Ghosts of Hāikimi

Ghosts of Hāikimi requires patience. The first hundred pages are deliberately slow and full of terminology that isn't explained. Anyone looking for immediate action has been warned. Those who stay will find what I like most: a book that treats its reader like an adult.

Haikimi ko-Harkyla is a war veteran who returns home with a paralyzed hand and a mind that won't stop fighting. His wife, Eliya, is about to give birth to twins. He would like peace, but if he had it we wouldn't be reading an epic fantasy anymore.

There isn't a moment of serenity. Instead, there is a society stratified by eye color (in a very original way, which reminded me of the social structure in The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson) where the Zinheer, women who see fragments of the future, have become the public enemy of the theocratic regime. When Haikimi discovers that his daughter Yamai is one of them, escape becomes the only option.

The worldbuilding is dense and flavorful. Ilhara breathes. The lunar system of Kamaar governs tides, calendar, and religion. The various factions have intertwined histories of wars and the occasional genocide. Twyman explains nothing through infodumps. The terminology is absorbed through context, word by word.

The characters work. Haikimi carries the weight of war in his body, Eliya is practical and intelligent. Yhani (I'm losing all the damned dieresis and other diacritical marks in these names, sorry), the enemy prisoner Haikimi takes under his wing, has a convincing growth arc. Each character has a distinct voice and they are not interchangeable. You can see them, not just read them.

There are also two interludes that break up the main narrative, almost like short stories inserted into the book. They show the system from other angles in a really original way. There is a brilliant boy used as a human calculator. There is a girl who produces war drugs without knowing where they end up. They were my favorite parts—one of those ideas that, as a writer, you realize works because it makes you want to steal it.

Personally, I think the book is too long. Some travel scenes repeat the same emotional beats and the dialogue sometimes slips into exposition.

But when Twyman works, he really works. The ending carries the emotional weight that the book has built for three hundred pages, even if it could probably have achieved the same result in two hundred and fifty.

It is not perfect, but it is serious, ambitious, and it treats difficult themes such as war, genocide, and religious persecution with the respect they deserve. In a sea of interchangeable fantasy, this one is memorable.