Michael Barnes
Fair warning this is book 1 in The Downworld Sequence, published in 2023 but I haven't seen no announcements of a next release and I do want to read more.
Emma Mieko Candon’s The Archive Undying opens with an all to possible beginning: “When an AI god dies, its city dies with it.” This opening line sets the tone for a gripping narrative that binds elements of trauma, flesh-and-blood characters, and the mesmerising allure of the complex relationship between humanity and AI.
Our initial point of view is provided by Sunai, who one reviewer (Simon Kerr at Friction ) "a lovably reckless lead, his latest inadvisable hookup, and a rather suspicious crew". Sunai is haunted soul unable to escape the aftermath of a robotic god’s corruption that left his home in ruins, Sunai has roamed like a ghost for years, numbing his pain with vices and fabricated indifference. But just when he thought he was out, they pull him back in. The gears of fate start turning when Sunai wakes up beside an unexpected stranger with whom he shares more than one passionate night. Fate, like time, is never linear, and Sunai is once again sucked into the machinations of cybernetics deities and the ones that would seek to worship or destroy them.
Other reviewers have commented on how much they found this book a challenge to read but so worth it and I agree. The greatest strength of this book is the writing, which is fluid, clever, and hilarious. Some descriptions read like poetry, others made me laugh out loud: “You were interfaced when corruption hit, riddled with finer threads, all white and tender, the dendritic web through which you understood Iterate Fractal meat to finally consume you. If Iterate Fractal means to eat you, it had better hurry its shit up.”
Candon swiftly delves deep into her characters’ psyches, immersing the reader in Sunai’s heartfelt grappling with the profound impacts of past (and ever-present) trauma. The Archive Undying constantly challenges notions of reality and understanding, creating an ethereal atmosphere comparable to Jeff VanderMeer’s Annihilation but it also reminded me of my first experience reading Ann Leckie's Imperial Radch space opera trilogy that began with Ancillary Justice.
Seeing the world through Sunai’s eyes was a visceral experience; witnessing his carving as he battles both powerful external forces and the demons within him was terrifying and blissful. The slow-build relationships add layers to the story, making the connections between characters feel substantial. Candon weaves a narrative that questions what it means to love and trust in a world where personal boundaries are interchangeable and permeable and memories are preserved and manipulated. Sunai and Veyadi’s journey is not only one of survival but also a search for connection and understanding in a fragmented, high-stakes world.
The plot fascinates, if you can navigate through the points where the plot bewilders. It’s a book you’d want to take your time with. It may be a book I’ll return to in a year or two and discover the 30 percent of clarity I was missing and happily say, “It’s better than I remembered.” Despite its density, I recommend this beautiful complicated story and hope to read more of Emma Mieko Candon.
Fair warning this is book 1 in The Downworld Sequence, published in 2023 but I haven't seen no announcements of a next release and I do want to read more.
Emma Mieko Candon’s The Archive Undying opens with an all to possible beginning: “When an AI god dies, its city dies with it.” This opening line sets the tone for a gripping narrative that binds elements of trauma, flesh-and-blood characters, and the mesmerising allure of the complex relationship between humanity and AI.
Our initial point of view is provided by Sunai, who one reviewer (Simon Kerr at Friction ) "a lovably reckless lead, his latest inadvisable hookup, and a rather suspicious crew". Sunai is haunted soul unable to escape the aftermath of a robotic god’s corruption that left his home in ruins, Sunai has roamed like a ghost for years, numbing his pain with vices and fabricated indifference. But just when he thought he was out, they pull him back in. The gears of fate start turning when Sunai wakes up beside an unexpected stranger with whom he shares more than one passionate night. Fate, like time, is never linear, and Sunai is once again sucked into the machinations of cybernetics deities and the ones that would seek to worship or destroy them.
Other reviewers have commented on how much they found this book a challenge to read but so worth it and I agree. The greatest strength of this book is the writing, which is fluid, clever, and hilarious. Some descriptions read like poetry, others made me laugh out loud: “You were interfaced when corruption hit, riddled with finer threads, all white and tender, the dendritic web through which you understood Iterate Fractal meat to finally consume you. If Iterate Fractal means to eat you, it had better hurry its shit up.”
Candon swiftly delves deep into her characters’ psyches, immersing the reader in Sunai’s heartfelt grappling with the profound impacts of past (and ever-present) trauma. The Archive Undying constantly challenges notions of reality and understanding, creating an ethereal atmosphere comparable to Jeff VanderMeer’s Annihilation but it also reminded me of my first experience reading Ann Leckie's Imperial Radch space opera trilogy that began with Ancillary Justice.
Seeing the world through Sunai’s eyes was a visceral experience; witnessing his carving as he battles both powerful external forces and the demons within him was terrifying and blissful. The slow-build relationships add layers to the story, making the connections between characters feel substantial. Candon weaves a narrative that questions what it means to love and trust in a world where personal boundaries are interchangeable and permeable and memories are preserved and manipulated. Sunai and Veyadi’s journey is not only one of survival but also a search for connection and understanding in a fragmented, high-stakes world.
The plot fascinates, if you can navigate through the points where the plot bewilders. It’s a book you’d want to take your time with. It may be a book I’ll return to in a year or two and discover the 30 percent of clarity I was missing and happily say, “It’s better than I remembered.” Despite its density, I recommend this beautiful complicated story and hope to read more of Emma Mieko Candon.