We Lived On The Horizon Review (Erika Swyler)

Front cover of “We Lived On The Horizon” by Erika Swyler. Image taken from the Simon & Schuster website.

It’s time for another book review, and I didn’t spend too much time at my local bookstore the other day before I came across a title that caught my eye. It was on the “new releases” table, because it only came out quite recently. The copyright year said 2025, so it can’t be more than a few weeks out from its publication. 

I am speaking of We Lived On The Horizon, a science fiction novel whose summary claimed it would tackle the issue of artificial intelligence. Now, I have some very strong feelings about AI that are beyond the scope of this review. However, that’s one reason we humans should keep producing art: To examine the most important issues of the current era. We had Nineteen Eighty-Four during the Cold War, we had Silent Spring during the environmental movement of the 1960s and ‘70s, and now we have We Lived On The Horizon during the AI “revolution.”

So the book is about Bulwark, a post-apocalyptic city run by an AI system known as Parallax. Within Bulwark, the AI carefully optimizes every aspect of life for the residents. Any inefficiency in the code must be dealt with, because the AI evidently decided that humans can’t be trusted to run their society themselves. Honestly, they might have a point in real life. 

The “inciting incident” of this novel is when a member of the city’s elite is murdered, and Parallax covers it up. I guess this is Bulwark’s equivalent of a memory-hole from 1984. The imbalance in the code creates chaos in the city, and that’s what leads to revolution. (And no, I’m not spoiling anything that’s not already in the book’s official summary).

Bulwark, unlike many dystopian settings in science fiction novels, does have a class disparity. The main character, bio-prosthetist and surgeon Enita Malovis, is part of the Sainted, a social class descended from those who have made the greatest sacrifices to serve the city. The Sainted live relatively luxurious lives in their own section of Bulwark; those in the Southern Quarter are, to put it simply, not so fortunate.

The urban setting resonated with me as someone who’s presently applying to graduate schools for urban planning. The minutiae of running a city fascinate me, and I wish if anything that the novel would have explored this more. Still, the worldbuilding was excellent and incredibly detailed given that this is a stand-alone novel as far as I’m aware. Erika Swyler, the author of this book, clearly thought carefully about how a hypothetical city run by AI would work. 

Now let’s talk about the main characters. Unlike most dystopian novels I’ve read, the main character is not an adolescent female or a 39-year-old man. Rather, it’s a woman said to be nearing age 70, which is rather unique. It’s not every day that you find speculative fiction containing a senior citizen as the protagonist, and it was a breath of fresh air compared to what people my age and younger typically read.

Saint Enita Malovis lives alone except for her AI assistant, her “house system” named Nix. Although Nix also served Enita’s grandfather, Enita has taken it upon herself to program her house system with all her knowledge so that her craft doesn’t die with her. 

What I love about this detail is that it presents a very nuanced portrayal of artificial intelligence. Although Enita embraces Nix and considers him a dear friend, she’s also wary of what it means to be the last person in a profession that’s endangered by AI technologies. I compare this to the sense that we’ll one day run out of people willing to produce fine art, or that it’ll be taken over by AI. The meme below is sad but also very relevant.

A meme I found on DeviantArt about how AI “artwork” is flooding many websites.

Another aspect of Enita’s character I found intriguing was borne out of her past. As a child, Enita received a kidney from a Body Martyr - that’s a title in Bulwark. As such, she frequently faces survivor’s guilt, wondering what happened to the person who gave up an organ so that she could live. I couldn’t help but think of that film Never Let Me Go, though the analogy is far from perfect.

Speaking of survivor’s guilt, let’s talk about the “societal debt” system featured in the story. The Sainted, as descendants of those who have made sacrifices for the good of the city, do not need to accrue this debt. However, if someone “takes too much” from Bulwark, they will be saddled with societal debt, and if they die with societal debt outstanding, their surviving relatives will owe it. This is one aspect of the dystopia.

While reading this novel, I felt that the system described above may have been intended as an analogy to the American health insurance system. There are multiple instances when characters who really ought to go to the hospital instead go to Enita, also known as “Stitch-Skin”, because they don’t want their family to have to deal with the societal debt. Unfortunately, we see this all too often in real life.

There’s another quote that touches upon class, which I feel was explored almost as thoroughly in this novel as it was in Lewis Robinson’s The Islanders, which I’ve also reviewed. Because the Sainted have no societal debt and live in relative luxury, it’s described as akin to being dead. You don’t need to accomplish anything, because you’ve already achieved what is necessary.

 Although the insanity of Sainted parties is nothing like that of the Capitol citizens from The Hunger Games (who were literally throwing up so they could eat more), it still seems notable that most of these people have nothing to strive for. Enita and her former lover Helen (yes, this novel has plenty of LGBTQ+ representation) are the exception rather than the rule. 

To be Sainted is like being a trust-fund baby socialized into an upper income class. Many of the novel’s Saints believe that they deserve their privilege, even though their ancestors were the ones who earned it. This breeds resentment among members of the lower classes, which is a key point of tension in Bulwark. 

So what’s the verdict here? Well, I’ve opted to switch from a rating system out of ten, and instead I’m going to talk about who I recommend this book for and who I think should think twice before picking up a copy. I’ve noticed a selection bias where I only select books I think I will enjoy, so I’ll only get high ratings on my scale. Besides, I want to keep things positive when possible - this is for fun.

If you’re an avid reader of science fiction who is fascinated by the philosophy of technology, specifically about how it isn’t as neutral as we might like to think it is, I can’t recommend We Live On The Horizon enough. It will give you a lot to think about, and it presents one of the key scientific issues of the day (artificial intelligence) in an objective light. Note that objectivity doesn’t necessarily mean neutrality. Additionally, if you love science fiction that goes deeply into the worldbuilding side of things, you should read this book.

However, it needs to be said that this book is rather dense. I’m a relatively fast reader, but it took me a little over a minute to get through each page. Part of it is because I was taking notes to later write this review, but it’s also a challenging novel that is confusing at times. That doesn’t make it any less rewarding, however, if you like science fiction.

For the same reason, I wouldn’t recommend this as a popcorn read. This is not Ready Player One - it’s supposed to be intellectually stimulating. Oh, and if you’re at all squeamish surrounding body parts and injuries to said body parts, I would think twice, maybe even thrice, before you crack We Live On The Horizon open. Surgical procedures are described in some detail, and self-harm is also a key plot point.

Thank you for reading, and please subscribe for more book reviews.