This series has five novels that tell three interconnected stories: the first book, the middle three (published as three books, but they're really just one), and the last one. This Space Opera series tells an adventure tale of inter-station traders travelling faster-than-light to try and make a buck or two, becoming increasingly engaged in politics, and eventually coming to grips with their political reality as well as their personal reality. The stories focus on the characters and use action to change them or confirm their natures. Unlike other Cherryh novels, the focus of these is almost exclusively on single characters per book, though Chur, Hallan, and Tiar also get some alone-time on-screen, mostly due to their unique abilities. The story starts with, and focuses on, characters from a feline race of intelligent creatures: Pyanfar for the first four books, and Hilfy for the last. And Cherryh doesn't leave it there: the secondary Hani characters who play the antagonist role in the first novel come back in the second story arc and become, if not heroes, then at least sympathetic. Three things about Cherryh’s writing that really come to the fore in these five novels.
First, the laws of physics and tendencies of economics help build the world and tell the story. Whoever wrote the Wikipedia article calls these novels, "Unusually realistic examples of space opera", and that's a great way to put it. Technology and the laws of physics deeply influence the possibilities of the economic and political realities within this universe. For instance, time dilation exists in this universe—unlike other Space Opera tales that ignore hundred year old physics. The speed of light has importance here: as a Chanur ship approaches a station, the light from their dropping out of FTL hasn't reached the station yet, and they have an opportunity to monitor the traffic and communications within system, light hours old information, before anybody else knows they've arrived. This fills in the context of this new situation they have dropped into. Then, the delay between sending and receiving a message—due to the speed of light—plays an important role both in perception of situations, and in decision making. Also, the political organization that guides these alien species trading together is just that, a loose political affiliation that tries to regulate trade for everybody, rather than a political force. (Or, at least it starts out that way...) Cherryh rationalizes the economic and political intrigue in ways that, if you like Cherryh’s other writing, you will love here. It absolutely feels "unusally realistic".
Second, the sparseness of her voice. I don’t know how to explain this adequately. So, her narrative follows her characters who don’t describe things they already know, don’t explain as much as dwell on and recontextualize pieces to puzzles they’re given. Let me try an analogy: sometimes, when I read a Greek Myth, I think, “Huh. I don’t think I get that one? Why? And why was that seen as entertaining?” Then later something happens in my life that recontextualizes it, and I go back and re-read it, and it’s newly emotionally effective, or logically understandable as a story. Cherryh has a tendency towards that type of writing. And these books more than a lot of her other books. That’s not a bad thing. I like books that require some effort from the reader, some contemplation from them.
Third, and I know I’ve said it before: she writes aliens well. Really well. Throughout the series, alien species tend towards more and more screentime, and understanding of them grows—but never in leaps and bounds, never in a way that contradicts earlier knowledge, or doesn’t coalesce into a whole. The Compact (Yes, this absolutely is Space Opera, the central organization of trade is called The Compact) is made up of a methane side and a oxygen side—each space station split down the middle. And from the start, when Pyanfar knows nothing, the T’ca and Knnn are entirely obtuse. They’re scary. But, by the end of the fourth novel, by the end of the second of three stories, some understanding is present. They’ve been seen on screen enough times now that Pyanfar becomes more comfortable around them, and hence the reader is allowed the same cautious thawing.
How does she write her aliens well? This question drove me to look up her writer’s advice and compare it to her work here. In her, “Creating a World and Culture”, she states, “First, your environment. That becomes a biological given. It produces the beings you're writing about. Culture is how biology responds and makes its living conditions better.” She then goes on to talk about how the alien species do things that humans either focus on or spend time doing—finding differences between us and them, and using those as jumping-off points to further creation: eating, dying, questioning, modifying spaces for shelter, communicating with others, and believing about the afterlife. Out of these basic questions, and a knowledge of biology, her aliens come.
So, this seems to be a case of designing in a notebook, and then cherry picking the important or interesting data for the novel itself—rather than a massive intro-info-dump, or an info-dump halfway through. By the end of the fifth novel, fundamental things about Stsho gender phasing biology remain unknown; the Kif tendency to push and prod and judge solely on their own morals with little cultural relativity has hinted at, but not explained, a homeworld culture never seen in the books; Hallan Meras’ encounter with the loading cart reveals more about the T’ca and dockside regulations, but nowhere near enough for Pyanfar's cautious thawing to take place for him or Hilfy.
In short, she keeps the aliens alien by:
• Not explaining them, except in what the characters know and rely on in dealing with them;
• Letting her characters curiously question the alien natures and discover pieces that only lead to more questions;
• Discovering and expanding on the ways they fundamentally differ from humanity in the way a bear or mosquito does, including communication, eating, death, etc. She takes all these one-step further, at least. Ok, so the Kif are exclusively carnivores, so they're competitive like earthly carnivores. But where Cherryh distinguishes herself is taking that further: therefore, when the meet an unexpectedly strong outsider, they're going to respect and follow and learn from and feel threatened by and threaten;
• She designs them first, and then never reveals the whole design.
In looking at it this way, this technique apes the old adage, “don’t show the monster,” which I agree with if the story wants the monster to stay monstrous. But she applies this adage to things that are not monsters, aliens, and they read as alien. Again, in Greek Myth, some of the magic of Myth is that the gods, titans, and other immortals operate on a different biological, moral, and spiritual level, and that constant mystery and surprise helps Myth beguile. For instance, Cherryh never explains humans. Tully is a known quantity by the end of book four, but his people remain mysterious to Pyanfar and Hilfy throughout. Cherryh rides this almost fourth-wall breaking line, by relying on the human reader to input their knowledge of humans to contextualize the novel's humans' actions, knowledge her main characters clearly lack. Brilliant.
My one single critique arrises from the way the first and second books relate. At the end of book one, many things seem solved in an optimistic way. Humans have discovered The Compact and Pyanfar has an exclusive contract to trade with them, saving her clan and culture, and the whole Compact, really. But the second book ignores this optimism and opens on a pessimistic note with Pyanfar held hostage and released by possibly different unknown parties, with her trading license revoked and her stranded. Reading these back-to-back like I did, this jarring shift took a few pages for me to understand, and at the end of the series it still feels like a bit of a cheap writer’s trick, like Cherryh wrote herself into an overly solved position, and had to hit a reset button to get the story back off the ground. That’s not to say that the middle three novels, composing a story by themselves, didn’t absolutely engage and engross me, just that a part of the story makes little sense by the end of the novel, Cherryh doesn’t explore that aspect enough for me to feel emotionally invested in Pyanfar’s misfortune, though I am still curious about it. It's almost as if the first book didn't need to be in the series, or was a rough draft.
In short, these novels show a lot of the strengths of Cherryh’s writing, and some of the weaknesses. Though it’s a Space Opera Adventure that I adore, I wouldn’t recommend it to everybody. I can think of two or three people that I can’t wait to tell about these books, but in requiring so much from the reader, and in skipping a major plot point that, between books, shifts the whole tone from victorious to defeated, recommendations have to come with a caveat. However, wholeheartedly, I can recommend her techniques of creating alien species and populating a universe. I am floored by how well she writes aliens. Where some of her books take a few pages, or a third of the book, to start getting to a point where I can’t put it down, here each book’s pacing brilliantly starts off with a bang and continues from problem to solution to new problem consistently and I turned the pages happily, devouring these stories. Finally, the realistic feeling of the aliens is matched by the realism and rationality she puts into designing the universe and reacting to physical laws and economic tendencies that help inform the story and keep it based in our reality. Brilliant stuff.
[EDIT 2/1/2020:] The novel series does some gender role reversal. Hani women are allowed off the planet's surface, while each tribal pride's male is not. Excess men retire to reservations and must fight to the death, and win over and over again to even find a chance of getting off the reservation alive. Men who portray any divergent masculinity die immediately at the hands of traditionalists, or must be strenuously protected by their family. I find this gender reversal engaging and wonderful: instead of simply reversing the roles, Cherryh reasons out what a matriarchy might look like, and uses stereotypically masculine traits to identify reasons why men constitute the hani second sex. For instance, she calls men flighty and over-emotional—phrases that some men continue to call women today. Yet, instead of just "switching the pronouns" like some unimaginative authors have done in their gender reversal tales, Cherryh reasons out what stereotypical traits of males would be construed by those two words, and the hani males are viewed as unreliable or lazy, and quick to anger or sulk, especially when denied food. Cherryh uses the same words that men have used against women for centuries, yet changes what they mean to reflect toxicly masculine tendencies. This fantastic work leads to a gender reversal tactic that I adore. I've only ever respected one other gender reversal book this much, Y: The Last Man by BK Vaughan.
