I didn't want to do this. I thought I could put this book behind me. But then I saw the Hugo nominations, and I realized I had to get this out.
Light from Uncommon Stars may be the worst book I have ever read. On every single level, there is a staggering amount wrong with it. It's enough to make me think it may secretly be a work of genius, like that scene from Into the Spider-Verse where Miles's teacher gives him an A+ for getting every question wrong. The characters, the plot, the setting, the structure, the prose, the themes...name any aspect of this novel, and I guarantee you that nothing about it works.
The Plot
Of course, there's a killer pitch. We all know it: a violin teacher makes a deal with a demon to deliver seven souls to Hell, and has only one year to find the last one! Then she falls in love with a space captain! Awesome!
The problem is that you now know everything there is to know about the story. It's a cool premise, and nothing else. Nothing is done with it. The only way this novel knows how to develop its plot is to cram in additional subplots, which also go undeveloped -- like the Calvin and Hobbes strip where Calvin adds a new piece of gum every time another piece loses its flavor.
The first time I threw the book across the room was when we got our first POV from Lucy, the violin restoration expert. "You don't NEED another protagonist!" I shouted, startling my poor fiancee and cat. "You need to DO SOMETHING with the ones you've already got!"
Every page of this book consists of either stalling for time or unnecessary complication. Case in point: the first 70 or so pages of the book are about Shizuka (the violin teacher) and Katrina (her final student) circling around each other before they finally meet. We know they're going to meet. The dust jacket told us. There's literally no reason for it to take so long, and yet it does, with page after page of wheel-spinning before we get to the story we paid for.
You may have heard that this book fuses different genres, but "fuses" is a very generous word. It's more like smashing dolls together. The sci-fi elements have no bearing on the fantasy elements, which have next to no bearing on the contemporary elements. It's a stewpot full of ingredients, but nobody turned on the stove.
The climax, which depends on finally smashing the space and Hell plotlines together according to arbitrary and unsatisfying rules, is the most egregious, but the hallmarks of overstuffedness are everywhere. In speculative fiction, the speculative elements should be inextricable: you can't remove them without changing the story fundamentally. Reading Light from Uncommon Stars, all I could think of was how much better it would be without any sci-fi or fantasy elements at all. This is, to say the least, not deserving of a Hugo.
The Writing
Here is how the legendary poet Sappho of Lesbos describes the feeling of being in love:
"I
for one
would rather see her warm supple step
and the sparkle in her face than watch all
the chariots in Lydia and foot soldiers armored
in glittering bronze."
Here is how the Song Dynasty writer Li Qingzhao describes the feeling of being in love:
"It's like a crystalline dream, that year
we wandered a thousand miles and more
along the stream north of the city,
meandering beside those icy ripples
where you'll find my eyes still lingering for you."
Here is how Light from Uncommon Stars describes the feeling of being in love:
"Shizuka liked this donut lady. She really liked this donut lady."
The language of Light from Uncommon Stars ranges from boring at best to incomprehensible at worst. It has less grasp of metaphor and imagery than a Rupi Kaur poem -- I literally can't remember any solitary attempt to make the language itself beautiful, rather than just having it talk about beautiful things.
That may sound like snobbery, but it's really disappointment. I wanted to feel this book in my bones. Instead, I felt like someone was telling me a story about a great meal they had once. There's nothing visceral, nothing that invites the reader in. It's like being trapped on an airplane with an Inspirational Quotes Instagram account.
And that's just the parts I can understand. There are whole pages I read several times and failed to grasp what was going on. One scene with Shizuka and Lan at a duck pond is so choppy and hacked-up that I still can't interpret it, even today.
Perhaps aware of its shortcomings, the book tries to distract attention by switching POVs and tossing in line breaks at random intervals. These techniques add nothing to the story. In literature, a line break or POV switch is generally agreed to mark a significant turning point or the appearance of new information. In Light from Uncommon Stars, they mark nothing whatsoever. I got a lot of laughs by imaging dramatic musical stings after each one, imposing soap-opera melodrama into a casual conversation about donuts.
Ah, yes, the donuts. This book is obsessed with donuts, isn't it? Yet for all the ink spilled about donuts, I never came away wanting one. It's not hard to make me want a donut.
The Characters
Light from Uncommon Stars has a large cast of characters, most of whom do nothing. For this review, I'll focus on the main three.
Shizuka Satomi, easily the worst, is a violin teacher famous for taking on gifted students who flame out in their prime. This is because she has made a deal with a demon to send seven souls to Hell in exchange for her own, and Hell apparently loves music. Shizuka has not aged for 48 years, a fact nobody seems to think is weird.
The novel is clearly of two minds about Shizuka. It wants her to be an evil, sinister villain, the Queen of Hell, who has no compunctions about sending innocents to eternal damnation. It also wants her to be the greatest person ever, full of funny asides about life in LA, and so accepting of alternate ways of life that she doesn't bat an eye when she learns her new girlfriend is from space.
Both versions of her fail. The novel never acknowledges Shizuka as a person who has done irredeemable things -- she has sent six people to literal eternal damnation, people she explicitly targeted because they suffered from trauma, dysphoria, or discrimination. She exploited their flaws for personal gain and left them to a fate infinitely worse than death. You could make this character a boss in Persona 5 without changing anything about her.
It's not that characters can't be irredeemable, but their irredeemability should be engaged with somehow. The book presents Shizuka's arc as being about how even the worst people are worthy of a second chance, but it never actually lets us view Shizuka as a bad person; she's too busy practicing radical trans acceptance (in ways that suit her own purposes). The only real crime in the book is misgendering Katrina, which earns you summary execution with no chance of appeal.
Meanwhile in her page-to-page actions, Shizuka doesn't come off as nice, but affectless. There's a fine line between "nothing phases her" and "devoid of feelings," and Shizuka comes down hard on the latter.
Katrina Nguyen was probably my favorite character, which is why I was disgusted by her squandered potential. She's on a classic hero's journey, starting from abuse and uncertainty and growing into a heroine who can save the whole universe with her music.
Unfortunately, a hero's journey requires the character to develop, and Light from Uncommon Stars doesn't bother with such things. Katrina has precisely two aspects to her inner life: being excited about violins, and being a trans girl who is sorry for existing. 90% of her thoughts concern one of these two things.
Yes, trans women suffer intense hardship and alienation, especially in conservative societies. But if I'm reading a book about that, I want the experience to be illuminated in new ways. Sadly, this is Light from Uncommon Stars, which is allergic to letting the reader experience anything authentically.
Lan Tran bothered the crap out of me, though not quite as much as Shizuka. She and her family are aliens from a distant world taking refuge on Earth, disguised as a Vietnamese family running a donut shop. Now, I'm not Vietnamese, but if I was, I can imagine taking offence at a book claiming it was "representation" to have a family of space-alien imperialists pretending to be of my race and ethnicity.
Lan has two roles in the story: to fall in love with Shizuka for no apparent reason, and to create plot holes. For example, despite owning a Star Trek-quality replicator, she is concerned that her donut shop is financially struggling. Why does she even need to charge for the donuts? Just use the replicator to print money!
None of these characters ever rises above their dust-jacket subscriptions. Katrina is a transgender runaway violinist -- that's all she ever is. This book never deepens, never explores, never complicates. It's a 300-page adaptation of its own back cover.
The only thing I can say about the effort put into developing side characters: the villain's name is Tremon. Tremon the Demon. I guess Antagonisto McBadguy was taken.
Conclusion
Imagine you want to bake a donut. You mix flour, sugar, and water, put it in the oven at 350 degrees for 15 minutes, and then take it out. Of course, you wouldn't get a donut. You'd get an inedible mess.
That's the best way I can think of to describe Light from Uncommon Stars. It's got all the ingredients of a book, but it doesn't put them together in the ways that actually form a book. It's all ideas, no substance. It's so much less than the sum of its parts. All it has to offer is a list of elements that might have formed a good book, but have instead formed a sad pile of failed donut.
Look: LGBT women deserve representation. Asian-Americans deserve representation. But they also deserve good representation. Instead of wasting money on this, go watch Everything Everywhere All At Once, a work that flawlessly achieves every goal Light from Uncommon Stars tries and fails to accomplish.