanli Empire, an expansionist interstellar power that has been
at relative peace for almost a century—the novel focuses less on
spaceships and aliens (both present) than it does on the bureaucratic
and interpersonal intrigue that steers the empire’s course, and
uses rich worldbuilding and personal detail to meditate on the
effects, large and small, of cultural hegemony.
