Tea in The Splinter in the Sky
Tea
Whilst personally testing the medicinal properties of hundreds of herbs, Shénnóng—the deified first Yan Emperor of China and mythological inventor of agriculture—poisoned himself over seventy times. On the very precipice of death, he sampled a then-unknown leaf, which then miraculously cured him. According to archeological findings, tea cultivation first sprouted in ancient China approximately six millenia ago. At first, tea leaves were ground up and stirred into porridge or consumed as vegetables, but 1,500 years ago, fire and water entered the mix, and people began drinking tea instead. In the 9th century BCE, a Japanese monk by the name of Saisho brought a tea plant back home with him as a souvenir from his travels in China. From this small import eventually arose a set of unique tea rituals.
Today, tea is the second-most widely consumed drink in the world, outdone only by water. Interestingly enough, unless it’s an herbal blend, all tea is made from the same plant cultivated 6,000 years ago in China, Camellia sinensis. Post-harvest processing (such as fermentation), cultivar, and local environment are responsible for the differences between white, green, oolong, black, and pu’er. Arguably, tea’s global domination began in the early 17th century, when Dutch merchants began importing leaves (along with silk and porcelain) to Europe in vast shipments. Britain, which had established itself as a world power by then, quickly fell in love with the import. And as the empire swelled, so did the popularity of tea.
In speculative fiction, tea has appeared as an important cultural fixture most often in fantasy, but a number of science fiction stories have featured the drink. This includes C.J. Cherryh’s Foreigner books, Aliette de Bodard’s Xuya Universe tales (particularly the tellingly named The Tea Master and the Detective) and Becky Chambers’ recent Monk & Robot series.
The book that first comes to my mind, however, is Ann Leckie’s Ancillary Justice, first in her ongoing Imperial Radch series. In the domineering empire of the Radch, tea and its attendant rituals are luxuries for humans—nonhumans bound in service to the empire, like the “corpse soldier” main character, Breq, must make do with water. (Or fish sauce.) Beyond tea, I have always been interested in exploring social and political domination, and Leckie’s thoughtful, culturally vivid first novel has been a major influence on my work, especially my own debut novel.
Empire
As I have written before, contradiction lies at the very heart of the imperialistic machine. Empires are hungry beasts. They survive only by devouring; by nature they cannot sustain themselves without consuming others—geographically, yes, but also socially, politically, economically. True occupation merely begins with land.
Across history, the most “successful” empires grew in no small part via assimilation. (There is a long, difficult discussion to be had about the metrics by which the success of nations are measured—hence the quotation marks). These empires not only forced their own way of life upon peoples they viewed as inferior—they also absorbed and sometimes even adopted the cultures of the defeated. For the ancient Romans, this took the form of a deep appreciation for—and in the case of emperors such as Hadrian—obsession with ancient Greece. For the descendants of Genghis Khan, this meant trading the traditional nomadic lifestyle of their ancestors for vast, sprawling palaces. The Mongol Empire is remembered for being (among other things) particularly religiously tolerant, with khans and khatuns practising Tengriism, Buddhism, Taoism, Islam, and Nestorian Christianity. (There was, of course, a certain ambivalence to such relationships between conquerors and conquered; to what extent could winners adopt a loser’s culture without also acquiring the very perceived weaknesses that allowed victory in the first place? And yet.)
The Splinter in the Sky
In my novel The Splinter in the Sky, even as the Holy Vaalbaran Empire crushes Koriko in its iron fist, it thoughtlessly imitates sacred Korikese customs, loots precious Korikese artifacts for its powerful and prestigious institutions to examine, and frequently appropriates Korikese dress even as it mocks “barbarian” styles. Of course, these practices were drawn from reality.
Although I have been drinking tea my whole life, I grew fascinated with the drink and its preparation over quarantine. When I began brainstorming The Splinter in the Sky, I knew I wanted to write about a character with a profession that, at that point, I had yet to read about elsewhere. Making Enitan a tea specialist offered the perfect opportunity to utilize the tea-related information I’d accumulated—and her unique skillset, in turn, provided ample opportunities for her to interact with (and eavesdrop on) key political players in the novel.
The Splinter in the Sky follows Enitan, tea specialist-turned-assassin, who embarks on a quest to rescue her sibling after they’re abducted by imperial agents. But she soon discovers that saving Xiang might require confronting an empire. Over the course of the novel, Enitan brews tea for a variety of people in a variety of different situations: for her sibling during their evening chats at home, for imperial nobles so she can eavesdrop on them, for unexpected new friends in the capital of the Vaalbaran empire. In this story, tea is at once a gift, a weapon, an important part of Enitan’s culture, and an exotic import obsessed over by Vaalbarans.
Here, then, is a culinary tour of The Splinter in the Sky: a comprehensive list of the teas Enitan prepares, poisons, and occasionally enjoys herself; the real-world inspirations for the blends; and explanations of why I selected them, as well as details on the deeper meanings behind each scene and the historical context behind it all.
Beware; some spoilers follow.
Tea with Xiang, Chapter One: Black uhie with berraleaf and spices (aromatic bark, seed pods, roots, and peppercorns)
In the first chapter, Korikese siblings Enitan and Xiang enjoy the in-world version of chai, a tea that I have always associated with warmth and comfort. Enitan and Xiang have a tradition of climbing up to the roof of their housepod every evening with a pot of fresh tea. Xiang has mild allergies, and berraleaf contains the only known antihistamine without any side effects in the solar system. I wanted Korikese medicine to be as close to nature as possible, reflecting Koriko’s appreciation and understanding of the natural world. This tidbit was a small homage to the deep real-world insights traditional knowledge possesses.
There are two equivalents of C. sinensis in the story: uhie is the primary tea plant grown in Koriko, the lunar habitat Enitan and Xiang call home; tea in the empire of Vaalbara is predominately made from hardier, bitter theehma vines. Korikese uhie is prized as a luxury in Vaalbara, just as tea imported from China was (and is) considered a luxury in Britain. After the disastrous First Opium War (1839-1842), the British East India Company paid a Scottish plant hunter to smuggle tens of thousands of tea seedlings and numerous workers into Darjeeling, India—establishing the Indian tea trade and weakening the Chinese monopoly on tea. I intentionally made this impossible in The Splinter in the Sky. In the book, Vaalbarans have yet to figure out how to cultivate viable uhie plants on their own world, adding yet another motivation to their list of reasons to conquer Koriko.
Tea for Deora’s friends, Chapter Seven: Very strong black uhie mixed with a softer black tea
Here Enitan serves the in-world version of Irish Breakfast, which possesses a remarkably bold flavor with notes of caramel and malt. It’s a strong, caffeine-rich tea, and this aspect complements the tense opening of Chapter Seven when, pursuing her only lead on Xiang’s abduction, Enitan arrives in the enormous floating capital of Vaalbara, the eponymous Splinter. There, she discovers that her assigned host is the exuberant countess Deora. While the noblewoman presents herself as a respectful scholar of Korikese culture and as an ally to Enitan, her aristocratic friends possess little of her knowledge and none of her genuine appreciation of traditional Korikese tea ceremony. It is during this scene that Enitan realizes that she can use Vaalbarans’ ignorance and exotification of her culture to spy on them in over-the-top performances, even though doing so is exhausting, painful, and often life-threatening.
Ethnological expositions—or human zoos—grew popular in European circuses and “freak shows” during the 19th and 20th centuries. They were public exhibits of people in outlandish displays meant to recreate their “natural,” “primitive,” and “savage” states. These dehumanizing expositions attempted to prove the superiority of Western civilization and promote scientific racism. The Parisian World’s Fairs of 1878 and 1889 offered “Negro Villages.” The latter event’s primary attraction—four hundred Indigenous people—drew some 28 million attendees. These anthropological exhibitions influenced Enitan’s treatment in the Splinter, and shaped how I portrayed the empire’s views of those beyond its ever-expanding borders.
First tea with the Menkhet, Chapter 16: Semi-oxidized uhie with berraleaf
The tea Enitan prepares in Chapter 16 is the in-world version of an extremely high-quality oolong, and was specifically inspired by Dà Hóng Páo, a rock tea grown in the Wuyi mountains of Fujian Province. Wuyi rock teas are some of—if not the—most expensive teas on the planet, and the seven steps to prepare Dà Hóng Páo (which include shaking and rolling the leaves in a bamboo sieve) are incredibly time-intensive.
In an earlier chapter, Menkhet, also known as the God-Emperor of the Vaalbaran Empire (or simply the Imperator), forges a deal with Enitan that could—if she upholds her end—restore Koriko’s independence. Like Enitan’s sibling Xiang, Menkhet suffers from severe allergies; Enitan brews her a pot of berraleaf as a favor—a sign of their developing friendship. Since Menkhet is the (nominal) ruler of the wealthiest polity in the solar system, I figured the least she could do was acquire some fancy leaves for Enitan to work with.
In this case, the tea served does have medicinal properties, but there is a long, complicated history of Westerners ascribing magical properties to the cultures and cuisines of Asia and Africa. This happens even as traditional non-Western medicine and medical practices are denigrated. But perhaps that paradox ought to be unsurprising; non-Westerners do not possess science—the realm of rational, stable, civilized thought—but they are allowed to have magic—wild, capricious, untamed.
There is an important distinction between valid criticism and ignorant insult. It is one thing to critique the science behind a particular method and another to dismiss that method as uneducated barbarian nonsense, especially when that “nonsense” is poorly understood or taken out of context. This is something I sought to explore in Vaalbara’s views on Korikese medicine, which the empire sees as little more than superstitious, fumbling attempts at proper healthcare. But Vaalbara’s suspicion of the natural world and its dismissal of foreign advances are some of the empire’s major weaknesses.
Tea with the Menkhet and Kulta, Chapter 25: Black uhie with citrus oil and flower petals
Kulta is one of Menkhet’s bodyguards, and a synth—an android whose existence is outlawed in Vaalbara. Kulta and his siblings become true friends with Enitan as they support her mission. This scene is one of the few instances Enitan isn’t in charge of brewing; here she has a chance to sit back, relax, and enjoy her world’s version of Lady Grey. Lady Grey’s flavor profile is lighter and fruitier than Earl Grey, which suits (at least part of) this chapter—upon learning that Enitan has grown homesick, Menkhet and Kulta prepare a traditional Korikese breakfast feast. It’s a gesture that touches Enitan, even if she refuses to admit as much.
Critically, there’s no fuss made over the “foreignness” of the meal—the food is presented as just that: food, without any of the derision or fascination present in other scenes involving Vaalbarans and Korikese cuisine.
Second tea with Menkhet, Chapter 28: White uhie (mixed with theehma)
After some particularly intense events, Enitan and Menkhet come to an important decision over a fresh pot of the in-world version of Ceylon gold tips. Further information would require serious spoilers, but suffice to say that this is a sensitive moment. An important detail here, however, is that Menkhet notes that Enitan has diluted the uhie stock with Vaalbaran theehma. As Enitan’s initial stores are depleted in soirée after soirée, she begins padding the blends she crafted with such care at home with theehma leaves. This practice was intended to work on two levels. First, it mirrors Enitan’s outward adoption of Vaalbaran culture in order to better assimilate into and maneuver her way through the Splinter. Secondly, the inability of most Vaalbarans to tell the difference between prized ceremonial-grade Korikese tea and ersatz leaves emphasizes how shallow much of imperial cultural “appreciation” is.
White tea undergoes the least processing of all tea varieties; Ceylon gold tips are treated with particular care. Leaves are harvested from young tea bushes before the buds have even opened, and are then left to dry in natural sunlight. I intended to mirror the delicate emotions of this scene with the equally delicate nature of the tea.
Tea with Zahura, Chapter 34: Stone-ground green uhie
Zahura is a powerful Vaalbaran duchess, the matriarch of a family closely related to a past Imperator. Everything about her would indicate that she and Enitan would be mortal enemies, but the duchess manages to surprise our protagonist in more ways than one.
In this scene the unlikely duo enjoy the fictional version of ceremonial-grade matcha. High quality matcha has a complex flavor profile; it is earthy, and could even be described as a tad savory, with a nice bitter note. There are no easy answers to the myriad problems the characters face; it follows that the ending of The Splinter in the Sky ought to retain a little complexity as well. The last scene is a happy one, certainly, but it is still bittersweet.
At the risk of stating the obvious, it is worth noting that the West is currently obsessed with matcha: the United States, Canada, Germany, the United Kingdom, France, and Australia are the key consumers of the tea, and not merely in the Western world—globally. It has been argued that matcha has been a victim of ‘cultural food colonialism,’ suffering not only gentrification but also the erasure of its cultural identity since it first appeared on the Starbucks menu. In the novel, this phenomenon is mirrored in the commodification of Korikese uhie; Vaalbarans adore the tea, but the same cannot be said for the people that cultivate it. (This concept, of course, applies to so much more than food.)
Those arguing that tea cannot be enjoyed by those born outside of the relevant tea-drinking cultures are, I imagine, in the minority. But what does it mean when powerful Western societies treasure foreign products and practices while disparaging foreign people? The lines between curiosity and exotification, appreciation and appropriation are exceedingly thin ones, and a little thoughtfulness goes a long way.
So enjoy your chai—so long as you don’t call it chai tea.
Further reading
Texts on world history, empires, imperialism, colonialism, and cultural appropriation that I found useful for my writing, or were otherwise interesting.
Orientalism by Edward W. Said (goes almost without saying)
The World: A Family History of Humanity by Simon Sebag Montefiore (a true feat of synthesis, clear even to a layperson such as myself; shockingly entertaining)
The Ottomans: Khans, Caesars and Caliphs by Marc David Baer (a joy to read)
Uppity Women of Ancient Times by Vicki León (very funny)
SPQR: A History of Ancient Rome by Mary Beard (just fantastic)
Confronting the Classics: Traditions, Adventures and Innovations by Mary Beard (also fantastic)
Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies by Jared Diamond (crammed with compelling theories and interesting ideas)
Bad Gays: A Homosexual History by Huw Lemmey and Ben Miller (see Chapter 3: Hadrian; the authors also host a great podcast by the same name)
Empress Dowager Cixi: The Concubine Who Launched Modern China by Jung Chang (a dramatic, gripping portrait)
Lives of Extraordinary Women: Rulers, Rebels (and What the Neighbors Thought) by Kathleen Krull and Kathryn Hewitt (a nice overview with very charming illustrations)
Ten Queens: Portraits of Women of Power by Milton Meltzer (another nice overview with more excellent illustrations)
Daily Life in the Ottoman Empire by Mehrdad Kia (in-depth analyses of various aspect of daily life in a multiethnic polyglot empire)
God's Shadow: Sultan Selim, His Ottoman Empire, and the Making of the Modern World by Alan Mikhail
The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt by Ian Shaw
The Great Empires of the Ancient World by Thomas Harrison
Alexander: The Ambiguity of Greatness by Guy MacLean Rogers
Empires in World History: Power and the Politics of Difference by Frederick Cooper and Jane Burbank
In the Shadow of the Gods: The Emperor in World History by Dominic Lieven
Licentious Worlds: Sex and Exploitation in Global Empires by Julie Peakman
Empire: A New History of the World by Paul Strathern
Kemi Ashing-Giwa is the USA Today bestselling author of The Splinter in the Sky, the forthcoming novella This World Is Not Yours, and the forthcoming novel The King Must Die. She studied organismic & evolutionary biology and astrophysics at Harvard, and is now pursuing a PhD in the Earth & Planetary Sciences department at Stanford. Her short fiction has appeared in Tor.com, Anathema: Spec from the Margins, The Sunday Morning Transport, Clarkesworld Magazine, and Luna Station Quarterly.