Often I feel weird reviewing a novella. Sometimes they feel too short to warrant a full review, but other times I find myself wanting to dissect them even more than the standard length novel. This makes their brevity a vulnerability when it comes to trying to avoid spoilers. But luckily, these kinds of novellas are more about the ideas they want to explore than the plot within them. In the case of The Practice, The Horizon, and The Chain by Sofia Samatar, the plot fuels the ideas with a vivid reminder that this tale is not just about the space colony within which it resides.
The boy was born among The Chained. His life is one of darkness and toil, but also learning thanks to the elderly man he lives next to along the physical chain wrapped around his ankle. In his off time, he draws art along the walls of the hold using the chain itself. This act causes him to be recognized by the professor, a daughter of a man who escaped his Chained status. As a part of her studies, she brings the boy up from the hold to prove to the leaders within her community that some of The Chained have the capacity to be a part of their society, despite their birth. But as the boy struggles to adapt, her position begins to be threatened. Will the boy and the professor be able to learn from each other in a way that solidifies their bond, or will it cause a rift within the world they live in?
First things first, Samatar’s reputation for beautiful writing shines through in The Practice, The Horizon, And The Chain. I haven’t read her previous work, but this glimpse of it propels me to seek out more. Every sentence feels purposefully written, imbuing the story with the stark imagery of a physical space, while leaving room for the imagination to fill in gaps. The reader is not overladen with description and instead focuses on the things they feel on both an emotional and physical level. Each description is a gateway for the reader to perceive the world, instead of a heaping spoonful of detail. While the book is filled with this, one early scene that stands out is one where the boy is drawing art along the hold’s wall using his metal chain. Samatar doesn’t describe what he draws, but how he draws, to the point where I can almost feel the chain itself. It builds a weird connection that simply describing his art would not have provided. It was beautiful, and really set the tone for what was to come.
The story itself is a harsh one, but not without its promise of hope. The colony is a bleak place, designed purely to survive. Its people are separated by stark class divisions that are reinforced through spatial design, work, and the physical ways in which people are connected. The laboring classes are kept within the dark of the Hold, connected by a long metal chain attached to their ankles. The next class up is a collection of academics, cops, managers, and community leaders. They are marked by a blue-lit anklet that marks them as superior to those in the Hold, but still, a reminder that they too are bound to their duties and at any moment they can be Chained. Much like those chained below, they too can feel the presence of others wearing the anklet around them. There are hints of those above them who do not have such a system, but it’s not really explored. Instead of feeling robbed though, it feels like a place that no one can truly reach. It’s not for them as the characters in the world, and it’s not for us as readers. We can’t imagine that world.
The Practice is a great commentary on how we view class, and the kinds of people who want to break down those barriers on an individual level. The professor constantly strives to be seen and accepted, and chooses the boy as a prospect to gain that recognition even further. It highlights her relationship with power while also reminding her that she really has no ability to affect the system in the way she has been taught. Every time the boy flounders, his birth in the hold is held up as to why he fails to conform to the society he is pulled into. His failure leads to the professor having to grovel for her own position because her father was someone who pulled himself out of the hold to give her the opportunity to exist in the society. Samatar deftly explores the vicious oscillations that occur as individuals try to transcend clearly delineated class lines and the fear that drives people to desperation to avoid slipping downwards.
But beyond that, Samatar also explores the things the boy learns as one of the Chained that can be used to transform the society he is pulled into. She subverts the classic pull yourself up by your bootstraps and changes the system from within by centering the story on the boy’s connection with the Chained. It isn’t only that he’s worried about them and wants to make the world a better place. It’s that he fundamentally doesn’t understand, and is unable to conform and change to the world he is pulled into. Yes, he learns from it, even adapts to the anklet in curious ways, but he can never inhabit it, from both his and their perspective. The poignancy of the tale reflects in Samatar’s ability to sell the reader on the boy’s worldview while showing how it starts to break down the professor’s understanding of her world, and how she operates within it.
The Practice, The Horizon, and The Chain is an incredible novella that wastes no words. Samatar’s writing is stark, cold, and beautiful, allowing the reader to empathize with her characters and see the world through their own eyes while giving them room to build their own connections to our own world. It’s short, dense, and designed like an ornate crowbar. It’s gorgeous, and elegant, but serves a specific purpose – to pry open the heavy things that hide the truths of our world.
Rating: The Practice, The Horizon, and The Chain – Read it – You Have Nothing To Lose But Your Chains.
-Alex
