I am such a sucker for this art style.

It’s odd, reflecting on the ways in which an author I love has grown (and stayed the same) over the years.

I’m specifically thinking about Martha Wells. I recently read City of Bones, which was originally published in 1995. I’m in the middle of reviewing City of Bones, because it’s being rereleased this year in trade paperback by Tor. I’ll have my review of that up on GeeklyInc in the not-too-distant future.

City of Bones is intrigue, archaeology, lost civilizations and past apocalypses. It’s a thriller, a mystery, it’s got political machinations and murder… you know, the good stuff. What stood out to me though, was…

…how similar Wells’ characterization of City of Bones’ protagonist Khat felt to Murderbot.

 I’m sure this might be true with other authors too, but there’s something fascinating about seeing the parallels between Wells’ newer character (Murderbot) and her older character (Khat). It’s a little like crouching beside a fern, examining its fronds, comparing them to the fossil of a proto-fern clutched in your hands. The similarities are inescapable, but they’re not quite the same plant.

If you’ve read my reviews of The Murderbot Diaries you know that I love Murderbot (hell, I wrote about it twice here). So finding this fossil of an archetype’s previous form was fascinating, and a treat. But it was also odd, and inspired some introspection; what throughlines would I identify in my own earlier work? How have those evolved, and how have they stayed the same? What do others see? Will I be willing and able to accept those things, to lean into them and hone them? Will they be patterns that I yearn to break, habits of character and plot that I wish I didn’t follow?

I’m not talking about the little habits, so much. My experience of writing, when it’s going well, is so heedless that I don’t have much time or room for thinking about those patterns until I’m trying to fix problems mid-edit. I’ve watched turns of phrase, repetitive spatters of word vomit, creep into my prose—I find them again and again while editing, and just have to laugh and cross them out. I accept them at this point, they’re part of the process. First drafts are for getting words out, after all, and my words don’t come out if I think too hard about them. Those will stick around to fix later.

But there are deeper patterns of characterization and plot and theme that stay true even after multiple editing passes, or perhaps are sharpened with each editing pass. Those are the habits I wish I could recognize in my own work, and which I’m nervous to see. Nervous, because they’re unknown—no, because they’re only partly known, like the monster in the good parts of the movie before you really know what it looks like. I hope they’re things I can enjoy and embrace, and I fear they’re patterns I’ll want to scrub away or which will feel limiting and stifling.

All of which makes me wonder: how does Martha Wells feel about this? What has her experience been? Has she gone back over her older work and seen this same pattern, has someone else pointed out the similarities to her? Did she look at Khat and say, “let’s do that again, but make everything about it sharper”? Or did the similarity creep in unnoticed until after the new character Murderbot was already playing in harmony with the old?

I would love to know.

Also, look, if you like Martha Wells’ other work you’ll probably like City of Bones. This isn’t much of a review, since I’m trying to save most of that for GeeklyInc, but suffice to say that I enjoyed myself. Once the ball gets rolling, this story’s momentum builds and builds. It’s a very satisfying ride. Perhaps you too will be intrigued by the similarities I saw. And if you haven’t read Murderbot yet, do yourself a favor and go try those books out.