Reflections on losing the Time War

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Sometimes a book creeps up and grabs you in ways you can't foresee.

When N recommended This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone, I certainly didn't expect its epic, larger-than-life concept and unpanderingly clever prose to take root in my heart.

But it did. And now, weeks after The End, the bloody thing haunts me still.

There is a war in the world of this book. It spans time and space and dimension. Two rival agents, Red and Blue, forge a relationship through letters and reality-bending acts of subterfuge and courage. They know the war is unending, and realise the only way to win is to ensure their love goes beyond eternity.

As Red and Blue move through time, deployed to diddle with cause and effect to the advantage of their respective sides, I'm reminded of the futile sense of being trapped within a system that considers us expendable. We're certainly necessary—leaders always need followers and servants. But ultimately we're only retained to perform a function that could be carried out by someone else if we were ever deemed defective.

In that regard, there was something deeply touching about this sapphic romance. It suggests that in the midst of a seemingly pre-determined existence, mired in suppressive rules and conventions, we can still sidestep that path. We can choose to love. And in doing so, we allow our actions and experiences to mean something, and maybe even make a difference.

Even though the book is titled This is How You Lose the Time War, its true meaning is clear: that choosing to love is actually how we'll win.

Book cover: A red bird and a blue bird. This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone