STARRED Book Review: Time Is Heartless

Reviewed by Andrea Marks-Joseph

A new mom’s personal crisis leads to a profound adventure exploring the limits of AI and the possibilities of post-climate-collapse technology. 

Time is Heartless, the third book in a series which I have not read before, had me hooked from the very first line and never let go. Author Sarah Lahey and her eclectic ensemble of characters found their way into my heart, keeping me spellbound and energized with a constantly surprising narrative—In fact, I read this book in one sitting, twice.

The opening quote that got me: “Will robots inherit the Earth? Yes, but they will be our children.” I mean, come on! How could I read that and not sit right down in a comfortable chair and settle in for the ride. 

Readers who follow the advancements of future tech and are confronting the ethics of artificial intelligence in our everyday lives (but who also love a great love story and mystery) should run, not walk, to pick up this near-future sci-fi novel.

If the topic of what the world will look like post-climate-collapse—biologically, reproductively, technologically, politically, and even fashionably—intrigues you, know that what this book delivers is nothing you expect and everything you want. 

Equal parts thought-provoking and riotously joyful, Time is Heartless is a book I’ll be thinking about for months—maybe years. Readers are placed on a ship with Quinn, who is not happy to be there. She feels trapped at sea, where she is parenting her toddler without her husband Tig. Quinn loves Tig, but he keeps disappearing on secret missions for much longer than he ever stays. 

“When you love someone you’re supposed to be together —that’s the deal you make. You don’t go gallivanting around the globe with another woman. What’s the point of a relationship if only one person is fulfilling the brief?”   

Quinn is lonely: unheard and unfulfilled. She’s married to a cyborg who won’t take his mood-regulating medication, and she’s missing her friend who disappeared from her cryo-sleeping tank. On top of all that, Quinn is still—four years after giving birth—disoriented by how much having a child did not meet her expectations. Though she’s a source of angst for Quinn, their toddler Molly is adorable, charming, and a delight to read. There’s also the potentially problematic situation of Tig being ancient royalty in a society that Quinn doesn’t quite grasp the implications of. 

The cool sci-fi features hit you right from the beginning, where you encounter lifelike robotic reptiles who scan people, who are algorithmically programmed to writhe when beheaded, and where children are born in artificial wombs.

A robotic meerkat super-AI companion living on the ship with Quinn and helping raise their kid, Mori’s lifespan is infinite (“There are no life lessons about the inevitability of death to be learned from him.”). He also begrudgingly gives in to all of Molly’s playtime requests. When he disappears suddenly, Quinn discovers that Mori ran away because he’s deep into an existential crisis that he believes romantic love can heal, so he’s been secretly CLONING HIMSELF to build a family. Yes, that did actually need to be in all-caps because WHAT. The storyline is shocking and silly and so smart, unraveling a number of surprising turns that Quinn and the reader can’t even begin to comprehend. This AI meerkat is having an existential crisis of intergalactic proportions. It cannot be understated how urgently you NEED to go read this!

A delightful bonus in terms of representation is that there are so many queer characters in this book. Quinn’s coworkers, friends, and even random side characters we meet once are all wonderful variations of casually queer: Women dating; women married to each other; genderqueer, gender-neutral, and nonbinary characters are introduced all the time alongside their otherwise heterosexual castmates. One of the major characters uses the neopronouns ze/zir and it’s never mentioned as something different or notable in this society. 

Quinn is also disabled. She has Raynaud’s syndrome and occasionally experiences a loss of control of one of her arms and hand in a way that many disabled readers will relate to. The descriptions of Quinn as a badass knife-wielding hero are perfectly intertwined with the descriptions of her disconnect from this hand, in a way that (as a disabled reader whose malfunctioning nervous system makes her hands react similarly) felt empowering and exciting.

There is so much at stake at all times in this novel; action, plot-twists, and reveals come from every angle. But there is also so much joy in the way Lahey tells this story. These characters feel so real. The novel captures the stress, the   worry, and the pain of being human—but also the ridiculousness of everyday life. Sometimes reality is so bizarre that you can’t help but laugh out loud, and sometimes one of your closest friends finds themselves in a totally bonkers situation and you simply have to laugh before you can help come up with a solution. That’s how reading this book feels. 

Quotes like,“She’s dead. She was killed by a kettle,” are followed by a discussion of the logistics of how an entire family could die from their kettle exploding. We’re also asked to consider practical consequences of a near-future society: For example, is it more morally sound to research whether there are dating apps built for AI to meet each other, or to find a real meerkat that’s open to dating Quinn’s meerkat-like super-AI companion who has begun to worry he won’t find romantic love. In another scene, Quinn finds herself in the middle of a funeral procession for robot dogs that were lost in the wave of software that is no longer supported, leaving the owners distraught that they cannot upgrade their devices to reunite with their pets. 

I was most impressed by the way Sarah Lahey was able to tell a story so rich in sci-fi terminology and technology, while also harnessing emotions (suspicion, desperation, desire, longing, terror!) that are intrinsic to the human experience. This novel simultaneously sparks the part of my brain that wants to imagine all the minutiae of a technology-advanced futuristic world and the part of me that is thrilled by strange facts not adding up. 

Time is Heartless is written some of the most intricately imagined worldbuilding I’ve ever read, and yet it feels completely accessible. We are involved in both the natural and unnatural world and in various settings. You’ll feel very much embedded in this universe of robotic creatures and highly advanced tech—present in our humanity at all times. 

Two content warnings could be necessary for a brief, heart-wrenching scene early in the book when the team finds dead infants in their birthing tanks and a scene where pirates come on board the ship and harass Quinn, threatening to sexually assault her. But it’s all talk, and they are dealt with swiftly before it becomes anything more dangerous.

This novel would be a fascinating and thoroughly enjoyable read for those interested in the complex, sometimes disappointing truth of motherhood and marriage. Quinn ventures out and off the boat for the first time in years—mostly to find Mori before he populates the planet with his AI-clones, but sincerely motivated by her desire to start a new life on land. She goes out there looking to bring Mori home, but she’s also reimagining the direction of her life and her purpose. 

Time is Heartless would make a really fun book club read, particularly among a demographic that doesn’t typically read sci-fi. I can easily imagine a group breaking away from their typical domestic thrillers and romance to have a ball at the futuristic shenanigans happening alongside Quinn’s deeply relatable reevaluation of her life. This book is built for live reacting, laughing out loud at one line, then closing your eyes to imagine having access to this seamlessly advanced technology at another. 

If you’re into quantum physics, climate change models (specifically: understanding what life in a permanent heatwave would be like), imaginative future tech, futuristic fashion, and time travel, Time is Heartless is the book for you. 

Readers who enjoyed and The Heat Will Kill You First by Jeff Goodell, Natural Beauty by Ling Ling Huang, and Silo on AppleTV+ are going to love this one. It’s bound to send you down many, many environmental- and biology-related Google spirals, and it’s genuinely, completely hilarious in the brilliant, sparkling, ridiculous way the future with all its boundless potential could be.

There is some really thought-provoking writing throughout this book that would capture the hearts of any creative living in this time of burgeoning AI tech—where we must consider who art is for and who it should be created by, musing on a robot’s capacity for art and crafts and love and connection. 

Time is Heartless is a rare work of fiction that I would gladly gift and recommend with great confidence to both my parents, my best friend, and to my middle-aged neighbors. Even reading this book as a standalone—coming into this story without the relationships built in the two previous books—I felt a close and familial connection to these characters. I understood their fears and their joys, I wanted the very best for their future, and I felt like theirs was intertwined with mine. This novel is filled with the warmth of humanity and the eeriness of a planet that we have ruined beyond repair, but it’s built on the hopeful idea that life goes on even after that. A life that is fulfilling and fun and full of love. A life worth living and people—and AI friends—worth loving til the very end. 

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