In Universes Review: The Multiverse Is a Character Tool, Not the Point

In Universes Review: The Multiverse Is a Character Tool, Not the Point

A spoiler-light review of Emet North’s In Universes, explaining why its multiverse structure feels literary rather than hard-SF, where the repetition works, and who should read it.

Illustration for CO-0139

In Universes is science fiction, but it is not especially interested in using the multiverse to solve a physics problem. Emet North uses parallel worlds as a way to look at Raffi from different angles: scientist, lover, friend, failure, possibility. The book’s speculative machinery matters because it lets the same emotional questions recur under different conditions.

Calling In Universes “true literary sci-fi” is useful because the novel is built from science-fiction premises while its real subject is identity, regret, desire, and self-construction across versions of a life. That balance is what worked for me: the multiverse gives the story its form, but character gives it its weight.

Key takeaway: Read In Universes for a character mosaic, not for hard-SF mechanics. The parallel worlds repeatedly reframe Raffi, making the novel feel at times like linked stories with the same emotional center.

The dark-matter setup tells you what kind of book this will not be

Emet North’s official book page introduces Raffi as a queer physicist working in an observational cosmology lab, searching for dark matter while feeling increasingly uncertain about both the research and their own life. Britt, a sculptor Raffi almost knew as a child, becomes the emotional “what if” that opens the door to other realities.

The science matters, but mainly as a language and structure. Strange Horizons notes that physics is initially Raffi’s lens, then the novel moves away from practical multiverse implications toward philosophy and character. That is the distinction readers should know before buying it.

If you want pages of cosmological problem-solving, formal many-worlds arguments, or a plot about proving alternate universes, In Universes will probably feel thin on the science. If you like the idea of scientific concepts becoming metaphors that reshape a personal story, it is much closer to the target.

Why the “short story collection” feeling can be a strength

Each chapter shifts into another version of Raffi’s life. Relationships change. Jobs change. Gender presentation and circumstances can change. Some universes are recognizably close to ours; others become much stranger. The same names and emotional patterns recur.

That structure can make the book feel less like a conventional linear novel and more like a linked collection. One independent review described exactly that sensation: at times it felt like a short-story collection where everyone had the same names, before the ending made the pieces cohere.

I think that is a feature when you approach the book as accumulation rather than progression. You are not always asking “what happens next?” You are asking “what persists when everything around Raffi changes?” Repetition becomes evidence.

Good to know: The first few universe changes can be disorienting because the book does not pause to rebuild every relationship from zero. The reading experience gets easier once you stop trying to preserve one continuous timeline and start tracking recurring patterns instead.

The real experiment is Raffi

Strange Horizons makes the strongest case for why the form works: each universe subtly changes Raffi’s circumstances and voice, and the differences accumulate into a collage. Across worlds, the novel keeps returning to guilt, imposter syndrome, intimacy, failure, and the urge to flee from versions of the self that feel unbearable.

That makes the book more literary than procedural. The multiverse does not exist mainly to produce clever alternate-history puzzles. It lets North triangulate a character. One Raffi may make a terrible choice; another may avoid it; another may carry the same wound into a completely different life. The reader learns who Raffi is by seeing what repeats and what finally changes.

This also explains why the stranger universes are not automatically the strongest ones. A separate review from Into the Volcano went in expecting heavier science fiction and ended up preferring the emotional, less spectacular chapters. The speculative escalation is imaginative, but spectacle is not the book’s center of gravity.

Expert tip: Give the novel three or four chapters before deciding whether its structure works for you. The point is not immediately obvious in a single universe; it emerges when repeated characters, fears, and choices begin to form a pattern.

Where the repetition may lose some readers

A structure built on variation inevitably asks you to revisit similar emotional territory. Raffi’s guilt, longing, self-doubt, and relationships keep returning in altered forms. If you enjoy motif and echo, that can feel elegant. If you prefer every chapter to introduce a new conflict and permanently advance one timeline, it can feel repetitive.

There is also a recurring reorientation cost. Each new world asks the reader to work out who Raffi is here, what Britt or Kay or Graham means in this version, and which familiar assumptions no longer apply. The book is relatively short, which helps. Strange Horizons argues that the collage works partly because the novel ends before repetition stops adding new information.

The limitation, then, is not that the book lacks plot. It is that its plot is distributed across variations rather than concentrated in a single forward line. That is a meaningful difference in reader fit.

What “literary sci-fi” actually means here

The phrase can be vague, but In Universes earns it in a concrete way. It uses speculative devices to deepen questions normally associated with literary fiction: regret, intimacy, memory, identity, ambition, and whether a person can become someone they can live with.

Strange Horizons goes further, arguing that the novel is less interested in being in conversation with science-fiction tradition than with mimetic literary fiction, even while real science and philosophy underpin its form. That helps explain why a reader can finish the book feeling that the most important events were emotional rather than cosmological.

The official author page calls In Universes a meditation on self-destruction and reconstruction. That description is accurate. Parallel worlds let the book repeatedly destroy and reconstruct context until Raffi has nowhere left to hide from the patterns that follow them.

Warning: The novel deals with depression, self-destructive behavior, guilt, relationship harm, and bleak or apocalyptic variations of reality. The tone can be tender and hopeful, but it is not uniformly comforting.

Who is most likely to enjoy it?

Choose In Universes if you like:

  • literary fiction that borrows speculative structure without becoming a hard-SF puzzle
  • queer character studies where identity and relationships change across context
  • linked-story or mosaic structures that reward pattern recognition
  • prose and emotional accumulation more than conventional plot momentum

Consider skipping it if you need:

  • a single continuous timeline with low reorientation cost
  • detailed explanations of multiverse physics or dark-matter research
  • every speculative chapter to escalate the external plot
  • a protagonist whose emotional problems resolve quickly and cleanly

Edition details: format matters

For the U.S. hardcover, bookseller and trade records list Harper, an April 30, 2024 publication date, ISBN 9780063314870, and 240 pages. Apple Books lists the Harper ebook at 224 pages under ISBN 9780063314887. Those counts are not contradictory when the formats are different.

The difference is worth naming because In Universes is structurally compact. Its mosaic effect depends on moving through versions quickly enough that echoes remain visible; it is not a sprawling multiverse saga.

Verdict: the worlds are mirrors

In Universes is at its best when you stop asking which universe is the “real” one and start noticing what each version reveals. Dark matter, parallel worlds, strange bodies, and apocalyptic possibilities give the novel scale, but they keep pointing back toward a much smaller question: what parts of a person survive changing circumstances?

That makes the book a strong fit for readers who want science fiction to alter the shape of a character study rather than dominate it. The resets can be disorienting, and the repetition can frustrate readers who want conventional momentum. But for the right reader, those same qualities are the method: North changes the universe again and again until Raffi becomes clearer.


Rangga Prasetya

Rangga Prasetya

I write about books, ideas, and the things that linger after the last page.

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