Ace Book Review: "Latchkey" by Nicole Kornher-Stace ("Archivist Wasp" Book 2)

But if there was one lesson the past three years had hammered into her head, it was that "easier" and "less complicated" did not always equal "better"

(Spoilers for Archivist Wasp by Nicole-Kornher-Stace)

In 2020, I was introduced to Wasp, the titular protagonist of the 2015 novel Archivist Wasp by Nicole Kornher-Stace. The book is set against the backdrop of a dystopian landscape and follows Wasp’s exploits as a ghost hunter, marked for holy service by the goddess Catchkeep. It is a system Wasp struggles futilely against until the day she is approached by the ghost of a supersoldier who wants her help in finding the long-lost ghost of his partner, Catherine Foster. This requires making a harrowing journey to the world of ghosts, and along the way Wasp discovers a great deal about herself and her world. Her real name? Isabel, a name she had forgotten after spending so much time being passed around from family to family. Her calling? A lie, just as it has been for all Archivists and upstarts – those who, likewise marked, try to compete to become Archivist in a brutal fight to the death. The very marks of her station? Given to her after being traded to the priests by starving parents desperate for food.

I was drawn to Wasp’s character right away and found her struggle a riveting, meaningful one – something that becomes especially pronounced because Wasp is a “Word of God” aromantic asexual character and the novel reflects it. Wasp exists in a world where she doesn’t have terminology to describe herself as either asexual or aromantic, but her author confirmed that sex and romance never enter her mind, nor do they have a factor in the story at all. The author went on to explain that the relationships that make the story what it is are the platonic bonds between Wasp and the ghost, and the ghost and Foster. In fact, I find it interesting to note that the only time sex is referenced in the story at all is not to or from Wasp, but rather an insult lobbed by someone else at her ghostly travelling companion, who reacts first with shock, then rage. In a world obsessed with sex and references to it, it was an enjoyable reversal to experience not just one character who doesn't view themselves through this lens, but a whole host of characters separated by a vast divide of years, but who are united through this shared parallel.

These bonds are explored and expanded on in greater detail in the book’s 2018 sequel, Latchkey, which takes place three years after the events of the first book. Wasp, now going by her original name Isabel, is continuing the new purpose she found at the end of the first book – leading her town into a better future, freed from the influence of the sadistic Catchkeep priest who tormented not only Isabel, but many Archivists and upstarts over the years. Now, Isabel leads those upstarts in keeping the town safe from threats – both earthly and ghostly alike – but still feels a bit of the ghost-place within her, lingering remnants of becoming a quasi-ghost, as was necessary in the search for Foster. She tries to find a new purpose, far removed from when her job as Archivist was to catch and destroy ghosts, instead trying to move forward with the goals of growth and protection.

When the town is threatened by the arrival of deadly raiders, Isabel’s new purpose is tested as the townspeople try to defend their home. During the course of this, secrets from the first book come to light and both Isabel and we as readers discover more about the long-ago titular Latchkey Program that turned children into supersoldiers and produced both the ghost and Foster. Latchkey takes place against this backdrop, once again exploring the dark and disturbing world of the “before time,” as well as the implications it still has for Isabel, her town, and the ghosts, who once offered to take Isabel with them back into the ghost place. Much like Archivist Wasp, this story revels in its amazing worldbuilding, its complex characters, and the interconnectivity between them, showcasing their relationships and platonic bonds. Because this book is less focused on a journey and more focused on slowly unraveling the Latchkey Program mystery, it is a little less focused on the themes of identity that made Archivist Wasp feel so heavily saturated in aspec themes. However, despite this, Latchkey and its characters serve as an important function in representation.

Something I’ve discussed at length in other posts is the feeling of consuming a piece of media – whether a book, a movie, or a television show – with steadily mounting dread that a character I identify with will be pushed into a romantic and/or sexual relationship. This is far from baseless paranoia, as any regular reader of the blog has heard me talk about identifying with Seven of Nine in the show Star Trek: Voyager or Cole in the video game Dragon Age: Inquisition, only to be left with heartbreak and frustration to see them “be made normal.” Therefore, I can’t even begin to describe the amazing feeling of going into a piece of media with the guarantee that this will not happen. As I mentioned before, Kornher-Stace answered a reader question on GoodReads for Archivist Wasp in which she confirmed that neither that story nor this one focus on romance at all, but rather on platonic bonds. However, even without that confirmation, I trust Kornher-Stace and her characters to not go down that path, and that level of trust is as incredible as it is rare.

Additionally, although Latchkey does not focus so much on Isabel’s physical journey the way the first book was concerned with exploring the “ghost place”, that does not mean it is absent. In fact, although the focus is more heavily on the Latchkey Program (and the ghosts it produced), Isabel’s own emotional journey is far from over, and there are still many aspec parallels to be drawn from it. For instance, something that really resonated with me over the course of the story is that Isabel makes a distinction between fitting in (as she does in the town) and being understood (as she feels she is with Foster and the nameless ghost). Very often, the notion of “being understood” is portrayed in media as coming from a sexual and/or romantic relationship with another person, but some of my favorite relationships in media come when that feeling of “perfect understanding” exists in a non-traditional sort of bond, such as a purely platonic friendship. We see that portrayed so well between Isabel and the ghosts, especially the unnamed supersoldier, who had been her traveling companion and confidant during the previous adventure three years prior. The narrative even makes a point of saying Isabel felt homesick for the ghost, but in that totally platonic way I’ve come to trust and expect from this series, which is absolutely extraordinary.

In general, there is an intimate understanding Isabel has for the ghost and Foster and they for her that cannot be matched by anything else, and I really appreciate that that doesn’t mean the other relationships in Isabel’s life are worthless. For instance, Isabel really does care for her friend and second-in-command, and that relationship is important to her, as are the bonds she has with all of the upstarts that look to her for leadership. But the way she relates to the ghosts is on an entirely different and unique level – not “better,” per se, just different. That’s something I can relate to very strongly as an aspec person myself and my own desire to “be understood” or “to belong.”

In Isabel’s case, there is something that makes her feel both emotional and calmed to see the ghosts or even hear their voices; I think this becomes especially satisfying due to the completely organic ways Foster and the unnamed ghost’s stories have parallels to Isabel’s own. For instance, as the two sole survivors of the Latchkey Program, both Foster and the ghost have the unique distinction of “being special because they didn’t die,” which is exactly what Isabel herself felt whenever she won an Archivist-choosing fight, as portrayed in the first book. In the first story, we see that Isabel almost feels more comfortable in the ghost place, dangerous though it may be, than in her own society, a detail which feels both heart-wrenching and familiar to me. But, for as sometimes sad and painful as these moments are, I can’t help but find them incredibly satisfying, because they show the ways that Isabel – a “Word of God” aromantic asexual character – feels calmed by having people like her in a society that is otherwise not like her. That doesn’t often happen for non-sexual or non-romantic characters.

Usually in media, non-sexual and/or non-romantic characters are ostracized for being that way, and discriminating against them is often framed as not only justified, but essential to their development. Rather than ever allowing these characters to feel comfortable around others like them, the narratives they’re in often go to great lengths to do the opposite, showing that the people around them are very different from them and there’s no hope that they can find anyone even remotely similar. Furthermore, these narratives often go on to say that any discomfort they feel is their fault, they should use this as a sign that they’re the problems, and should conform to the “societally acceptable” standards of those around them. So when we see characters who are non-sexual and non-romantic who are allowed to find others like them and feel understood, it’s enormously valuable. Stories and character relationships like these are importance because they create a world where, not only do aspec and aspec-adjacent people exist and are allowed to exist, but where they’re also allowed to find some level of comfort and understanding in the existence of others like them. In some ways, I feel like the existence of the Latchkey Program and the ghosts it left in its wake serves as an excellent metaphor for that exact thing.

In general, this is something I appreciate about so many of the characters in this world, because they are truly treated like people. Right away from the first book and still throughout this one, Isabel is not characterized the way aspec people (especially aromantic ones) usually are. Rather than be portrayed as a cold, emotionless, freakish person, we see that Isabel does care about those around her and feels deeply. In this book, we see the same is true of her two ghostly companions, even the nameless ghost, who seems like he would be especially stoic. In Foster, we see a fiery determination to do what’s right, passion for her causes, and even a defined sense of humor. In her unnamed partner, we see how much he cares for those around him and the lengths he will go to protect them; and even more extraordinarily, rather than his stoicism being used to mark him as “other,” it shows that his trust for people like Foster or Isabel is even more special and noteworthy, instead of forcing him to lose that stoicism if he wants to have friends and allies.

As I said, too often media encourages us to think of aspec people as emotionless robot people who need to change. In characters like Isabel, Foster, and the ghost, not only do we see non-sexual and non-romantic people who are full of emotion and personality and don’t need to change, but we are also encouraged to understand that personality is what makes people who they are. Something that has been a big struggle for me, not just in my aspec journey but in my own general journey of personal development, is the acknowledgement that I don’t need to be ashamed of who I am, even if other people can’t understand what I think or feel. I find it incredibly moving that the story makes us acknowledge that people are not people when they lose valuable parts of themselves, as too often media encourages characters to shed parts of themselves that others find inconvenient – whether that is a personality trait or a sexual identity. So the fact that we get this lesson from non-sexual and non-romantic characters is especially poignant and important.

As I mentioned briefly before, I likewise appreciate how these same attributes extend to other members of the Latchkey Program. As Isabel learns more about these long-dead characters, I really valued that their stories are never shown to be romantic within the confines of the program’s system, which I feel another story might have tried. Rather, any bond that a Latchkey operative had with another is generally implied to be platonic, and that is extraordinary, because once again it enforces the notion that this is a world where people don’t have to be romantic or sexual in the confines of a given system unless they choose to. Somehow the story allows characters like Isabel to wonder if they fit in society, but also allows them to know there are places they belong and certain people who make them feel comfortable, which is something I would desperately like to see more of in fiction.

When I finished the story, I was so profoundly impressed by yet another story built on these platonic bonds that I immediately wanted to know more and I found out a few things while visiting Nicole Kornher-Stace’s website. The first is that she does indeed have a third book planned for the saga in order to make it a complete trilogy (which is a relief, because I got to the end of Latchkey and *literally* screamed as I plunged off of the edge of its cliffhanger). The second is that the author does indeed identify as AroAce, and that it took her a very long time to figure that out or even quantify it because of what she specifically mentions is a profound lack of male-female platonic bonds in media, a sentiment which I wholeheartedly agree with and which I myself have experienced in my own aspec journey. The third is that, much like me, Kornher-Stace is a big geek for lore, worldbuilding, and continuity/development as time progresses through a world that has been built for a story. As a writer myself, this is the type of thing that I myself am endlessly striving for in my own works, and as a reader, I get extremely excited whenever it gets mentioned. So imagine my delight when I found out that Kornher-Stace has been doing just that with the Archivist Wasp saga, and with her standalone adult novel Firebreak. And the fourth is that Nicole Kornher-Stace is so, so much smarter than I will ever be and, if it produces amazing content with equally amazing representation like this, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

In general, I highly recommend not only checking out Latchkey (and Archivist Wasp, if that wasn’t clear from my review of that story), but also Nicole Kornher-Stace’s website overall. She has a lot of things on there that I find personally inspiring and deeply important, including a very moving piece about her aspec journey and her writing journey, and I’m so excited to see more from her. If and when the third book in this trilogy comes out, I plan on devouring it (and reviewing it for the blog, of course). In the meantime, I suspect I will be eagerly checking out Firebreak as well, and if I do, you can bet I will be eager to jump on here to talk at length about the representation found within its pages – you have no idea how excited I am to read a book when the main character has a platonic crush on someone because, I mean, that is my life to a tee.

Slight disclaimer – as with last time, I do recommend exercising caution if blood, gore, or body horror are major squicks or triggers for you. There are moments of battle, both in the present and the past, and the novel does not shy away from describing them, sometimes in more detail than others. As stated previously, I am a very squeamish sort, so chances are if I could handle it, most people can handle it, but keep those things in mind before you read. Otherwise, it’s an incredible read - a bit slower at times than its predecessor, but nevertheless tense, interesting, and full of the type of relationships I often long for and never seem to find. If you too ever hoped for strong friendships, platonic bonds, military friends that would die for each other or kill for each other, and if you’d like that served to you with incredible worldbuilding, I highly recommend embarking on the journey of this (hopefully) trilogy. It’s a wild journey and, so far, I’m finding it worth every step.