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It has taken me a week to get round to writing this review, for two reasons. First, a sudden and intense TV obsession (Word of Honour, highly recommended) and second, concern about not doing 'The Years of Rice and Salt' justice. I first tried to read it as an undergraduate student, I think, and gave up pretty quickly. I was too impatient to appreciate Kim Stanley Robinson when I was younger, but now I'm in my thirties he's one of my favourite authors. This novel is different in setting to his sci-fi, while retaining the same themes that make his other books so satisfying: the pursuit of scientific understanding, the alleviation of human suffering, the pursuit of justice and equality, and management of the environment. The depth and nuance he brings to these topics really stands out. His novels are long and full of thoughtful detail; they repay careful reading. As soon as I started reading 'The Years of Rice and Salt' this time, I was enthralled. Both the concept and its execution are fascinating.
'The Years of Rice and Salt' is an alternate history in which, essentially, the Black Death killed all white people. Aside from a few isolated Scottish islands, Europe is completely depopulated. It is gradually reoccupied by people from the Middle East, becoming a loose network of Islamic city states. History proceeds without the West, along a different yet analogous path. Colonisation and world war aren't avoided, but occur differently. The main powers are China, India, and a league of Islamic states. The North American east and west coasts are colonised, but indigenous people retain control of the interior. Religion and resources still drive conflict, yet capitalism takes a somewhat different form without Christianity as its moral armour. The whole thought experiment is highly thought-provoking and impressively wide-ranging.
I would have happily read this counterfactual told in the style of a non-fiction history book. Instead, the narrative follows a small group of characters through a series of reincarnations, spread across 600 years and the whole world. Each section evokes a different time and place, using a range of stylistic conceits like inset text. These variations serve to distinguish the sections, while the continuity of characters ensures the narrative coheres. Between lives, the characters briefly unite in the Bardo and discuss their progress. These conversations and the nature of the Bardo give the book a powerful spiritual dimension. When aware that they've lived many times and will live many more, the characters ask: what is the aim of our lives? What should humanity be striving for? How can we do better next time? I really liked the detail that the Bardo changes over time. The most haunting section for me was during the Long War, when the characters couldn't tell whether they were still alive or dead in the Bardo. The war seemed to have collapsed the barriers between life and death. This section evoked a terrifying vision of trench warfare bisecting the whole of India, from coast to Himalayas.
War does not predominate in the narrative, however, as the characters are reincarnated as explorers, scientists, political activists, writers, teachers, and wild animals. Their relationships and experiences vary accordingly, while retaining an essential bond of community. Kim Stanley Robinson shows a completely new world history through their eyes and presents his essentially optimistic and progressive view of humanity. None of the political thinkers and leaders we know exist in this world, yet egalitarian ideas arise:
Unsurprisingly, I found 'The Years of Rice and Salt' a happier and more hopeful reading experience than Kim Stanley Robinson's more recent novels The Ministry for the Future and New York 2140. In those, he seeks to write humanity a way out of climate change catastrophe, whereas this has the comfortable distance of alternate history. Still, the characters' philosophical and political debates encourage the reader to reflect on how history could have happened differently. 'The Years of Rice and Salt' doesn't claim that without white Europeans none of the atrocities of colonialism, slavery, and industrialised war could have happened; that would be an unconvincing cop-out. Nonetheless, the history of North America in particular would have been very different and the alternative here is considerably less destructive. I don't have enough historical knowledge to judge the overall plausibility of events. The details were nonetheless convincingly imagined: the music, clothing, attitudes to drugs, units of measurement, names of technology, and metaphors that developed without Europe and Christianity. This is an incredibly ambitious book that succeeds in telling an alternate world history that is both engaging and challenging. It was both escapist to read and a reminder of the huge impact that plagues have on the course of history.
'The Years of Rice and Salt' is an alternate history in which, essentially, the Black Death killed all white people. Aside from a few isolated Scottish islands, Europe is completely depopulated. It is gradually reoccupied by people from the Middle East, becoming a loose network of Islamic city states. History proceeds without the West, along a different yet analogous path. Colonisation and world war aren't avoided, but occur differently. The main powers are China, India, and a league of Islamic states. The North American east and west coasts are colonised, but indigenous people retain control of the interior. Religion and resources still drive conflict, yet capitalism takes a somewhat different form without Christianity as its moral armour. The whole thought experiment is highly thought-provoking and impressively wide-ranging.
I would have happily read this counterfactual told in the style of a non-fiction history book. Instead, the narrative follows a small group of characters through a series of reincarnations, spread across 600 years and the whole world. Each section evokes a different time and place, using a range of stylistic conceits like inset text. These variations serve to distinguish the sections, while the continuity of characters ensures the narrative coheres. Between lives, the characters briefly unite in the Bardo and discuss their progress. These conversations and the nature of the Bardo give the book a powerful spiritual dimension. When aware that they've lived many times and will live many more, the characters ask: what is the aim of our lives? What should humanity be striving for? How can we do better next time? I really liked the detail that the Bardo changes over time. The most haunting section for me was during the Long War, when the characters couldn't tell whether they were still alive or dead in the Bardo. The war seemed to have collapsed the barriers between life and death. This section evoked a terrifying vision of trench warfare bisecting the whole of India, from coast to Himalayas.
War does not predominate in the narrative, however, as the characters are reincarnated as explorers, scientists, political activists, writers, teachers, and wild animals. Their relationships and experiences vary accordingly, while retaining an essential bond of community. Kim Stanley Robinson shows a completely new world history through their eyes and presents his essentially optimistic and progressive view of humanity. None of the political thinkers and leaders we know exist in this world, yet egalitarian ideas arise:
"This is the world we want you to help us make," he said. "We will go out into the world and plant gardens and orchards to the horizons, we will build roads through the mountains and across the deserts, and terrace the mountains and irrigate the deserts until there will be garden everywhere, and plenty for all, and there will be no more empires or kingdoms, no more caliphs, sultans, emirs, khans, or zamindars, no more kings or queens or princes, no more qadis or mullas or ulema, no more slavery and no more ursury, no more property and no more taxes, no more rich and no more poor, no killing or maiming or torture or execution, no more jailers and no more prisoners, no more generals, soldiers, arms, armies, or navies, no more patriarchy, no more clans, no more caste, no more hunger, no more suffering than what life brings us for being born and having to die, and then we will see for the first time what kind of creatures we really are."
Unsurprisingly, I found 'The Years of Rice and Salt' a happier and more hopeful reading experience than Kim Stanley Robinson's more recent novels The Ministry for the Future and New York 2140. In those, he seeks to write humanity a way out of climate change catastrophe, whereas this has the comfortable distance of alternate history. Still, the characters' philosophical and political debates encourage the reader to reflect on how history could have happened differently. 'The Years of Rice and Salt' doesn't claim that without white Europeans none of the atrocities of colonialism, slavery, and industrialised war could have happened; that would be an unconvincing cop-out. Nonetheless, the history of North America in particular would have been very different and the alternative here is considerably less destructive. I don't have enough historical knowledge to judge the overall plausibility of events. The details were nonetheless convincingly imagined: the music, clothing, attitudes to drugs, units of measurement, names of technology, and metaphors that developed without Europe and Christianity. This is an incredibly ambitious book that succeeds in telling an alternate world history that is both engaging and challenging. It was both escapist to read and a reminder of the huge impact that plagues have on the course of history.