Embassytown by China Miéville

Published by Del Rey on May 17, 2011

China Miéville is a master of the strange tale. Fortunately, the madness that drives his stories is shaped by purpose. I could be completely wrong (and not for the first time), but I think Miéville's last novel, The City & The City, illustrates the point Ralph Ellison made more directly in Invisible Man: that we pretend not to see those we identify as "the other," those we deem unworthy of our attention because they are different. I read Embassytown as another parable: a demonstration of the power of language, both as an instrument of control and as an instrument of change.

Human communication with the Areikei is difficult because the Areikei form words by making two different sounds simultaneously with their two mouths. Since humans have only one mouth, Ambassadors to the Areikei are cloned twins who are trained to speak the Areikei language together. Language is power, but one pair of Ambassadors, Ez and Ra (collectively EzRa), find that the power they wield is a destructive force that threatens Areikei society. From that creative view of language Miéville's story flows.

We learn in school that language is symbolic, that a word is a symbol that stands for a thought. To Miéville's Areikei, however, language is inseparable from thought: a word is only a sound that has no meaning unless it is spoken with the intent to communicate. The Areikei have no written language. They do not understand words synthesized by computers because absent a mind to create the words as they are spoken, the sounds lack content. Because the Areikei do not use words as symbols they cannot easily lie, although they delight in the human ability to claim that something is red when everyone can see that it is blue. They also feel enriched when humans become identified with similes (when the Areikei do what they are told to do, they are "like the girl who ate what she was given"). For humans, it is a small step from simile to metaphor, from "I am like a rock" to "I am a rock." For the Areikei, it is a nearly impossible leap. It is unnatural for the Areikei to understand that something can be true yet untrue -- literally false yet metaphorically true. As a writer of fiction, Miéville tells lies for a living, yet the untrue stories he tells reveal truths. Through the Areikei, Miéville explores the relationship between language and truth, between language and understanding -- and perhaps more importantly, between language and free thought.

Of course, it isn't necessary to read the novel as a parable; it works on a simpler level, as the story of a human who struggles against danger on an alien planet. Miéville is a capable craftsman who uses language effectively to entertain. His aliens are unique, although his human characters are a bit thin. While conflict pervades the story, the novel isn't filled with conventional "human versus alien" battle scenes; much of the action takes place offstage. If daring feats executed by exciting characters are what you crave, you won't find it here. None of that disturbed me given the nature of the story.

Miéville's novel encourages us to gain a deeper understanding of ourselves, of our personal and cultural relationship with language. The desire not just to entertain but to make the reader think is Miéville's signature. It is for that reason that Miéville's novels are (with apologies to Spock) fascinating. If you read Embassytown not just for the story it tells but for the ideas with which it plays, your time will be well spent.

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