Review of "Hexarchate Stories" by Yoon Ha Lee

Note: this review contains spoilers for the Machineries of Empire trilogy (Ninefox Gambit, Raven Strategem, Revenant Gun). Read no further if you haven't finished those, and don't start these stories until you have!

Almost five years on from publication, Ninefox Gambit remains my favorite science fiction book of the 2010s, and one of the most original in both premise and style. In this short story collection, Yoon Ha Lee continues to give us more of what he's best at--rich, technical prose that takes abstract concepts and seemingly dry ideas and turns them into moving, thoughtful stories. The short story format lets his talent for scenes shine; "How the Andan Court" and "Seven Views of the Liozh Entrance Exam" are basically nothing but, small vignettes full of striking visualizations. In more plotty terms, several of the stories give us some much-appreciated background on the infamous Shuos Jedao, filling out his past in ways that are both entirely consistent with the moments of vulnerability scattered through the main trilogy and yet still surprising in their intimacy. The flashbacks induced by Ninefox Gambit's carrion glass were an arresting finale to that book, and many of these stories have the same quality despite one major difference: none of them give us the first-personal intimacy of those moments. Choosing to show Jedao through the eyes of others, except in tiny flashes, is one of the stylistic choices I admired about the main trilogy, and it's executed strikingly well here. By refusing to let us see what's in his head until it's too late, Yoon Ha Lee is able to maintain the audience's suspense while ultimately still delivering the emotional insight we crave. "Silence" in particular does this to heartbreaking effect. We all know what Jedao will become, but it is heartbreaking to see it through the eyes of someone who didn't. "Gamer's End," for me the best story in the collection, also makes use of Jedao in much the same way as Ninefox Gambit did; as a terrifying foil to a more idealistic protagonist. Second-person allows the author to bring out the presence and physicality of his world, immersing the reader in the imagery and concepts-made-images that make his writing such a powerful experience.

I'm devoting a separate section to "Glass Cannon" because of its length and its role as a quasi-sequel, carrying on the main storyline. Its high points--the re-use of the carrion glass, and Cheris's struggle to accept the younger Jedao given what she knows of who he is in full--are comparable to the best of the main trilogy. Yoon Ha Lee leans into the viscerality of his world in a way he rarely does there, and while it sometimes feels gratuitous, it is mostly effective. However, the follow-up per se, and the decision to extend the world into moth-space, does not entirely work for me. This choice was one of the less satisfying parts of Revenant Gun for me; the issue of moth sentience tracked well with the rest of the trilogy, but making Jedao specifically a moth seemed a bit of a complication there that detracted from the already-complex character and issues he faced. Here, those challenges are exacerbated by the decision to remove Cheris from her satisfying return to a simpler life and to end on another cliffhanger. I won't complain about more work set in this universe, especially if it continues to show us the challenges of sacrifice and following one's mission in the way these stories have. However, I can't help but wonder if moving on to newer characters, as was done in most of the stories, rather than focusing on Jedao as a viewpoint character, would have better served the conclusiveness of the trilogy. 

Overall takeaway: A wonderful experience for fans of Yoon Ha Lee, and a great example of what makes his work so captivating, but overshadowed by the completeness of the Machineries of Empire.

4.5 out of 5 for the short stories.

3 out of 5 for Glass Cannon (4 out of 5 if considering only the prose and self-contained story, but lowered somewhat by its role as a sequel to that which didn't need one).