After the rightfully celebrated Ancillary Justice, I was both thrilled and cautious to see what else the trilogy had to offer; the first book had left a lot of threads hanging, a lot of topics still worth exploring – but could its sequel live up to its quality? Well, I read the second book and I was not disappointed; Ancillary Sword is surely different in scope, mood, impact, but equally interesting and an absolutely noteworthy development.

Synopsis: After the events described in Ancillary Justice, Breq is now (begrudgingly) working for the Empress – or at least for the one version of the Empress that comes across as a lesser evil ; now a Radchaai citizen with full human status, she’s appointed to command a ship like the one she used to be, albeit crewed by humans. The mission to which she’s now assigned has a special significance for her: sent to Athoek Station, she has now a chance to protect the family of Lieutenent Awn, an officer that was especially dear to her, but whom she had to kill as a part of her duties. Once on Athoek Station, Breq has to deal with a number of local threats and conflicts, and most importantly she has a chance to witness from a new perspective to the practical effects of the Radchaai domain on common people.

Analysis: Not unlike Ancillary Justice, Ancillary Sword is told in first person by Breq, thus adopting her own voice and mannerism – the most famous one being her habit of calling eveveryone “she”. The style may not come across as innovative and surprising as it did in the first novel, where its cultural significance was explicitely discussed and played a key role in fleshing out both the setting and Breq as a character; however it is still very effective in conveying the worldview of an individual much different from us, struggling to translate the concepts of her own culture in multiple other languages.

The wordlbuilding heavily relies on what we already know. Where the first book uncerimoniously shoved the reader in the midst of a very complex and unfamiliar reality – a feat that was both majestic and potentially quite confusing – here the general map of the universe is already established; which allows the author to explore its details and otherwise neglected corners, digging deeper in the implications of a society previously portrayed in broader strokes.

Despite its belligerent title, Ancillary Sword isn’t especially action-packed. The story is focused on Breq’s investigation on some local accident – which may or may not hint to a larger plot, and is surely tied to the injusticed and contradictions of Radchaai society. Where Ancillary Justice described the Empire as a macrocosmos, with a perspective that was comprehensive at the price of feeling at times detached, here its policies are seen through the point of view of a microcosmos, thus highlighting the oppression as experienced by real people. This goes hand in hand with the development of Breq’s own critical thinking: once thoroughly indoctrinated by the Radchaai ideology, is now questioning those assumptions more and more, acknowledging the exploitative practices and the deep injustices barely disguised under the thin excuse of civilization.

And of course, Breq’s mission is also perpetually intertwined with her complex feelings, both towards the local residents and her peculiar situation as a former Ancillary. Where in Ancillary Justice her main drive was a revenge, here instead she’s seeking atonement – more honestly facing her guilt, rather than hiding it under a bombastic cover of righteous violence.