Cetaganda (Vorkosigan Saga, #9)

One of the qualities that I love about the Vorkosigan series is that because it is so long, it allows Bujold to play with different genres between books. If The Vor Game is military SF, then Cetaganda is a mystery novel. Pedantically, this book is not really a mystery proper in the way that a reader could piece together the whodunit independently; however I think this is an example of "detective Miles" mode, and one that we'll see again in Memory and Komarr especially.

This book features Miles and Ivan on a diplomatic visit to Cetaganda for the funeral of the Cetagandan empress. Miles has to juggle investigating a plot that's trying to frame the Barrayarans (but why? and by whom?), hiding things from his superiors (by implying he's a higher level spy), trying to interface with the Cetaganda police about a murder investigation (while not giving things away to them or to his superiors), and stopping a plot that would cause chaos to Cetaganda (while also trying to work towards Barrayaran interests).

One thing I think this novel does well is to portray the Cetagandans in a sympathetic and interesting light, and to dig into the interesting social structure they have going on. In previous novels, the Cetagandans have been the historical invaders of Barrayar and also aggressive expansionists into the Hegen Hub, and the reader doesn't know much about them other than their military bent. This book could be a bit more subtle about weaving all this background info in without as much of an info dump, but in a broader sense it adds a lot of nuance and fills in a lot of detail.

Ok, ok. I know I'm leaning on the horn here (pun not intended), but holy moly this book is still stuck in horny Miles brain mode. He is still not over Elena (who doesn't even appear in this novel) and he loses it over the haut women who ensconce themselves behind opaque bubble forcefields. There is one brief, minor moment where Miles realizes these feelings are clouding his judgement; Ivan comes up with a plan Miles hasn't considered because it wouldn't let him play the hero in front of haut Rian. This is as far as it goes, though.

(It's funny how much this quality sticks out for me on this reread. Am I just older and ace-er? Is this how books airquotes of the time all were and I haven't noticed because I haven't been reading books that are thirty five years old? Is this a deliberate writing decision for a twenty year old protagonist? Did I just forget that's how these books were?)

"You don't hire a genius to solve the most intractible imaginable problem, and then hedge him around with a lot of rules, nor try to micro-manage him from two week's distance. You turn him loose. If you need someone to follow orders, hire an idiot. In fact, an idiot would be better suited."

This is a little speech given by Miles Vorkosigan.

There were a handful of things that I disliked about Cetaganda, but what really ruined it for me was the main character, Miles. I found him arrogant, rude, paranoid, childish, impatient, overbearing, condescending, and misogynistic. These are all fine flaws to have, in a well-built character! But Cetaganda is so deeply in love with dear darling Miles that these flaws are meant to be empathized with, accepted, if they can even be flaws!

For example, Miles habitually condescends to everyone, sneering with disdain and insulting them left and right if they cannot keep up with his superior intelligence, despite the fact that this exact strain of logic had been used against him, to hurt him and bully him, if you simply replace the 'intelligence' with 'physical state'. Miles also judges all women by their beauty before anything else, despite the fact that, again, the same logic has been used against him due to his disability. If Miles were aware of this internal flaw in his logic, that would be interesting. If the book itself were aware of this internal flaw of logic, that, too, would be interesting. But neither care enough about making Miles ever suffer for his poor behavior, except in the most glowingly melodramatic was possible, which absolves him of all his blame and drowns him in sympathy.

Miles has a boatload of flaws that would make him a fascinating anti-hero. He could be an amazing portrait of what growing up disabled in a viciously ablist and sexist society could do to his psyche, as he clings pathetically to his ego and intelligence, insulting everyone around him and making his own problems, dehumanizing women and them blaming them for finding him off-putting. But this is not the case, not by a landslide. That would require an understanding that Miles has flaws, instead of just quirky mean things that everyone forgives him for because he's oh! So! Smart!

Sadly, Miles is supposed to be a hero, the worst sort, the sort who are never wrong, for whom the world convulses around to aid at every turn. He ruins the book, no matter how clever the plot or nuanced the dialog (not that I found either particularly outstanding, but that's besides the point) by virtue of being the center of all morality. And, frankly, it's boring.