[Note: I read this book on the recommendation of my now ex-girlfriend, and I can confidently say that that affected my reaction to the novel. Consider that as you will.]
I have mixed feelings about this one.
On the positive side, the writing is pretty good. I was sufficiently engaged to keep reading, even when I wanted to sit down the characters and lecture them about their life choices. For the most part, the plot was coherent and didn’t tend to lose me.
But those characters. My opinion of them turned negative in the first few chapters and never really recovered. Once the plot got rolling my feelings ended up relatively neutral, which is….less than one would hope for, given such explicit protagonists. The building action felt kind of drawn out, so this non-negative period was somewhat protracted.
One could justify such extended exposition in the service of extensive worldbuilding, but we don’t really get that. I spent a good part of the book wondering about the details of the disasters unfolding out-of-frame and the magical world Patricia disappeared into. We get a pseudo-explanation of the latter in the final chapter, but the resolution felt pretty forced and didn’t clear up very many loose ends. The denouement was about two pages.
Maybe there’s going to be a sequel that explores these things further. The book only came out this year, so who knows.
However, this frustration helped me realize something about myself: the reason I can’t write fiction is that I’m far more interested in building up a world than any story that could be set within it. Maybe I should team up with a plotmeister who wants to break into sci-fi. Contact me if you’re interested.
At this point it should be clear, dear reader, that I’m not exactly qualified to comment on the writing of science fiction novels, but in the spirit of the characters, I’m going to offer some recommendations anyway.
Firstly, if major plot issues could be resolved by better communication between the characters, it’s nice to give readers a reason why the characters aren’t having those much-needed conversations. Yes, it is possible that no one thinks to ask. But our protagonists are a genius and a literal witch (whose main character flaw is caring too much). I have questions if nothing else. Like, maybe I’m unusually inquisitive but Laurence seemed strangely accepting that actual for-real magic has suddenly appeared in his life.
Speaking of magic, there was a weird theme of techies-can’t-into-ethics running through the book which doesn’t really make sense in context (the book, or the real world). At one point, Patricia is chastising Laurence’s worldview for thinking that saving humanity is more important than saving the entire biosphere, a mere stretch goal for the story’s counterfactual SpaceX.
Patricia, you can talk to animals. You can heal HIV with a single touch. You can cut deals with space-time itself. Ordinary humans are playing an entirely different game.
This gets back into the communication thing. Convinced a team of mad scientists prodigious engineers are about to destroy the world? Have you tried talking to them about the risks involved?
Not that tech-types are liable to destroy the world, seeing as they’re some of the only people I’m aware of with any serious interest in solving morality, out of concerns that an artificial intelligence needs a coherent ethical system before we turn it on. Nick Bostrom calls this problem philosophy with a deadline. You can dismiss this claim if you want, I can’t stop you, but when one of the characters is an AI, then it’s, well, weird.
To be fair, it was awakened to consciousness and gets a lot of early training from Patricia, so talking to witches might be a good AI safety strategy. Shame MIRI can’t try that.
What was I talking about? Oh, right, YA near-future apocalyptic meets urban fantasy novel. Does it count as Young Adult when there’s a moderately explicit sex scene? I don’t remember if they covered that at WorldCon.
My final recommendation has to do with character development. Namely, if you go through great lengths to make a villain sympathetic, do give them some sort of redemption arc. We’re given a front-row seat to a cold-blooded assassin developing a conscience in the halls of an unsettlingly exaggerated portrayal of middle-school misery, and then—anti-climax. His scheme is foiled and his later appearances show few signs of further development. He’s still harking on the same MacGuffin, which we haven’t exactly forgotten about. So I’m not really sure what he’s doing here.
And it’s not that Anders is just bad at character re-introduction, because she does a pretty good job with several other reintroductions between sections. So I’m not sure what’s going on with him in particular. Perhaps it’s a touch of genre-bending realism.
So is All the Birds in the Sky worth recommending to the young adult reader in your life? As with so many things in life, that depends. Looking for some light entertainment? Go for it. Want a thought-provoking novel? There are better books out there. Expecting a well-developed science fantasy world? You might be disappointed.