This novella’s epigraph says it all: “There are other ways to live.” The Imposition of Unnecessary Obstacles is a poignant treatise on ethics, community, discrimination and class conflict, the myths we tell ourselves about our past and self-sufficiency, and the importance of being respectful toward other points of view. While its worldbuilding captivated me the most, this science fiction novella that is a detective story also has a key underlining sapphic romance, and Older kept me reading page after page with a pleased smile on my face. In other words, The Imposition of Unnecessary Obstacles is almost as much of a delight as The Mimicking of Known Successes, the prior volume in the Mossa and Pleiti series. I am absolutely delighted that there will be more books in this series, not least because its overarching plot threads just keep thickening.
This second adventure sees Mossa and Pleiti a few months after the events of the first book, still dealing with the aftermath, both of the climactic plot events, in which we learned that Earth will be repopulated with organisms once more, yet in an uncontrolled way, and of the now well-established romantic relationship between the two protagonists. Things feel new and fragile and off-balance, which is reflected by Pleiti’s state of mind throughout the novella: as the audience’s main narrator, her distraction from her life’s work, and her remaining doubts about her romantic relationship with Mossa, are fully visible.
In this way, the emotional core of the novella is brilliantly conveyed to the reader: this is a story of change, of embracing new perspectives, as well as of aftermaths. While Pleiti’s uncertainty and lack of interest in her actual work was one of my least favourite parts of Obstacles, it is also one of its structural strengths. Rather than immediately seeing change in both Pleiti herself and in the Classics department at Valdegeld University as a whole—the approach to the Classical way of studying pre-collapse Earth, their views on reintroducing life to the desolate planet—there is rather more waiting and speculating as these changes take place. There is an inherent tension between the characters now living in a new world and society, far removed from the Earth of the past, and the university-wide (perhaps even planet-wide) quest and expectation of returning to Earth once more. This interplay between adherence to Classical ways and Classical culture amid the natural transformation of things—such as divided sleep schedules or new sports such as cling-rail—makes for a vivid and believable world, while also adding to the contradictions that underpin the author’s message: “I liked to believe there was a tendency towards flexibility as well, a willingness to shuffle circadian strictures in the new environment of Giant.”
From the perspective of character growth, this nuance also allows the novella to become a story of discovery, especially for Pleiti. She confronts her own biases, steps outside her comfort zone under her own terms, and is exposed to even more different ways of living and thinking. Through Mossa’s different childhood upbringing—and therefore perspective on certain historical and contemporary aspects of Giant, the planet Jupiter on which the remnants of humanity have been living for several centuries—nuance is allowed to exist. Pleiti does not end up changing all of her beliefs, and Older masterfully allows her to keep her differing opinions while also providing the reader with various perspectives, none of which are either fully condemned or endorsed. The character arc and growth of both Mossa and Pleiti, as individual persons and as a romantic couple, are therefore believable and satisfying, while also leaving more room to grow.
While not all of the implications and repercussions of The Mimicking of Known Successes are immediately resolved or addressed, Older delightfully furthers her audience’s understanding of Giant and its history, while also picking up on a few intriguing plot threads and expanding on them—just as I’d hoped. For example, a throwaway line in the first novella referring to Mossa’s background is a central plot and thematic element in this book. Likewise, the fact that Mossa, and one of the missing persons the pair are trying to find, happen to be Ionians—growing up on Giant’s moon Io—is thoroughly explored and interwoven into the story’s fabric.
The prose is itself is often poetic and very descriptive, bringing the surroundings (and the history that led to them) to life. I found the prologue especially quite evocative, setting the stage for the book’s plot and themes:
People went missing on Giant. People stumbled or jumped or were pushed through atmoshields and fell off platforms. They took dares to walk a portion of ring between platforms and lost their balance even if they remembered not to asphyxiate. The entire planet yawned there, an endless gaseous void into which bodies disappeared irrevocably.
Moreover, through Pleiti as a narrator, the wording and sentence flow has its own charming character:
I wavered, unsure whether there was more, still longing for bed or at least further exploration of that interesting confession, but aware we were now on a ring very far-flung from the track of desire.
There is also a very dry wit which I absolutely loved, from what can only be a deliberate reference (“As usual, the tactile tasks calmed me. I found myself humming under my breath—the second aria of Murderbot”,) to dialogue that is very on point (“Well then! Let us take as an initial premise—which we may later disprove or change—that the murder had something to do with the libertopian settlement LARP we just left.”).
Most importantly, the worldbuilding in The Imposition of Unnecessary Obstacles follows its predecessor in providing an exquisite sense of place, as all of the best science-fiction (and space operas in particular) achieve. The first Mossa and Pleiti book inspired me so much through its clever and unique worldbuilding that I kept that aspect in my heart while working on my own creative writing. This feat is one the author beautifully replicates and further develops in this second entry. From the new-to-us words that are never fully explained, yet demonstrate the linguistic drift that centuries on a demonstrably different environment leads to—“Ma’alesh,” “chisme”—to how the author imagines and constructs a society living on a gas planet, every element is intriguing and believable. Simply the way the characters think, and the words they use to describe their feelings, is steeped in this new context: “I emerged from the bath feeling far more balanced on my axis.” This embeddedness is an absolute treat to read, and leaves me in awe.
The construction of this story itself is similarly well thought-out. The novella format is perfect for this type of story, ensuring a narrative that feels fulfilling yet not overly cumbersome. As with the first book, there is a memorable title drop which also acts as a once-sentence summary of the novella’s main conflict:
I looked again at the bare platform, empty of amenities, sparse of society, precarious in every way, and wondered again at our human tendency to romanticize the imposition of unnecessary obstacles into our lives.
It is impossible to read a book so constructed and not be reminded, even briefly, of the current socio-political situation in both the United States and throughout the world—not least because Older deliberately references our modern-day society in comparison to the one on Giant. From characters’ comments about how, back on Earth, they would need to pay for basic and necessary things such as transit, to the unchecked capitalistic greed that led to the ecological collapse of Earth centuries ago—and therefore the migration to space and ultimately Giant—and of course to the critical interrogation of essentially Libertarian principles that form the basis of the plot, this novella is speaking to modern readers directly. One of the parts of the first book I found most hilarious, in fact, was the reveal that the particular c-word that acts as a slur, or at least an insult by which the characters feel genuinely hurt, stands for “Conservative.” That’s one of the worst things you can be in this society on Giant.
Therefore, the novella emerges as a treatise on what the values we hold can tell us and others, both about ourselves and the shape of the world we live in. There is a frank exploration of discrimination through the class divide, and the various impacts it has on everyone, as well as the reasons why these divisions are imposed—and perhaps how to bridge them. It becomes a story of trusting your partner, and of choosing the uncertainty of love.
In so doing, it provides plenty of heart-stopping adventures and moments, clever investigative work, and a heartfelt romance. I found it a delightful novella, with a wonderful mix of elements that align beautifully. Ultimately, it is a story that reminds us that sometimes humanity doesn’t need to make things difficult for ourselves on purpose, but rather that we might instead choose do our best—and adapt to new circumstances.