While unfamiliar with Ada Hoffmann’s writing, I was nonetheless enthusiastic about Ignore All Previous Instructions (2026), based both on the description and on that highly attitudinal title. In the end, though, for all its solid craft, it’s one of those books that I merely wanted to like.
Ignore All Previous Instructions introduces us to the near-perfect life of Kelli Reynolds. Kelli lives in a posh apartment on Callisto and works as a showrunner for a popular galactic serial called Ship of Fools — having, in her mid-twenties, realized her dream of becoming a professional storyteller. Well, sort of: the Jupiter system is run by “Inspiration,” a powerful AI company whose strict policing of societal norms has reduced Kelli to something of a prompt engineer. Even so, as an autistic creative in a universe of purposeless masses and minimal employment, Kelli is a major success story. Her equilibrium is upended, however, by the reappearance in her life of Rowan, a charming trans man who was one of Kelli’s best friends growing up. Rowan has a favor to ask, which involves shaking Kelli well out of her carefully cultivated comfort zone. Despite the duo’s checkered past — and also rather because of it — Kelli reluctantly agrees, which leads to an eye-opening journey as she gets a glimpse of the drastically different path Rowan has chosen for himself.
There’s no denying the clever build of Ignore All Previous Instructions, an old-school science fiction narrative that encodes into its Golden Age veneer a metaphorical sublayer, making the book a cagey springboard for commentary about contemporary issues: societal pressures about the definition of “normal,” systemic intolerance, and cold, corporate disregard for individualized need. Highly evident is Hoffmann’s passion for stories about queer and neurodivergent characters, which she ties smartly to broader digs at generative AI and its homogenizing effects on culture and identity. Kelli and Rowan are secret outcasts in this samey-samey world, overcorrecting in opposite directions to its cultural handcuffs — making them effective foils for one and other, and for all the topical discussion. It’s got layers, in other words, and mindful construction to go with the confident storytelling, which gives that epic title the feel of rallying cry. Even as the strategy works, however, something about the way its identity politics and up-to-the-moment discussion of 2026 talking points feels a little like anachronism, or perhaps just mild cognitive dissonance. This seems intentional, and does exactly what it’s attempting to do, yet it periodically yanked me out of the story and into our times to a distracting degree. The narrative also flashes back to the characters’ coming-of-age origins, providing necessary context for the grown-up reunion, but it also lending the writing a middle-grade voice that often colors the present-day heist adventure. All told, then, Ignore All Previous Instructions is a successful novel that hits all its intended targets; it may just be one for which I’m not the perfect audience.
