Discussion of Ancillary Justice
Jan. 11th, 2014 05:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asakiyumeOnce she was the starship Justice of Toren, a two-thousand-year-old AI operating through hundreds of ancillaries—reanimated human bodies, retrofitted with the AI intelligence and other augmentations. Now she’s reduced to a single ancillary unit, and she’s out for revenge.
That was more or less my understanding of Ancillary Justice when I started reading it; that was what made me **want** to read it. I like revenge tales, and I like sci-fi looks at consciousness and its complications, especially Borg-style ones. The Borg, seen from the inside? Yes please!
But my goodness, there was so much more to love than just the bones of the story. I loved the muscle of the story as well, and its nerves, and every inch of its skin. It was more than absorbing; it was life-commandeering. (I pretty much needed the author to hold my hand while I read it. She was very patient, even in the face of howls of grief.)
With so much to talk about with Ancillary Justice, I’m going to have to pick and choose.
I’ll start with Breq—the former starship, and our narrator, who, when it comes to her own feelings and emotional state, has a gift for understatement. Her first act in the book is to save one of former lieutenants from death by hypothermia. About Lieutenant Seivarden, Breq notes, “She had never been one of my favorite officers,” an observation she repeats on several occasions. As we see, through flashbacks, what Seivarden was like in the past and what Seivarden is like now, we come to understand that in fact, Seivarden was an entitled, self-centered asshole whom Justice of Toren actively disliked.
And yet, Breq saves Seivarden’s life not once but twice, and at great risk to herself. Why? . . . No, but seriously, why? I can answer the question in several ways, and all of them say interesting things about Breq. Those of you who’ve read the book, perhaps we can talk about it in comments.
Seivarden was never one of Justice of Toren’s favorite lieutenants, but Awn, assigned as a colonial administrator on the recently annexed planet of Shis’urna some nineteen years before the story’s present time, was. More specifically, Awn was a favorite of One Esk, a subunit of Justice of Toren comprising twenty ancillaries, stationed on the planet with the lieutenant.
Awn is everything Seivarden isn’t: where a young Seivarden couldn’t stand the fearful tears of those doomed to become ancillaries, Awn stands by, solicitous despite the irritation of the medics performing the procedure, when a new ancillary is brought online. Where Seivarden comes from a powerful family, Awn is the offspring of cooks. But One Esk—and Breq—never says, or thinks, anything outright regarding her feelings for Awn. Instead, our impression of her devotion and love are built up by a thousand small gestures and observations, so that it grows in us in the same unexamined, unacknowledged way that it exists in One Esk—inchoate, visceral, powerful. At one point, an act of sabotage cuts One Esk off from communication with the rest of herself—that is, with Justice of Toren, and cuts off each of One Esk’s twenty ancillaries from one another:
Worst of all. Worse than any other element of duty, worse than the sense of confusion regarding her own self.
Given what Breq is willing to do for Seivarden, you can imagine what she’d do for Awn.
Without it being part of her stated brief or even her stated personal inclination, One Esk, and later Breq, is a protector and advocate of the small and weak. The children in Ors (a city of Shis’urna) call the One Esk ancillaries corpse soldiers, but they trust her. One sings her a song that she remembers ever after; another grabs her hand for comfort when confronted with the Lord of the Radch. On the frigid planet of Nilt, Breq befriends a slightly older child, playing a board game with her.
These children are touchingly, realistically portrayed—because Ann Leckie not only cares about the small and weak, she, like Breq, pays attention to them, whether it’s a listless teenager (The adolescent sighed, heavily, the way adolescents do, and dropped a pebble in the water and stared at the ripples) or the more self-possessed young person on Nilt:
It’s a small moment in the book, but it’s because Ann makes us notice the adolescent at the water’s edge and girl with the Tiktik set that we really feel the horrors of the mass deaths we witness or hear recounted. When a planet’s wiped out, it’s not a matter of mere special effects, Star Wars style; when there’s a massacre, it’s people like these children and their families whose lives are lost.
And what about the pronouns? I think I’ll have to finish with the pronouns, even though there’s a long list of other topics I’d love to touch on. Because the Radchaai don’t make gender distinctions, Breq refers to everyone she meets (and to herself) as “she.” This led me to imagine everyone as female until some sort of outside evidence was presented to change that assessment. I was very interested to see how my sense of a character changed when I got hints that a character might be male (gender is pretty much binary in the book), which in turn made me try male gender on various characters. Lieutenant Awn is very close to another lieutenant, Lieutenant Skaaiat. Are they both female? Are they both male? Is one male and one female? As I played through these permutations, my sense of the power dynamic between them changed. For many of the characters, it was impossible to choose a solid gender, and I found that fact fascinating and freeing. I’d be interested to hear other people’s impressions.
So much left unsaid—colonialism; multiple cultures; the role of food, song, and religion; how the Lord of the Radch is a concretize metonym; more on identity; more on power—but I have to pull back. Let me leave you with two quotes, one on identity, one on the difference between thought and action:
Here is Breq, thinking about the nature of identity:
And here, on thought and action:
That was more or less my understanding of Ancillary Justice when I started reading it; that was what made me **want** to read it. I like revenge tales, and I like sci-fi looks at consciousness and its complications, especially Borg-style ones. The Borg, seen from the inside? Yes please!
But my goodness, there was so much more to love than just the bones of the story. I loved the muscle of the story as well, and its nerves, and every inch of its skin. It was more than absorbing; it was life-commandeering. (I pretty much needed the author to hold my hand while I read it. She was very patient, even in the face of howls of grief.)
With so much to talk about with Ancillary Justice, I’m going to have to pick and choose.
I’ll start with Breq—the former starship, and our narrator, who, when it comes to her own feelings and emotional state, has a gift for understatement. Her first act in the book is to save one of former lieutenants from death by hypothermia. About Lieutenant Seivarden, Breq notes, “She had never been one of my favorite officers,” an observation she repeats on several occasions. As we see, through flashbacks, what Seivarden was like in the past and what Seivarden is like now, we come to understand that in fact, Seivarden was an entitled, self-centered asshole whom Justice of Toren actively disliked.
And yet, Breq saves Seivarden’s life not once but twice, and at great risk to herself. Why? . . . No, but seriously, why? I can answer the question in several ways, and all of them say interesting things about Breq. Those of you who’ve read the book, perhaps we can talk about it in comments.
Seivarden was never one of Justice of Toren’s favorite lieutenants, but Awn, assigned as a colonial administrator on the recently annexed planet of Shis’urna some nineteen years before the story’s present time, was. More specifically, Awn was a favorite of One Esk, a subunit of Justice of Toren comprising twenty ancillaries, stationed on the planet with the lieutenant.
Awn is everything Seivarden isn’t: where a young Seivarden couldn’t stand the fearful tears of those doomed to become ancillaries, Awn stands by, solicitous despite the irritation of the medics performing the procedure, when a new ancillary is brought online. Where Seivarden comes from a powerful family, Awn is the offspring of cooks. But One Esk—and Breq—never says, or thinks, anything outright regarding her feelings for Awn. Instead, our impression of her devotion and love are built up by a thousand small gestures and observations, so that it grows in us in the same unexamined, unacknowledged way that it exists in One Esk—inchoate, visceral, powerful. At one point, an act of sabotage cuts One Esk off from communication with the rest of herself—that is, with Justice of Toren, and cuts off each of One Esk’s twenty ancillaries from one another:
The tracker data I had been monitoring cut out, and suddenly all twenty of me were blind, deaf, immobile. Each segment could see only from a single pair of eyes, hear only through a single pair of ears . . . worst of all, in that same instant all data from Lieutenant Awn ceased.
Worst of all. Worse than any other element of duty, worse than the sense of confusion regarding her own self.
Given what Breq is willing to do for Seivarden, you can imagine what she’d do for Awn.
Without it being part of her stated brief or even her stated personal inclination, One Esk, and later Breq, is a protector and advocate of the small and weak. The children in Ors (a city of Shis’urna) call the One Esk ancillaries corpse soldiers, but they trust her. One sings her a song that she remembers ever after; another grabs her hand for comfort when confronted with the Lord of the Radch. On the frigid planet of Nilt, Breq befriends a slightly older child, playing a board game with her.
These children are touchingly, realistically portrayed—because Ann Leckie not only cares about the small and weak, she, like Breq, pays attention to them, whether it’s a listless teenager (The adolescent sighed, heavily, the way adolescents do, and dropped a pebble in the water and stared at the ripples) or the more self-possessed young person on Nilt:
After ten minutes of silence she said, “I have a Tiktik set.”
“What’s Tiktik?”
Her eyes widened, round in her round, pale face. “How can you not know what Tiktik is? You must be from very far away!” I acknowledged that I was, and she answered, “It’s a game. It’s mostly a game for children.” Her tone implied she wasn’t a child, but I’d best not ask why she was carrying a child’s game set.
It’s a small moment in the book, but it’s because Ann makes us notice the adolescent at the water’s edge and girl with the Tiktik set that we really feel the horrors of the mass deaths we witness or hear recounted. When a planet’s wiped out, it’s not a matter of mere special effects, Star Wars style; when there’s a massacre, it’s people like these children and their families whose lives are lost.
And what about the pronouns? I think I’ll have to finish with the pronouns, even though there’s a long list of other topics I’d love to touch on. Because the Radchaai don’t make gender distinctions, Breq refers to everyone she meets (and to herself) as “she.” This led me to imagine everyone as female until some sort of outside evidence was presented to change that assessment. I was very interested to see how my sense of a character changed when I got hints that a character might be male (gender is pretty much binary in the book), which in turn made me try male gender on various characters. Lieutenant Awn is very close to another lieutenant, Lieutenant Skaaiat. Are they both female? Are they both male? Is one male and one female? As I played through these permutations, my sense of the power dynamic between them changed. For many of the characters, it was impossible to choose a solid gender, and I found that fact fascinating and freeing. I’d be interested to hear other people’s impressions.
So much left unsaid—colonialism; multiple cultures; the role of food, song, and religion; how the Lord of the Radch is a concretize metonym; more on identity; more on power—but I have to pull back. Let me leave you with two quotes, one on identity, one on the difference between thought and action:
Here is Breq, thinking about the nature of identity:
Or is anyone’s identity a matter of fragments held together by convenient or useful narrative, that in ordinary circumstances never reveals itself as a fiction? Or is it really a fiction?
And here, on thought and action:
Thoughts are ephemeral, they evaporate in the moment they occur, unless they are given action and material form. Wishes and intentions, the same. Meaningless, unless they impel you to one choice or another, some deed or course of action, however insignificant. Thoughts that lead to action can be dangerous. Thoughts that do not, mean less than nothing.
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no subject
Date: 2014-01-11 10:18 pm (UTC)You do make this book sound fascinating. Although I must remember your cartoons and take them as something of a warning as far as my emotional investment is concerned.
[edit] where a young Seivarden couldn’t stand the fearful tears of those doomed to become ancillaries, Awn stands by, solicitous despite the irritation of the medics performing the procedure, when a new ancillary is brought online.
And that's as casually disturbing as anything
no subject
Date: 2014-01-11 10:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-12 11:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-12 01:07 am (UTC)I started reading before the holidays, but got interrupted and then I read your book and I'm back to reading it now. I started over at the beginning because it's a complicated book and it demands my full attention to keep from losing any of the awesome details.
You mention the song. I loved that part.
I would love to discuss this with you more fully when I've finished reading if you're still open to discussion at that time.
This is unlike any other book I've read, but is having the same effect on me that another SF book (unlike anything else I've ever read) had on me. I like that.
no subject
Date: 2014-01-12 01:40 am (UTC)What was the other SF book?
no subject
Date: 2014-01-12 01:47 am (UTC)Harmony by Keith Brooke. I've never met anyone else who has read it and the reviews on B&N are not good, but I loved it.
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/harmony-keith-brooke/1109809267?ean=9781781080016
no subject
Date: 2014-01-12 03:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-12 02:56 am (UTC)I think you meant to type 'choice', but I figured 'choic' was a word I didn't know, and looked it up. Turns out it doesn't exist, but what a pretty word it would be (I'm pronouncing it like inchoate - koh-ic). What do you think it would mean? In context it seemed like the occurrence/action/event version of 'entity'.
no subject
Date: 2014-01-12 03:04 am (UTC)(think I'll fix the typo now…)
no subject
Date: 2014-01-12 08:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-12 11:40 am (UTC)… I was able to carry on. Whatever other, deeper things the story is, it *is* also a revenge tale, and the shattering parts definitely invest you in her desire for revenge.
no subject
Date: 2014-02-03 04:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-02-03 05:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-12 07:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-02-03 05:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-13 01:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-13 02:19 pm (UTC)