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364 pages, ebook
First published May 12, 2026
in radch space there's no meal quite so comfortable and consoling as a bowl of skel and a cup of tea. it just goes to show how much habit and history inform our tastes. or perhaps it's merely proof that the radchaai are all insane. I will leave the reader to draw what conclusions seem most plausible.
we all make mistakes. which is absolutely true, and should our subsequent lives be determined by mistakes we might have made when young and foolish? who among us has not sold a child away for some extra money[...]?
"we have a situation." [...]
"it's been nothing but situation for weeks."
it was the sort of crisis that I hope, dear reader, you have never encountered: that moment one realizes that the worst has happened, that indeed one has done that worst oneself, and there is no changing or avoiding it. the pain of that moment—psychological pain, which I assure you is very real—is so intense that a person will do anything to escape it, to see themselves again as a worthy person who does only good things. vastly simplified, there are two courses available in such a situation: one is to recognize that one has indeed erred, and having recognized this, having admitted it, to strive to do better in the future, because the past, sadly, is unchangeable. the other is to deny the fact of the wrongdoing, to insist that one's actions were the only ones available, or if not they were in the end the best course one could have taken—even the most virtuous. I am sorry to say that serque iono, after those few moments of intense distress, adopted the latter course.
no one involved was stupid, or malicious; they were merely, sadly, entirely human, used to things going the way they had always gone, assuming that things would work forever the way they always had.
jonr's chest ached: not the clench of tears or heartbreak, but the knife of broken ribs.
He stopped again, unable to find a way to explain that no matter how much money Serque Iono might have, he could not use it to change time, or distance.Of all the authors I read while i was being treated for cancer, Leckie is the one I owe the most to: singlehandedly demolishing my retience regarding reading multiple author works in succession, setting me on the Ancillary series, pushing me towards a future held in thrall by whatever sequels and adaptations may come. Thus why I acquired this as rapidly as I did, breaking yet another long held creed of my reading that puts the hype on hold after having been burned far too often before by the convulsions of late stage capitalism. As one can see, though, things did not go so well this time, which has as much to do with the objective as my own unwittingly parasocial tendencies. Or it may just be the simple fact of the time passed between the publication of that trilogy and now, during which Leckie and I, alas, went our separate ways. As its customary, here is where I make some stab at figuring that out.