“a monk runs away from civilisation because they’re having an existential crisis and ends up having philosophical conversations about the meaning of existence with a robot” is an interesting premise for a quick and comforting read, except that this comfort falls apart pretty much entirely when you take a closer look at the world in which it’s set.

first, the easy part. this world is meant to be very eco-friendly, a result of the destructive factory age and the oh-so-mysterious transition which is never explained. we’re just meant to accept that there was a huge catalyst one day that caused humanity to restrict themselves to “fifty percent of panga’s single continent” and leave the rest to nature. however, nature still bears the marks of historical destruction: crickets are almost nearly extinct, but it doesn’t seem to have any effect on the ecosystem and seems to mainly serve as a trigger for dex realising their discontent with their life.

we’re also meant to accept that humanity somehow is capable of survival while “barely touch[ing the ocean] at all,” which is wild to me. do seafaring peoples just not exist? or peoples who live by the sea and depend on it for survival? what about salt? surely they don’t just get salt from salt-mines and mineral springs. they clearly eat fish, because it’s mentioned 11 times in the novella, so they must get some of that from the sea as well, no? i don’t think chambers thought this through very well.

and that lack of (meaningful) consideration forms a pattern in this novella! it’s very telling that chambers’ idea of a utopia is a planet on which there exists only one culture, only one language, only one religion—albeit with sects, but the former two have no variants to speak of—and seemingly no disabled people, because of course a utopia can’t have disabled people if it wants to be a utopia. the only diversity present appears to be the existence of queer people, which is an extremely low bar in my opinion. it’s incredibly uncanny to read about a world that is so bland.

also, there is absolutely no suspension of disbelief great enough to make me believe that no cultural, linguistic, or religious diversity exists on an entire planet, or continent, or even an entire country. scholars speak of chinese folk religion as various syncretisations of multiple faiths, belief systems, and religious practices for a reason—it’s because a single chinese religion doesn’t exist; similarly, ancient greek religion is best understood not as a single coherent system of religion, but as a network of beliefs and practices, formalised in cults.

the lack of linguistic diversity is just as bewildering. there are hundreds of chinese topolects alone, let alone the numerous regional forms a single topolect can take, as well as the hundreds of other languages outside china. it is incomprehensible to me that every single person in this world speaks the exact same language. this is especially true in the robots, who have not interacted with humanity for centuries and yet speak with the same pronunciation, register, and vocabulary. languages change and evolve with their speakers, particularly over the course of centuries; the great vowel shift took place centuries ago, if you need a benchmark for that. by all rights, mosscap should be speaking the equivalent of early modern english to dex’s modern english, and why does a robot speak exactly like a human anyway? they aren’t human. they should have their own figures of speech and robot-specific vocabulary and such. language and culture are interconnected, and robot culture is most certainly very different from human culture, even if we assume that there is only one.

furthermore, the very notion of there only being a single language or culture (or, yes, religion) is very much linked to colonialism. colonisers impose their language and culture upon the colonised because they believe they are inherently superior; that’s how you get multicultural nations like my own whose lingua franca is not a pidgin language as the original lingua franca was, but a pre-existing tongue (thanks britain!). this imposition in turn leads to the marginalisation of other languages, which results in their speakers decreasing in number due to the pressure to learn and prioritise the “superior” language—due to education primarily being in that language, to the lack of (well-paying) job opportunities for non-speakers, and such—and therefore furthering their marginalisation. it’s a whole vicious cycle, see? and eventually, that’s how you get endangered languages and language death, and the loss of cultures in turn because again, language and culture are intrinsically interconnected. so much for a comfort read.

the lack of cultures beside the vaguely western-inspired one is also detrimental to dex’s journey. the premise is predicated on the fact that dex drops all their duties to become a tea monk, but we’re not told anything about how it happens, because tea service apparently only requires that the monk figure out their patron’s tastes, blend tea according to them, and offer sympathy when they unload their troubles on the monk. yet if chambers had thought to do a little research into the art of tea preparation, she would have found immense fields of study relating to every little step of the process, including the kind of water that should be used to brew high-quality tea. i’m only familiar with chinese tea culture, but i can assure you that there are multiple steps to brewing tea, with variants depending on the type of tea being brewed and the number of guests being served, and the process itself both enhances the tea’s fragrance and can be very soothing for everyone involved. it’s all about the sense of ceremony, the comfort of ritual, and the meaning implied in each step, and it’s an absolute shame that chambers didn’t think to consider including something similar.

anyway, i don’t even know where i’m going with this review at this point, except that i guess i’m just really disappointed that a book with such potential to be a comfort read ended up being so profoundly disappointing.