Light From Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki (Tor, 2021)

Review by Warner Holme: Ryka Aoki’s Light From Uncommon Stars is a fascinating example of comic science fantasy, and represents a wonderful bit of storytelling in any part of its genre. It is also a massively queer story, and a story, in its way, about baking and music. This is a delightful combination, and the resulting novel is fascinating.

One is a group of refugees, a family with scientists and fleeing something called Endplague and trying to make quality doughnuts. The other is a young trans woman suffering through a great ordeal and offered an opportunity by a legendary woman searching for a way out of a diabolical situation.

The aforementioned trans woman is Katrina Nguyen. When the story starts readers discover her in an extremely difficult situation, learning that she has an abusive father, is likely trans, and is terrified. Paragraphs later they learn she loves the violin. It is a good and very swift introduction to the character, allowing readers the basic in a condensed form. Victims of abuse may find it a little hard to read, and the overall relatively light tone of the book makes this opening scene especially disturbing. Nonetheless it is both necessary and well-written.

Trans issues are a delicate matter. A well-intentioned individual can easily make mistakes while writing such stories, and cause a great deal of unintended offense. This volume deals with problems ranging from outing, to healthcare, to problematic allies extremely well. The idea of a science-fiction transition is brought up at a certain point in the book, which feels fairly appropriate. Were such a matter not mentioned, the fact it would seem entirely possible with the technology would have driven the reader slightly mad. The way it is resolved is interesting as well, feeling appropriate and in character (particularly to those familiar with any artform which requires physicality) and stays appropriate in tone all the same. Such a matter is a very difficult balancing act for any offer, and proves Aoki’s skill.

There is also an entertaining lesbian relationship in the book, featuring two major characters. At least one of them is bisexual, although this fact is downplayed. Bigotry against such relationships comes into play, and serves as an instigating point to a character having a major crisis. The use of a musical analogy in an attempt to explain difficulties with acceptance is unexpected yet beautifully written.

Music and baking are both arts that seem to require an unusual amount of science. The discussion of these very arts within this volume managed to be interesting on a literal as well as a metaphorical level. The ways these words come will make any music fan hear melodies, and a fan of donuts more than a little hungry.

The jacket copy compares this volume to Good Omens and The Long Way To a Small, Angry Planet. While each of those comparisons is appropriate in its way, they also deny Ryka Aoki has such a singular voice as an author. Throughout this volume, the individuality of a violin and the violinist are discussed multiple times. Such is also the case with authors, and Aoki is a rare and unique voice.

Many readers will not be familiar with the work of Ryka Aoki when they first find this volume. This is an excellent way to start looking at her material. It is a wonderful and deeply felt book, the kind that will make a reader laugh and cry without a second thought. Heartily recommended.