A Prayer for the Crown-Shy: A Monk and Robot Book: 2 (Monk & Robot)

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I wasn't enamored with the first book in this series, A Psalm for the Wild-Built but because it's about a sentient robot, I wanted to read this one as well. I suspect it was my mood that kept me from enjoying the first one because I liked this one a lot more. Envisioning a world where, even in the face of great upheaval, the powers that be would ever choose to abandon the death cult of capitalism in favor of collective support and restraint, can be difficult. Such things are easily written off as escapist fantasy. But then again, once upon a time so was the idea of humans being able to fly. Still cozy aspirational goodness, and more friendship this time. Also yet another book I should have reviewed much closer to finishing, as my memory of it has grown a little thin. The feelings I got from it remain pretty strong, however. I actually feel like I need to re-read both of these books and take my time, really savor them. The answer to this is, of course, there is nothing wrong with Dex. They’re experiencing the human condition. Mosscap points this out, reminding both Dex and the reader that needing rest or care or a change of pace does not require justification, nor is it wrong to want them even when things are going well. Contrary to popular belief, you do not need to earn the right to be alive. You are allowed to just be.

Because, whereas A Psalm for the Wild-Built was preoccupied with Dex’s journey into the unknown wilds of Panga’s reforested wilderness, Crown-Shy is its inversion. This time, it is Mosscap who is stepping into unknown territory and Dex who must act as guide amidst the world that raised them. I love that the phenomenon of 'crown-shyness' inspired the title and is a central metaphor for the story: The 9 best science fiction and fantasy novels of 2022". Washington Post. 2022-11-17 . Retrieved 2023-09-12. Dex thought. “You ever had a friend come visit from somewhere else? Somewhere far away, where they do everything different? You have to show them around, teach them what the food is, how the tech around your house works, what counts as good manners?” As previously stated, there is no moralizing here. Mosscap, while saddened, has no misgivings about the situation:But the book itself was lovely! Slow-paced and philosophical, it was a balm to my soul for a few hours. And Mosscap's antics and misunderstandings were cute as well. The main thrust is Mosscap's desire to know what humans need. Not want but need. It doesn't really get its question answered satisfactorily, but I think that's the point really.We are introduced to a bit of (imagined?) conflict between Dex and his family, which may create fodder for future stories. There is also a bit of existential dilemma for Mosscap, which is very interesting. I really like how Chambers looks at the problem from all angles with the aim to find a solution that is acceptable to Mosscap and its moral/robot sensibilities. And through this theme, Chambers continues to explore what humanity needs. If we have everything we want, how much does having more matter? In A Prayer for the Crown Shy the entire question that Mosscap is struggling with begins to feel like a meta journey for ourselves. To wonder if when we have more access, more ‘things’, more extras, what that means for us? While Sibling Dex teaches Mosscap about their world, it begins to question our own. Still, what you’re saying is quite a responsibility.” Mosscap folded its fingers together before its chest, and its eyes glowed intensely even within the brightness of the day. “What if I make a mess of this?” When Sibling Dex headed into the wild and was found by a robot named Mosscap, it was a meeting of human and robot-kind that hadn’t taken place in centuries. Once robots somehow gained consciousness, they left humans to relearn how to live without all the robots that had been invented to make life easier for humans. It also allowed the moon to be reclaimed from the cesspit that humanity had turned it into. It’s anti-dystopian. Is that a word? Anyway, things are better now.

One of the things that makes the world feel so rich is Dex’s very embodied experience of it. Chambers describes Dex’s sore muscles, enjoyment of showers, and good food to an unusual degree of detail. Dex as a character thinks a lot about what they’re experiencing physically. But they don’t. Many species are “crown-shy”, meaning that they somehow know where their limits are and leave just a bit of space, a channel, between where their leaves end and the next tree’s leaves begin. So that the sun does reach the ground to give other denizens of the forest a chance to grow. I know I spoke about this a little in my review of the first book, but I need to reiterate it here because it’s so important to me. Without context, it seems bizarrely negative to say I loved that Sibling Dex has mental health issues and exists in a world where human unhappiness is real and allowed to be real, despite the fact that humanity as a whole has learned to live in harmony both with the natural world and (mostly) with each other. I’ve used the word utopian a lot, but I guess the setting would more accurately be described as aspirational. But there’s a danger, in general, I think when we talk about utopian/aspirational settings to kind of *flatten* individual humanity into a kind of consensus of assumptions about what moral virtue is or how happiness can best be found. Which kind of ends up leading to this situation where, say, people with mental health issues have just sorta been … written out of our vision of an optimistic future? And I mean, like, thanks? I don’t think my existence is oppositional to a more compassionate and functional society. And once you’ve ditched the mentally ill you’re in this whole eugenics-ey groove without even noticing how you got there: I mean, what about people with disabilities, and queerness is kind of complicated, and would it just be easier all-round if everyone was white.

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Dex had never really thought about this before. They steered the bike in the direction the sign indicated, and Mosscap fell into step alongside. “If you have everything you need around you,” Dex said, “there’s no reason to leave. It takes a lot of time and effort to go someplace else.”

Everything in the world is shaped by its surroundings, whether we see them or not. We are all of us connected. Such a realization, when one truly sits with it, is humbling. How do you kill it?” A note of grief had entered its voice, but there was acceptance there, too, born out of a lifetime of watching wild things eat and be eaten. (p. 71) No one has any incentive to hoard pebs or use them for ill thanks to this mindset, and because, of course, no one wants for food, shelter, or support in this world built around tenets of mutual aid and communal benefit. Similarly, a large deficit of pebs is not an indicator of greed or antagonism, but rather a cry for help from someone who is facing difficulties in their life, as Dex explains to a querying Mosscap: These themes are as tenderly explored in this series as everything else. Inside the small economy of a novella, Chambers gives them both weight and weightlessness all at once: they are not so grim or overwhelming that they overshadow the overall charm and playfulness and humor of the story (which is frankly feels-pummelingly good!), but they nonetheless assume a fully weighted presence in the narrative (I love, for example, how the meandering quality of the plot in this book echoes so perfectly the searching lost-ness that the characters feel).

The tea-monk Sibling Dex and the robot Mosscap met in the first book in this terrific series, A Psalm for the Well-Built, because they were both asking variations of that question. Sibling Dex had pulled off the beaten path into the woods because they were in the throes of burnout and were asking themselves if what they were doing was what they wanted to do. If their endless journey was all there was or would be to their life. At one point on their journey, Mosscap points out a section of forest that exhibits crown shyness, an unexplainable phenomenon that causes the branches of trees to grow only just far enough so as not to touch their neighbors, creating a patchwork canopy like “puzzle pieces laid out on the table, each in their own place yet still unconnected” (p.76). The moment is so fleeting, as most moments are, and yet it resonates with unspoken meaning. The phrasing of this was not lost on Dex. What do humans need? was the impossible question that had driven Mosscap to wander out of the wilderness on behalf of robot-kind, and Dex had no idea how Mosscap was ever going to find a satisfactory answer. They knew they’d be hearing the question endlessly during however long it took them both to travel together through Panga’s human territories, but apparently, Mosscap was starting now. In A Prayer for the Crown Shy, Chambers explains the world in more detail. Since Sibling Dex and Mosscap are more familiar with each other, there’s a bit more room for development of the world and their relationship. And all the nitty gritty world elements – like how money and bartering work – I ended up loving. It’s unique and thought provoking from the littlest to the largest ways. These elements examine what our economics says about our values and communities. How we relate to others in the world and what our ‘value’ is. Can you tell how much I loved this thought kernel??

In the hope that AI will develop sentience, and knowing we might not know when and if they do, I've begun adding 'please' and 'thank you' when asking Alexa to do something.

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As Dex escorts Mosscap from town to town, Mosscap’s ostensible purpose is to ask each group of humans, “what do you need?” as the answers to that question become Mosscap’s datapoints of research on how humans are doing.