by Aliette de Bodard

Genre:  SFF, transhumanism, social change, political thriller

The Dust Cover Copy

When tech scavenger Xích Si is captured and imprisoned by the infamous pirates of the Red Banner, she expects to be tortured or killed. Instead, their leader, Rice Fish, makes Xích Si an utterly incredible proposition: an offer of marriage.

Both have their reasons for this arrangement: Xích Si needs protection; Rice Fish, a sentient spaceship, needs a technical expert to investigate the death of her first wife, the Red Scholar. That’s all there is to it.

But as the interstellar war against piracy rages on and their own investigation reaches a dire conclusion, the two of them discover that their arrangement has evolved into something much less business-focused and more personal...and tender. And maybe the best thing that’s ever happened to either of them—but only if they can find a way to survive together.

The Scene

Worldbuilding

One of the things I love about de Bodard’s work is what she’s done with extrapolation of Asian culture into futuristic settings. What Anne McCaffrey did for the West in Chronicles of Pern, de Bodard does for the East with her Universe of Xuya books.

Among the Numbered Planets residing on this side of the Two Streams belt of asteroids and stars lies the An O empire. It is built on the strictest of social codes: ruled by an Empress and her court, held in place by court officials and overseers and militia. And if you’re on the bottom of that pyramid, you aren’t getting out. On the other side of the Two Streams, another empire rubs against it and chafes. And in between, in the challenging spaces between asteroids that have to be navigated for commerce to exist, those who prey on merchant ships hunt. The pirates. They are harsh. They rob for a living. They kill. And they’re fair. They try to build an egalitarian society in their Citadel among the tumbling asteroids. They try to be better than the culture that pushed them out and left them to starve.

At least, some of them do. And the balance between those who want better and those who want bloodshed has just been upset.

This is the setup de Bodard uses as the backdrop for the Universe of Xuya. And I love it. It has all the pageantry and flamboyance of a good K-drama period piece. It’s got the political intrigue that makes period pieces so engaging. But instead of leaning into historic gender dynamics and outdated concepts of relationship to get its tension, these books posit a completely LGBT-inclusive universe where the main tensions are between those who care for all and those who care for themselves, between doing what’s right and doing what’s legal.

Throughout the weave of the work, the strong Vietnamese themes of self-sacrifice, family, and Vietnamese standards of right social relationships are one of the warp threads. It’s seldom that Western readers who only know one language get this accessible of a look into the way another culture runs. De Bodard not only makes that work, but makes it work in style. Within a few pages, you feel like a member of this society: marking your association to others by how closely you address them (from the formal Elder or Younger Aunt, to the less formal Elder or Younger Sister, all the way to intimates referring to one another as lil’ sis and big sis). The delicacy, knife-sharp distinctions and poise of the cultural setting are powerful underpinnings.  The technology, instead of wiping out culture and tradition as it’s portrayed to do so often in SFF, is used to glorify the culture these immigrants from long-lost Earth have brought with them. And even those the current culture would give up on have a place: people, especially children, whose bodies can’t be healed by medicine are offered the chance to become the intelligences that power and direct Mindships. In this way of life, a kid born disabled can end up as one of the leaders of their family and a living ancestor as the years pass. 

Taken together, these traits elevate the worldbuilding above your average space opera and into something really powerful.

The Crowd

Characterization

This book revolves around two main characters, the captured mineral-scavenger Xích Si and the powerful mindship The Rice Fish, Resting . We’re introduced to both characters in the opening scene, in one of the most awkward proposals imaginable. Rice Fish needs a consort. Hers has just been killed in an ambush. She thinks that she can use the skill of the technically minded, unaffiliated stranger in their cells, a captive who was about to be sold into an indenture for the profit of those who ripped her out of her little ship and her life. 

So she proposes a marriage with  Xích Si, a woman she doesn’t know and hasn’t so much as unshackled. 

This sounds like the setup for a BDSM story, but what unfolds is a powerful story of connection, cooperation, self-denial, and devotion. Love tugs all the characters into places they didn’t know they could go: the love for the child she left in Empire space pushes Xích Si into a situation that’s analogous to putting your foot in a bear trap. Love for her people and for Xích Si nearly tears Rice Fish to bits. Love of the law and its ideals drives their main antagonist, Censor Trúc, into strange situations with strange bedfellows. And love and anger at denied love pushes the prickly son that Rice Fish loves to act in ways none of them are proud of. 

Through these characters, de Bodard navigates choppy waters of ambition, duty, integrity, and relationship. There’s no flinching from the tough stuff; both the legal and the illegal communities buy and sell other humans, and that gets fully and sometimes painfully explored. The work of the Five Banners of the Pirate Alliance has a high cost in human life, an de Bodard never lets you forget it.

But through these waters, surprisingly, islands of love and integrity rise. And there may be a safe port for everyone in the end.

Writing Style

The overall poetry of the work is fitting for its setting. It ensnares readers and pulls them deep into a world where grace of language is worn as a robe over ugly truths, and the beauties of the past mesh with the glories of interstellar life. Cutting across that image of pageantry are bright pops of daily life: space slang and goofy moments, quick jokes and phrases so blunt that they surprise you into laughing. The Vietnamese language elements are woven so smoothly into the English narrative that even a clueless Westerner like me feels like I get all the wonderfully subtle nuances along with the character experiencing them. And the descriptions are like silk sheets on skin.

The Moves

Plot

What could have turned into a convoluted mess instead flows from de Bodard’s pen with all the right layers: an awkward-flirty subplot between technician and ship leavens a deadly serious political intrigue, and through it all is the pain of past losses and the desperate, visceral need to prevent future harm to loved ones whose presence (and lives) are in tenuous conditions twangs like violin strings. I’d say Red Scholar is cinematic in plot form: it really does feel like you’re watching a classy K-drama (yes that’s a compliment) as you turn the pages.

Overall Rating

A deep, insightful and powerful dive into all the spaces of the outer universe and the human heart. Give it a read. You’ll be glad you did.