The God of Lost Words by A.J. Hackwith

(Titan Books, 2022)

Reviewed by Kate Onyett

This final book in a trilogy about the ultimate Library is a romping, endearing, emotional roller-coaster of a ride with a crunchy, biscuity base of non-conformist love and learning.

First understand that every song, story, poem, dream and communication—in fact every creative imagining a human can make—is never totally lost. The greater number of such things are abandoned—intentionally or unintentionally lost to memory—but find their way to the various Wings of an arcane Library that stores these outpourings. Each wing being hosted in various realms of the after- (between?-) life.

In the second book, it was discovered that, coming as they do from soul-full beings, these stories are actually little slivers of Soul itself, which describes existence into being. In this climactic volume, Hell, host to the Unwritten Wing, is aware of this fact and is champing to get its jaws and claws on such tasty little lights o’ life. The whole Library, everywhen and everywhere, is in danger. Ex-librarian Claire, trainee-Librarian Hero, disgraced angel Rami and Muse-turned-Librarian Brevity have to fight hard to save the Library entire and give it the autonomy it deserves.

Ostensibly a fantasy-action book, this story, and more broadly the trilogy, is about so much more. If lost, forgotten lives, stories, unwritten creations and even half-considered dreams can have Soul and existence, and yet are found and held onto, then no one and nothing is really lost or unimportant. And you know what? That is one powerful-ass message.

These characters are unashamedly queer—there’s a prominent three-way love bond between main protagonists that fuels their courage and determination—and the metaphors for queer experience are all over the narrative. Being forgotten and lost: a queer and non-conformist experience of living in an often unkind world. The Library Wings in multiple realms that contain such lost Souls: that this is a painful experience that happens in many, and all, places. Underdogs: those plucky heroes who stand against the flood—those who feel they never fit, and their struggle for survival.

Above all, the quest to find “a realm, a guide, a library, a god,” to fix the Library in its own location is a fight for self-determination and existence on one’s own terms, much like the ex-characters the Damsels and Hero becoming more than their books’ narratives decreed for them. Instead, they choose their own narratives, which is both terrifying and liberating. For a queer soul, or indeed any soul that feels outside the norms and values into which they find themselves, the realm is a safe place to be, the guide is the family they can rely on—and this could well be the one that forms around them, eclectic and chosen rather than blood kin—the library is their lived experience and the god is a leap of faith to make it happen.

Emotional growth is the heart of this book. Like all good trilogies, we had the set-up, the maturation of the characters’ spirit and motivations, and the third concludes with the author’s wisdom explained and found. In this last part, sacrifice is the final piece of the puzzle. With the love and support of those closest to her, Claire makes the biggest leap of faith and self-determinism, writing her own story into a fabric of existence that will hold and sustain those she loves beyond her immediate existence. This is the final and most loving act of family; the place where people can be nurtured, grow, and fly from with confidence.

These Library tales are a heart-felt call to grow, to not be afraid of change, and to be the best we can be for ourselves and towards others. And how the best might surprise us, scare us, but ultimately satisfy and delight us in ways we might never have suspected.

Review from BSFA Review 18 - Download your copy here.