Babel by R. F. Kuang
Apr. 15th, 2024 11:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lizbeeFive days ago, I posted this to Facebook:
Having said all this, there's a very, very big space between "this book is outstanding" and "this book is bad, actually". I think Babel is very good, and I'm definitely interested in reading Kuang's fantasy Opium Wars/Chinese Revolution trilogy. But I feel like Babel is more of a B-plus than an A.
'I started Babel by R. F. Kuang yesterday at lunchtime, and I'm now 53% through. It's a 600-page ebook, but I literally could not put it down. I had my iPad propped up on the vanity as I brushed my teeth last night.
HOWEVER. It is possible that is ... I won't say "bad", in fact I think it's very good, but is it maybe a bit overrated? Not as groundbreaking as it's made out to be?
This might just be that I'm a Humanities person and a lot of science fiction and fantasy readers are STEM people. So a book goes, "Hey, did you know the British Empire was bad? HUGE IF TRUE," and that's not really news to me. Like when the MINDBLOWING REVOLUTIONARY CONCEPT of Ancillary Justice was "maybe imperialism is problematic". Guys, I've read Tacitus.
Which is not to say Kuang's worldbuilding and depiction of the British Empire using limited magical resources to consolidate power is bad. I think everything involving translation is brilliant, and she must have done a massive amount of research into a wide range of languages, not to mention linguistic theory. THAT is genuinely remarkable, and I'm deeply impressed by Kuang's imagination.
But there's also sloppiness, and ... I dunno. The book opens with an incredibly defensive foreword by Kuang, defending her right as an American to write about Oxford and highlighting certain ahistorical choices she made. As it happens, "Americans romanticise Oxbridge" is one of the literary genres I despise, which is why I'm only NOW reading Babel, and it's probably unfair of me to complain about such anachronisms as "upperclassman" sneaking in.
I think I'm within my rights, though, to complain about the contemporary dialogue. "I'll bite," says one character, who later goes on to say, "Sometimes, things that are [incredibly specific description] ... are bad." I didn't know they had Tumblr in the 1830s, but here we are.
And the defensiveness of the foreword carries over into the narrative, as if Kuang expects her audience to disagree that racism is bad. The didactic tone is perfect for a book set in the 1830s, but no one likes being scolded.
Having said all this, there's a very, very big space between "this book is outstanding" and "this book is bad, actually". I think Babel is very good, and I'm definitely interested in reading Kuang's fantasy Opium Wars/Chinese Revolution trilogy. But I feel like Babel is more of a B-plus than an A.
(To address the elephant in the room: it is frankly ABSURD that the Hugos Committee decided to toady to the CCP by rendering Babel ineligible for, you know, reasons. Setting aside the ethical issues, Babel's view of history is pretty compatible with the current version favoured by the CCP.)
(One of my friends was like, "Isn't it enough that you can't put it down? Do you need to make a judgement on whether or not it's good or bad?" Look, I have never NOT made a judgement in my life, I'm not starting now!)'
If I were a reviewer scoring Babel, at that 53% point, I'd have given it three and a half to four stars.
Unfortunately, I went on to keep reading, and it comes down to two stars. I second everything in this review, and also note that "the Black woman suffers and suffers and suffers but is also the glue that holds everyone together" is a very specific racial stereotype, and Kuang revels in it.
HOWEVER. I had nothing else to read, but I kept going. I figured I'd finish it on the train home on Thursday evening ... until I slipped on a bit of uneven pavement outside the train station and broke my ankle.
Now, I thought it was sprained. I had suffered a very mild sprain of that ankle ten days earlier, and I thought, "Oh no, this is so embarrassing. I should get an X-ray in case it's an avulsion fracture." And then I hobbled to the train platform (about 500m) and onto the train, and spent 40 minutes blasting music and trying not to cry. Then we pulled into my station and I hobbled another 700m to the urgent care next to the station.
That was all very hard. But I have a high pain threshold. So I collapsed into a chair and waited for triage and pulled out my book.
Spoilers, but Babel has a Tragic Ending. (It's Profound.) And I'm a sucker, so I cried, even though I was also thinking, "This is so manipulative and also not very good."
Have you ever cried in an urgent care? Just like that, the triage nurse cut her break short, gave me a wheelchair, and ensured I was seen quickly. I still had to wait overnight for x-rays, which was a horrible and painful night, but the x-rays the next morning showed a clear fibula fracture, and then the urgent care gave me oxycontin. (Which I haven't needed, but it's nice to be taken seriously.) And now I'm in a moon boot for four to six weeks, not allowed to drive, and peacefully rereading some books that won't let me down.
If I were a reviewer scoring Babel, at that 53% point, I'd have given it three and a half to four stars.
Unfortunately, I went on to keep reading, and it comes down to two stars. I second everything in this review, and also note that "the Black woman suffers and suffers and suffers but is also the glue that holds everyone together" is a very specific racial stereotype, and Kuang revels in it.
HOWEVER. I had nothing else to read, but I kept going. I figured I'd finish it on the train home on Thursday evening ... until I slipped on a bit of uneven pavement outside the train station and broke my ankle.
Now, I thought it was sprained. I had suffered a very mild sprain of that ankle ten days earlier, and I thought, "Oh no, this is so embarrassing. I should get an X-ray in case it's an avulsion fracture." And then I hobbled to the train platform (about 500m) and onto the train, and spent 40 minutes blasting music and trying not to cry. Then we pulled into my station and I hobbled another 700m to the urgent care next to the station.
That was all very hard. But I have a high pain threshold. So I collapsed into a chair and waited for triage and pulled out my book.
Spoilers, but Babel has a Tragic Ending. (It's Profound.) And I'm a sucker, so I cried, even though I was also thinking, "This is so manipulative and also not very good."
Have you ever cried in an urgent care? Just like that, the triage nurse cut her break short, gave me a wheelchair, and ensured I was seen quickly. I still had to wait overnight for x-rays, which was a horrible and painful night, but the x-rays the next morning showed a clear fibula fracture, and then the urgent care gave me oxycontin. (Which I haven't needed, but it's nice to be taken seriously.) And now I'm in a moon boot for four to six weeks, not allowed to drive, and peacefully rereading some books that won't let me down.
