Who Goes There?

Aliette de Bodard was born in the US, but raised in France to Vietnamese parents, such that French is her first language but she writes her fiction in English. This cultural mix perhaps inspired one of the most unique alternate/future histories to come about in the past couple decades. Her defining series, of which today’s story is a part, shows us an altered human history in which the Chinese discovered America before a certain Italian son of a bitch could get there, with the Americas changing in major ways politically and sociologically. “The Jaguar House, in Shadow” was de Bodard’s first story to garner a Hugo nomination, and indeed shows a leap forward in ambition, especially in terms of its structure. The story’s back-and-forth narrative ends up being a double-edged sword, but it remains an effective tale of friendship, betrayal, and revenge.

Placing Coordinates

First published in the July 2010 issue of Asimov’s Science Fiction, which is on the Archive. It has since been reprinted in English twice, in Nebula Awards Showcase 2012 (ed. James Patrick Kelly and John Kessel), and the de Bodard collection Of Wars, and Memories, and Starlight.

Enhancing Image

We start with a scene all in italics, and we’re not told who the viewpoint character is other than that it’s “she.” (Mind you all three of the main characters are women.) The beginning reminded me of the opium-induced haze at the start of Once Upon a Time in America, although in this case it’s magic mushrooms rather than opium, “teonanácatl.” We then flash back… then flash back again… then flash forward… then flash back… then forward again. That’s how it generally goes. We’re quickly faced with this story unique quality, for both good and ill, which is the jumping back and forth along a timeline, tracing the friendship between three friends and members of the Jaguar House: Onalli, Xochitl, and Tecipiani. Some stories in the Xuya universe are space opera, but this one is not: we’re firmly set on Earth, more specifically in Mexico—a Mexico that is quite different from what we now recognize. The actual year in which the story takes place is vague, and at first you might even think it’s some fantasy realm, with the mentioning of Houses, warriors, and some real cloak-and-dagger espionage; but also there are computers, and even nanomachines. Evidently true artificial intelligence has not come about yet, although Xochitl does speculate on it at one point, in perhaps the single most memorable passage in the story and one which seems deliberately to foreshadow the spacefaring antics of stories happening later in the timeline:

Xochitl wonders what kind of intelligence computers will develop, when they finally breach the gap between automated tasks and genuine sentience—all that research done in military units north of the border, eyeing the enemy to the south.

They’ll be like us, she thinks. They’ll reach for their equivalent of clubs or knives, claiming it’s just to protect themselves; and it won’t be long until they sink it into somebody’s chest.

Just like us.

The Jaguar House is one of what used to be several Houses in the region, each of which had fallen for one reason or another. This is a land of “true Mexica” meeting with would-be colonizers—not Europeans but south-east Asians, “though Onalli, who’s half and half, could almost pass for Asian herself.” The perspective shifts back and forth between Onalli and Xochitl, and at the same time we’re jumping between flashbacks, which makes it a challenge to discuss the story’s plot. I have to admit I also occasionally got Onalli and Xochitl confused, which is not helped by the two women not having easily distinguishable personalities. Going into “The Jaguar House, in Shadow,” I was expecting a novelette since that’s what this issue of Asimov’s classifies it as (by the way, the page number in the table of contents is wrong), but if it’s a novelette then it barely counts. Granted, these are a dense dozen or so magazine pages, but if anything I would’ve preferred if de Bodard had made it into a heartier novelette. Not every scene gets proper breathing space and the main characters are not given equal attention, although in the case of Tecipiani the ambiguity of her thoughts and feelings seems to have been intentional. “Tecipiani does what she believes in; but you’re never sure what she’s truly thinking,” Xochitl thinks.

The three start as knights of the House, but Tecipiani gets promoted to commander, to where she is giving her friends orders. Worse yet, there’s been tension brewing within the House—talks of rebellion against the Revered Speaker, who’s said to have become corrupt. Xochitl is involved in this would-be rebellion, with tragic results. Onalli is torn, ultimately, between two friends, one of whom is likely to be killed, the other quickly becoming little more than a stranger to her. It’s a good conflict, and could’ve feasibly worked in a medieval fantasy setting; but de Bodard is equally interested in the world these characters inhabit, which is decidedly science fiction. This is very much a “What if?” scenario. “What if the Puritans never landed in what is now New England? What if the colonial Chinese set up camp in the Americas ahead of even the Spanish? How much would technological development change? Who would be in charge?” It’s not wish-fulfillment. The Americas are not necessarily better off in Chinese hands, nor worse; but the differences would be profound. Maybe humanity really will start conquering the stars, but then maybe the problems of feudalism and oligarchy would remain. At one point, in a rather throwaway passage, there’s mention of “revivalists” among the pure Mexica who believe in human sacrifice, something which would be unthinkable in our timeline. It’s this sort of detail that keeps bringing me back to de Bodard’s Xuya stories.

There Be Spoilers Here

We’ve deduced by now that Tecipiani is the one in the beginning and ending scenes with the magic mushrooms—the one who turned her back on her friends in the name of realpolitik. We don’t know what happened with Onalli, after she had fled with a dying Xochitl in her arms. The story ends on a sign of uncertainty in everything, except for guilt. Tecipiani is unsure if the betrayal was worth it. The question lingering at the end is one of emotional loyalty, but also one of political loyalty: the state versus the individual. Which is more valuable, stability or freedom? Tecipiani’s mindset is that by keeping the Jaguar House afloat she can avert the bad ends that befell the other Houses, but in-story we’re not given much evidence to believe society would suddenly turn dystopic if the Jaguar House were to fall—i.e., if a vestige of “law and order” were to give way to anarchy. I could be biased, but if anything I saw the implication that the Jaguar House deserves to fall—that it has somehow become rotten from the inside, ready to sink into a swamp, like the House of Usher. The beginning is finally given context and at the same time the anachronic points of the story finally meet, like two ends of a circle. It’s at times confusing, but I have to say the climactic confrontation and the very end are well done.

A Step Farther Out

De Bodard would’ve been 25 or 26 when she wrote this one, still very early in her career, and while it shows the roughness of a young writer finding her voice it’s also an intriguing and emotionally effective thriller that would’ve introduced readers to a world decidedly different from ours, but not necessarily utopian or dystopian—just different. Even at this early point de Bodard’s control of mood and worldbuilding has to be admired. Her blending of SF and fantasy elements reminds me of Jack Vance on a good day. And speaking of Vance… he’s due next.

See you next time.