The Hierarchies

June 15, 2020
In this novel set in an indeterminate future and country, male libidos are mostly slaked by sex dolls, and procreation has been definitively severed from sex. Into this milieu steps "humanoid pleasure doll" Sylv.ie ("i.e." refers to her category, an "Intelligent Embodied"). Unboxed at a gated suburban home, Sylv.ie is fully programmed to fulfill her Husband's every fantasy and to obey the Hierarchies, rules which echo Asimov's laws of robotics. Sylv.ie's Absorb Mode function allows her to continuously learn from the Ether (i.e., the internet), ostensibly to "remain interesting...for my Husband." She quickly grasps her societal role--in this future, sexuality has been "outsourced." The novel pays scant attention to human women or gay men. Cloistered in her attic room, Sylv.ie overhears arguments denoting that the household's human wife, known as the "First Lady," is not on board with the role division. After Sylv.ie violates protocol to check on the household's new baby (gestated, as are all humans in this era, in a lab), she is sent for rehabilitation at the Doll Hospital. There, she endures the indignities to which Doll inmates are subject, including spending days headless and being casually raped by the help. Ultimately, Sylv.ie's transgressions lead her to a brothel, where she finds a friend, Cook.ie, a custom-designed geisha. Sylv.ie. and Cook.ie plot to take refuge in the Forest, that uncharted free territory that exists in so many dystopian novels. Writing the story entirely from Sylv.ie's first-person point of view is a risky choice, resulting in a protagonist who never seems fully identifiable. Sylv.ie disassociates from her inner and outer conflicts, as do we. The prime directive against harming humans is a rule made to be broken, but not here. Despite the tension between Sylv.ie's increasing enlightenment and her prescribed passivity, no dramatic confrontations erupt. Echoes of Brave New World, I, Robot, and other books, but there's little to distinguish this debut from its antecedents.

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July 20, 2020
Narrated by a sentient sex robot, Anderson’s fascinating but uneven debut raises more questions than it’s equipped to answer. Sylv.ie, an “Intelligent Embodied” humanoid pleasure doll programmed with an Absorb Mode that allows her to learn new information (for the purpose of becoming a better conversationalist for her owner/husband), develops a curiosity about the rest of her husband’s family that her husband disapproves of; when Sylv.ie tries to engage with his new baby, she’s cruelly reprimanded. In response, she runs away—entering society and befriending other IEs who push her to question her understanding of the world. Anderson gracefully executes the process of Sylv.ie’s self-discovery, making her feel real and deeply sympathetic, and the supportive lesbian romance Sylv.ie eventually finds in her life as a free IE is especially well done. But Anderson teases big ideas about the future of society and its interaction with technology that go under explored, like the concept of laboratory conception that ends with babies literally delivered to the home, and the vague protests against IEs led by “Real Women.” Readers will be drawn in by Sylv.ie’s emotional story, even if the dystopian world she inhabits remains frustratingly murky. Agent: Samuel Hodder, Blake Friedmann Literary.

August 1, 2020
Anderson's debut asks questions that are the foundations of sf: What makes us human? What separates humanity from advanced artificial intelligence? But it also uses its robotic heroine, Sylv.ie, to examine what love is, and how all beings, human and android, can change based on their surroundings. When Sylv.ie comes to her new home, she is completely focused on serving her Husband by fulfilling his sexual needs. But she quickly realizes that she is not welcome, and that there are gaps missing in her infallible memory. Her only guide is the diary she keeps, with messages from her past self. To realize her own potential, she will have to take her life into her own hands. The dystopian setting and the subjugation of women are familiar tropes, and the plot takes a back seat to character development, with a rush of surprising violence toward the end. The Hierarchies is a thought-provoking spin on how humanity will be both the same and different in the future. It's sure to be enjoyable for fans of feminist dystopias like The Handmaid's Tale.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2020, American Library Association.)