“The Memory of Whiteness” is a science fiction novel about music. For it to capture the reader, that reader must know a little music theory and share musical sympathy with the writer.

I don’t know much music theory. I don’t share musical sympathy with the writer. With few exceptions, music simply doesn’t speak to me. I prefer to listen to audiobooks and podcasts. Consequently, I couldn’t join the author on his musicological flights of fancy. I couldn’t share his characters’ love of listening and performing music. I didn’t really understand what was happening half the time.

Narratively, the story is weak. The author spends nearly the whole novel shrouding the antagonist’s ends and means, which are supposed to be mysterious or something. The result is that the story has no clear stakes, giving me no real reason to root for Team Good to prevail over Team Evil, other than that Team Evil appears to be a bunch of jerks. When the antagonist’s evil plan is finally revealed, it turns out to be so rudimentary and simplistic that I almost thought I was watching a below-average episode of a children’s sci-fi shoe rather than reading a respected novel.

Ah, well. That’s the thing about books. You make your best guess when you pull a volume off the shelf, but you never really know what you’re going to get.