“City of Stairs” by Robert Jackson Bennett

City of Stairs by Robert Jackson Bennett

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

“The Divine may have created many hells,” he says, “but I think they pale beside what men create for themselves.”

Isn’t that true, Robert Jackson Bennett, isn’t that so always sadly frustratingly true. It may be tempting to blame all kinds of higher powers for whatever happens, but in the end people get what they asked for. Humanity can really be the dark stain on itself, and often the only real choice is between terrible and somewhat less terrible.

In other thoughts, how and why have I managed to avoid Bennett’s books until so recently? I was missing out, the guy is good. Seriously good. And this book made me willingly cut my already short sleeping hours by quite a bit, and I regret nothing.

“I have never met a person who possessed a privilege who did not exercise that privilege to the fullest extent that they possibly could.”

Ignore the first few pages of a stuffy trial in a colonized outpost – this is the equivalent of my sleepy self every morning before the morning coffee kicks in. Ignore the silly city name (Bulikov – really, dude?) as you will eventually learn to look past it. And what you’ll get is a clever and thoughtful story that is not afraid to make you think. There’s a weight of history on people and countries, and a fair share of politics (it’s unavoidable in life just as it is in literature), and discourses on power and governance and religion, zealotry and fanaticism, and mystery, and secret operatives, and a bit of divine monsters. And a character who may be a sidekick but in his scenes steals the show (Sigrud is Murderbot and you know it; while everyone else cowers in front of a divine punisher, Sigrud will casually matter-of-fact go, “I’ll kill it”).

“But here, in Bulikov, every piece of history feels lined with razors, and the closer I try and look at it, the more I wound myself.”

The story is set in the land that pivoted from divine miracles to modernized rational industry after the mysterious Divinities have been assassinated by a hero from the land of the formerly oppressed who now are in charge, although – oh sweet irony – quite oppressively so. But a brutal murder not only brings in a seasoned secret operative for the investigation but raises a question whether the Divinities are truly gone, and in the usual fashion really disturbs the metaphorical wasp nest. And what comes out isn’t very nice.

“But that which you draw power from, you are also powerless before.”

The worldbuilding is pretty solid here, and very immersive without reliance on infodumping (well, other than one very strange chapter of infodump over lamb stew cooking which I choose to see as misplaced irony because otherwise I just don’t know what the hell, but I’ll forgive it this time). The characters are good, the case of reading about people I can’t quite connect with but I don’t even feel the need to because they work well for the story without needing to tug on my heartstrings. And the plot that after the slow warm-up at the very start deftly snaps along until in the very end it breaks into a true mad dash (and even the few trip-ups and stumbles are alright through the eyes of this newly minted fangirl over here, alright?). And the city of Bulikov, the sad remnants of something once much grander, but with the memory of less than savory things that grandeur was built on.

And unexpected humor, casually slipped in, courtesy of Divinity with too much time on his hands and possibly serious insanity issues:

“373. Shelf C5-163. Edicts of Kolkan, books 783 to 797: fifteen tomes mostly dictating Kolkan’s attitudes on dancing. Total weight: 378 pounds. Not miraculous, but content is definitely dangerous.”
———
“360. Shelf C4-149. Edicts of Kolkan: Books 237 to 243. Seven tomes on how women’s shoes should be prepared, worn, discarded, cleaned, etc.”

Reminds of a few religious laws on our less than ideal planet, doesn’t it?

And the oppressor/oppressed setting became interesting by revealing the currently oppressed as former brutal oppressors, and sadly laying out the perpetuation of cycle of abuse on country scale. Humans are awful, and all kinds of zealotry are appalling, but at least some humans may occasionally mean well. No wonder some gods just decided to retire.

“Humans are strange, Shara Komayd. They value punishment because they think it means their actions are important—that they are important. You don’t get punished for doing something unimportant, after all. Just look at the Kolkashtanis—they think the whole world was set up to shame and humiliate and punish and tempt them.… It’s all about them, them, them, them! The world is full of bad things, hurtful things, but it’s still all about them! And Kolkan just gave them what they wanted.”
“That’s … madness.”
“No, it’s vanity.”

It’s certainly not perfect. There are a few stumbles and a few eye rolls and a few plot decisions I have some quibbles with, but the good parts of this book are so solid that I found it ridiculously easy not exactly to overlook the flaws but to have them not bother me. Which in my overall grumpiness is pretty spectacular, I must say.

(I even forgave the semi-fixation on tea which – thank the Divinities – hasn’t at least reached the levels of Ann Leckie or Becky Chambers because then I may just spontaneously self-combust).

“If you only drink tea when you work,” says Mulaghesh, “I advise you switch to coffee. I see a lot of work in our future, and coffee packs more punch.”
“Coffee refreshes the body,” says Shara. “Tea refreshes the soul.”

Team Coffee. ‘Nuff said.

In the end, I loved it, even with some imperfections. Book 2 awaits.

4.5 stars, rounding up with no hesitation.

————
Buddy read with Alexandra, Carol and Jonathan.

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