R.F. Kuang’s Babel is a “historical fantasy epic” released in 2022 and became a bestseller, achieving (popular) acclaim and rewards. Needless to say, it deserves none of its acclaim or copies removed. It is poorly written and does a disservice to historical fiction and fantasy as a genre. Ultimately, it is a meaningless story, which I can conclude was largely written to satisfy Kuang’s narcissistic writing philosophy, political leanings (as they are), and desire to tell her pleb readers she went to Oxford. Unlike Kuang, I have no desire to waste your time, so will be succinct in summarizing her story, or what she passed off for one.
In her alternative history (not fantasy; I shall explain my reasoning later), magic works by inscribing words in different languages of similar but not identical meaning on silver; their effect is “powered” by the loss of meaning between them. Translators are required for its use, and employed by the British Empire to maintain its worldwide dominance. The story follows protagonist, Robin Swift, is a half-Chinese, half-British orphaned boy in 1828, who is taken from his home, Canton, China, to become a linguistics scholar at Oxford to serve the British Empire at the height of its power.
Babel’s foundations are subtle as the lectures Kuang writes into it. By which I mean those delivered by her caricatured characters, and the actual ones on linguistics delivered throughout the story. Kuang doesn’t believe in showing, believing that telling the reader that Robin and his three acquaintances are best friends with one another, while showing behavior and actions contrary to the claim (the sole British white woman of the group is the most loathed character in the story) makes for riveting storytelling. The same goes for these Oxford students’ alleged intelligence; they’re a bunch of fuckwits who live due to authorial favoritism, and the rest of the world being such lackwits I’m in constant bemusement that they can breathe and blink at once.
The fact that the British literally named their tower where they work the translation magic/bullshit “Babel” should dissuade the idea of the antagonists possessing common sense and Kuang respecting her readers intelligence and ability to, well, read.
Robin is a dull Pillsbury Doughboy of a character. He’s a reactive lump who, instead of coming into opposition of the British Empire naturally and of his own devises, experiences racism blunt as my terrible metaphor, and is lectured by the other characters of color about how the Empire, well, is a racist empire. He also simply runs into anti-Babel rebels committing subterfuge against it within days of enrolling at Oxford. They, inexplicably, decide to invite him into their confidences, where he’ll assist them in smuggling silver out. Well, not entirely inexplicable; Robin’s half-brother, Griffin, is amongst the group.
As should be clear, Kuang respects the notions of skill in fiction crafting as much as her readers’ intelligence and my patience. But what about her skills as a historian and fantasist? Does she–
No. I confess her knowledge of history is broad, and she shows a level of depth regarding linguistics and some individuals (many of whom are connected to Oxford, and therefore her). But it’s little more than copy pasting from more interesting readings and works, and largely reminds me I could be reading them. I believe her decision to have Babel’s characters speak as morons, racist caricatures, in modern vocabulary of 2020s Twitterati (“narco-military state” and an Indian man referring to himself as a “brown man” are the most egregious examples, not the only ones), or a combination, comes from two parts. One is laziness, as I promise I will evince below; the other is that having her protagonists speak in, say, the racial terms of their times, would lend complexity and nuance, something she abhors like liberal white women in Babel, and the other work of hers I’ve read, Yellowface.
Kuang’s laziness and disdain for fantasy as a whole is seen in that she seemingly forgot that magic will affect the world. Translation magic has existed since at least the time of the Roman Empire, and if one thinks that would lead to changes in history in, say, an “alternate” or “fantastical/fantasy way,” one does not understand the “masterpiece” (Rebecca Roanhorse) of Rebecca Kuang. Her work of “historical fantasy” remains almost entirely identical to the real world. It has the same individuals, events, nations, and power dynamics as ours, down to individual writing and movements. China, despite being a multi-lingual empire that sits on coveting-worthy amounts of silver and therefore should be a powerful empire able to rival the British, is in the same exact position as the real world Qing Dynasty up to the days preceding the First Opium War.
There were three alterations to history that qualify Kuang’s derivativeness as “alternative history.” One is the modern vernacular of many of the characters, though I’m willing to chalk that up to laziness. The second is that Japan might not be as isolationist in her world as it was at the time in real life, though it’s such a throwaway example it might have been an oversight on her part, and is ultimately meaningless. The third is making Britain a superpower dependent on magic powered by translation and linguistics (which Kuang studies professionally), so some plucky academics who are members of the Rebel Alliance colonized peoples can bring the Empire to its knees by destroying the Death Star Babel Tower.
Needless to say, the British didn’t need magic to dominate the world, wasn’t brought down by academics who studied the same field as Kuang, and likely wouldn’t name an institute revolving around translation fucking Babel.
Babel feels like it was written so as to appease Kuang’s ego: she was inspired to write it by her personal experiences (at Oxford), like almost all her works to date. It also speaks about complex topics such as imperialism, empire, and violence in modern ways, allowing it to be considered “deep” and “intellectual” without the requisite skill to make reading it worthwhile for those knowledgeable in the fields, or people who care about fiction writing craft. Such is the state of fantasy where such dull, shoddy work can move parcels of copies and win awards.
The largest recommendation I can give for Babel is that it’s possible to learn interesting real-life history by reading it. As that would require reading Kuang’s fiction to get to, however, I must advise potential readers to stay away. After all, I, some random asshat on the internet, care about lessening others’ exposure to banality, unlike Rebecca Kuang.
