Waiter waiter! More magic mushroom-induced sapphic Inception, please! This is a standout romantic sci-fi that feels fresh while still remaining grounded and accessible. It was trippy, exciting, and full of delicious sapphic yearning. The Memory Hunters feels reminiscent of some fan-favorites; themes and critiques akin to Babel and Blood Over Bright Haven, exploration of identity and subversive bodyguard/princess intimacy like Gideon the Ninth, and the quick pacing focused on morality and character interiority similar to something like Shadow and Bone. Lots of interesting ideas pulled together to create a mysterious and evocative sci-fi with a slowburn romantic subplot that doesn't overtake the main story. One of the best bits of the whole book was Vale and her story as a poor, rural girl who moves to the city to support her family by any means necessary. Through her perspective, we explore the feeling of diasporic disconnection; of longing for a homeland ravaged by climate disaster and colonization, and the feeling of immense loneliness and isolation in trying to make a name for yourself in a land that isn't yours. She also canonically has learning disabilities that affect her during the story, but don't take away from her intelligence, independence, and strength, something that I so appreciated. Also, she's entirely adorable while refusing to let any of it show. She's 5'0 and collects ribbons. C'mon. Vale's character acts as the perfect foil to Key, our princess-like character, which plays into the bodyguard/princess trope so well. Key's princess image is fresh, being a sort of religious icon who performs blessings for the public and has to keep her thoughts and emotions in check at all times. Key is privileged, and sometimes naive to how her choices affect others. While this can be frustrating for some readers, it creates a tension grounded in realistic depictions of identity and privilege, while still playing into the romantic trope that readers might go into the book expecting. Their slowburn is no joke. The romance finds tension in even the smallest gestures of eye contact and fingers brushing. I loved seeing them together and rooting for them to just shut up and kiss already, damn it! Luckily, the plot doesn't get turned into "uhh I think some war is happening while the two main characters think about banging each other". Their romance doesn't feel gratuitous, but develops naturally alongside the plot. Tsai creates a gripping tension between the museum, Key's religion, and those who believe in neither. There was a feeling of not knowing who to trust or who to align with which pulled me to keep reading even when I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. The world was just mysterious enough to beg me to keep discovering and learning. While I enjoyed the world for what it was, it was flatter than I would have liked. This was one of the rare times where I felt like a book could benefit from being slightly longer. The world often relied on vibes where it could have made biting commentary. For example, I would have loved to experience how the museum and religion played into the politics and class dynamics of the world, especially since the central theme of the book has to do with those who appropriate and benefit from culture, and critiques those who get to rewrite history. Because the world feels a bit flat, Key's character arc suffers a bit and it makes the plot feel less like a crescendo and more like it slams out of nowhere. Though I still found the narrative intriguing, I didn't feel a sense of gradual discovery and self-reflection via Key's perspective. There was a chance for Key and Vale's rose-colored glasses to be slowly removed, and it would have helped the climax and resolution feel more natural and less rushed. To add onto that, this book is definitely not for those who favor Sanderson-style, scientific, in-depth magic systems; there is an overwhelming sense of mystery that almost feels mythical. Tsai cleverly writes a world in which history is difficult to access, and there are gaps missing that must be filled via Key and Vale's exploration. What worked really well for me personally was Tsai's exploration of themes such as identity, memory, and heredity. Tsai's writing really sings when she leans into the abstract rather than the typical romantasy-style voice. At times, Tsai seemed to fall back into over-explanation or heavyhandedness, when the strength of her writing was enough to stand on its own. Her depiction of memory was evocative and inventive and the beauty lied in what was left unsaid. Overall, I think Tsai is a breakout author with an insane amount of potential. Her ideas are fresh and add to the genre in a meaningful way. As she continues to write confidently and fit into her own unique voice, her works after this one have potential to be massive. I'm excited to see the series continue and where Tsai goes next. I just hope we get more surreal fungal Inception goodness.

As a piece of investigative journalism, Your Face Belongs to Us excels, but it ultimately sidesteps deeper systemic critique. Kashmir Hill has done great work uncovering details of a company that was specifically attempting to remain a secret. Appalling and ironic to hear about the lengths Clearview went to to keep themselves private while jeopardizing the data and privacy of literally everybody else. Hill should be proud of the work she's done here and deserves the praise this book has received. A particular standout of this book is how Hill draws a throughline from eugenics to facial recognition software. The book had a scathing start by positioning the technology in the context of phrenology and the belief that facial structure can determine personality traits or criminality. She also takes the time to explain how the state of technology got to this point, beginning with the age of Facebook, targeted advertising, and the normalization of social media. While I appreciate the journalistic endeavor, I wondered at times if the book's focus on Clearview and its figurehead Hoan Ton-That risked turning the narrative into a "bad apple" situation. It's possible to read this book and come away with the idea that Clearview is just a bug caused by one overly-ambitious, morally ambiguous man, and not a symptom of multiple corrupt systems that have been allowed to run unchecked for decades. Though I understand Hill's desire to remain neutral, and respect her adherence to journalistic integrity, the book's neutrality often got in its own way. Obviously, I wasn't expecting a seething abolitionist takedown of the tech industry, but there are points where I felt further nuance was necessary, and in those moments, Hill steers clear of taking a stance. Two glaring omissions stood out: first, the lack of any mention of the technology's use in Palestine by the American-funded Israeli military; second, the way the book discusses facial recognition technology almost in a vacuum without acknowledging the systems that allowed this technology to exist and spiral out of control. Any mention of mass incarceration, mass deportation, militarized policing, or even just everyday surveillance post 9/11 was brief if not nonexistent. To her credit, Hill does address the broad privacy concerns of everyday people losing their anonymity: stalkers, government crackdowns on political enemies, false accusations fueled by racism or biases. Though it was shocking to hear how far Clearview and other companies have taken facial recognition software, it wasn't particularly surprising considering America's erosion of privacy especially over the last 3 decades. This lack of systemic, structural context felt like positioning a specific company and technology as a uniquely dystopian creation and not just a symptom of underlying rot that has gone unaddressed for years. By the end of the book, I wished Hill would have chosen one narrative route; a laser-focused takedown of Clearview or an in-depth critique of facial recognition software as a whole. If she wanted to stay focused on Clearview as a case study, I'd prefer she avoided partial or selective geopolitical commentary while leaving other urgent contexts like Palestine or United States policy. I was left feeling like the book fell to familiar tropes of liberal tech journalism; fearmonger about the right, vaguely gesture at "authoritarianism", but refuse to actually dig in to the meat of the issue by addressing how these tools are entrenched through bipartisan policy and systemic state violence. Fantastic reporting that works as an interesting piece of investigative journalism. Whistle-blows a company that clearly shows no remorse for the dangers it brings to society, yet ultimately lacks a commentary with teeth.