In The Memory Librarian, Janelle Monae brings to the written page the Afrofuturistic world of her critically acclaimed albums exploring how different threads of liberation – queerness, race, gender, and sexuality – become tangled in the future possibilities of memory and time. This book is a collaboration with five other authors, each of whom penned one of the five novelettes with her. Despite having many authors, this is a collection that feels cohesive in its themes and world. Unfortunately, only one of the novelettes is excellent, whereas the other four introduce cool concepts and characters but ultimately fail to hit home on either.
The first is the titular story, “The Memory Librarian.” It is the one that kicks off the collection, as well as the longest, so it feels like it received the most attention from a world building, thematic and character standpoint. Seshet has worked her way to the top and now manage the memories of Little Delta’s citizens; keeping order by wiping deviants, storing their memories and erasing them when she needs to. What does it mean for her, to be lonely and wanting love, while also having the power to access the secrets of every person around her, to even be able to manipulate them—and her own? How does she feel when the system she is a part of turns against people like her? How will she reconcile herself to the huge discrepancies between who she is, who and what she wants and the regime she answers to? Because under the surface of all that control, there is ‘a blooming …part rebellion and riot, part expression repressed.’
‘‘Nevermind’’ is about a group of women and a nonbinary person living in a safehaven called Pynk. Each is dealing with their own trauma, feelings, beliefs, and prejudices. Scouts from New Dawn have tracked them down and the only way to survive is to stand their ground.
In Timebox, we meet a pair of young women who move into an apartment with a room that is set out of time—literally. The room allows you to spend a much time in it as you need, yet when you emerge, you will find the world to be exactly where you left it. The possibilities of having an endless pocket of time outside of reality speaks to the idea of time poverty. How much more could you achieve, if you weren’t always racing against the clock?
‘‘Save Changes’’ is about two sisters dealing with the aftermath of their dirty computer mother being cleaned (think reeducation but worse). Amber and Larry carry the burden of their parents’ rebellions. Their father is dead, their mother behaves like a glitchy computer, and they are outcasts from society. Amber has a piece of larimar stone, which she can use to rewind time in case of an emergency. However, the stone can only be used once.
Timebox Alter(ed) is a lovely, hopeful finale to the collection, a story in which a group of children discover just how much power lies in their artistic imaginations, when they are told ‘you can’t build a future if you don’t dream it.’ Bug is a 7-year old child living near Freewheel, a ghost town where New Dawn’s control is weak. While playing in the abandoned town, Bug and their friends make art from the trash, creating a sculpture that Bug calls an ark. They meet an old woman named Mx. Tangee. She calls their creation an altar. When each child sits in the ark’s altar, they are transported to a possible future, where they learn more about themselves before returning to the present. New Dawn drones arrive to arrest Mx. Tangee, but she disappears into the ark.
Erasure of history, identity and culture via patriarchy, colonialism and its off shoots has always been a part of known human history, and continues to be, the world around. Monae makes it clear that any one who has ever been othered—be it for their race, sexuality, gender—needs to remain deeply connected to their personal, racial, social histories in order to remain authentic and retain agency in every way possible. But this has always been the real trouble with science fiction; It stems from and exists in worlds that are white and western—how can young people of color imagine themselves in the future if there are no representations of them in fiction that describes the future? If art is to imitate life, why does mainstream art only depict a future life without people who are not white and/or heteronormative? Where does everyone else go?
The other challenge with science fiction has historically been mocked for investing more brainpower into explaining elaborate systems than fleshing out the people who live within them, but “The Memory Librarian” fumbles both pursuits. There’s so little explanation of the basic mechanisms of New Dawn’s rule that the downtrodden main characters are deprived of agency and nuance. Their domestic and internal struggles, though rendered with meticulous attention to queer experiences and concerns, have no meaningful connection to their material circumstances.