Warning: This post contains spoilers for the book Katabasis, by R.F. Kuang. If you haven’t read the book yet, do that first and then come back.
Or don’t. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.
I don’t know how to feel about this book.
I liked it. In fact, during some parts I really liked it. It’s clever—sometimes too clever for its own good. It evokes some strong, compelling imagery. Kuang even achieved the near-impossible challenge of creating a fresh and interesting conception of Hell, despite the journey-to-the-underworld trope having been done to death (pun intended). Her Underworld is nearly entirely devoid of body horror and eternal fire, but is instead a mirror of the real world—an empty version, with all the pleasure and, rightly, all of the life sucked out of it.
Katabasis was thought-provoking. It was also, at times, disappointing. And, since it’s a little intimidating to try to capture this all at once, I figure the best way to unpack my thoughts on this book are to journey through them one by one, from the surface-level to the downright ugly, mirroring Alice Law’s journey through the vast Underworld.
Pride
If this book were a newly-deceased soul awaiting its own eternal punishment, this is where it would land. We’re getting my complaints about the book out of the way early—this book is pretentious.
Yes, this book was a 500-page reminder of how I am not as well-educated or as well-read as I’d like to be, ripe with name-dropping and references that I sometimes, sort of got. The only saving grace is that the book knows it’s pretentious, and sometimes leans into it. This doesn’t absolve it completely, but it helps.
The whole thing reads as an in-joke for an ivy-league club that I will never be invited to join. And that’s fine. Kuang owns it.
Desire
In fact, one of the things that I liked most about this book is that, while every character is flawed (unsurprising, given that they’re all in Hell), they’re flawed in the same way as you, me, and basically everyone.
Kuang’s depiction of Desire was a perfect representation of the various addictions that keep humans in their own perpetual Hells-on-Earth. Characters are trapped in endless cycles of painful pleasure-seeking. They’re not evil, but pathetic. It’s really spot-on, and it gives the reader the impression that everyone they know will end up in Hell eventually.
It provoked a lot of thought. Don’t a lot of religions have this conception of an afterlife, in which everyone winds up in the same place, a Hell of sorts, cleansing themselves from whichever impurities befell them in their mortal life? It makes a lot of sense, actually. Instead of classifying people as either ‘saved’ or ‘damned,’ this conception assumes that we’re all messed up, somehow—the only difference is which version of Hell we wind up in.
Greed
Although none of Hell was necessarily punitive, and no one in Hell was necessarily evil, the ‘lesser’ spheres of pride and desire were distinguished from the remaining ones, where a person’s sins actually harm others and not just themselves.
Still, sin in this book wasn’t depicted as a horrible affliction that we must cleanse ourselves from, and Hell wasn’t really depicted as punitive.
Instead, Hell is created personally, due to one’s shortcomings of understanding. Their hang-ups, their inability to let go. As soon as they accept reality, they pass on. It’s much more of a personal journey than a punishment, and it’s fitting that, even though it’s entirely in everyone’s power to escape Hell, most characters choose not to (perhaps because of the sins that they still hold onto).
Wrath
Now, the rest of these greater sins are going to start to blend together, and this kind of parallels the reading experience of Katabasis. Kuang did a great job exploring the ‘surface’ of Hell, with pride and gluttony and distrust. But I don’t think she really knew what to do with these darkest sides of humanity, so they were just kind of glazed over.
Violence
Towards the middle of the book, it seemed like the entire ‘fantasy novel’ aspect of this book was kind of glazed over, too. Don’t get me wrong. There was action, and violence, and worldbuilding, and a plot with a logical arc that reached a satisfying conclusion.
However, despite the stakes being high on paper (pun intended), I didn’t really feel the emotional energy. Instead of the drama intensifying as the book went on, it just kind of fell flat. Just when I was getting into the tension of Hell, Kuang hit the reader with a series of flashbacks about sexual abuse and chronic disease. Just when I was getting into the Peter-Alice chemistry, Peter died and wouldn’t come back until the ass-end of the book!
Cruelty
Fine, maybe I’m being a bit mean. It was a good book. I wouldn’t call it a great book, but it was a good book. Maybe even a very good book.
Tyranny
In fact, I actually managed to finish 500 pages in a week, almost like it took some tyrannical hold on my—
These headings are starting to feel a bit contrived now, huh?
Sorry.
The Eighth Court
Alright, no more nonsense. Let’s talk about the ‘meat’ of this book.
The Citadel reflected on the cyclical nature of reality, the futility of existence, how we’re all just creating towards eventual destruction and waiting for the end while never really wanting it to come. The book really communicated the idea of how no one really wants to die, whether or not they actually enjoy living.
The book also got pretty existential. What’s the point of ambition? Does anything matter at all? What’s the point of living, of learning, if you’re not going to enjoy any of it?
However, the interesting thing about all of this is that the whole thing read less like a gripping story than like a dissertation on what feeling is supposed to, well, feel like. I thought a lot while reading this book. I thought a lot about feeling while reading this book. But the book didn’t really inspire much genuine emotion.
I’m not knocking Kuang here. She’s smart and she knows it, and this was one of the most thought-provoking books I’ve read in a while. However, it seems like the author still feels a bit detached from her words (a detachment that is, in fact, explored in the book). She’s young. I’d be curious to see how her work evolves, and I’ll probably read more of her books in the future.
In all, I enjoyed it.
Thanks for reading. Post your own thoughts on this book in the comments, along with recommendations for future TMBC picks.
Thank you Melissa for an insightful assessment.
It seems to me she is in despair like so many are.