I’ll be honest. When I first picked up this slim volume by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone, I thought I’d made a mistake. It’s dense. It’s poetic. It feels like someone took a blender to a history textbook and a physics manual and then poured the slurry into a crystal flute. But after finishing it, I realized that any this is how you lose the time war review that doesn't mention the visceral, physical ache of the prose is lying to you. This isn’t just a "sci-fi book." It’s a survival guide for the lonely.
The premise is deceptively simple for a story that spans eons. Two rival agents, Red and Blue, work for warring factions in a war for the future. Red belongs to Agency—a high-tech, post-singularity dystopia. Blue belongs to Garden—a vast, biological hive-mind where everything is grown and shared. They travel up and down the "braid" of time, sabotaging each other’s empires. Then, Red finds a letter. It says: Burn before reading.
That’s how it starts. A taunt. A dare. A love story written in tea leaves, lava, and the guts of a dying planet.
Why the Hype for This Is How You Lose the Time War Actually Matters
Most "Best Of" lists are full of filler. This book isn't. It won the Hugo, the Nebula, and the Locus awards, which is basically the Triple Crown of speculative fiction. But awards are boring. What’s interesting is how the book became a viral sensation years after its 2019 release because of a single tweet. People weren’t just reading it; they were devouring it.
The structure is what usually trips people up. It alternates between third-person accounts of the agents’ missions and the letters they leave for one another. These missions are wild. One moment they’re in a version of Atlantis; the next, they’re watching the sinking of the Titanic or influencing the development of a specific strand of grain in a prehistoric valley.
Everything is a weapon. Everything is a message.
If you’re looking for a hard sci-fi breakdown of how time travel works—the kind with graphs and paradox logic—you’re going to be disappointed. Gladstone and El-Mohtar don't care about the mechanics of the "braid." They care about the cost of the war. They care about what it feels like to be the only person in the universe who knows you exist, and then suddenly, someone else notices.
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The Contrast of the Two Authors
It’s worth noting that the authors actually wrote the letters to each other. Max Gladstone wrote Red’s perspectives; Amal El-Mohtar wrote Blue’s. You can feel that tension. Red’s voice is sharp, jagged, and precise, like a scalpel. Blue is fluid, sensory, and slightly more mocking. They aren't just characters; they are distinct writing styles colliding on the page.
Red is all about efficiency. She’s a soldier of the Agency, which views the universe as a machine to be optimized. Blue is the product of Garden, where the individual is a cell in a larger organism. Their romance is, by definition, treason. Every letter they exchange is a death warrant.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Plot
I’ve seen some reviews claim the book is "too difficult" because it doesn't explain the setting. Here’s the secret: you aren't supposed to understand the war.
The war is a backdrop. It’s a noisy, chaotic mess that represents the demands of society, work, and ideology. The letters are the only thing that’s real. When people search for a this is how you lose the time war review, they often want to know if they need a PhD in literature to enjoy it. You don't. You just need to be okay with not knowing exactly what "The Agency" looks like.
Honestly, the ambiguity makes it better. By keeping the specifics of the factions vague, the authors make the emotional stakes universal. We’ve all felt like we’re working for a giant, uncaring machine. We’ve all felt like we’re just a small part of a "garden" that doesn't see us as individuals.
The Epistolary Format is the Star
Writing letters in a sci-fi novel isn’t new. But writing letters that are literally baked into the world? That’s different. They find letters in the rings of a tree. They find them in the arrangement of bones in a battlefield. One letter is "read" by tasting a specific type of tea.
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It’s tactile. It makes the digital world we live in feel flat and gray.
There’s a specific kind of intimacy that develops when you can only communicate through physical objects left in the dirt. It forces the characters to be vulnerable. Red and Blue start as enemies, then become rivals, then pen pals, and finally, something much more dangerous. It’s the "enemies-to-lovers" trope, but stripped of the usual cliches and replaced with high-concept poetry.
Is it Actually Worth Your Time?
Time is the one thing we can't get back. Reading a 200-page book that feels like 500 pages because of the vocabulary density is a big ask.
If you like:
- Lyrical, purple prose that demands your full attention.
- Stories about identity and finding yourself in someone else.
- Science fiction that feels like a fairy tale.
- Heart-wrenching endings that make you want to start again from page one.
Then yes, you need this.
However, if you prefer:
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- Linear storytelling with clear world-building.
- Action-heavy plots where the "how" matters more than the "why."
- Clear-cut heroes and villains.
Then you might find it frustrating. It’s a "vibe" book. It’s a book you feel in your marrow.
The Complexity of the Ending
Without spoiling it, the ending is a masterclass in narrative payoff. For a book that feels so ethereal and floaty, the conclusion is remarkably grounded. It ties together small details from the very first chapters that you probably dismissed as mere "flavor text."
It turns out, nothing was flavor text. Everything was a seed.
The title itself—This Is How You Lose the Time War—takes on three or four different meanings by the time you hit the final sentence. You realize that "losing" might actually be the only way to win. It’s a paradox that makes perfect sense once you’re inside the logic of the story.
Practical Steps for New Readers
If you’re about to dive into this for the first time, don't try to power through it in one sitting. It’s short, but it’s rich. Treat it like a tasting menu, not a buffet.
- Slow down. Read the letters aloud if you have to. The rhythm of the sentences is half the point.
- Don’t Google the ending. The surprise is worth the wait, and the emotional impact depends on you being just as confused as the characters for a while.
- Check out the audiobook. Cynthia Erivo and Joaquina Kalukango narrate it, and their performances add a layer of gravitas that makes the poetic sections even more haunting.
- Look for the parallels. Notice how Red and Blue start to mimic each other’s language. It’s a subtle bit of character development that shows how they are changing each other across time.
This isn't just a book you read. It's a book that haunts your peripheral vision for weeks after you put it down. Whether you’re a die-hard sci-fi fan or just someone looking for a story that feels new, this is one of those rare instances where the hype is actually justified. It’s weird, it’s beautiful, and it’s a reminder that even in a war that spans the beginning and end of time, the most important thing is the person on the other side of the page.
Read it. Then give it to someone you love. That's the best way to experience it. No more questions, just the text.