Grad school is hell.
So sayeth all my friends with a doctorate, and so sayeth Dr. R. F. Kuang in her latest book, Katabasis. Katabasis (lit. “journey to the underworld”) follows a final-year doctoral candidate as she treks to Hell to rescue her (questionable) doctoral advisor. To her irritation, she’s stuck with the department’s Golden Boy, Peter, who’s frustrated her for years. Together, they must use the Powers of Logic to navigate the Underworld, rescue their professor, and make it back to the Land of the Living.
Much has already been said and written about Katabasis. There are several lists of books you “should” read before daring to pick it up. (False! In my opinion. Kuang does a great job of explaining every important / relevant paradox or Underworld reference.) Hundreds of comments have debated whether the book is the work of a genius or simply a work of pretension.
Personally, I fall in the camp of those who love Katabasis. I grew up on a college campus (my father is a professor), and I’ve been around grad students since before I could walk. I don’t think Katabasis is for everyone, but I offer some thoughts on what makes it work for me – and hopefully that helps you assess whether it will work for you.
Reader beware: minor thematic and referential spoilers below. I don’t think they should impact your reading experience greatly – but be warned!
Writing what she knows…
R.F. Kuang seems to write to her mind. While teaching debate in China and studying Chinese History, she wrote The Poppy War. When she was in school across the pond, she wrote about Oxbridge elitism and colonialism in Babel. Catapulted into publishing success? Yellowface. And now, as she finishes her doctorate program (and finds love), we have a book about academia and finding love.
It’s not that there are no consistencies in her writing over the years. With the exception of Yellowface, she almost always writes hard fantasy. Her magic systems are always tailor-made to support her themes. Her character work is expressive and heightened; everyone feels deeply. (Also, every one is an overthinker, brain racing 100 miles a minute.) And most of the time, there’s some element of the academic setting in her work.
But Kuang’s topics and themes veer wildly from work to work, and this diversity has led to some challenges in expectations for her readers. Many found her via either The Poppy War or Babel, each different from the other but unified in their approach to colonialism and empire. For those readers, Yellowface was a much more modern (and personal) surprise. Katabasis is a kind of halfway point, using a fantasy journey through Hell to explore the challenges of academic life. But it’s also a departure from almost all her prior work, as it’s the first treat human connection as supportive, flourishing, even sustaining (rather than merely awakening or even destructive).
All this to say, Katabasis continues in Kuang’s tradition of writing what she knows. Writing seems to be her way of sense-making – she’s not trying to maximize her audience via thematic consistency, but rather write the most perfect way to explore what’s on her mind. Do not come to this book because you want another Poppy War or Babel. But if you like the idea of logical puzzles densely packed around an exploration of academia and love, it might be up your alley.
Dark academia, epitomized
For those looking for an exploration of the dark side of academic life, Katabasis feels spot-on. While I’ve not had any post-grad training, many of my Caltech friends and coworkers have. Discussions with them has given me a glimpse into the highs and lows of that life. The peaks – a research success, moments of bonding over hard (impossible?) work. The stresses of ambiguity, of going boldly where none have gone and where success isn’t guaranteed. The intense competition – with yourself and others around you, as you look towards the few tenure-track slots or job openings available. And the joys of building genuine connection as you puzzle through topics few others care to understand, running faster together than you ever could alone.
Katabasis perfectly captures all these feelings. Kuang’s protagonist, Alice Lee, starts out extraordinarily self-oriented. And this makes good sense – her advisor, Prof. Grimes, has put her through the mental and magical wringer. All she can see is competition, and all she can aim for is survival. It’s external interventions – rescues upon betrayal, guidance from those who have been burned by the same path – that expand her aperture, learning to see how others might help her.
Kuang writes this journey perfectly, even if the result made me want to shake her protagonist several times. Alive is so caught up in her own world, her own success, that she fails to see when others may simply want to help. That makes her character arc all the more satisfying.
Drinking from the firehose (happily)
It’s not just Kuang’s character work that rings true to academia, however. Kuang has set up her magic system to force a “firehose” of information onto her readers. In Katabasis, magic works based on paradoxes. Specifically, magicians can leverage the split second of confusion when faced with a paradox to create different effects. This means that as Alice and Peter explore Hell, their primary survival mechanism is paradoxes and logic. And Kuang keeps them coming, fast and thick, trusting her reader to keep up.
Kuang’s Hell, too, is one big set of references. Alice and Peter use different literary reference points (The Inferno, The Wasteland) for their hypothesized maps of Hell. (Neither is perfectly right, which rings true, too, for academic research.) Because Hell apparently looks like Oxbridge, some familiarity with the Colleges may help readers imagine the setting more clearly.
And there are plenty of little dopamine-y references as well: Peter and Alice survive on Lembas; they meet a character named Bayes; etc. (None of these references are plot-breaking to miss. Kuang explains what’s critical and leaves the rest for those who want to find it.)
Some may find this style impenetrable or pretentious; I find it delightful. Reading Katabasis feels like conversation, fast and furious, with the smartest group of people you know. Even more, it feels like play – there’s a delight to recognizing something, to cracking the code. And when everything comes together at the end, when all the logic fits together – pure joy. This writing is the closest I’ve seen to the experience of academic exploration between several experts, each going on their own paths, yet converging to a core truth.
Academic love
Katabasis, on its surface, is about the darkest parts of academia. But at its heart, it’s a love story. Alice starts her book in her darkest place – completely isolated, paranoid, desperate to graduate. As she journeys through Hell, she learns to work with others. Alice goes from gathering information and inspiration from others, to taking their physical support, to accepting real kindness and even love. Katabasis is about healing and self-love – even when it’s a battle to get there.
It’s a much more positive message than Kuang’s prior novels, which may be yet another surprise for dedicated readers. Personally, I’m happy that this is the Dark Academia book Kuang chose to write – one full of pain, but ultimately hope. While not everyone has pursued a graduate degree, increasing numbers of people report feeling lonely, and many of us experience imposter syndrome (which can further isolate). Katabasis is a reminder that, even when it feels impossible to survive, help may be closer than you think.
Katabasis is the rare dark academia novel that doesn’t glorify the suffering, but instead guides its protagonist (and readers) toward something kinder: connection, clarity, and hope. It’s a story about getting lost in a system — and then finding your way back to yourself, not alone but alongside others. That emotional throughline has stayed with me long after I closed the book, and it’s put me in the mood for more stories that balance wit with warmth.
Lucky for me (and maybe for you), we’ve got a great season ahead: a new Thursday Murder Club, more cozy meals from the Kamogawa Food Detectives, and — dare I say it — maybe some Austen rereads, too? It is 250 years of Jane, after all.
Until then: stay cozy, and stay curious.
