My desire to read this book long predates me compulsively devouring the heady sci-fi/fantasy mix that is Sleeping Worlds Have No Memory by Yaroslav Barsukov over the course of 2 days (a highly addictive read).
“…I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was so self-centered…because isn’t any guilt innately selfish? We hurt someone, and then we take a step back to avoid being hurt ourselves. What makes guilt so grotesque is the fact that it adorns itself with whatever remains of our righteousness.”
Originally, ‘The Tower of Mud and Straw’, a novella that achieved the distinction of being nominated for the prestigious Nebula Award, had been on my TBR for several years. I never managed to read that novella. However, when I heard the gist of the original story had been expanded upon and evolved into a full novel – ‘Sleeping Words Have No Memory’ – I was extremely excited, and knew I had to read it.
I am so grateful I did: it is simply a literary masterpiece.
The story revolves around protagonist Lord Shea Ashcroft, Minister of Internal Affairs. Ashcroft has fallen into disrepute politically. Yet to some, he’s a hero. But what is REALLY the truth surrounding his controversial actions that seemed to save numerous lives, yet permitted an insurrection to obliterate much of his homeland’s main city?
“What fragile creations we are, worse than twigs; at least for every broken twig, you’ll find one just like it.”
As a result of his actions, Ashcroft is exiled to the extreme edges of his realm, to the province of Owenburg, and tasked with governmental oversight for the building of a defence tower. But this is no commonplace construction project, no ordinary tower. For one, the tower is incomprehensibly humongous – akin to the famed Tower of Babel.
“The tower took the length of the world—only it was an alien world, replicating itself over and over as it climbed to a distant, ghostly gap into the clouds. Or did he stare down a well? Shea’s head spun again as up and down flip-flopped like axes on a gyroscope.”
Second, the height and girth of the tower is only outmatched by the pessimism surrounding the project. The chief engineer is floundering, and many believe the tower cannot actually be completed. Many also don’t WANT it to be completed.
In desperation, said chief engineer – Brielle – avails herself of the mysterious Drakiri, a sect whose advanced capabilities utilize the highly volatile ‘tulip’ technology. This technology holds massive potential for both salvation and destruction of the tower, endangering all those in its wake. Coincidentally, Ashcroft is plagued by grief over the loss of a loved one, directly resulting from an accident using tulips.
“There are so many stories I wish I could tell you, simple and funny and sad ones. I find myself remembering jokes because they might’ve made you laugh. And even though time is sand, when I am not looking closely, I still get these brief bursts of hope: I’ll come home, and I’ll tell you a story.”
Finally, despite any of these considerable challenges, Ashcroft’s authoritarian Queen Daelyn is determined to see the project – the defining object of her reign – succeed. This, even though the tower is the inciting reason behind the devastating riots. Yet considering his past issues, failure is not an option for the beleaguered former diplomat – he must ensure the monument to his queen’s superciliousness is a success.
Ashcroft has a risky plan to salvage the tower, and perhaps his reputation, thus restoring his standing. But at what cost?
Ashcroft soon embarks on a journey of self-discovery and danger as he faces national paranoia, intrigue, and an existential threat that would change the world.
Which is more terrifying: the demons of his past, or the cosmic horrors he must confront, as reality bends, nations and realms are poised on the brink of destruction, and time and space are bent to the will of powerful beings who will shape humanity’s future?
Those who follow my reviews know how I love morally grey characters: tick box here. The protagonist is all about making ambiguous decisions and constantly grapples with his own sense of duty, loyalty, and personal honour.
The other characters who are more decidedly ‘good’ are well-fleshed out, and not without their own share of complications, standouts being both Lenas and of course Brielle.
The evil characters are quite sinister, and readers will find some disturbing similarities to today’s dictators, with their brutality, deviousness, and callousness justified through propaganda about so-called ‘greater goods’, and cloaked with a veneer of charm, sophistication and civility.
“Evil wasn’t even in the crown prince: it hid in the silent consent, in every nod of approval and every ‘yes’…”
In terms of the daring, often dreamscape-type worldbuilding in the book, it is spectacular, yet be warned, it defies the typical boundaries of reality, especially in the later parts of the novel. Reading it, may at times challenge and confound your concepts of perception, but in a fascinating, stimulating way.
Moreover, a very grounded thread runs throughout the worldbuilding, tethering the reader to the ‘here and now’. Barsukov clearly takes inspiration from real-world histories, events, and cultures, and – chillingly – based on when the original novella was first published, seems to prognosticate the Ukrainian-Russian war.
Which leads to the themes explored in the novel – and they are quite compelling, yet also quite grim overall. Loss, grief, regret, guilt, and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), and coping with weighty decisions are central themes, and elements such as hubris, memory, love, commitment, responsibility, narcissism, racism, discrimination, genocide, and ends justifying the means, are deeply explored in the book, in thoughtful, and ultimately brilliant fashion.
The tone is generally dark in this book, with an underlying thread of optimism, that becomes more apparent as the narrative progresses.
“Hope is a stupid thing…Were it rational, it would go broke.”
The pacing is fast, thrilling, sometimes frenetic, yet Barsukov never rushes his marvellous story, or skimps on the details. But make no mistake, while there are plenty of wonderful character moments and introspection, this story is action-packed, with rescue missions, assassination attempts, executions, battles, political maneuvering, betrayals, and more.
I have to rave here about the melodic prose. Like masters such as Guy Gavriel Kay, exuberant with metaphors, evocative, poetic yet never purple or overdone, Barsukov’s writing is absolutely beautiful. As you can tell by all the quotes from the book I have included in this review, I was wholly enamoured by the prose.
I can plainly see why the material that was the foundation of this book, was deemed deserving of Nebula consideration. Barsukov is a fabulous writer, who has immediately vaulted to must-read status for me, now that I’ve read some of his work.
‘Sleeping Worlds Have No Memory’ is an original, cryptic, sometimes bizarre, cerebral, and utterly captivating read, that you won’t be able to forget, haunting you long after you finish the final page.
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