On "And Shall Machines Surrender" and writing checks your prose can't cash
A review of "And Shall Machines Surrender" (2019) by Benjanun Sriduangkaew
Overall Rating: ★☆☆☆☆ (1 out of 5)
Science Fiction: ★☆☆☆☆ (1 out of 5)
Literary: ★☆☆☆☆ (1 out of 5)
Vibe: ★☆☆☆☆ (1 out of 5)
I should open this up with the fact that I did not know anything about the author prior to reading the novella and probably wouldn’t have read it if I had known. I am on the record in favor of cancellation for any reason whatsoever simply due to distorting impacts of elite over-representation and Matthew effect (i.e. you win or are shortlisted for a prize, it can lead to more prizes). You can read more about the author’s “trolling” (read: violent threats) in the references at the wikipedia page. There were a couple of apologies (here, here) that seem to come more from a place of self-interest than genuine contrition — they even denied some of the accusations.
One thing is clear — looking at the commentary they wrote about other writers or in response, it does seem like the author is full of themselves. Contrary to their own self-regard, their writing could really use a more proactive editor1. I wrote most of my review before discovering the background, so it didn’t sway my opinion of their writing qua writing; it only re-contextualized it. It’s just my opinion, but this author seems angry. Perhaps understandably so. Perhaps not.
The opening of And Shall Machines Surrender has a lot of similarities to Glasshouse (2006) [review here]. It reminds me that I should finish my post on originality being overrated in sci-fi — a compelling story with characters you can understand will always be good. My own ratings include a sci-fi component, which weighs originality; it does impact the overall rating — but a novel read purely as a novel can overcome a lack of sci-fi exploration (through the overall, literary, and vibe components of my star scale). That said, there isn’t much here besides anime vibes. There’s no engagement with the science fiction ideas — they just exist. The prose is at best clinical when it’s not veering into pompous verbosity.
The story takes place in what is called Dyson Sphere Shenzhen. However, at some point the light goes out (eclipsed? shaded?) so I’m not sure this is exactly a traditional Dyson sphere/ring/swarm. The setting seems to have more in common with the cylindrical habitats of Glasshouse despite being described as “built like complex ribbons wrapping around the red pearl of its star” — which could be stolen from the same wikimedia commons image I used at the top of this post. This, like several other elements incorporated in this novella, seems to break free of its inspiration — if we can say inspiration and not just “the word sounded cool, but I have no idea what it is and no I won’t do any research or otherwise engage with it”. I mean, why would a Dyson sphere run by and for AIs support human life? There’s no rationale for how this arrangement came to be2.
Another example of a misappropriated concept is the haruspex. The word sounds cool! But the haruspices were the class of religious diviners from ancient Rome who examined the entrails of sacrificed animals3 for omens — that doesn’t have a lot to do with what haurspices are in the novel. They’re AI-human hybrids that seem more like K-pop idols or Hollywood celebrities mixed with anime mecha than readers of religious omens. Maybe pontiff would be a better choice if you want to keep the religious reference? Sure — it doesn’t sound as cool, but at least it makes a bit more sense. There are several other references to ancient Rome — for example, Londinium and Pax Americana (the modern metaphor with pax romana used to describe the relative peace of the post-WWII era). In the novella, Pax Americana is more a specific nation-state than a foreign policy concept as it is in our world. There is a line about how there are “nuns” enforcing white evangelical-coded morality in the Pax Americana, which seems odd because Catholics are only about 20% of the US nearly half of which are Latino — the US culture that appears to be extrapolated is the predominantly protestant or non-denominational Christian sector (combined to about 40%). This “general” Christianity would more likely be the source of a future American theocratic state — though, yes, the Supreme Court is currently dominated by Catholics4. But this idea, like the others, is not explored in any coherent way. Given that Sriduangkaew is Thai, these quirky uses are very much like white authors appropriating Asian historical or cultural elements in imprecise ways. Ironically, that is something the author appears to specifically dislike.
There’s another similarity to Glasshouse — the characters have a backstory that is extremely important to the narrative, but unlike Glasshouse there are no reasons why we aren’t told what it is5. Or, at least, we are not told ahead of time. We’re told after something happens (i.e. payoff before the setup). All the characters know their backstory and the way this world works (because they wouldn’t be cool anime characters if they didn’t6), so either we’re in a situation where the story is apparently none of our business, or we have these awkward “as you know” moments of filling in the exposition after the fact.
This is not just restricted to character backstories. Aspects of the plot aren’t revealed until after an event happens. There’s a scene where the characters go to some kind of sex club/performance art space, but we aren’t told why except that somehow this is the best place to start the investigation of a mystery7. Why? We don’t know. We find out later they’re on a mission to meet someone to do some kind of spy stuff — as well as commit sexual assault8. It’s not entirely clear if they are gathering intel or trying to recruit an informant. It is clear that Sriduangkaew seemed to want to write violent spy-thriller scenes in an anime/cyberpunk world, and the rest of the story flows from loosely connecting them together with lifeless exposition.
Speaking of violence, there’s the author’s review of another book:
I consider it a popcorn book due to the borderline bricklayer plainness of language (couldn’t she go on about the graphic details of her murders a bit more? Surely we could have a few visceral metaphors and titillating violence?), but my preferences about prose are pretty particular. It’s a pretty unique book
In addition to their violent online comments and their violent writing, there’s also a desire for more violence in other’s writing. Yikes. However, this is another great example of a writer writing checks their own prose can’t cash. Certainly monotony or uniformity would be a better word than plainness, and why diminish the impact with borderline? And then you go on to modify both particular and unique with pretty? There’s also the awkward parallel structure with “have a few visceral metaphors and titillating violence” — have a few titillating violence? — have a titillating violence? You should add e.g. “scenes of” in there — or just change the order. It’s just an unedited blog post, so there are going to be errors and awkward phrasing — but this is the style of the novella as well. And, per the history, Sriduangkaew tends to view other successful writers’ work as inferior to their own.
Now I am not a brilliant writer9, but reading people who think of themselves as brilliant writers and then go on to do violence to the language fills me with schadenfreude (see e.g. my review of The Revelations by Erik Hoel). There is of course a potential excuse — English is not their first language (they’re Thai). I’m always interested in non-native English speakers’ writing. There are a lot of creative turns of phrase or uses of words in this book, but they come across more as weird than genius. There are a several of instances of oddly extrapolated word constructions (without as a kind of opposite of within, which while ‘technically’ accurate is an archaic use10; interiority, used twice in this relatively short story, as a quality or state of being interior in parallel with e.g. superior/superiority but the word’s connotation is subjectivity or introspection, not just being “inside” or “internal”). There are several more examples noted below. However, in order to avail yourself of the excuse that English is not your first language, you first have to have at least a shred of humility.
Sriduangkaew said of N.K. Jemisin (the only author to win a Hugo for three consecutive years, and for all three books in a trilogy) “Easily the most overrated thing ever to come out recently, and I’m going to assume that people who gush over how groundbreaking it all is have only ever read Tolkien and Eragon.” The author also referred to Jemisin’s work as “eminently mediocre”. There is a collection of other examples here [pdf].
I didn’t gush over The Fifth Season, but Jemisin is an infinitely better writer than Sriduangkaew. This just makes me think the author does not know what good writing is, and the paradigm they have in their head is writing vague non-sentences while poring through the thesaurus as much as possible — a stupid person’s idea of good writing. Also — I found Tolkien boring as a child and never read Eragon, so there11. Despite disparaging the most lauded person of color in SFF, the author is of course “very smug” about their progressive credentials:
Because it’s me, the setting is contextualized by a greater space opera milieu, and while the book doesn’t focus on her, there is a giant space fleet commanded by an intergalactic lesbian warlord. She makes a cameo and informs Orfea’s and Krissana’s background quite a bit. And there will be short stories about her, yes. What can I say, I love intergalactic lesbian warlords. ... In any case, I’m very smug about the fact all my books that have a person on the cover have (correctly) featured women of color.
[Ed.: added a section at the end about this “Admiral” and authorial endorsement of genocide.]
That lesbian warlord is the “Alabaster Admiral of the Armada of Amaryllis” which made me chuckle. Not sure what we are supposed to derive from these alliterative adjectives! In conjunction with a person, alabaster often denotes clear, pale white skin in a flattering sense — something odd for the author who appears to want to elevate POC characters (while apparently viciously attacking other POC writers [pdf]). Sriduangkaew realizes they wrote something contrary to their ethos, so backtracks in supplementary material:
The Alabaster Admiral, despite the title, isn’t white. In-setting, she has done some work to conceal her background details and life story, but she comes from an Indian-majority polity and is South Asian.
Note: this label is more of a moniker than a title unless there’s a weird ranking system in this universe that includes titles like the “Cobalt Captain” or the “Lemon Lieutenant”. Meanwhile, amaryllis (in English) has the connotation of pride or determination. Are these adjectives ironic? Do they mean anything at all? Was it purely alliteration of cool-sounding words? The strange use of haruspex makes me think the latter.
If this came from someone who didn’t think of their own writing as God’s gift to humanity while disparaging other successful writers I’d still cringe — but it would be a cringe giving way to open-mindedness. The “death of the author” has a long history in critical theory, but the true death of the author would not just leave out their online behavior, but also that Sriduangkaew is Thai and a transgender woman. (Maybe?) Reading this as just writing in English, it’s full of what seems to be words the author thought were cool, but are divorced from their connotation; payoffs before setups; and BDSM encounters devoid of consent. Minus the context, it reads like a story written by a violent incel who’s into anime.
And Shall Machines Surrender (2019) beats out Erik Hoel’s The Revelations (2020) as the worst reviewed entry on my list — the latter at least has the “so bad it’s good” vibe of the film The Room. I laughed out loud at Hoel’s second, third, and finally fourth use of the word chthonic — laughing more each time. Each of the four uses of the dull phrase “for all intents and purposes” by Sriduangkaew (in a book a quarter of the length) just made me cringe. Some people appear to like their writing, and it even garnered them a couple of almost-wins. But if I had to choose who was more overrated — Sriduangkaew or Jemisin — I’d definitely pick the former.
Authorial endorsement of genocide?
[Added 13 October 2023] Authorial endorsement is when an author makes actions, behaviors, lines, or even a character’s thoughts seem acceptable (or cool, or desirable). It’s never a big deal when morally good actions are made to seem acceptable, so the main discussions around it are when morally repugnant actions are made to seem acceptable.
The “Alabaster Admiral” is definitely a character we’re supposed to think is cool:
In image, the Alabaster Admiral is as Krissana recalls: a woman built like a pillar, solid and potent, sheathed in white the way a weapon is — the tailored suit, the gloves that are almost gauntlets. […] But the maps give an impression of scale, give context to the woman who sits surrounded by them. Not diminished despite their size, rather the opposite — these are her accoutrements, and she is master of what she has chosen to display. All that falls within her line of sight becomes hers. […] Still old habits [of Krissana’s] rear up, to give obeisance and to treat this woman as a living god.
Krissana is one of our protagonists, so her observations are just as important as the author’s descriptions. Krissana also is hinted to have had a relationship with the Admiral. Later, Krissana speaks to Orfea:
Speaking of which, the Alabaster Admiral sent word. She’s busy with the usual — this war to that war, a bit of genocide here and there — but wanted to let you know that you once more enjoy the Armada’s protection. In case you need it.
Genocide? A bit? Here and there? Not only is Krissana making light of genocide, but appears to look up to a powerful warlord who commits it. The wording is slightly unclear — the admiral could be busy helping to stop a genocide; however, the most direct reading is that the admiral is the one acting.
This is pretty clearly authorial endorsement of genocide. A character we are supposed to respect (Krissana) views the admiral positively and then doesn’t condemn the admiral’s genocide. Orfea doesn’t say anything about it in response and continues her relationship with Krissana. The admiral isn’t discussed as some kind of war criminal — everyone seems cool with it.
Some other observations:
The story falls into the ‘villain explains their evil plan’ trope.
“bearing what she bears” — I mean come on.
“The pilot announces that it will be five to eight minutes before they are cleared to dock. [one sentence later …] It is less than eight minutes, but more than five, before another announcement comes that passengers may now exit their cabins.”
It may just be my own math background, but the author uses probabilities (i.e. likelihoods) in cases where the word should be possibilities (set of potential outcomes).
Caliginous is used twice. It was wiktionary’s word of the day on January 28, 2019. This book was published July 11, 2019. There’s nothing wrong with being inspired by words you encounter, but again this thesaurus-heavy writing style feels cloying.
Why would an AI world have really good genetic modification technology — especially when AI’s have formed their own world separate from humanity? Why would their habitat even support human life? You could have reasons (e.g. AI’s can’t do everything themselves and need humans to repair servers or whatnot) — but it doesn’t seem to be explained in the book despite several other exposition dumps. It’s an example of not examining the questions that are supposed to be raised by the addition of science fiction elements. Additionally, it’s said in the book that modifying an AI is basically destroying it — it becomes a different entity. An interesting interaction between humans and AIs would be if the latter projected that belief on the former — they see humans that get genetic modifications as different humans from who they were before. But genetic modifications are cool and sci-fi/cyberpunk so you just have to have them be ubiquitous without any coherent thought about the implications or impact.
Side note: I read some other reviews and found that the people who liked this book also write terrible prose, seemingly using words because they sound neat regardless of their connotation. For example:
What is left unsaid imbricates hundreds of years of history, and decades of character engagement with this history.
I think you meant implicates (or better just plain implies)! Imbricate means to make overlap as e.g. scales or tiles do — implying (lol) an overlapping, regular pattern. Maybe they came up with layers and then just went to a thesaurus without understanding that not every word in a thesaurus means the same thing as the entry — the words are only similar. This reviewer also wrote a book with the author so isn’t exactly unbiased.
“Flippantly said, though Krissana means it.” Then it’s not flippant, is it? There are a lot of adverbs or random actions associated with dialog in this short book. It often can be better to just use “X says” or “Y said” to align the reader with the speakers because adding adverbs or tiny actions with each character’s line can be even more distracting. “‘Please prepare your identification,’ the pilot adds, unnecessarily.” Well, now you’re just telling us this is filler.
Krissana is a “pre-haruspex” but this description becomes confused (likely from wanting it have it both ways) — to the point where the author says she is a haruspex without the “pre-” or “candidate” modifier: “It is a haruspex advantage that she enjoys, how sublime it is to exist in this body, how it fits her will like a glove.” You see, Kirssana has all the cool parts of being a haruspex but none of that complicated AI stuff getting in the way of Krissana’s humanity12 — particularly her previous relationship and history with Orfea that allows them to have sex randomly. This carelessness makes it seem like haruspex is just a human augmented with Siri.
Earlier in that same paragraph, Krissana “takes point, heading back the way they came.” The connotation of “taking point” is that you are moving into unknown territory — not retreating back the way you came. I mean, it’s fine as a military order but in writing a novel it’s incongruous. It’s what makes “bravely ran away” a funny line in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. You can probably invent a scenario where someone bravely runs away. It just another of the many examples of writing with technically accurate denotation, but with strange connotation.
This is just a weird passage: “The American whips around, his gun swinging to point at Krissana. Like him it is oversized, the barrel long and golden. Hot from discharge: she can perceive in thermal when she wants to.” Would you guess that previously we had this American was described as “ruddy … and rectangular, like an animated slab of meat”? It seems only the oversized is supposed to be a part of the simile, the long and golden attached to the barrel are orphans in an unrelated clause. I dare you to diagram the second sentence. I mean you can work out it’s supposed to be the barrel from the previous orphan clause that’s “hot from discharge”, and not Krissana. Now what would you think if I told you Krissana’s ability to see in infrared never comes up again?
The Dyson sphere is “built to withstand ballistic pressure and implosive warheads.” It’s a minor improvement to trade those adjectives: ballistic warheads and implosive pressure. Ballistic means something is travelling under the force of gravity, so ballistic pressure doesn’t make any sense.
“If the human part [of a haruspex] was in distress, the AI would take over. If the AI was infiltrated … and so on.” I mean I can understand an “and so on” in describing an infinite regress, but this is just two ideas. This is a job for a vice versa if you’re looking to shorten things. If the human part was in distress, the AI would take over — and vice versa. Since random filler doesn’t offend the author’s sensibilities, how about If the human part was in distress, the AI would take over. If the AI was infiltrated, the human can assert control. It’s only like 20 characters longer.
“… on gloaming sheets or spreads of cerise silk.” Gloaming is a noun that essentially refers to the time period of twilight — there’s a connotation that it is the reflected light emanating from the objects illuminated by twilight (i.e. twilight is the half light of the sun, while gloaming is the warm glow of coals left behind by the day). If you’re trying to get at its more archaic meaning, you should use the actual word that carries that more archaic meaning that’s actually an adjective: glowing.
“The city’s drones rise on millipede legs and hummingbird wings. Nearly without looking, Seung Ngo shoots them out of the air …” Gonna say the wings are probably doing most of the ‘rising’ here. If you do something ‘nearly without looking’, you are looking. It just totally blunts the impact. Just say ‘without looking’.
“Seung Ngo’s eyes burn, the redshift glare dyeing their face entire in demon hue.” Redshift is not a color, but a physical process due to relativity. UV light can be “redshifted” and still e.g. blue. The weird construction just makes me think it is a typo (it should be “entirely”) rather than Creative Writing™.
[Spoilers] Reflecting on this novella over the past couple days, I realized the two main characters do not appear to have any agency with regard to the plot. One of the characters [Orfea] weakens an AI that has multiple other “proxies” so it doesn't really matter and the other [Kirssana] is basically taken over by an AI [Benzaiten] when acting. The AIs are basically the only things in the book with plot agency.
[Spoilers] The suicides in the book’s description/sales pitch are basically a MacGuffin. There’s no particular resolution. Per the Amazon description:
On the dyson sphere Shenzhen, artificial intelligences rule and humans live in luxury, vying to be chosen as host bodies—called haruspices—for the next generation of AI, and thus be worshiped as gods.
Doctor Orfea Leung has come here to escape her past of mercenary violence. Krissana Khongtip has come here to reinvent herself from haunted spy to holy cyborg. But the utopian peace of Shenzhen is shattered when the haruspices begin committing suicide, and the pair are called upon to solve the mystery—and survive the silent war between machines . . .
I was actually curious if there was one. The editor is listed as Sean Wallace, the founder of Prime Books (which this book was published by) and an editor for e.g. Clarkesworld.
[Spoilers] There is a kind of plot point around it, but like most plot points it’s described after the payoff.
There’s even a missed opportunity where a haruspex digs around in the entrails of a victim!
Though one is part of a weird Catholic-adjacent cult.
Glasshouse has ubiquitous memory-erasing technology and memory erasure is what allows a spy to infiltrate a facility.
One of the characters is new to Dyson Sphere Shenzhen and really shouldn’t know as much as they do.
Don’t get me started on how, coincidentally, the handler was a kind of AI mother to one of the two “operatives” who just happened to be a past lover of and secret agent working with the other operative — who randomly was seen by the first operative acting as her doctor. The thing is, the second operative is in the process of becoming a haruspex so needs a doctor to look after their implants — but she already has implants so why doesn’t she already have a doctor she’s been working with? I guess this is all just about vibes.
Reading Sriduangkaew’s blog posts, there seems to be a lot emphasis on the idea of consent in their portrayal of relationships (e.g. here or here). However, no actual consent appears in the encounter in the club. The victim has some sexually suggestive lines, but that is not consent. The two main characters are after information, not a consenting sexual encounter — this is not a scene where consenting adults establish the parameters clearly ahead of time. Additionally, the backstory of the two main characters seems to imply there was consent in the past, but no consent is given prior to the encounter. Implied past consent is not consent.
There’s no doubt poorly written sentences in this very post.
It’s as if the author dropped a thou in an otherwise cyberpunk novel.
Note another poor parallel construction — Tolkien is an author, Eragon is a book. You should say Tolkien and Paolini or Lord of the Rings and Eragon.
[Spoilers] There is a plot point here that bends the rules even further — q.v. also my footnote about consent.
There *are* no doubt poorly written sentences in this very post.