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A review by chiel
Polostan by Neal Stephenson
adventurous
informative
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
Polostan is a fascinating yet frustrating novel. As someone who loves Stephenson’s dense, slow-burn style (Anathem is one of my all-time favorites), I found myself both impressed by and let down by this book.
The first 250 pages feel like an extended prologue, building the backstory of Dawn/Aurora as she moves through San Francisco, Magnitogorsk, and Washington D.C. The atmosphere is immersive, and the historical setting is rich with detail. The bleakness of Soviet Russia is well-rendered, and the political paranoia feels tangible and grounded. But the pacing drags, and the narrative momentum never quite reaches the payoff you'd expect from such a lengthy setup.
Stephenson is once again liberal with real-world history, inserting historical figures like Major Patton and Richard Feynman into the narrative, a technique reminiscent of Cryptonomicon. Sometimes it’s an intriguing alt-history device; sometimes it may stretch believability. The scene where Patton invites a teenaged girl he just met to discuss military secrets was particularly hard to swallow, breaking immersion rather than deepening it.
Dawn herself is initially a passive character, someone things happen to, rather than someone who acts. By the time her agency emerges, the novel abruptly ends, making the whole thing feel like Volume 1 of a much larger story. Whether due to editorial decisions or intent to serialize, the book feels unfinished. If this is the first of a trilogy, it’s intriguing. If it’s a standalone, it’s deeply unsatisfying.
Still, the book is not without its pleasures: the Cold War-era worldbuilding, the shadowy OGPU, the camps around D.C., the interplay of identity, ideology, and betrayal. But it reads more like a sketch for a larger canvas Stephenson hasn’t yet painted.
The first 250 pages feel like an extended prologue, building the backstory of Dawn/Aurora as she moves through San Francisco, Magnitogorsk, and Washington D.C. The atmosphere is immersive, and the historical setting is rich with detail. The bleakness of Soviet Russia is well-rendered, and the political paranoia feels tangible and grounded. But the pacing drags, and the narrative momentum never quite reaches the payoff you'd expect from such a lengthy setup.
Stephenson is once again liberal with real-world history, inserting historical figures like Major Patton and Richard Feynman into the narrative, a technique reminiscent of Cryptonomicon. Sometimes it’s an intriguing alt-history device; sometimes it may stretch believability. The scene where Patton invites a teenaged girl he just met to discuss military secrets was particularly hard to swallow, breaking immersion rather than deepening it.
Dawn herself is initially a passive character, someone things happen to, rather than someone who acts. By the time her agency emerges, the novel abruptly ends, making the whole thing feel like Volume 1 of a much larger story. Whether due to editorial decisions or intent to serialize, the book feels unfinished. If this is the first of a trilogy, it’s intriguing. If it’s a standalone, it’s deeply unsatisfying.
Still, the book is not without its pleasures: the Cold War-era worldbuilding, the shadowy OGPU, the camps around D.C., the interplay of identity, ideology, and betrayal. But it reads more like a sketch for a larger canvas Stephenson hasn’t yet painted.