Set in a dystopian Britain, the narrative centres on Cara Gray, a police officer, and her encounter with the lambdas, a race of human-aquatic beings relegated to the fringes of society. Metaphorically, Lambda explores social division and the price of progress. 

Cara investigates a wave of violence against the lambdas, which culminates with a school bombing. Confined to flooded basements, performing menial tasks, and ostracized for their very existence, the lambdas mirror the struggles of immigrants and marginalized groups. The constant threat of violence they face reflects the real-world tragedies fueled by xenophobia. As the violence against them increases, Cara seems to find no answers. 

Musgrave’s Britain is technologically advanced, and many of humans’ mundane tasks are performed by sentient tech. Technology possesses a disturbing level of autonomy, with a quantum computer dictating police actions. This unsettling prospect forces us to question the ethics of artificial intelligence and the potential loss of human control, and it’s a side story to the main plot (Cara is under investigation for mistreating her sentient toothbrush).

The book is written from the perspective of a big-brother technology point of view, with narration built from recordings of Cara. The narration may seem detached and mechanical, which hindered my connection to the story. The ending is open: we don’t learn who the bomber was, the origins of the lambdas, or a conclusion on the sentient tech, which might be frustrating if you expect a resolution from your stories. However, the ambiguity might fuel the novel's impact, mirroring the uncertainty of our present world. 

Lambda leaves us pondering the consequences of crossing the line between progress and dehumanization. It's a challenging read, urging us to recognize the 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 in our midst and fight for a future where empathy, not violence, prevails. Devoid of emotions, it exposes the message loud and clear.