Tor, 2020, 460 p, including 11 p Glossary of Persons, Places and Objects and 2 p Acknowledgements.

Mahit Dzmare has spent her young life on Lsel Station, an artificial habitat on the borders of known space. Though the Station is independent – and keen to remain so – Mahit has always been fascinated by the literature of the neighbouring Teixcalaan Empire. Her affinity with Teixcalaan culture and her match with Lsel’s Ambassador to the Empire, Yskandr Aghavn, sees her chosen to replace him. This is made easier by a piece of highly confidential Lsel technology, the imago machine, an implant which gives access to the memories of the donor. But Yskandr last came home fifteen years before and so, when the call comes for Mahit to travel to Teixcalaan, The Jewel of the World, to replace Yskandr, her implant’s memories are long out of date. Her mission is to try as far as possible to prevent Lsel’s absorption by the Empire.

On arrival she finds herself precipitated into a crisis. Yskandr is dead, the Emperor is ageing, the succession uncertain and revolution astir. Despite the Teixcalaanli regarding implants as immoral (though they cover their faces with something called a cloudhook, which gives them two-way access to an internet-like network,) Yskandr had, in return for Lsel’s continuing independence, bargained with the Emperor to provide him with one as a means to give his consciousness immortality. But other influential Teixcalaanlitzim, especially those who seek his power, were and are working against this.

On inspecting Yskandr’s body (the Teixcalaanli have no problems with keeping bodies on ice for long periods but find Lsel’s funeral practices distasteful, non-Teixcalaanli are routinely referred to as barbarians,) Mahit’s imago machine ceases functioning and she has to cope with her new and increasingly dangerous environment with only her Teixcalaanli liaison, Three Seagrass, and her friend, Twelve Azalea, to help her.

The latters’ peculiar appellations are a feature of Teixcalaanli life. There is no explanation for this in the text (and why should there be?) but any Teixcalaanlitzim’s first name is a number – see Nineteen Adze, Thirty Larkspur, Eight Loop, and the Emperor, Six Direction, etc.

As the book progresses Mahit encounters various levels of Teixcalaanli society, all the while wondering if, why, and how Yskandr was murdered and whether her imago machine was deliberately sabotaged by someone back home.

The plot’s resolution is aided by Mahit’s knowledge that Lsel and the Empire are threatened by a species known as Ebrekti inhabiting space beyond the Station,

Teixcalaan society has echoes of the Aztecs – though without the ritual sacrifice – and words such as ezuazuacat and ixplanatlim seem to point to their language, Nahuatl. In this regard the Emperor’s final words “‘I am a spear in the hands of the sun’” seem particularly pointed.

Even though its action is restricted by and large to one planet A Memory Called Empire is Space Opera – of a sort – and is a good enough example of the form. Whether it was worth the Hugo Award it won in 2020 is another matter. At least one sequel (another Hugo winner – in 2022) awaits the reader who wants more.

Pedant’s corner:- “None of them were …” (none of them was… .) “‘How often does that happen,’” (is a question and ought to have a question mark, not a comma, before the end quotation mark. There were many more such examples.) “The jaws of the Empire opening up again, akimbo. Bloody-toothed” (akimbo? How on Earth can opened jaws be positioned on hips? Only arms can be akimbo,) “open maw” (how can a stomach be open?) “she had been Amnardbat’s choice of successors for Yskandr” (choice of successor,) “teeth on the maws of …. parasites” (stomachs don’t have teeth,) “wide jaws akimbo” (again; jaws cannot be placed on hips,) “there are a series” (one series, so: ‘there is a series’.) “One of the sunlit on the edge of the platoon detached themselves” (One …. detached itself.)

Abacus, 2006, 510 p.

Spinrad is no stranger to readers of Science Fiction, coming to prominence around the time of the New Wave with works such as Bug Jack Barron and The Iron Dream (an Altered History SF novel whose author was supposedly Adolf Hitler.) In the early part of this century, though, he took a turn into historical fiction with The Druid King, about Julius Caesar’s adversary Vercingetorix the Gaul. Mexica is his take on conquistador Hernán Cortés (in the text always referred to as Hernando Cortes) one of History’s supreme adventurers – or villains, depending on your viewpoint.

Our narrator is Cortés’s companion, and unwilling advisor, Avram ibn Ezra (an Arabised form of the Jewish Ben Ezra,) who was baptised Alvaro Escribiente de Granada since being a Jew in the newly united Christian Spain under the scrutiny of the Inquisition was not a healthy prospect. This choice allows the narrative to distance itself both from the brutal Christianity of the Spanish invaders and from the sanguinary religious practices of the indigenous Mexica and their vassals. (Only once or twice is the word Aztec mentioned. This apparently was an insulting term deriving from the bumpkinish highlands down from which the Mexica came to replace their predecessors, the Toltecs, whom the Mexica still revered, after that earlier people had vanished into the east.)

It is arguably a necessary choice, as religion mattered. For how else can a few hundred men bring down a mighty empire? In this telling the Mexica – or at least their emperor Montezuma – were undone by their beliefs. The Toltec god Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent, was prophesied to come back from the east with a light skin whereupon the fifth world (that of the Mexica) would end and the sixth begin. On hearing of the arrival of the Spaniards Montezuma awaits a sign from his god of war, Huitzilopochtli, as to their true nature, and receives none. A native woman, Malinal (known to present day Mexicans as Malinche but here dubbed Marina by the Spaniards as it’s easier for them to pronounce,) a princess of one the Mexica’s vassal states, sold into slavery when they were defeated, takes up with Cortés and, aided by Alvaro, becomes his translator. She it is who nudges Cortés (despite his own religious qualms) into affecting the appearance, and, in native eyes, substance, of Quetzalcoatl. The prospect of not having to pay blood tribute to the Mexica in the form of the hearts of their young men also leans on the Mexican vassals whom Cortés enlists as allies, vassals all but mystified at the thought of a god who gives his flesh and blood to be eaten by his worshippers rather than requiring their own of his believers.

It was still a very long shot, emphasised when after a couple of military victories against allies of the Mexica on the journey to the central high plateau, Alvaro briefly views through the clouds the magnificence of the Mexica capital Tenochtitlan, from the mountain pass above. The city was built on a series of lakes and joined to the surrounding land by four causeways. An impregnable fortress it would seem.

Later, after falling in love with the place, Alvaro wonders, “How could the civilization that had built Tenochtitlan rip out human hearts on such a bloody altar?” but also, “How could the civilization of the Prince of Peace who commanded men to love their neighbours as themselves burn human beings at the stake in his name? How could those who worshipped an Allah who was styled the Beneficent and Merciful behead the infidels who would not bow down to him?”

Whle the central figure here is always Cortés, the most sympathetic and tragic is Montezuma, who is entrapped and imprisoned by Cortés and thus in conversations with Alvaro vouchsafes to the reader his philosophy. Here is a man who, in trying to do the best by his gods as he sees them, loses not only his empire, his people and his city, but also his life. That those gods were horrific taskmasters and not worthy of any such soul-searching or devotion does not diminish this. Religious beliefs make people do strange and bewildering things. From his religious perspective Alvaro sees, “This is the crime for which I have no name. Having conquered their lands, now we were conquering their spirit.”

Mostly a self-serving – not to mention greedy – hypocrite and casuist there are contradictions too in Cortés’s behaviour, illustrated when he gives full military honours to the dead Montezuma and Alvaro tells us, “There were so many reasons for me to hate Hernando Cortes…. But … there were moments …., when no matter how I tried, I found it impossible not to love the bastard.”

Before the story gathers momentum with the landing in Central America the reflective nature of Alvaro’s account can be a little tedious. The text is liberally larded with the word ‘thereof’ and vocative asides to “dear reader”, a tendency which drops out when the action sets in only to reappear many pages later. ‘Alvaro’’s intent in setting this down is to expose and expiate his guilt at the part he played in the downfall of the Mexica and the beautiful city they constructed. But in the end he rationalises that, “..it could not have been prevented. Even if Columbus had never set sail it could not have been prevented, for Europe had the ships, and sooner or later someone would have discovered this New World.” The fulfilment of Montezuma’s omen was inevitable. “For this new world held treasure and unbounded virgin land unknown in the tired old one, and Europe had the greed to covet and the means to sieze it.” The greatest devastator of the Mexica though, would be what Alvaro names as the small pox, a weapon more deadly to the natives than either cannon or arquebus. The Mexica live on, however, in the adaptation of their name to that of the modern day country sitting on their lands, a process which had begun even in Cortés’s time.

Alvaro’s profoundest thoughts are however inspired by the much older civilisation that built the huge pyramids at Teotihuacan, whose people were forgotten even by the Mexica. “This was not a New World. This was a world old beyond imagining…. Five worlds come and gone … And now the breaking of the fifth and the coming of the sixth.” He consoles himself with the thought that in the end great events do not matter; civilisations amd conquerors may come and go but, “It is in the small things that life comes closest to eternity.”

Pedant’s corner:- Cortes’ (innumerable instances, Cortes’s,) sprung (sprang,) “to the point where no one dare approach him” (the narrative is in past tense so, ‘no one dared’ – and ‘no one’ ought to be ‘no-one’,) maws (mouths was the intended meaning, not stomachs,) imposter (I prefer impostor,) “but more than not wearing only simple cotton shifts” (more often than not is a more usual construction,) “in a foreign land as Britain might be to a Spaniard” (there was no Britain as a foreign ‘land’ (in a political sense) in the time of Cortes – only the geographical island.)