The first few chapters of The Witch Without Memory did, in all honesty, give me some hope that this book would be better. It wasn't. I wasn’t a fan of the first book: the writing style was serviceable but flat and verging on awkward, the plot was dragged along by coincidences rather than ever feeling like it was driving towards an interesting idea, the characters felt very surface-level, and the themes of morality, pacifism, and oppression never came together into an interesting exploration nor a meaningful portrayal. The first few chapters of this book did seem like it was attempting to address some of these ideas: the overuse of awkward metaphors was dialed back, some odd character traits such as Ashoka’s commitment to pacifism despite an upbring steeped in violence seemed like they were getting some explanation, and there was ample room to return to the themes brought up in the first installment. And then…the book just…fell apart. Just like the first one. Unfortunately, the more this book went on, the more it felt as though absolutely nothing mattered, that no consequences or developments couldn’t be immediately unwritten, and both the characters and the themes were underdeveloped and unexplored.
This book follows directly from the first and is split once again between two major narratives of Shakti and Ashoka. Shakti is a prisoner of Aarya, the acting empress, who hates her both on principle for being a mayakari and personally for trying to use the memory of her father to manipulate her. Her narrative centers her conflict as she grapples with something terrible, she did under extreme duress, and trying to unbury Mauryan secrets surrounding the Great Spirit of the holy mountain. Ashoka is trying to maintain his ban on mayakari burnings in Taksila while also navigating the political conflict with his sister, who would like to see him unseated. At the same time, his guard and closest friend Rahil has drawn away from him since he killed in the first book, and he is struggling to rectify the situation.
All in all, my biggest overarching issue with this book is that the exploration of its themes feels toothless, and it doesn’t have a strong or coherent enough plot or characters to make the story stand on its own without its themes. For example, a main plot point early in Ashoka’s story is that he would like to witness the testing of a new kind of weapon which will harm in unexpected ways. For whatever reason, everyone involves dismisses testing this on an animal –even though they just ate a dinner full of meat—and instead they decide to test it on a criminal facing capital punishment. After some, quite frankly, dumb mind game, the weapon is used to kill the prisoner, and everyone decides that this was a good and worthwhile way to test this weapon. For a book all about morality and violence, it was utterly shocking to me that there was no reflection on the use of lethal force on someone who was already imprisoned and presented no danger to anyone else, to the idea of getting testimony from the accused to ensure a fair outcome, or to the idea a person in protective custody is being experimented upon with a weapon capable of causing severe and unnecessary suffering. All of this… for weapons which are inherently unpredictable, meaning that there’s no reason for this to have been done at all because the next weapon will work entirely differently. This is just one example, but it is, quite frankly, an honest representation of the depth that this book achieves. I believe from the synopsis that a main theme of the book is Ashoka is drifting away from his ideals and risking himself in the process, but in the book, I never felt as though there was weight behind his decisions, or an internal struggle he was facing. When Rahil rightfully is perturbed by his actions, the book makes the point that actually Rahil is in the wrong for being upset and more or less just needs to get over it.
Like I said, this would all be more tolerable if the storyline of the book was compelling for its own sake, but it just isn’t. The book frequently relies on what might be called ‘plot-driven decision-making,’ where characters act less like people and more like narrative tools. I am going to be vague here because I don’t want to spoil major pieces of this book, but one realization that a main character has basically yeets any and all consequences they originally thought they were facing for their choices because it turns out those consequences were a lie and they can do whatever they want actually. The enemies of the book continue to be nothing more than cartoon cutouts of villains who are simultaneously 30 steps ahead of our heroes (when the plot wants the characters to fail) or dense as bricks (when the plot wants to characters to succeed—I truly hate to be so blasé about this but their foes truly lack any and all depth and whether the heroes succeed or fail is equally random; ergo, the plot never achieves any weight). Justifications for actions are no more than convenient: for example, Aarya’s obsessed with mining a mountain because the plot needs the involve the Great Sprit on that mountain because there’s some rock there that blows up and she wants it for weapons I guess, but her obsession is justified for a short time and then just accepted. Her willingness to sacrifice her own people for a resource with, at best, potential applications and that no one knows how to use is never explained in a way that makes me feel like I understand why this is so important to her. Really, that’s the main throughline I feel about the plot: it’s a series of things happening and choices made such that the characters get to the next scene, not because there’s a strong and driving through-line or meaningful character choices that get us there.
Moreover, the writing style just doesn’t work for me. Sometimes, there are two sentences in a row where the words as written on the page don’t necessarily disagree, but their implications do (for example, one sentence says that for a long moment a character couldn’t do something, which implies that after a long horrible moment there character could do that thing. The next second said that doing that thing continued to elide them. Were they able to do the thing or not? I legitimately don’t know). Some actions of the characters are the same, disagreeing with an action they just took or something they just said. Dialog is often awkward. The actions of characters are awkward—there are two characters repeatedly described as having conversations while way up in each other personal space in a way that is ridiculous, like having a decently long conversations while so close that their noses were brushing, which reads less as two characters being emotionally close and more as unnatural and uncomfortable. A lot of story is told in these weird aside italics—often they are the thoughts of a mentor or important character in a character’s head, and I’m assuming they’re meant to be a character’s consciousness or better judgement, but they read more like a quick way for a character to change their mind or come to a major conclusion without exploring why. Also, characters are able to communicate an absolute ton of information through looks—a lot of plot is told through some version of a character reading another’s expression as clearly and complexly as if they were actually talking, but not in a ‘oh these characters are such good friends’ way, more in a ‘this character is basically reading minds so we can tell rather than show another person’s thoughts and feelings’. Altogether, these result in the kind of book that never let me get lost in the story because I feel alienated by the prose.
On top of all of my other critiques, there comes the things I struggle with because they’re immersion-breaking: the characters frequently openly discussing their borderline treasonous plans in the open or telling random other people about their plans for no reason. Characters and the narrative alike failing to see the most obvious solutions to their problems that are right in front of their noses. Characters making giant assumptions about how something works because there’s no logical way to explain it. A character appears who can just explain the plot to another character at just the right time.
Altogether, the result is a book that just doesn’t carry any weight. The plot favors momentum over coherence, but without coherence the book doesn’t convince me that anything that happens matters. I do truly hope to see the final book in the trilogy pull the story together into something meaningful—I do fully acknowledge that critiquing a book for the themes not coming together is a far less meaningful critique when the series isn’t finished, and I will gladly update my opinions if the final book lands for me. For now, though, this book just did not work for me.
Thank you to Haper Voyager providing an ARC in exchange for an honest review.