My mind is changed forever. I am not who I was before.
There Is No Antimemetics Division, by QNTM, is a book my wife (notoriously slow reader) finished in a day and a half, set down, and told me that I had to read immediately. I now understand why; it’s nearly impossible to discuss this book with someone who hasn’t read it. Even if you’re okay with spoilers, I don’t think there’s any way to capture the feeling of going on this ride. Allow me to try anyway.
The premise is wild: There exist creatures and objects with properties that make you remember and/or make you forget, and some of those entities are malignant. Some are not. This book is about a small group of people who professionally find, study, categorize, and contain these entities.
But, see, it’s the way the premise is executed that really makes this story shine. QNTM crafts and meters a narrative voice that is as haunting as it is compelling. Reading this book, I felt a growing sense that there was some important thing I was forgetting, some clue I couldn’t quite see that would help me understand the shape of the threat. I think it’s in the way he throws a bunch of information at the reader, all of which is significant, that creates the feeling of forgetting. You know there’s a detail you should have, but you can’t recall everything, and when the pieces of the plot start to slot into place the details come roaring back to you.
Combine that with the slippery narrative voice of a story where every character is unreliable (anti-memory properties!) and you get a viscerally compelling reading experience. You are an echo of the cast in a way—forgetting, remembering, trying to hold the shape of this thing in your mind.
It would be easy—and typical of the genre—for the story to shortchange its characters in favor of this Very Cool Idea, but it doesn’t. Although the narrative voice stays relatively matter-of-fact, it illuminates the inner life of our deeply human protagonist as she squares up against incomprehensible danger. She is forced to make choices in service of her goal, some that she won’t remember, that have real and bitter consequences. QNTM’s ability to pick the right moment to narrow the story down to one person’s life, one person’s tragedies and triumphs, is impressive and it makes the broader story work.
From the very first chapter, the story is twisty—folding in and over itself, inverting perspectives to surprise you and show you something new. The perspective ranges freely between third-person omniscient and third-person limited, with no real marker for when it’s changing. While this works well to deliver the twists and turns at the core of the narrative, it can also trip the reader up at the wrong moment, creating ambiguity or breaking the flow in places that don’t seem intentional. These slip-ups are minor, but they do stand out in a book that otherwise wastes no moment or detail.
In keeping with the best that science fiction has to offer, I left this book feeling like I was looking at the world differently. It was immersive and heartbreaking and hopeful, and I would love to share it with everyone I can. Please read this book. Take a weekend and have your brain rewired.
