Translation State is a new standalone from Ann Leckie, set in her Imperial Radch universe, which many readers may be familiar with from her earlier work. But if not, don't worry - this one works perfectly well as a standalone. It's one part mystery, one part legal thriller, with a dash of fast-paced action swirled in for flavour. And, not to give the game away, it work very, very well. Leckie is one of the best contemporary writers of thoughtful, high concept science fiction, and it shows in this story which is both gentle and angry and clever all at once.
The story revolves around a tripod of characters. Enae, who is out on her own for the first time after a lifetime of living in the shadow of a grandmother who was less than a positive role model Reet, living on a space station, doing unpleasant jobs for little in the way of recognition, an adopted son who struggles with his place in the world and his identity - especially since the latter seems to come with an urge to literally take people apart. Which is, obviously, frowned upon. And then there's Qven. Qven was created by and to serve as a translator for the alien Presgr. Qven has always been told what their role is to be, but Qven is also starting to wonder if that path is something to actually pursue.
One of Leckie's strengths is that she can give her characters a voice. All three people are just that. People. And they sound and feel different on the page because of the lived experiences that we hear about and are shown. Enae's fear of living a little bigger, of breaking out of the confines of a life that enveloped like a hermit crab's shell, is palpable. As is the pressure Reet feels building up inside himself, the vivid horrors of his dreams and needs. And Qven, Qven is strange and wonderful and horrifying and joyful, and trying to find and become who they want to be and not who they're expected to be. And each of these people have a voice that resonates with who they are, and we can feel their passion and weakness and delight and smaller terrors and flashes of joy coming right off the page to hit us right in the gut. I...ironically, I don't want ot talk about them too much, because each of them grows so much from who they are into someone new through the story. And it's that journey which matters. I will say that Leckie does a great job at making the strange and horrific and wonderful feel prosaic t the characters embedded in it, whilst still letting us have a sense of strangeness and discovery even as we come to accept these things alongside the characters. Honestly, I don't think anyone writing today captures that sense of different but people as well as Leckie has done here. We can get into these characters heads, into their lives, and be somewhere completely familiarly strange. From the first page I was catching up on social context, cues, who meant what to who and what events actually meant...but it all fit together and it all made sense to the people on the page, even while I was unpicking who they were. Suffice to say, Leckie has brought us some fantastic people on the page, who it was a pleasure to follow along with, even when what they were up to was....rather odd.
Speaking of rather odd. The universe is sprawling, filled with, ha, different places. Or, to be more specific, places that feel different. The cloistered halls of Enae's existence, filled with the artifacts of a grandparent who lived seemingly forever, have a sense of age and claustrophobia and potential denied. While the claustrophobia of Reet cleaning station maintenance tunnels is more literal, the grime more practical, the cramped space for hope remains the same, even as they both find burgeoning change is making all the difference. There's little touches in both places, from the detail on folding sideboards to the curious community meetings of Reet's station that help them feel like places, help them feel lived in. And then there's Qven. Always Qven. Qven's world is as physically bounded as Enae's is by psychic boundaries. Qven's world is as constrained in its day to day activities as Reet's is by huis position and opportunities. Qven is wrapped in a straitjacket made to measure by the society that has embraced them, and they get to live comfortably in it, as long as they follow the rulkes, do what they're told, step through the motions. It's a world where eating fellow members of your cohort isn't the strangest thing going on, and Qven is locked down, locked in, and struggling against shackles they don't evne know are there. And here we see an environment which feels plausible, just normal enough to be inside our experience, and strange, strange enough that every so often I had to go back and check I'd actually read what I had. There's hints here of something broader and stranger and more alien and what we have, a soupcon of weird, is wonderfully drawn. And as all these worlds and conceptual spaces converge, they make a big old setting gumbo that's filled with fascinating flavour.
As much as I don't want to say too much, you know I don't want to , don't dare to, spoil the story for you all. It begins cosily enough though, showing us our new friends, letting us see them in their own heads, how they seem themselves, how they live their lives. It watches them as they try to reach out, to put their arms up and soar. This is a story with mysteries abounding, about life and identity and who and what people are. And it's a story about people looking for inclusion, trying to find a place where they feel at home, and find a place where they can be themselves and find out who they are. It's a story with extremists and a story with explosions, and a story with authorities that try and be Authorities, and about overreach and the dangers of definition by category and the joy of self-categorisation. It's a thriller, its a courtroom drama, it's a sci-fi adventure story, its a mystery, and above all, it's an absolute triumph of high-concept sci-fi married to the personal, the immediate, the real, backed by real emotion and real truths. This is Leckie on top form, and it's well worth the read.
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