A Memory Called Empire

A Memory Called Empire interrogates imperialism and cultural assimilation. While the novel depicts the reach of the Teixcalaanli Empire as almost infinite, not all territories and peoples it subsumes become citizens. By depicting citizenship as almost impossible for those born outside the Empire, Arkady Martine demonstrates both the insatiable hunger of imperialism and the often uneven trade of annexation. The Lsel Station councilors know citizenship and annexation are to be feared, as it means the loss of their heritage, nurtured through imago technology for 14 generations. These fears highlight the paradox at the heart of imperialism: The Empire actively conquers native cultures, but doesn’t necessarily repay them with citizenship, resources, or protection. Instead, the Empire alludes to a promise of belonging.

The assassination of Yskandr by Teixcalaanli powers and the Empire’s overall treatment of Lsel Station reinforce the danger of imperialism. The Lsel Station councilors understand the destruction of culture by annexation, seeking to weaponize the Empire’s instinct to destroy an alien threat and end itself in the process. As Dekakel Onchu discusses the threat posed by alien civilizations, she asks Darj Tarats what he wants, and he responds, “An end to empires. An immovable object to crash an impossible force upon, and break it” (354). Likewise, Aknel Amnardbat’s fear of imperialism drives her to sabotage Yskandr’s imago-line—“her intervention into memory, all her scouring out of poison” (243). Yskandr himself symbolizes her fear of Lsel Station losing itself to the Empire’s culture:

You are as corrupt as an arsonist, as an imago-line that would shatter the shell of the station with a bomb. You are worse than both of those, Yskandr Aghavn: you want to invite Teixcalaan in. You speak poetry and you send back reams of literature, and more of our children every year take the aptitudes for the Empire and leave us (242).

The young Yskandr offers Amnardbat the promise of imperialism: poetry and other comforts. However, his successor Mahit realizes her aptitude for imperial poetry and history can’t stop Teixcalaanli citizens from seeing her as a barbarian. She can abandon her culture in favor of pageantry, but will receive nothing for it. The longer she remains in the Empire, the more she can’t ignore or adopt its culture, one that now seems closed off to her: She will never embody the Empire’s history, and will always face scrutiny. Even Three Seagrass treats Mahit as an outsider, despite the bond they form over the course of the novel. As Mahit comes to see the Empire as an animal that devours the unfamiliar, replacing it with familiarity that only few can access, like cloudhooks, she ultimately prioritizes her home.