This is a great science fiction debut. Very good.

It’s unsubtle in its feminism, but is never aggressive in it. It plays marvelous games with language that play with identity (gender identity and on a more metaphysical level) and some tricks with linear storytelling.

The short summary is that the lead character is an AI that was formerly a giant spaceship who also simultaneously existed inside ‘ancillaries’ -humans (usually prisoners) who were turned into, well, ancillary appendages for the AI and the ship. The AI perceives all things from the perspective of all bodies (organic or mechanical) that make ‘it’ up. But the book begins when everything but one ancillary is destroyed and Leckie brilliantly writes about what it’s like to lose so much perception. Instead of seeing in hundreds of places at once, she can only see straight ahead now.

‘She.’ The language of the space empire where this takes place does not have gender identifiers. Leckie generally calls everyone ‘she’ to reflect this, but in a gendered language like English, that’s a fairly subversive strategy that creates some real (and enjoyable) dissonance for the reader. One develops images of characters as male or female, but then, through the use of feminine pronouns, all one’s assumptions are thrown into doubt. And I always thought of the main character as female, but does not even make sense? We have no idea as to the gender of the body and when ‘she’ was a ship with dozens of additional bodies… does gender even make sense?

The linearity games come by the flashbacks (it’s a two thousand year old ship). Conversations between the ship and multiple people occurring simultaneously: one between a military officer on a planet, talking to an ancillary and one between the main ship and an officer. With perfect recall and a vast mind and experiencing all aspects of ‘herself’ simultaneously, it becomes dizzying and immersive.

Finally, on a more genre level, it’s got some nice set pieces and is a beautifully realized bit science fiction world building (or galaxy building, really).

If you’re a sci fi fan or a feminist fiction fan or just like kooky conversations about existential identity, you’ll like Ancillary Justice. Or if you just like a good read and don’t mind being challenged a little bit. I’m not calling it a science fiction Finnegans Wage, but it does ask something of the reader.

I got this in an ebook bundle from Open Road Media – a mixture of sci fi and fantasy. There were a couple of recognizable names and the price was good so… what the heck, eh?

So, The Reluctant Swordsman pays deep homage to an old pulp tradition: the man from contemporary(ish) Earth sent to a more savage world. Sometimes he is sent physically, sometimes he is psychically placed in the body of a local. If the Earth man is surprisingly fit physical specimen who already knows the manful arts of swordplay, horsemanship, and encircling sexually aroused women with his mighty arms, he is usually sent physically. In this case, middle aged Walter Smith gets the psychic transplant treatment. Luckily, in most of these cases, the lucky transplant is usually given the local equivalent of a twenty-five year old Daniel Craig who had just finished three years of rigorous training for a decathlon. The transplant invariably adapts fairly quickly to feats of arms, but always keeps a strangely tender and romantic attitude towards women (whether it is a single lady love, a la John Carter, or a series of sexually available women for him to treat with the utmost respect).

Duncan does a good job. A fine job really. But he never really reaches the proper pitch. Either you need to be commenting on those old stories, providing a new, modern twist, or else you need to go straight at them and indulge to excesses of your inner Robert E. Howard. Duncan does neither. He never navigates his way between the contemporary style and classic pulpy goodness. Also, the stakes are too low. I know it’s the first of a four volume series, but if a demigod is going to take the time to bring ‘Wallie’ through time and space into the body of a mighty warrior and assign him a quest from the ‘Goddess,’ then, for Goddess’ sake, there needs to be some world shattering urgency there to explain why they couldn’t wait for soul of someone more resembling a Mark Wahlberg character to be available and simply had to go with the soul of a balding, friendless fifty something. In short, I’m not feeling compelled to read the sequel.