Kuang's stand-alone fantasy novel posits a world where magic is the literal product of translation; silver bars inscribed with a word or phrase in two languages capture the meaning or implication that is lost in translation, producing an effect related to that lost meaning. Linguistic scholars at the Babel Tower in 19th century Oxford exploit this flaw in translation to aid the British Empire and its citizens. Kuang, who is a translator herself, understands all too well the impossibility of a translation that captures perfectly the intended meaning and all its nuances. She also peppers the narrative with lots of fun etymologies.
Kuang is interested in more than just a dark academia fantasy, however; at every step she challenges the reader to think through the implications of a magic system so thoroughly entwined with an empire determined to hold on to power. Robin Swift is a Chinese boy taken from his family and home country so that his linguistic talents, particularly his status as a native Cantonese speaker, can be developed and used in England's efforts to force the Chinese government to yield to unfavorable trade agreements. His cohort at Babel consists of other outsiders -- Ramy, a Muslim Indian, Victoire, a Haitian-French girl descended from slaves, and Letty, a white English girl expected to replace her brother after his untimely death -- who each grapple with their roles in perpetuating colonialism, in different ways. Robin, for example, must overcome his tendency to do what is expected of him and be the "model minority." Letty, on the other hand, struggles to reconcile the privilege she experiences because of her skin color and nationality with the very real sexism she faces. Witnessing the racism her friends face, she tries to dismiss it as the acts of a few bad people, rather than a symptom of a cultural, economic, and political system built on prejudice. And then there's Victoire, who has it worst as a Black woman; more than anything she wants to survive.
While the novel is highly praised (deservedly so), there's a strain of criticism I've seen pop up everywhere; namely, that Kuang was too heavy-handed in her condemnation of colonialism, that she should have allowed readers to figure it out for themselves. But if the themes of the story are something for us to work out, it becomes all too easy to just not do the work -- to skim the ugly parts and ignore all that unpleasantness that makes us feel vaguely guilty in favor of the cool, magical world centered around an actual tower (albeit not made of ivory). That's exactly what the Babel academics do, focusing on their fascinating work while turning a blind eye to its uses and implications. Kuang does not want us to gloss over the evil of what is happening, so she never lets us forget it.
It's not an easy read, but it is well worth it.
