REVIEW — A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine

Arkady Martine’s A Memory Called Empire (2019) is a debut that skillfully blends political intrigue, cultural exploration, and personal identity into a sophisticated science fiction story. It won the 2020 Hugo Award for Best Novel and introduces readers to the Teixcalaanli Empire, a vast and poetically obsessed galactic power, through the eyes of Mahit Dzmare, a young ambassador from the independent Lsel Station. While the book is great at creating a detailed world and exploring complex themes, it sometimes feels a bit slow-paced and the characters could have been more developed.

The story follows Mahit, who arrives at the Teixcalaanli capital to replace her deceased predecessor, Yskandr Aghavn. She’s given Yskandr’s imago, a memory-recording device meant to guide her, and quickly discovers that Yskandr’s death was no accident and his imago is broken. Now caught up in a web of imperial politics, Mahit must deal with her outsider status, her growing fascination with Teixcalaan, and a looming succession crisis. Martine, a historian by training, created a richly detailed empire inspired by Byzantine and Mesoamerican cultures. In this world, poetry is used as political currency and bureaucracy is an art form. This cultural detail is the novel’s greatest strength, immersing readers in a world where names, rituals, and even algorithms shape power dynamics.

Mahit is a compelling protagonist, embodying the tension of an outsider both enamored with and critical of the empire. Her struggle to reconcile her Lsel identity with her Teixcalaanli education mirrors broader themes of cultural assimilation and colonialism. Martine deftly explores how empires seduce and erase, particularly through Mahit’s interactions with her liaison, Three Seagrass, whose charm and wit make her a standout character. Their relationship, laced with flirtation and mutual respect, adds emotional warmth to the cerebral plot. However, secondary characters, like the emperor’s advisor Nineteen Adze, feel less fleshed out, serving more as plot catalysts than fully realized individuals.

The novel’s pacing is uneven. The first half builds suspense masterfully, with Mahit unraveling conspiracies amid lavish court settings. Yet, the second half accelerates into a rushed climax, where political machinations and betrayals pile up too quickly to resonate fully. Key revelations, like the sabotage of Mahit’s imago, lose impact due to abrupt resolutions. This pacing issue dampens the emotional weight of Mahit’s isolation and the stakes of her choices. Additionally, while Martine’s prose is lyrical and precise, her dense exposition—particularly around Teixcalaanli customs—can overwhelm, occasionally slowing the narrative’s momentum.

Thematically, A Memory Called Empire shines in its interrogation of memory, identity, and empire. The imago technology raises fascinating questions about selfhood, as Mahit grapples with Yskandr’s lingering presence in her mind. Martine also critiques imperial hegemony, showing how Teixcalaan’s cultural dominance marginalizes stations like Lsel. Yet, the novel avoids heavy-handed moralizing, letting Mahit’s ambivalence speak for itself.

A Memory Called Empire is a remarkable blend of political thriller and cultural epic, elevated by its world-building and intellectual depth. While its pacing falters and some characters lack dimension, Martine’s exploration of identity and power makes it a standout in modern science fiction. It’s a novel that lingers, much like an imago, in the reader’s mind.