“Reading anything good?” “Sourdough by Robin Sloan.” “What’s it about?”
It’s a hard question to answer. The story involves a robotics engineer who receives an unusual and possibly sentient sourdough starter that sets her off on a baking journey. But that makes the book sound more whimsical than it is. Like Sloan’s other books, the self-published novella Annabel Scheme and his previous novel Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore, it’s about many things: an undefined future that’s a lot like the present, but with cooler technology and subtle changes in society that have evolved as a result. A main character with endless intellectual curiosity, but without a 5-year or even a 1-year plan. A hidden subculture with valuable secrets. Big questions about how much we should embrace change and what’s worth holding on to.
The language in this book is satisfying. Words you will encounter while reading: pareidolia, proprioception, botrytis, molybdoenzymes. There’s a food substitute called Slurry, available in convenient pouches. (Its successor comes in solid form: “Market research indicates people associate liquid superfood with pessimistic science fiction.”) The robot arm that Lois works on is called the Vitruvian.
Sourdough features that most elusive of creatures: a female protagonist who behaves like a normal human being, who is not defined by her relationships with others, and who instigates her own adventures. I love that her physical appearance is barely mentioned, except for the muscles she builds as she ventures out of the cubicle and into the farmer’s market. Normally — and for some reason, female authors seem to be the worst offenders at this — women in books can be smart, adventurous, even prickly, but they must always be beautiful. High five for getting it right, Robin Sloan. While Lois’ femaleness is mostly a non-issue, I did enjoy a scene where she bumps into her robot company colleagues outside of the office. After (incorrectly) holding forth on a piece of equipment on which Lois is an expert, her tech bro coworker says, “I know you, right? You’re… one of our marketing people?” Reminded me of my first job at Oracle, when I quickly learned not to wear skirts after several people assumed I must be in sales.
Sourdough is also obsessed with actual sourdough. Lois, and by extension the reader, gets up close and familiar with the fermentation process. Much is made of “culture” in communities of bacteria and people. This was right up my alley since I happen to be an avid bread baker with my own carefully maintained sourdough starter. I squealed when a chapter started with a brief history of King Arthur Flour. But I think you have to be willing to delve into the world of microbes a bit to enjoy this book. This aspect of it made me think of Elizabeth Gilbert’s The Signature of All Things, which is similarly obsessed with moss. (“This was planetary and vast. These were ancient, unexplored galaxies, rolling forth in front of her…” Yep, she’s talking about moss.)
I have to admit that the big picture of the book is, to me, a little murky. It’s swimming around in the microbial mess. Sourdough definitely shares a theme with Mr. Penumbra about taking something traditionally labor-intensive and hand-cultivated and giving it a technology assist — is that cheating, or genius? But it seems like there’s more here that I’m not quite getting. Slow food is valued, but also a little sinister. Slurry is a little dehumanizing, but admittedly practical. Bread starter contains lots of little living organisms, but maybe you shouldn’t go overboard in embracing its aliveness?
Overall, Sourdough is a great book. Robin Sloan has a knack for lines that make you smile in recognition. (Lois encountering a VIP who wants her to join the team: “I felt the disorientation of a generous offer that in no way lines up with anything you want to do.” Lois at the fancy salt store: “I backed slowly out the door. I would stick with Diamond Crystal.”) He takes you to places that you can visualize, almost smell, so strongly that later on you have to remind yourself they were only in a book. And you can either ponder the themes of the book deeply, or just enjoy the robots and the food and the Mazg double spicy. You should read it.
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LOTS OF SPOILERS BELOW.
Assorted spoilery questions, comments, and criticisms: don’t read further until after you’ve read the book.
- I like the Confidence module as an insight into human behavior, but there’s nothing in the book indicating that robots have reached the level of autonomy where they’re capable of having instincts. Robots do what they’re told. You at least have to give them an actual algorithm for figuring things out.
- I didn’t get the Marrow Fair — other than Lembas (speaking of fun names), what’s controversial about it that the slow food people would hate? It seems like the people there are making food, not some weird techno-food. I think that the enemy of the slow food movement is processed food that contains more artificial chemicals and preservatives than actual nutrients. Other than Lembas, the Marrow Fair seemed like it was producing real food that was grown and harvested and made with some help from technology. I don’t think that’s inherently anti-slow-food.
- There’s a lot in this book about changing roles to do something that fits you, rather than something you’re supposed to be doing. Lois’ job is dehumanizing, but she’s able to break out of the office and loves doing the work on her own terms. Beo has always been told he needs to live underground (figuratively; actually on the second floor) and resolves to come out into the open. The starter hums along contentedly with its music, but balks when forced to take on commercial-scale production — Lois has to start a series of wars to get it to pep up, and then she’s frightened by the results.
- I would like to hear more about the Mazg. Why do they have to be so mysterious? Why are they on the run all the time? And why was it necessary to the story that they be from a hidden culture — wait, it’s coming to me. Are the Mazg like their sourdough culture in that they seem to be perfectly happy bopping along to their music and making good food, but actually they will rage out of control and take over Lois’ life? Sourdough II: The Sourening?
- Cafeteria Chef Kate: mainly there to help the plot along? Or making a point about how hard it is to make a living feeding people, and the tradeoff between artistry that gives a few people access to great food for a lot of money, and larger-scale production that gives more people access, but can’t sustain sourcing the best products and the audience doesn’t appreciate it that much anyway?
- At the end, why does Lois have to insist on making sourdough without the Clement Street culture? It seems clear that the culture has been around for many years and normally does not wreak the kind of havoc that she saw. Look at the mellow Grateful Dead version of the starter. Really, Lois was the one who made the starter warlike and out-of-control. It seems like she’s blaming the starter at the end. Or does she just want to start out again without the novice’s grace? It doesn’t seem fair to make Beo do this with her.
- It’s funny that Beo and his mom share the same romantic move: love ’em and leave ’em with a crock of active starter.
