The last hope for humanity was even now vanishing away beneath the tide of superstition
Children of Time is a book of scope and scale that I was not ready for. The book left me with mixed feelings by the end, but so little I can say without spoilers.
I have the greatest respect for what Tchaikovsky has done here – what an achievement. There is a masterpiece within these pages. But, at the same time, there was more than one instance where I almost tapped out.
The Gilgamesh
Half of Children of Time follows the crew of the Gilgamesh; an interstellar ark ship carrying humanity’s last hope for survival. Having abandoned a dying Earth, their goal is to find a new habitable planet.
I get why many people would take that summary and be instantly turned off. I, myself, am very cautious with sci-fi. Especially sci-fi that takes itself seriously – and we’re definitely not looking at Hitchhiker’s Guide here.
But Tchaikovsky’s writing drew me in and convinced me everywhere it needed to. He doesn’t go too heavy on the technology; just enough to suspend the disbelief. The ship and the science are just backdrops for the struggle of the characters. And there’s a struggle.
What I found novel and interesting was the way Tchaikovsky manages the passage through time. Interstellar travel takes thousands of years, and yet the story unravels through the perspective of a single key crew member; the ship’s chief classicist, Holsten Mason.
(Minor spoiler warning, maybe) Mason and the rest of the key crew manage this by spending most of their time in ‘suspension’ (glorified freezer, basically). And so we only see the waking bits in between the long sleeps. This creates a story mechanic I’ve never seen before. Not all key crew are required to be out of suspension at the same time, so the main characters age at different rates, sometimes seeing multiple generations pass from wake to wake.
There’s little else plotwise here to say without spoilers. But, honestly, my sceptical, emotionally withered brain found the story of the Gilgamesh fascinating; gripping; human; evocative.
Then, there’s the other half.
I don’t give a monkeys about spiders
This was the half I struggled with.
The story of the Gilgamesh alternates with a second one; the anthropomorphised, rapidly evolving, genetically enhanced, extra terrestrial space spiders.
Yep.
Written in the third-person (third spider? 17th leg?), the intimacy of the Gilgamesh chapters all of a sudden zooms out into this vast, documentary-like description, following the evolution of an entire spider civilisation. Tension takes a break as we enter full David Attenborough mode.
Call me a psychopath if you like, but I cannot empathise with space spiders. I’m sorry. The emotional investment is mostly zero. I say mostly… There were a few moments – one in particular – where I caught myself thinking shit, am I going to cry over space spiders? Don’t worry, I held it together. But those rare emotional payoffs didn’t feel an equal exchange for trudging through chapter upon chapter of spiders’ religion, technology and breeding habits. Ugh.
That’s not to say I didn’t completely enjoy or respect this half, I just found them jarring compared to what was happening on the Gilgamesh.
Nevertheless, Tchaikovsky’s vision is just 🤌
Sometimes all it takes to crack a problem is a new perspective
I had to respect Tchaikovsky’s vision. What he’s attempting is huge, and he really flexes his ability to project the hypothetical; how a non-human civilisation might play out and evolve, into something I can follow. From practical things like how they would communicate, or build a city, or fight other species, or what their clothing is made of; to conceptual things like how their religion would form, what constitutes their moral grounding and how their social hierarchy is constructed.
It’s highly convincing, even when I’m not completely invested in the plot.
And then there’s the way he writes.
Vivid and delightful
Immersion is cardinal in science fiction. If I don’t believe any of this is possible, I’m fully disengaged. Tchaikovsky doesn’t just convince me through plausible explanation, he phrases everything so delicately and beautifully that they wouldn’t be out of place in a Byron poem.
I can tell I’m reading the work of an excellent writer in his prime here. Small moments feel bigger, and individual lines pop out of the page out of nowhere.
Bianca can almost feel the moment when the fulcrum of gods awareness tilts.
How nice is that? Honestly, I’d have just written she changed her mind and moved on.
The end
No ending spoilers here. All I’ll say is it left me, personally, wanting. It’s my problem. I’m too indoctrinated by the classical Western archplot. I’ve seen too much Hollywood. I’m old and closed-minded.
I’m also going to make a bet with myself – this book has a sequel. [Googles it]. Yep.
But honestly, it’s worth a go. Half of this book was a masterpiece, and I loved it. The other half I didn’t enjoy, but is still a masterpiece. I’m glad I didn’t put it down.
