Cherryh might just be my favourite science fiction author of the 20th century. Which is probably just a statement about how malnourished my understanding of the options are, but still; the woman doesn’t miss. This is the second part of the Cyteen trilogy – which is very, very clearly a single very large story split in three for publishing purposes, it is utterly incomprehensible without the context of The Betrayal. With it though – well, assuming the third part of the trilogy sticks the landing, this is almost certainly going to be my favourite piece of genre fiction this year.
Following a multi-year timeskip, the story follows the childhood of Ari Emory II – the clone and successor of an era-defining scientific genius and political potentate. One who before her death had begun throwing herself into the project of how to create and raise a clone to possess the same skills and instincts that had served her, her ideals, and the Union as a whole so well. The story is on the one hand about the great pains and desperate manoeuvring everyone around her is engaged in to try and ensure that Ari II’s childhood matches the (emotionally isolated and less than pleasant, it must be said) one experienced by the original while also keeping her focused, stable and safe; and on the other, Ari herself (and eventually her two azi companions/bodyguards/slaves) discovering the limits and seams of the life they’ve designed and attempting to find out what’s really happening around her.
There’s a bit of The Truman Show about it all, but mostly Ari’s childhood is less comedy and more slowly dawning horror as she gets old enough to realize that if she gets into an actual fight with another child, they and their family will vanish from her life by the end of the week. Combined with the sudden disappearance of her mother (reassigned to another senior post 6 months travel away on schedule with the death of the original Ari’s), and it leaves her mistrustful and a mite paranoid and her personality and development all off-kilter. The futility of aspiring to perfect control is a bit of a running theme.
Aside from Ari, the book’s main POVs are Florian and Caitlin (aforementioned cloned and conditioned bodyguards/companions) and Justin (a deeply traumatized junior psychset designer who was groomed by the original Arianne Emory). All of their internal monologues are enjoyably distinct and it’s always a delight to see different people seeing the same thing through such different (and differently limited) perspectives. All of them are also slightly different angles to approach what feels like this section of the story’s biggest theme – the question of what, exactly, it means to be valuable to society, and how and why different people ‘deserve’ the resources dedicated to them.
Union is a slave society. A liberal, constitutional one, with elected governments on both the central and local levels, but one where the mass-production and industrial-scale conditioning and training of cloned workers, soldiers, colonists and servants is the foundation to all of society. Characters (and the populace as a whole) are genuinely committed to the stated ideals and norms of their government, and legitimately scandalized and outraged at some of the actions taken during the late war that contradicted them in the name of expediency. ‘The abolitionists’ are a fringe pseudo-terrorist movement whose closest political allies find them an embarrassing liability they wish would shut up and stay away from the camera, and the treatment of someone’s azis is generally treated with as much (maybe slightly less) concern than that of pets or farm animals. (I don’t mean to imply any great satirical intent or didactic messaging, but it does seem relevant to note here that Cherryh grew up in the United States of the ‘40s and ‘50s).
I am perhaps focusing a bit much on that theme to exclusion of all others – and there is a real enjoyable warped coming-of-age narrative going on with Ari II – just because of the moments in the book that happened to stick with me. The way Caitlin and Florian clearly identify with and love the first horses successfully cloned to survive Cyteen’s environment, like them ‘working animals’ whose value and future labour justifies the expense and effort to raise and keep them (and unlike the affectionate and clever pigs cloned and fattened for the slaughter); the way Justin is viewed as a dangerous threat and blamed for everything that goes wrong with Ari’s upbringing right up until his own research seems like it will turn out to be valuable, at which point he suddenly has reasonable friends in senior management willing to make an issue of how often he’s getting detained and interrogated; the fact that Ari’s whole existence is essentially one great bet that genius can be replicated, and even if she’s merely very bright and uncommonly talented it will mean the ruin of the whole institution her predecessor built. It’s as-yet unclear where the story’s really going, but the pattern’s struck me more than anything else has.
Beyond that; given how many different thinkpieces and posts I’ve seen talking about modern writers’ overuse of trauma as their one and only theory of characterization, it’s a bit striking how interested the book from the ‘80s is in how formative trauma is on shaping personality. Most strikingly with Grant and Justin (whose early 20s can be summarized as ‘coping with PTSD triggered by most popular therapy techniques, and also your rapist is a tragically assassinated secular saint’), but the exact particulars of what Ari, Caitlin and Florian happen to live through are clearly pushing them on different trajectories from the originals. I really do have no idea quite how things are going to resolve, and I’m incredibly curious.
Stylistically – the book was in fact written during the ‘80s. It actually reads as much more modern than most contemporary works I’ve read, but the vocabulary and diction still jumps out at points, especially in more casual situations (in much the same way the resilience of paper letters and tape cassettes carried freight on interstellar starships does). The narrative’s very introspective and dialogue focused – things are only really described is if it’s important or communicating something about the characters whose head we’re in. Which I generally like as a matter of focus, but the book does take it to the point where a lot of the story can feel like characters walking, talking and working in a featureless void. Though it does make the few points where the story goes all-out describing some particular location or event really stand out.
You do absolutely have to start at book one, but if you enjoy psychological, political and sociological sci fi I thoroughly recommend this.