Testament of Leaves by Carolyn Ives GilmanMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
In contrast to some books I've read that I wished could be chopped right in half, this slender novella (97 pages) could have easily gone half again its length, with its dense worldbuilding and characterization. It's certainly a testament to the author's mastery of her craft that she managed to pack so much into a shorter story without making it feel too top-heavy or hard to follow. The ending, while finishing up this particular situation, also leaves open the possibility of further stories with these characters, and I for one would certainly read more.
This is a murder mystery set on a human-colonized planet with a very intriguing backstory. This is revealed bit by bit as the story progresses, just enough to whet the reader's appetite without becoming overwhelming, while leaving the impression that there's much more to be discovered should the author wish. It's also, as we discover, a tale of colonialism and exploitation, and the terrible cringing condescension of those who think that just because they have technology they are superior to the people who have learned to live on an alien planet.
Said alien planet and its ecosystems are also revealed to be possibly genetically engineered, by the ancestors of those who now inhabit it:
"They knew how to make and change living things. They created the creatures of the thicket for their gardens. When the cities were destroyed the garden creatures escaped and multiplied. Eventually they crowded out all the trees, except the ones in the Refuge. Those were the trees the ancients created to be their memory, in case everything else was destroyed." She looked around at the massive archive of leaves. "The trees remember, even though we have forgotten. Every year they write on their leaves in the language and ancients taught them. All of history, all the knowledge of the world is here. We can't read it, but we keep it anyway. Some day we may learn to remember."
I don't know about you, but this idea of a forgotten, fallen, enlightened past, with ancestors who accomplished great and near-godlike things, and their descendants living in the remains and trying to understand them, is catnip for a lot of readers, including me. Andre Norton did that sort of thing with her Forerunners. Gilman's version is different, but just as fascinating. This is also a story of language and assumptions, and misunderstandings, and how a simple inability to talk and be understood can spin into a profound tragedy.
This story doesn't have galaxy-spanning stakes; it's quieter but just as significant, to the characters and world. This is, I think, a story to be read slowly and savored. It takes a little while to sink in, but give yourself time to digest it. It's worth it.
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