Ann Leckie’s latest novel is a standalone effort set in her award-winning Ancillary universe, though the term standalone should come with a caveat anytime it refers to a part of an already established canon. Translation State, like the previous standalone Provenance, offers an expanded understanding of the world Leckie established in her Radch trilogy, but probably shouldn’t be thought of as an entry point to the universe. It is also, for me, the least successful of Leckie’s novels, though seemingly still an essential one for her readers, as it delves into several aspects of the earlier novels that were left ambiguous or incomplete.

The novel begins with three separate storylines that converge as the novel progresses. It kicks of with Enae, whose Grandmaman and sole benefactor has recently died. Enae finds hirself disinherited upon learning that Grandmaman had essentially been broke, and only managed to keep herself and Enae afloat by trading her estate and the family name to a nouveau riche upstart for a sizeable personal allowance. Luckily for Enae, Grandmaman had cooked up an agreement with this interloper to provide for hir (Enae) after her passing. So Enae is secured a position at the Office of Diplomacy, and sent on a errand to find out the whereabouts of, or to learn the ultimate fate of, a long missing Presger Translator. (For the uninitiated, the treaty with the alien Presger is the only thing keeping human civilization from crumbling, and the Translators – an engineered race of people separate from the Presger themselves – are essential to the treaty’s continued health.) Enae quickly learns that sie is not expected to actually complete the assignment, but simply to travel about and report back hir lack of success in doing so. Sie decides to make a go of it, anyway.

The other two threads follow Reet, an orphan who gets caught up in the machinations of a political faction of displaced people known as the Hikipi, and Qven, an adolescent Presger Translator who is considered damaged goods after suffering a terrifying sexual assault. Explaining how the plot brings these disparate individuals together would spoil to much, though it quickly becomes clear that the confluence of circumstances has far-reaching implications for the upcoming Conclave, which was aggressively teased in Provenance and given even more weight here.

Translation State has many of the attributes that won Leckie her loyal fan base: the social and political maneuverings; her tart, sometimes goofy sense of humor; the imaginative perils and pitfalls she throws in her characters’ paths. We get to learn more about the the Geck and the Rrrrrr, and especially the thoroughly fascinating Presger Translators, even if the Presger themselves are still shrouded in mystery.

Where Translation State falls short for me – and it’s a pretty big fall – is in the three main characters themselves. Our introduction to Enae, who seemingly spent hir life up until Grandmaman’s death showing no real initiative or assertiveness (at least, not that we are made aware of) does nothing but when the plot requires sie do so, with little indication of what might have brought about this sea change. That sie fades somewhat into the background as Reet and Qven take center stage is not surprising. Those two characters, whom the main action of the novel is visited upon, are impossibly earnest, cloying in their preciousness – much in the way adults idealize adolescence, rather than being believably adolescent (a common problem in many YA novels). Not to mention (sorry if this is too spoilery) a big chunk of the novel deals with their growing bond of friendship, which consists entirely of them lying in bed and binge-watching a streaming show. This is a growing trend in science fiction – the lionizing of modern-day consumerist habits in a far-future setting – and until now I would have hoped an author of Leckie’s considerable gifts would steer clear of it, but here we are.

As a harbinger of things to come, Translation State gives readers plenty to look forward to, but for this reader, at least, less to hold onto right now.