N.K. Jemisin's debut novel, The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, is a book built out of incompletely reconciled dichotomies. The tension this creates is often beneficial to the narrative, but sometimes it contributes to a certain lack of structure that robs the book of needed tension.

The book opens with Yeine, a young warrior woman--a barbarian by the standards of the ruling class, and yet the daughter of a prodigal princess of the conquering imperial family--recalled to the imperial capital of Sky to take her place as a third and most certainly sacrificial heir to her grandfather the emperor. Yeine, telling her own story from the perspective of an indeterminate later time (a conceit that I found generally engaging, although it did engender a little too much auctorial coyness of the "I'll tell you that later" variety) brings the reader into the society of Sky, which is a political shark tank that would give Eleanor of Aquitaine an itchy sensation, if not actual hives.

The imperial family are relentless and horrible, capable of the sorts of atrocities that will be familiar to readers of Harlan Ellison's "I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream," and in general entirely devoid of human feeling or compassion.

Yeine must navigate this brutal society to protect the homeland she loves--and to save her own life, if possible. But higher stakes are on the horizon, because the imperial family have achieved the power they have through mistreating a collection of captive gods, the (purportedly evil) Nahadoth and his spawn.

Nahadoth--for me, the most intriguing character--is more complex than he appears on the surface, and Yeine soon finds herself embroiled in an emotional and potentially fatal folie à deux with him, as she attempts to preserve the existence of her nation and find a way to free the enslaved gods.

Unfortunately, I was never entirely convinced by the politics in this book, upon which the success of its narrative rests. The characters did not reflect the richness of complex motivations I would have preferred--this was part of the reason the narrative felt like a young adult novel to me; good and evil were very tidily delineated throughout--but instead are clearly drawn into sides: good and decent people with Yeine, evil and treacherous people against her.

In addition, I found Yeine herself problematic as a protagonist. Some of this is because she is the classic ingénue, and throughout the book I kept finding her insufficiently invested in the problems presented to her, such as saving her own life. She was quite invested in the kingdom of her childhood, and as she was presented as a young warrior, I wished there were more societal grounding worked into the narrative to make me believe in her lack of regard for her own safety was a result of that warrior upbringing, but the result is that Yeine seems weirdly passive and disinterested--even in regard to the murder mystery surrounding her mother's death--and thus subject to narrative fiat rather than motivated by her own drives.

However, it's fairly easy to dismiss those somewhat minor problems, especially in a first novel, when the worldbuilding is as rich as it is in this book. Within the compass of The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, Jemisin managed to create a number of compelling societies, including that of the gods. Several of the characters--notably Nahadoth and his alter ego--are quite lovingly crafted and complex. The climax suits my preferences as a reader to a T, except I would have liked to see Yeine more complicit--and more active--in what eventually transpires. In keeping her innocent, Jemisin has also left her powerless. (For me, the strongest scene in the book is a horrific one in which Yeine finally brings the war to her enemy, but--alas!--that agency and ruthlessness is quickly stripped from her just as she seems about to actually make a fight of it.) And while I would have liked more nuance in the portrayal of the villains, I cannot argue with Jemisin's assessment of the evils of cultural imperialism run riot.