SPOILERS
WOW.
This book is about time travel and changing the past. As such, like other books in its category, it deals with the butterfly effect, and it does it like this: when the past is changed, the people in present day have their memories of their old past essentially wiped, and new history is superimposed into the minds of those in the future, leaving behind a few scant flashes of their life before.
What I'm trying to say is that this book was written in a way that made me think Natasha Pulley had been through this experience herself: she'd come from a timeline where books existed, which was promptly wiped for one where they didn't, and using the scraps of information she had left she attempted to write a "book", without actually knowing what one was. There is no other explanation for why this book is so strangely, quasi-incompetently constructed. I would NOT recommend this book to anyone who was interested in reading a sci-fi, nor to anyone interested in reading alternate history, because it fails on both fronts.
Things I liked about this book:
The premise: of course.
PART II of the book: This was good? At this point the protagonist, Joe, had finally been spurred into action, the mechanics of the world were being introduced, the mystery was tantalising and hadn't yet grown stale. I nearly gave it an extra star because of that section, but decided against it because of the awful time I had with nearly everything else.
The prose: when Natasha Pulley isn't writing dialogue the prose is nice, and even atmospheric at times.
Things I DIDN'T like about this book:
THE CHARACTERS
Where to begin? I could say that this book, aiming to be a sci-fi alternative history, fails on those accounts, but at the end of the day the speculative genre is flexible. If I had to pinpoint my exact problem with The Kingdoms, it is that the characters are the most incomprehensible characters in pretty much any book I've ever read.
For an alternate history book set in the 1700s/1800s, they definitely don't act or speak like it. You'll find anachronisms peppered through their dialogue jarringly, in ways that reminded me uncomfortably of fanfiction dialogue tropes. Here are some of standard examples:
"Cake?"
"No, thank you," I said, doing some interior shrieking.
(Like the good 'ol 21st century form of expression, *screams internally*?)
"You're a nasty creep with a disgusting little crush that's grown on you like rot. Grow the fuck up."
(Was the man who said this born in the 1700s, or the 1800s, or 1999?)
But I'm not a stickler for historical accuracy in my speculative fiction, and normally I can suspend my disbelief enough to accept this kind of alteration as the artistic license of the author. Except the problem extends beyond characters acting "out of time", they just don't act like bloody real people at all. Here's one innocuous but particularly jarring example:
The table next to Joe's erupted laughing. Everyone threw things at a West Indian man, who flapped like a giant depressed fairy.
(The "throwing things" makes sense in context, and to some extent the flapping does, but "giant depressed fairy"????)
Also, characters die as easily as pins getting knocked down in an alley, and the other characters react with about the same amount of grief and surprise.
"Agatha, you have to do something about Kite. He can't just go around murdering children. I don't care what the reason is."
"I know, I know. I'll go and see him soon, but I'd like to see your heart rate come down first. Can you hear it?"
(The context here is the love interest, Kite, has bodily thrown a literal 14 year old boy off the boat for attempting to divulge a secret. The characters react to Kite killing him -- and also pretty much every other kill by Kite or otherwise -- the same way they might react to a puppy tearing up the furniture. This is NOT meant to be comedic, this book takes itself VERY, VERY seriously).
Finally, for a book that featured a good amount of women and POC, it felt strangely male and white. Perhaps some people feel differently, but racedropping some diverse backgrounds onto characters that experience a history world in a largely white way (or at least not divorced from the experience of white characters) is... not it. Not in the sense that it offends me, but in that it's jarring and reeks of poor research. When combined with the rest of the book's weird distaste for reality, it only exacerbates the overall flimsiness.
And though many women are doctors, lieutenants, etc, the women's narratives are all focalised around their role in shaping the lives of, bouncing off of, or illustrating just how progressive or wicked the men are. They carry no emotional weight in the narrative other than to be killed off for the male characters' (here I'd say grief, but as established above, they don't really grieve? So I'm going to leave it at that). Judging from a blog post I've seen, this is a common trend in Natasha Pulley's books, and though she seems to have made strides to flat out include more women in The Kingdoms, she's got a ways to go.
THE STRUCTURE
The book's structure is all over the place. We get multiple different POVs that happen one after the other with no clear change in narrative voice or indication of who is speaking. Often I would read a whole page, only to realise that it was coming from a different character's perspective, then have to go back and reread it from the beginning. Sometimes the POV would change halfway through a chapter.
These weird, unpadded jumps also occurred with scenes and events and times. One moment characters would be doing one thing, then the next moment it would jump days or months. This covered the book in this strange, dreamlike haze where you couldn't exactly be sure what was happening at what time, to who, and whether something was a flashback or the present moment. The dates at the front of each chapter helped with the timespan (but it still was tricky, there were THREE and two overlapped, one being the flashback pov and one being present pov, but in the past), but did not help with the characters.
By far the worst structural offender was how the book dealt with its central mystery. The main conceit of the book is that the protagonist Joe has lost his memory in a time slip, and for the whole book, spends time trying to find out how he ended up that way, and precisely who he is. It's pretty obvious what has happened to him the first time you see a flashback, which puts a damper on any mystery based reading-inertia quite quickly. But even if I hadn't figured it out, I'd have been furious at the way the author handled it.
Halfway through the book, the love interest Kite reveals to the protagonist that he has a letter written by a woman that the protagonist remembers from his past life, and was holding onto it for petty personal related reasons. He offers to give this letter to the protagonist so that he will forgive another man on their ship who tried to set him on fire in his sleep (again, implausible characters).
Already, this is an extremely artificial way of witholding information, but the worse part is that the protagonist reads one quarter of the letter, decides he is TOO OVERWHELMED to keep reading, and then puts it away and lets the plot happen for a few chapters. Then he feels good enough to try reading it again, takes it out and reads ANOTHER QUARTER before putting it away again. Rinse, repeat 4 times. As such, it takes us, the readers, an entire third or more of the book to actually learn all the information and context the letter provides us.
This is embarrassing and woefully cheap storytelling, and when the letter was finally read I felt tempted to drop the book on the spot.
THE ROMANCE
I have no idea why the protagonist Joe, and his love interest Kite "fell in love". From Kite's perspective I get it: we are bashed over the head with how charming and handsome Joe is meant to be (though it hardly shows up in his actual actions, and really only when the plot demands he be charming to get something the plot needs for him). From Joe's perspective though, it seemed... proximity based affection? Otherwise, their love story got lost in the fugue that shrouds the rest of the novel. At some point it becomes a thing between them to (barf) give tattoos as expressions of affection.
And Kite. Ugh. What can I say about love interest Missouri Kite? I get what Natasha Pulley was trying to do with him, fusing "cruel lieutenant man" with "smexy sad boi" in a way that ended up wholly unpalatable. Multiple times, he kills innocent bystanders, but rather than feeling like this was a core tenet of a troubled, unempathetic man, it felt like window dressing designed to show how much of a teehee, "psycho" (the book's words, not mine) he was -- the way a 13 year old on Wattpad writing Jeff the Killer fanfiction might find that sexy (there's a fantastic Jenny Nicholson video on the subject matter). And I don't mind "bad" love interests, but I need to be able to fundamentally understand how characters who are against killing mentally reconcile their morals with being in love with characters who do bad things. Safe to say, that gap was not bridged here. And sure, the protagonist ultimately loses his daughter, wives, sister-in-law and brother because of the time jumping, but it's a happy end because Joe and Kite can be together right? Not on my watch.
THE PREMISE
I said the premise of the book was good. Too bad after the first third the book abandons the premise and turns into what is ostensibly a roadtrip book. They spend their time pottering from place to place on a boat, taking part in shenanigans of all sorts in the past. The book does little to explore any of the sci-fi stuff that might come out of a premise like this. It also doesn't flesh out the worldbuilding needed to make it a satisfactory alternate history.
To give more context, as a result of a time slip, the world went from being conquered by the English in the 19th century, to the French. The only reason I realised we were meant to be rooting for the characters to go back in time and change the world so the English were in control again was because in the France-alternate timeline they kept slaves. Which seems less like a logical progression of France's attitude towards slaves, and more like a plot device so we, the stupid audience, knew who to root for. Frankly, this was a smart move, because without it, I didn't give a damn which European power was the colonists, so it was good of Natasha Pulley to spoonfeed me the idea that the protagonist and his love interests were the Good Guys :)
1 star.