In many ways, the Starlight Watchmaker was an incredibly enjoyable read. Despite the novella format, James manages to establish a compelling, inventive world that truly lives and breathes. I adored its creativity of it, and how seamlessly it was woven into the mystery. A couple of my favourite elements included the clockwork moths Hugo, the titular watchmaker, uses to illuminate his work, the books concealed inside plants, and the alien who was herself a future planet. It was whimsical and fantastical, and it made me really want to return to the world.

Hugo and Dorian are the only two characters we really have time to explore, but both are hugely likable and their blossoming relationship is genuinely touching. Though a huge rift exists between them in terms of privilege and experience, both have the opportunity to learn from each other as they unravel the mystery of Dorian’s broken watch- their relationship feels mostly like it’s on equal footing. It’s quite impressive for them to go, entirely believably, from animosity to friendship in the space of just a hundred pages.

However, despite all that I liked about this novel, the overall message really ruined the read for me- spoilers to follow from this point.

The Starlight Watchmaker introduces us to a world where androids are essentially a slave race, purchased by organic individuals, and often abandoned when the next model comes along. James paints a landscape of systematic disadvantage, with outdated androids struggling to find employment whilst being punished by the system for their unemployed status. The resolution to this conflict is that the protagonists recognise the latent skills of the outdated androids, and more job opportunities are created for them, so they can be employed again.

This is problematic for several reasons. Firstly, the fact that this suggestion comes from the protagonists- specifically from Dorian, who had known about the android’s plight for all of five minutes- undermines their own independence and intelligence. It seems ludicrous that they wouldn’t have thought of this solution themselves. Perhaps it would have worked more smoothly if they knew their own skills, but needed Dorian to exercise his privilege and talk the administration into giving them a chance. Secondly, it obscures the actual issue- abandoned, jobless androids should not be struggling to survive regardless of their employment status. On a planet where students are able to live luxuriously, it’s utterly immoral that androids have been forced to live underground, slowly perishing without access to the stellar power that keeps them alive.

The parallels between this conflict and countless people’s real-world struggles are uncomfortably impossible to ignore. The result is a “pull yourself up by the bootstraps,” message that falls incredibly flat. I couldn’t bring myself to smile over a happy ending that involves the androids teaching the very population that threw them away, just to be afforded the necessities that had been denied to them. A person should not have to be useful- and especially, they should not have to be useful to the upper class- to earn the right to survive. I’m sure this message wasn’t James’ intention- I suspect that the moral just wasn’t sufficiently thought out. But the utter injustice of the ending of this novella, framed as a triumph, did ultimately spoil this read for me, hence my rating.