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A review by cjm118
Babel by R.F. Kuang
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
informative
mysterious
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
5.0
Long review incoming- this was dark academia at its best, and I ended up falling in love with this book.
Babel is a thrilling, compelling, brilliant read by Kuang. She deftly navigates the double edged sword of academia, and I’m in awe of the portrait she’s painted of 19th century Oxford. There are so many things to love about this book: the unique magic system of silver working, the “found family” of the cohort of translation students, the Robin Hood-esque secret society, and the commentary on the dark undercurrent of colonialism. Babel is equal parts poignant and entertaining.
“An act of translation is always an act of betrayal.”
Robin, our protagonist, is a Chinese-born student that was transplanted by his guardian to London, and raised in a purely academic, emotionally-void setting in preparation for a place in Oxford’s Royal Institute of Translation.
Once there, his journey navigating Babel is a sobering examination of the paradox of studying abroad, and the propaganda of western teaching. Foreign language and English’s roots in foreign tongues are the whole foundation of Babel, yet the “privilege” of studying here chips away at human connection and heritage in favor of assimilation and work that is purely for the benefit of the “cultured” empire. It was heart wrenching watching Robin grapple with internalized racism and the exploitation of his knowledge.
The betrayal of translation is not just distortion of an original meaning, but the devastating irony that Robin tucks away his Chinese identity even though it is what earned him a spot at Babel. He inhabits a white, British identity, when all along it is his native tongue that he is heralded for, and his native tongue that can help dismantle an empire.
“…unjust were the foundations of its fortunes.”
This book tackles tough themes, but in an unbelievably engaging, cognizable manner. The dichotomy of London and the class divide was superbly illustrated. Attitudes towards Robin and his cohort because of their skin or gender or birth place, or the white students’ stance that Oxford merely filled a diversity quota, are sadly still relevant topics today.
Perhaps the biggest paradox is that it is outsiders who inscribe words on silver bars which keep London wealthy and operating, yet the scholars often required a white counterpart to vouch for their ability to perform maintenance on the very bars they created; it is the knowledge that the cohort’s work betrays their own homelands.
On another note, the relationship between Letty, Robin, Remy and Victoire was truly a rollercoaster. The characters were well fleshed out, and I enjoyed the progression of their development both as individuals and as a cohort. Though set in another century (and another country), I was easily transported to campus, experiencing Oxford vicariously through them.
“She learned revolution is, in fact, always unimaginable. It shatters the world you know. The future is unwritten, brimming with potential. The colonizers have no idea what is coming, and that makes them panic. It terrifies them.”
The resistance versus empire theme was gripping, and I so appreciated how Kuang had different characters approach reconciling their utopian bubble of Babel with the horrors both outside their tower and abroad. Arguably the biggest lesson here was that acknowledging inequality means examining our foundation of privilege. The writing manages to make the reader feel optimistic at some points, and utterly hopeless the very next.
“She knows her greatest obstacle will be cold indifference, born of a bone-deep investment in an economic system that privileges some and crushes others.”
At times, the issues that Robin and cohort face feel impossible. One of the saddest parts of the book is Robin’s realization that he cannot rely on the decency and goodness of people to see what is right, but rather he must convince them to care.
As a nerd, I was head-over-heels with the etymology woven throughout, especially the examples of false friends, and the explanation of how Chinese radicals can inform character meaning. I also really loved the addition of the footnotes. This was simultaneously the most academic, most poignant, and most interesting work I have ever read.
Thanks you endlessly to Harper Voyager for the ARC.
Babel is a thrilling, compelling, brilliant read by Kuang. She deftly navigates the double edged sword of academia, and I’m in awe of the portrait she’s painted of 19th century Oxford. There are so many things to love about this book: the unique magic system of silver working, the “found family” of the cohort of translation students, the Robin Hood-esque secret society, and the commentary on the dark undercurrent of colonialism. Babel is equal parts poignant and entertaining.
“An act of translation is always an act of betrayal.”
Robin, our protagonist, is a Chinese-born student that was transplanted by his guardian to London, and raised in a purely academic, emotionally-void setting in preparation for a place in Oxford’s Royal Institute of Translation.
Once there, his journey navigating Babel is a sobering examination of the paradox of studying abroad, and the propaganda of western teaching. Foreign language and English’s roots in foreign tongues are the whole foundation of Babel, yet the “privilege” of studying here chips away at human connection and heritage in favor of assimilation and work that is purely for the benefit of the “cultured” empire. It was heart wrenching watching Robin grapple with internalized racism and the exploitation of his knowledge.
The betrayal of translation is not just distortion of an original meaning, but the devastating irony that Robin tucks away his Chinese identity even though it is what earned him a spot at Babel. He inhabits a white, British identity, when all along it is his native tongue that he is heralded for, and his native tongue that can help dismantle an empire.
“…unjust were the foundations of its fortunes.”
This book tackles tough themes, but in an unbelievably engaging, cognizable manner. The dichotomy of London and the class divide was superbly illustrated. Attitudes towards Robin and his cohort because of their skin or gender or birth place, or the white students’ stance that Oxford merely filled a diversity quota, are sadly still relevant topics today.
Perhaps the biggest paradox is that it is outsiders who inscribe words on silver bars which keep London wealthy and operating, yet the scholars often required a white counterpart to vouch for their ability to perform maintenance on the very bars they created; it is the knowledge that the cohort’s work betrays their own homelands.
On another note, the relationship between Letty, Robin, Remy and Victoire was truly a rollercoaster. The characters were well fleshed out, and I enjoyed the progression of their development both as individuals and as a cohort. Though set in another century (and another country), I was easily transported to campus, experiencing Oxford vicariously through them.
“She learned revolution is, in fact, always unimaginable. It shatters the world you know. The future is unwritten, brimming with potential. The colonizers have no idea what is coming, and that makes them panic. It terrifies them.”
The resistance versus empire theme was gripping, and I so appreciated how Kuang had different characters approach reconciling their utopian bubble of Babel with the horrors both outside their tower and abroad. Arguably the biggest lesson here was that acknowledging inequality means examining our foundation of privilege. The writing manages to make the reader feel optimistic at some points, and utterly hopeless the very next.
“She knows her greatest obstacle will be cold indifference, born of a bone-deep investment in an economic system that privileges some and crushes others.”
At times, the issues that Robin and cohort face feel impossible. One of the saddest parts of the book is Robin’s realization that he cannot rely on the decency and goodness of people to see what is right, but rather he must convince them to care.
As a nerd, I was head-over-heels with the etymology woven throughout, especially the examples of false friends, and the explanation of how Chinese radicals can inform character meaning. I also really loved the addition of the footnotes. This was simultaneously the most academic, most poignant, and most interesting work I have ever read.
Thanks you endlessly to Harper Voyager for the ARC.