science fiction

Short Fiction Roundup: July/August 2022

/ Daniel Haeusser / Leave a comment

Last year I ambitiously tried to include reviews of all the short fiction I had read. It quickly became too much. I hesitated doing a roundup of selections, because I often have trouble deciding whether to include a title or not. And sometimes stories grow on me, or I may think worth mentioning even if they weren’t a personal favorite. But, given that covering everything is simply out, I’m going to try this up, starting halfway through 2022 with coverage of some of my favorite short fiction reads from July/August. We’ll see how this continues.

Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine Vol. 67, Nos. 7 & 8 (Edited by Linda Landrigan)

It’s been awhile since I subscribed to the mystery short fiction magazines, but with both literary magazines I regularly read folding, I felt in the mood to fill the space with mystery. In this issue I felt drawn most to two stories that were more subtle and required some processing of information provided.

“Florence Uglietta Solari: A Full Life in 19 Fragments” by J. M. Taylor – An elderly immigrant widow passes away, and through a series of texts the reader discovers events that transpired within the building she owned: the passions, and crimes, of a life.

“Five Bullet Friday” by Mary Angela Honerman – The hard-working boss of a travel agency is killed early one morning with five shots. In a series of vignettes the reader gets a snapshot of the morning from the perspective of the victim, each of her co-workers, and the detective who arrives on the scene of the murder. The detective might not figure it out, but the reader may.

“The Confession” by Linda Mannheim – A group of South African ex-pats process the news that one of the women they worked with to fight against against Apartheid had actually been feeding information on their activities to the South African government. I wish the truth behind these events had been kept for the end of this story, rather than revealed from the start. However, the story was an excellent foray into the gray areas of politics and choice.

Analog Science Fiction and Fact Vol. XCII, Nos. 7 & 8 (Edited by Trevor Quachri)

“In Translation (Lost/Found)” by Kelsey Hutton – I love a good story about language and the complexities of communicating with one another, and this speculative use of the theme into a compelling plot works wonderfully. The indigenous Métis perspective was also both educational and organically built into the story. The Astounding Analog Companion has a great interview with Hutton that’s also worth reading.

“The Dark Ages” by Jerry Oltion – An amateur astronomer and telescope enthusiast looks to use time travel technology to escape a future Earth and visit an earlier period before light pollution. This is a ‘grass-is-always-greener” kinda story, a straight-forward fun adventure that also turns reflective, that I simply enjoyed.

“My Nascent Garden” by Melanie Harding-Shaw – There isn’t much to this story in terms of themes that haven’t already been covered by dystopian-flavored AI tales of cold logic. However, this is told in such a magnificently chilling way that I loved it all despite a lot of familiarity.

Apex Magazine, Issue 132 (Edited by Jason Sizemore and Lesley Conner)

“Have Mercy, My Love, While We Wait for the Thaw” by Iori Kusano – I am ready to read more set in the world of this short story. I can’t recall reading Kusano before, but I’ll be looking out for them now. I adored the careful world-building and delicate reveals in this story of two individuals, former enemies, linked in guilt and atonement stemming from past crimes of rebellion, and continued silence for politics. It’s a tale that resonates on scales of individuals and of colonies/empires.

Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine Vol. 46, Nos. 7 & 8 (Edited by Sheila Williams)

“Pollen and Salt” by Octavia Cade – An ecologist works at the edge of a salt marsh and mudflat, sifting through sediment and memories with microscopes literal and figurative. Cade does stunning work here connecting the biology and ecology of a littoral zone with painful transition writ large from climate change and personal loss, and the onset of loneliness in knowing what once was. Marvelous and melancholy.

“The Tin Pilot” by K.A. Ternya, translated by Alex Shvartsman – Golems were created by society to end a devastating war in space. Rather than welcomed home, they were outcast as something less than human, having served their purpose and now only wakening painful memories that should have died. But a Machine has been invented to identify the golem among society, and the hunt has gone on regularly to eradicate them. Friar Yakov has called the last hunt, for the final remaining golem. Noah looks at his life and starts to wonder if he himself might be that golem. A very interesting, enigmatic tale of politics, identity, memory, and subjugation that bears multiple reads.

“The Big Deep” by Annika Barranti Klein – All but one member of a crew on their way to Mars wakes prematurely from stasis, and things just don’t seem to be right. I love the tension in this short story, what it builds from the unconscious wariness of its main character.

Asymptote Journal (Edited by Lee Yew Leong)

“The Ayah of the Throne” by Habib Tengour (Translated by Bryan Flavin) – In very extensive translator notes, Flavin summarizes this lovely and powerful short story more succinctly and admirably than I would have. It’s an auto-fictional tale that “takes place in Tengour’s childhood near the beginning of the Algerian War of Independence in order to explore French colonial power over education and religion, as well as the power of storytelling.” A lovely complex dose of sadness and humor.

Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Issues #360 – 363 (Edited by Scott H. Andrews)

“A Once and Future Reckoning” by Rajan Khanna (Issue #361) – A version of the King Arthur myth that mixes classical elements with a cosmic horror core and a battle of wits between two mortal instruments of human control. Well composed and engaging.

“The Shapeshifter’s Lover” by Autumn Canter (Issue #362) – A disquieting short fantasy on the themes of a girl coming into adulthood and male attempts to use and abandon a woman. It’s a type of story I’ve seen plenty before, but Canter really composes a magical version of it here.

“The Death Artist” by Adam Breckenridge (Issue #363) – An imaginative and captivating fantasy on mortality and perception that merges fable with familiar tales of Death coming to call. The writing flows with lightness and wit to contrast nicely with the dark themes.

Clarkesworld Magazine, Issues 190 & 191 (Edited by Neil Clarke)

“Carapace” by David Goodman (Issue #190) – Intelligent armor suit SM-14 gains programmed sentience after the death of its human pilot and fellow soldiers during a brutal battle. However, after taking an injured enemy combatant as prisoner for questioning, SM-14 begins to learn more than its programming. AI stories are a type that aren’t an instant sell for me, yet this issue had two of them that hit the spot. The insights and sincerity of SM-14 and the story’s ending made this one stand out.

“The Sadness Box” by Suzanne Palmer (Issue #190) – Amid a future war with nanobot weapons and a dangerous biotechnology-infested environment, a young boy lives with his mother and step-father, but still visits with his biological father, an eccentric and self-occupied inventor. One day, the inventor gives the boy a box he has designed with an AI designed to be frightened of the world. When opened like a jack-in-the-box, the AI reaches an arm/hand out to close the lid and shut itself back away. While the inventor finds this a brilliantly hilarious commentary, the boy finds it a bit silly, if not cruel, and decides to just keep the box rather than giving it back. What follows is a perfect novella of friendship, family, and the risks/rewards possible amid bravery in facing a dangerous world.

“Tender, Tether, Shell” by M. J. Pettit (Issue #191) – After a human dies in an accident in space, an alien adopts her augmented space suit to survive the loss of its biological exoskeleton. It’s a very poignant tale of loss and memory from both the alien’s perspective and the human colleagues of the person whose ‘skin’ the alien now inhabits.

“The Pirate’s Consigliere” by Bo Balder (Issue #191) – An engaging and rapidly paced story about ruthless pirates that think to take advantage of the seemingly naive inhabitants of a generation ship. One of the pirates has a change of heart, and finds the intended victims aren’t so clueless as the others may think. I love the animalistic grim of the pirates in this.

“The Scene of the Crime” by Leonard Richardson (Issue #191) – A classic mystery story with a science fiction setting, and time shenanigans. I enjoyed the mashup and a bit of detective fiction thrown into the mix of this issue.

Daily Science Fiction (Edited by Michele-Lee Barasso and Jonathan Laden)

“Rummage Sale Finds” by Nina Kiriki Hoffman (15th July) – A lovely little tale of witches and sadness that illustrates how amazingly writer’s prompts can be, creating gold.

“Vs. The Giant” by Matthew F. Amati (23rd August) – Amusing and cleverly written fable with social insights that could be taken in diverse ways by different readers. Daily SF at its best.

The Dark Magazine, Issues 86 & 87 (Edited by Clara Madrigano and Sean Wallace)

“Fisheyes” by Ai Jiang (Issue #86) – A gruesome bit of prosaic horror that resonated with the quivering gut reaction I have to the texture of eyes. The story captures the rebellious, shock-inducing nature of teenage years, here with a boy feeling betrayed by his mother’s new lover.

“A Game at Clearwater Lake” by Gillian Daniels (Issue #86) – A unique twist on slasher film horror that focuses on a victim of a killer and what dares to persist even after a life is taken. The story captures the ambience of a classic horror staple while also making it much more deeply complex and humanizing.

“Shape-shifter” by Frances Ogamba (Issue #87) – Beautifully creepy and disquieting tale of a man whose body is changing in fearful and gruesome ways that serves as allegory of alienation from community and society, a life falling apart. Or perhaps other interpretations? Regardless, stunningly written and captivatingly dark.

“Father’s Flow” by Phoenix Alexander (Issue #87) – A father tries to keep an unconventional boat running to keep himself and his sons afloat after the departure of their mother. Another dark and allegorical tale in this issue. Less creepy and heavier on plot with the appearance of trouble, this story shines with rich imagery-laden language and poetic constructions.

Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine Vol. 160 , Nos. 1 & 2 (Edited by Janet Hutchings)

“Myrna Loy Versus the Third Reich” by William Burton McCormick – I’m not a huge fan of alternate reality histories in SF, but what I enjoyed about this story is that it gave off the vibe in a pure historical crime/mystery story, without the detraction of alternate mix-ups and inversions. I also adore Myrna Loy’s films, and didn’t know about her activism and the bans on her work by the Nazis.

“The Secret Sharer” by W. Edward Blain – My regrettable familiarity with Zoom and trying to teach with it during the pandemic certainly helped me connect to this story, but the building of a mystery plot behind Zoom technology/use would have succeeded for me even without the experiences. Nice tying of themes in this short story to the short story being discussed in the class as well.

“Quiet Pol” by Raoul Biltgen – A man sits on a park bench recording statistics of crows and children throughout an aging industrial German city. There is a creepiness to the story that works very well amid all the facts and figures observed: a nice subtle dark vision of crime.

Fantasy Magazine, Issues 81 & 82 (Edited by Arely Sorg and Christie Yant)

“The Memory of Chemistry” by Sabrina Vourvoulias (Issue #81) – It’s rare that I find the wonders and magic of chemistry brought out in fiction, and this is an exceptional case at that. A powerful and poetic tale of a chemist and her female friends/colleagues from youth to old age, with politics and insects and ghosts across time mixed in. It’s a poignant use of science fiction and magical realism that really makes me want to find a copy of Vourvoulias’ novel Ink that this tale connects with.

“A True and Certain Proof of the Messianic Age” by P H Lee (Issue #82) – I adored the recursive structure of this meta story, an AI fable of sorts around personhood and component identity.

FIYAH Literary Magazine of Black Speculative Fiction, Issue 23: Food & Cuisine (Edited by DaVaun Sanders)

“The Pastry Shop Round the Bend” by Makeda K. Braithwaite – A debut publication in a phenomenal issue from FIYAH. A village witch becomes concerned when a younger, rival witch sets up shop across the street. What concerns the more experienced witch is not so much loss of business or prestige, but the harmful effects the brazen and power-hungry newcomer might have on the everyday people. It’s a well done story about how the things people want for themselves may not include the wisdom of knowing what they need.

“Just Desserts” by A.M. Barrie – A historical fantasy written as the recollections of Hercules, George Washington’s slave cook. It’s a well done and engaging look at the incongruities between slavery and American ideals that the Founding Fathers well knew and its an educational read from a vital perspective (albeit fictionally portrayed.) The blend between magic and the culinary arts here is also well done. A must-read in an issue that shouldn’t be missed in general.

Flash Fiction Online, Issues #106 & 107 (Edited by Emma Munro)

“Dr Daidalo’s Kouklotheatron” by Nathan Makarios (Issue 106) – In a little alleyway theater, children are entertained by the dances of a man’s amazing wooden clockwork son. But, the magic becomes threatened by the religious hatred of a mob, forcing decisions by the wooden boy.

“No one sleeps on an empty stomach” by Lucy Zhang (Issue 107) – Eating bitterness and enduring hardship amid memories of the dead and uncertain futures during Hungry Ghost Month. Beautiful and insightful.

Lightspeed Magazine, Issues 146 & 147 (Edited by John Joseph Adams)

“Critical Mass” by Peter Watts (Issue #146) – As typical for a Watts story of any length, there’s a lot of depth here to unpack and detail to enjoy over multiple reads. The plot deals an artist whose works are being vandalized while his daughter abides in a coma awaiting cure from a disease. I was hoping for more biology in the story given it’s Watts, but the worldbuilding and characterization that is here is so rich and well-realized that I didn’t mind too much.

“Ursus Frankensteinus” by Rich Larson (Issue #146) – A very short and interesting story of an ill-advised plan to save polar bears from extinction by using genetically-engineered microbes to slow down their metabolism. A nice speculative biology.

The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction Volume 143, Nos. 1 & 2 (Edited by Sheree Renée Thomas)

[Did not receive before September]

The New Yorker (Edited by Deborah Treisman)

“A King Alone” by Rachel Kushner (July 11 & 18, 2022) – A song-writer transient drives to reconnect with his daughter, picking up hitchhikers along the way up and down the south central US. Kushner is a writer where I never have any particular draw to the subject or plot of her writing, but the characters and writing captivate. This fascinating look at a man’s connection to strangers and their allure nails tones of regret and longing.

“Perking Duck” by Ling Ma (July 11 & 18, 2022) – With a structurally meta (and recursive) narrative, Ma offers a profoundly deep take on the stereotypical first generation Asian female story of dealing with cultural displacements and generational gaps. The structure and analysis leading up to the final ‘tale’ make the whole a rich and revelatory read.

Nightmare Magazine, Issues 118 & 119 (Edited by Wendy N. Wagner)

“What the Dead Birds Taught Me” by Laura Blackwell (Issue #118) – A serial killer unwisely chooses to set his sights on a young woman skilled in necromancy. Though there are no surprises in how this story goes, the writing is great and the orphaned protagonist and her sister are a compelling twist on the familiarity.

“Skitterdead” by Mel Kassel (Issue #119) – I love a ghost stories of many varieties, and I definitely appreciated this piece of flash fiction for its take on the movement of ghostly spirits, as well as its musical text.

Omenana Speculative Fiction Magazine, Issue 22 – Positive Visions of Democracy (Edited by Mazi Nwonwu & Iquo DianaAbasi)

“Agu Uno” by Chibueze Ngeneagu – Arguments for the extension of ‘human’ rights to non-human animals have long existed, and it’s a lovely theme in this straight-forward and well constructed short story of afro futurism. A ‘masquerade’ controlled by the story’s narrator infiltrates the palace of an emir, but not for what the reader or palace guards might suspect. I love how this story doesn’t over-explain and provides just the right amount of context and clues to work.

“The Coward of Umustead” by Nnamdi Anyadu – In an urban future, a group of teens come to appreciate an odd-ball outcast who they consider distant and cowardly. The story shines with a strong voice and an argot with a syntax that bewitches in how well it fits the tale.

Strange Horizons/Samovar Magazine (Edited by various)

“Bonesoup” by Eugenia Triantafyllou (11 July) – Another story of food and magic that I enjoyed from these two months, this one with a deliciously dark twist to it. An old woman cooks enticingly sweet treats for the children in town, but insists on cooking her granddaughter only meat, specifically “the body part you want to grow stronger”. Not quite folk horror, it’s well written, subtly dark fantasy that invites interpretations on the themes of relationships with family and friends.

“A Cloudcutter’s Diary” by Chen Chuncheng (Translated by Jack Hargreaves) (25 July) – The character of this story’s title is employed by a future authoritative society to shape clouds into approved, basic shapes of non-whimsy to dissuade imagination. But this doesn’t stop him from yearning for more in his life. Stories about stories and reading always go down well for me.

“Wok Hei St” by Guan Un (29 August) – A very enjoyable mashup of fantasy, crime fiction, and the culinary. A binder called Compass works to find Aunty Ping’s missing wok before a big televised cooking competition. The non-linear narrative structure works really well here.

“Clockwork Bayani” by EK Gonzales (29 August) – A Filipina adopts a clockwork son from the Manila dollhouse where she works, but is fearful of letting him follow his wish to join the resistance against Spanish rule as her husband had. Though a straightforward fantasy, it’s written beautifully. Touching.

Terraform (Edited by Brian Merchant and Claire Evans)

“The Fog” by Elvia Wilk (1st July) – Biology in speculative fiction at its best. This story of biobots and their keepers touches on concepts of genetics, evolution, and the basic (but hard to pin down) qualities of life.

“Fostering” by Ray Nayler (11th July) – I’ve been looking forward to Nayler’s upcoming debut novel, The Mountain in the Sea, and this lovely and bittersweet story of parenting, coming to terms with hard realities, and letting go, cemented my eagerness. The well done mixture of artificial and biological into the overall tone of this story also really captured my interest.

“The Binding of Issac” by Tochi Onyebuchi (18th July) – Wow, some superb fiction in Terraform this month. Speculative horror with kink here. It’s an unsettling and disturbing look at power and the treatment of others, twisted yet woefully familiar.

Tor.com (Edited by various)

“This Place is Best Shunned” by David Erik Nelson (Edited by Ann VanderMeer) – Perfectly chilling tale that starts out with folk horror vibes that play on the dark lyricism of warnings for radioactive waste sites, but then goes into a lovely cosmic horror twist.

“Porgee’s Boar” by Jonathan Carroll (Edited by Ellen Datlow) – A gangster coerces his favorite artist into recreating an aged and fading beloved photograph from his youth as a painting. Little does he know that there is a magic to the insight that underlies her talent. It’s a great story about art, control, and fear.

Uncanny Magazine, Issue Forty-Seven (Edited by Lynne M. Thomas and Michael Damian Thomas)

“At the Lighthouse Out by the Othersea” by Juliet Kemp – Beautiful and touching. At the dangerous edge of normal space and the otherspace of a wormhole sits a lighthouse, a warning beacon for travelers, but also the last stop for thrill seekers looking to surf the tumultuous energy waves at the transition. There, the lighthouse keeper greets a visitor seeking to honor the memory of a sibling who never had the chance to brave the waves. The two learn about one another, and through the conversation, more about themselves.

“If You Find Yourself Speaking to God, Address God with the Informal You” by John Chu – A superhero story with weightlifting that is one part story of friendship and homosexual romance, and another part commentary on racism and bravery. An engaging and uplifting story.

“To Hunger, As with Perfect Faith” by Radha Kai Zan – “Every morning I clear the virgins from the stairway.” So begins a powerful a powerful and magical story full of dark atmosphere and a bold character who seizes opportunity and agency. I don’t think I’ve read anything by Radha Kai Zan before, but looking into them and their work I can tell I’ll be a fan: “As a writer, their fiction skews towards the speculative with a particular interest in exploring the macabre, erotic, and adventurous. Their first name is pronounced “row+a” from the Gaelic word radharc meaning “a vision.” Fittingly, this story is like a vivid vision.

World Literature Today Vol. 96, No. 4 (Edited by Daniel Simon)

“Penance” by Octavio Escobar Giraldo (Translated by D. P. Snyder) – This short story is the first English translation publication of a well regarded Columbian writer, and with such power in a very short length, it’s a must read about guilt and the conflicting human emotions of celebration and mourning. An extensive translator’s note gives added cultural and political backdrop to the story and Giraldo’s style to appreciate.

FACE by Joma West

/ Daniel Haeusser / 3 Comments

Face
By Joma West
Tordotcom Publishing — 2nd August 2022
ISBN: 9781250810298 — Hardcover — 272 pp.

In near-future society, everything comes down to maintaining Face, masterly control over one’s image, the light in which others perceive you. Domination of diverse social media, and selfishly calculated steps in the dances of social interactions to build influence and control, become rewarded by a climb up the ladder of class and power. Marriages are built only upon convenience, a mutual benefit of improved Face, increased attention. Children are carefully designed, with the best possibilities available to the highest class, using the most talented of genetic artists. In an existence where success and fulfillment comes only from the construction of a virtual profile and celebrity persona, traditional forms of community and physical interactions have vanished. The concept of physical touch is anathema, and no respectable person would have a child other than through a professional biological surrogate who can fare no better.

Schuyler and Madeline Burroughs (together forming SchAddie) exist at the very top rung of society, with Faces of perfection that can make no missteps and who can afford eccentricity. They live as models and envy for others to follow and emulate, and to court their favor. But underneath those Face masks of perfection, sits discontentment and strife within the SchAddie household. Their designer children maintain their own exceptional Face, yet also don’t seem to be living up to the potential for which they were made. Maddie lives on edge, finding it harder to feign happiness and control, particularly with the increasingly risky behavior of Schuyler against conventions and expectations.

Case in point: Schuyler has inexplicably befriended a young couple who are hoping to get a baby of their own. While not socially low, they are not high up along the ladder to be able to get the best doctor out there without Schuyler’s support. Which, he oddly seems eager to provide, without any seeming benefit for himself. He arranges to host a party with Maddie in their home to introduce the young couple to the most famous baby designer around.

Also at that party are all the Menials owned by SchAddie, genetically engineered and trained human servants who are designed to have no will or desires of their own, constructs with a fleetingly short life-span and no rights. But one of their Menials harbors secrets of his own buried beneath the emotionlessly servile mask. Despite the design and training, he is feeling urges to transcend the rules: sexual desire and an increasingly difficult yearning to reach out and touch the skin of his mistress.

In a certain way, Face could be considered as a collection of interconnected short stories as much as a novel. Each of the main chapters presents the point-of-view portrait of a unique character. In other words, Face is itself a compilation of distinct character faces into a whole. Between each of these chapters are interludes from the perspective of a Menial who has started going to a confessional online in an effort to fight his prohibited compulsions, taking the added bizarre initiative of giving himself a name en lieu of his official Menial registration number.

The fragmentary construction of Face is central to its themes, purpose, and success. This future society is fragmentary itself, built from competing individuals whose only sense of community comes from naked desire for personal gain, never risking to sacrifice and lose Face. On the smaller scale, each of the characters we meet are fragmentary identities. There is the public persona they present in the online world and at engagements. But there is also their actual desires and thoughts beneath the ersatz, a personality they never let stray from their own mind or private moments where they think they are alone, unsurveilled.

The construction of the novel also means that it lacks strict linearity or one distinct protagonist arc. One you have a chapter from a given point-of-view, you’re done. The character will appear again, but you won’t get any further closure to their unique perspective. This is what’s brilliant about Face, because it’s all about perspective and how one appears compared to what really lies beneath, known only to oneself.

The construction also means that events that occur in one chapter will reappear in another, usually with blocks of identical dialogue. I have noticed many reviews of Face that criticize such receptiveness, but I can’t help but feel these have failed to appreciate just how essential the element is to the novel. Not only is it essential, it is exactly the element that drew me in to keep reading with intense curiosity. Again, it’s all about perspective.

West gives us a scene from one point of view and then later revisits that same scene from another individual’s senses and interpretations. The spoken words may stay the same, but the inflection of them, their interpretation, and the reading of body movements and actions brought on by that dialogue all shift. For instance, we see a character speaking to Schuyler early in the novel from their point of view, noting their uncertainties over why Schuyler uses particular words or frowns. Later, we get that same scene from Schuyler’s point of view.

As the novel progresses the reader begins to learn just how all the characters are connecting and tie together with the SchAddie corse. We get to learn about the characters from multiple directions, intimately and distantly alike. And we also begin to get a deeper sense of the complexity of the society in Face: its various strata of social class, and the large amount of discontentment that sits universally across the class spectrum, despite the veneer.

An engaging social commentary, Face inventively takes a look at the ways in which preoccupations with self and recognition in an increasingly digital civilization can go awry, stripping away the basics of humanity and healthy relationships social and biological. I wish I could easily go more into the various characters and events of Face, but things are so juxtaposed and woven to make summary impossible. These are elements simply to be discovered by reading.

Face is a compelling near-future dystopia of competitive social pretense, formed from interlacing portraits of individuals who thirst for biological & psychological connection. With all their energies devoted to cultural success that ultimately leaves them empty and dysfunctional, they seek fulfillment through community that paradoxically compels and disgusts them. There’s a bleak horror to Face, not unlike an episode of Black Mirror, an apt comparison that others have drawn. For all its coldness and distance, it’s an emotionally resonant narrative that readers are forced to stitch together from disparate conflicting perspectives into a singular community of reality.

A HALF-BUILT GARDEN by Ruthanna Emrys

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“…Using a first-contact plot and speculative themes of ecology, Ruthanna Emrys explores the politics of human interactions in A Half-Built Garden. The novel delves deeply into elements of gender, sexuality, and diplomacy, tackling the balances of discord and harmony, competition and cooperation, that go into the institution of government and family. Some readers may feel the novel lacks concrete details of its speculative world in terms of how humanity achieves an ecological turn for the better. However, Emrys does significantly develop speculative details of communication technology, and brings greatest focus to explorations of sociological possibilities Though pacing struggles in its middle, its captivating opening and its incisive conclusion make A Half-Built Garden a successful and significant novel in the first-contact sub-genre and speculative literature in general…”

Read my entire review of A Half-Built Garden HERE at Fantasy Book Critic.

Tordotcom Publishing – 26th July 2022 – Hardcover – 336 pp.

THE MOONDAY LETTERS by Emmi Itäranta

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“…a lyrical epistolatory novel of longing and hope. One part science fiction, one part fantasy, and one part mystery, it becomes linked by the strand of romance, the connection between Lumi and Sol even in separation… With a wistful voice, Lumi’s words flow with a poetic precision and empathetic peaceful calm. Yet, murmuring beneath that calm lies a continuous thread of unease, a growing panic that Lumi allows out in short moments, but mostly tries to tamp down through memories of happiness and togetherness…”

Read my entire review of The Moonday Letters HERE at Speculative Fiction in Translation.

Titan Books – July 2022 – Paperback – 368 pp.

THE BLUE-SPANGLED BLUE by David Bowles

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The Blue-Spangled Blue
(The Path, Book 1)
By David Bowles
Castle Bridge Media — March 2021
ISBN: 978173647260 — Paperback — 452 pp.

I completed The Blue Spangled Blue awhile back, intending this review to go up on Skiffy & Fanty. But, I now have several reviews sent there that haven’t been edited and posted, and as the months pass I figured it’s best to just get it up here. The Blue-Spangled Blue is an ambitious and complex novel, an epic space opera that serves as merely the opening for a series that seems to be tackling weighty themes of family and religion. And it’s a novel that deserves to get some more notice.

Normally I compose my own version of plot summaries to fit in with the thoughts I have on a book, but in this case the official blurb suits just fine and would be easier to employ:

Tenshi Koroma’s people, the Aknawajin, were brought to the planet Jitsu as workers more than a century ago. Against all odds, they managed to win their independence from the world’s corporate owners. During a long period of isolation, a theocratic government arose, dominated by fundamentalist views. Now, as Jitsu begins to open itself to the rest of humanity, Tenshi—a controversial architect and leader of a religious reform movement—meets Brando D’Angelo, who has left Earth to accept a teaching position on Jitsu. As the two grow closer, Tenshi begins to teach Brando about her faith—The Path—and he decides to accept its tenets, to shatter his identity and rebuild himself with her guidance so that he can be worthy of a soul.

But the dogmatic struggles on Jitsu are a mask for the machinations of a diabolical mind, and the couple’s life will be forever altered by the cruelty of Tenshi’s enemies. In the aftermath, their family will find a perilous new Way along The Path. And their steps will echo throughout history.

The Blue-Spangled Blue shimmers in a diversity of cultural palettes: ethnicities, class, politics, languages, religion, and more. The religious aspect of cultural is central here, and represents the major thread of character development in the novel in the form of Brando. It’s both a philosophy or outlook and a purpose of action, even when those set Brando further apart from his own family and traditions.

I really appreciated the core facet of religion to Bowles novel. Religion is very frequently overlooked across genres, and when it does appear, including in something like space opera, it tends to be treated in primarily negative lights, or with clichés and ignorance. Bowles approaches the subject with respect, and puts as much world building into this aspect of a society’s culture as into other elements.

He doesn’t simplify things. Bowles depicts cultural practices as complex systems, mixtures that contain both conflicting aspects and principles that could unify. The cultural mixture becomes most evident in Bowles use of language with his characters, a mélange of terms from across current human cultures along with additions of speculative futuristic ones. He highlights how cultural clashes can engender strife – whether arising between two separate people or arising from within the spectrum of belief and practice of one people. And he also shows the power of cross-cultural alliances, symbolized in the relationship between Brando and Tenshi.

The complexities of The Blue-Spangled Blue‘s world building, and its host of characters make this an epic space opera novel. And that’s something that might also cause problems for some readers. There’s a lot to digest here. This could have easily been multiple novels in itself. Epic reads aren’t necessarily out of the norm for speculative fiction fans.

What might make things difficult in this case are issues of pacing, the one significant negative critique I would make of the novel. There are many chapters of exhilarating action, and slower ones of plotting or establishing the narrative framework. With the novel encompassing so many developments and interludes, however, there are stretches that seem to drag. The reader anticipates that things could come to a head. When things do, they don’t quite go as one may have expected. Resolution isn’t really there, it’s just an opening to more possibilities and new paths. It can end up feeling a little overwhelming.

However, I will say that going through those feelings (if they are there during reading) are well worth it. Bowles does not pull punches with the novel, with reader hopes or assumptions of who might live or die, whether heroes or villains are victorious. This lends a mature realism to the novel, while also allowing Bowles to show how strength to go on can be mustered from something like faith, even against all odds and setbacks, or powerful enemies lurking in the shadows.

The ambition of The Blue-Spangled Blue in depicting a complex, speculative human future with space opera plotting, and audaciously tackling politics and religion makes this is a notable novel in the genre to read. The execution has some issues, but any fans of epic genre fiction should be encouraged to take it on.

Newer editions of the novel helpfully include a series of invaluable appendices: 1) A glossary of terms; 2) A lexicon of foreign phrases in Baryogo and Kaló; 3) a Dramatis personae; 4) a break-down of star systems and their associated planets; 5) background on Jitsu’s official religion, The Path, and its adherents.

The story continues in The Deepest Green, also available from Castle Bridge Media, and another The Swirling Path, seems to be due in 2023. The latter is listed on Goodreads as Book 4 of The Path, which I assume is an error, as no Book 3 is listed at all, and I can find no mention of any other book in the series on the publisher’s site.

IMMUNITY INDEX by Sue Burke

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Immunity Index
By Sue Burke
Tor Books — May 2021
ISBN: 9781250317872 — Hardcover — 240 pp.

It is the near future and the United States has continued down a path of current trends: partisanship, inequality, disruptions in services/goods, racism, rising fascism, and choosing megalomaniac reality TV stars for president. Advances in genetic modification technology have also taken off through decades past, leading to successful cloning of extinct species like the wooly mammoth, and a brief period of human embryonic design. The individuals resulting from this technology while it was still legal are now persecuted in American society and politics: second-class ‘dupes’.

But, brimming beneath the suppressive status quo are two phenomena with the potential for social and political upheaval. First, a new coronavirus is spreading in the population, turning deadly, and the US administration seems ill equipped for any effective response. Instead, the Prez advocates magical waving of Old Glory and shouts of patriotic incantation to stop the surge of what he inaccurately dubs the ‘Sino cold’. Second, an extensive network of discontents through the nation are secretively planting the seeds for a Mutiny, a time for the majority to step up and wrest power of the government from the fascist minority who have gamed control of the system.

Amid this (frighteningly familiar) setting are the protagonists of the novel, four characters, and unique perspectives, that harbor unrealized kinship and potential. Three are young women, each written in the third-person: Avril, Berenike, and Irene.

An eager and idealistic college student, Avril seeks to join the Mutiny, but instead finds herself being dismissed as naïve by the contacts she approaches, belittled just as general society would based on her simple existence as a dupe. Not in school, Berenike works a joyless, but reliable, job in car rentals. Her simple life becomes overturned in familial blackmail: revelations about her cloned origins, and threats to advertise her status as a dupe. A college graduate, Irene works in animal conservation on a farm, tending Nimkii, a wooly mammoth relegated to being a tourist attraction in a world that doesn’t know where to put a de-extinct relic.

Contrasting in first-person point-of-view is the final character, Dr. Peng, the scientist responsible for the major genetic engineering technologies for modified humans – the so-called dupes. With their life threatened from the controversies of their research past, Peng lives in disguise, changed from a woman into a man, who now works in relative obscurity processing collected viral samples from around the world for monitoring of threats. Peng discovers odd mutations and characteristics in the coronavirus variants that are spreading, and he soon becomes taken by elements from the government to work alongside other talented individuals for designing another virus to release into the population as a vaccine.

Each of these four connected threads take turns through the novel relating their contributions to the overall elements political and viral/immunological. Burke does a great job with the pacing of the novel, juggling the four perspectives without adding too much confusing or losing reader interest.

Judges in cooking shows often suggest to not make multiple versions of a dish, because invariably one will look weaker and bring down the whole. The same holds true a bit here. Irene’s segments are wonderful, largely due to the sincere and touching love between her and the mammoth Nimkii. Dr. Peng’s segments are also engaging, not to mention essential. These are the biological heart to the novel, full of all the virology and immunology details I appreciate. Avril’s segments also serve importance, a contrast in personality and position from Irene’s. That leaves the version of the dish here that probably wasn’t needed, Berenike.

While Immunity Index has a number of good traits going for it, the novel ultimately suffers from some significant problems. Most of these I feel come down to the issue of development or editing/execution. For example, is Berenike really necessary? The pieces that make up Immunity Index are excellent: the themes, the writing, the development of the protagonists, and the plot. However, problems occur in how these are assembled into a whole, and in the absence of visible mortar to force them together.

The title and cover of the novel, and its blurbed synopsis, place a fair amount of emphasis on this as a pandemic novel. While admittedly a significant thread to the plot, the viral aspects ultimately are secondary to the political threads and the Mutiny. In fact, the biological elements here are simply one of the tools as it were of those larger political issues that Burke tackles, more artificial than natural.

With politics being the real core of Immunity Index, the confrontation lies between humans in the Mutiny versus those in power, as opposed to humans versus virus. The mortar the novel lacks is any clear antagonistic face. Burke propels the novel forward by building reader interest in seeing how the different characters connect in their pasts and futures. But there’s really never much doubt to what will inevitably come here. The challenges against the protagonists come from a system, but without any specific character or point of view to show that threat, it never comes across as real or having a chance.

Perhaps, this is a point Burke is trying to make? That the fascist trends of politics in reality have no single face to them, and their defeat could perhaps come from people deciding they’ve had enough, and staging a mutiny. The problem is, there’s no believability here to how this would so simply happen, it’s a stretch to think things would go as easily as they do in Immunity Index to usher in regime collapse. And it makes the whole conflict of the novel lack teeth.

If I recall correctly, Burke began this novel before the SARS-CoV-2 outbreak, and it published of course amid the pandemic. I wonder how much of the novel became a more rushed product of such unfortunate timing, changing aspects of the plot and steering the marketing toward what is making present-day news headlines and occupying our minds. I feel like the novel needed more time, and length, to really flesh out and work.

I’ll admit that a large part of my disappointment in Immunity Index also stems from simple high expectations. Sue Burke’s Semiosis and Interference are absolutely outstanding. I’m very happy still to see that a third novel in that series will be coming, and that it was merely delayed due to the pandemic – and a shift to getting this topical novel out? Also, I was really excited and hopeful to see Burke write a novel with microbiological and immunological elements to it.

Even with its deficiencies, Immunity Index is an engaging and compelling novel that readers may enjoy, particularly as political wish fulfillment. And I’d still use it for my Biology in Fiction course. The novel raises plenty of issues in terms of genetic engineering, virology, epidemiology, and vaccination to talk about.

AUGUST KITKO AND THE MECHAS FROM SPACE by Alex White

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“… August Kitko and the Mechas from Space bursts with action, humor, and heart. Amid a dire and tragic setting of humanity facing apocalyptic extinction, it’s a hopeful shot of joyous adrenaline and whimsy. Confronting death, Gus and Ardent choose to celebrate life to its fullest, taking every moment they may have left to fully be themselves, and to be there for one another. White uses lively characterization and pacing – with an effective blend of space opera, mecha anime, and music – to tell a story of human strength, weakness, and resilience. The Starmetal Symphony is simply ripe for adaptation into a rock opera musical, and I’ll be sorely disappointed if that never happens.”

Read my entire review of August Kitko and the Mechas from Space HERE at Fantasy Book Critic.

Orbit Books – 12th July 2022 – Paperback – 464 pp.

COMPOSITE CREATURES by Caroline Hardaker

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“… a creeping terror of unease, a slow burn of little deceptions building to bitter tragedy, a dystopia of corporate power masquerading as a prosaic story of two people uniting as one in courtship and marriage. Though echoing familiar themes of post-apocalyptic genre fiction and feminism, Caroline Hardaker builds her debut novel with rich atmosphere and a purely unique symbolic take on character and the concepts of life. Readers demanding heavy action or instant answers would be advised to give this a pass, but lovers of character, nuance, and atmospheres of just-off-kilter disquiet should be enraptured and satisfied..”

Read my entire review of Composite Creatures HERE at Fantasy Book Critic.

Angry Robot Books – April 2021 – Paperback – 400 pp.

NOVA HELLAS: STORIES FROM FUTURE GREECE edited by Francesca T. Barbini & Francesco Verso

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Nova Hellas: Stories From Future Greece
Edited by Francesca T. Barbini & Francesco Verso
Luna Press Publishing — March 2021
ISBN: 9781913387389 — Paperback — 152 pp.

CONTENTS:

Introduction by Dimitra Nikolaidou

“Roseweed” by Vasso Christou (Translated by Dimitra Nikolaidou & Vaya Pseftaki)

“Social Engineering” by Kostas Charitos (Translated by Dimitra Nikolaidou & Vaya Pseftaki)

“The Human(c)ity of Athens” by Ionna Bourazopoulou (Translated by Dimitra Nikolaidou & Vaya Pseftaki)

“Baghdad Square” by Michalis Monolios (Translated by Dimitra Nikolaidou & Vaya Pseftaki)

“The Bee Problem” by Yiannis Papadopoulos & Stamatis Stamatopoulos (Translated by Dimitra Nikolaidou & Vaya Pseftaki)

“T2” by Kelly Theodorakopoulou (Translated by Dimitra Nikolaidou & Vaya Pseftaki)

“Those We Serve” by Eugenia Triantafyllou

“Abacos” by Lina Theodorou (Translated by Dimitra Nikolaidou & Vaya Pseftaki)

“Any Old Disease” by Dimitra Nikolaidou

“Android Whores Can’t Cry” by Natalia Theodoridou

“The Colour that Defines Me” by Stamatis Stamatopoulos (Translated by Stephanie Polakis)

I’d originally meant to review this anthology of Greek science fiction for Speculative Fiction in Translation. However, I became delayed in writing the review and Rachel Cordasco got her own review of it posted onto her site in the meantime. I agree wholeheartedly with her general praise for Nova Hellas, but I had different personal favorites from it. Her review is definitely still worth checking out for comparison.

The collection starts strongly, with a pair of my favorites. “Roseweed” is set in a post-climate change dystopia where divers and engineers explore the lower floors of partially submerged buildings for structural integrity. They are hired as part of a plan to turn these spots into ‘escape rooms’ for rich tourists looking for the thrill of visiting abandoned locations filled with the allure of danger and risk among the decay. The story highlights one of the repeating themes of the anthology: that amid disheartening futures, people find ways to go on and live amid the changes. Even when it is still the rich that are carelessly exploiting environments and the classes beneath them, regular people find some semblance of optimism amid those challenges or frustrations.

The story that follows, “Social Engineering” likewise does a great job establishing one of the unifying features to the anthology, the merging of the Classical Greece with the Modern and the Future. This short story literally overlays the periods in an Athens that is cloaked within artificial, or ‘augmented’ realities. The protagonist of the story has been hired to influence an upcoming city referendum, and the plot delves into how engineering at the level of physical urban planning but also through directed social interaction may create more issues than solutions.

Those themes of society hidden underneath veneers or layers, and the interplay between the architectural hardware of a place (with its loaded history) and the individuals who fit into that system like cogs comes up again in different ways in “The Human(c)ity of Athens”, and then another artificial reality in “Baghdad City”. Interestingly – and I assume intentionally – that specific portmanteau of ‘humancity’ appears in a later story of the anthology as well (T2, if I recall), striking alternate tones to the same theme(s).

Like Rachel, I enjoyed the classic science fiction vibes of “Those We Serve”, with its artificial intelligences that have ‘replaced’ human counterparts, and the mystery of “Any Old Disease” that called to mind questions of what we consider biological versus not. “The Bee Problem” similarly evokes thoughts on the intersections between the biological and the artificial when the performance of drones becomes affected by a return of native bee populations.

Very short, “Abacos” had a transcript format that I didn’t really enjoy, though it is certainly well composed as that. It shares with “Android Whores Can’t Cry” an element of trying to reconstruct a past, the truth, from recording, which is interesting. I remain uncertain over that last story, probably the most challenging in the anthology, and needing a reread.

The story that closes out Nova Hellas was another of my top favorites. “The Colour That Defines You” occurs in a future world where some unexplained event has caused humans to no longer see colors. In general, people are left only seeing shades of gray from black to white… except for one specific color that is unique to each and every person. Pure happenstance leads some to discover the identity of that one color their brain can process. Others haven’t yet found it. Through the story we follow the threads of several intersecting characters and how this unique situation ends up defining their existence. What if the only color one could perceive was that of fresh, scarlet, blood? The set up for this is pure MacGuffin, but Stamatopoulos takes the literal plot, as well as its symbolisms in fascinating directions.

I can’t say as I’ve ever read science fiction – or even any fiction – from Greece before, but I’m glad to have had this opportunity to discover new authors and see their visions of common, but varied, themes in the genre. A huge amount of thanks to Luna Press Publishing for making works such as this available, and as always to my friend and partner in crime Rachel Cordasco of SF in Translation for helping to spread the word. [For legal reasons, Rachel and Daniel do no actually engage in criminal enterprise.]

A DESOLATION CALLED PEACE by Arkady Martine

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A Desolation Called Peace
(Teixcalaan #2)
By Arkady Martine
Tor Books — March 2021
ISBN: 9781250186461 — Hardcover — 496 pp.

I considered A Memory Called Empire, the first book in Arkady Martine’s Teixcalaan series, to be among my top reads in 2019, if not the best. Along with reviewing it on Skiffy & Fanty, I also went out of my way to recommend it to as many people I could that might read science fiction. At least two got back to me after the fact to thank me, explaining they really enjoyed it as well. The novel subsequently deservedly won the Hugo Award. If this recent space opera series from Tor hasn’t been on your radar, or if it’s languished in your TBR pile, I encourage you to pick it up tout de suite.

Martine followed up that stunning debut with A Desolation Called Peace last year, a novel that is every bit as engaging and successful as its predecessor. It enriches the series with continued exploration of politics and culture at the level of individuals and empire, and then further dives into speculations of a first contact scenario. Though this novel offers a satisfying closure to the series as a duology, it clearly could be expanded into more volumes featuring its ‘universe’. I fervently hope that this would be the case, particularly if Martine uses such an expansion to tackle other classical themes of space opera that she hasn’t touched yet, or uses it to explore completely novel themes that the genre might allow.

A Desolation Called Peace picks up mere months after the conclusion of the first volume. Teixcalaanli Fleet Captain Nine Hibiscus is dispatched to confront the alien armada that has appeared at the edges of known space. The aliens have destroyed a colony and she finds no way to effectively combat them or communicate with the mysterious beings. In a desperate attempt to break this impasse and the growing threat of destruction, Nine Hibiscus requests a first contact communication envoy from the Information Ministry, Three Seagrass. While secretly smuggling herself to the frontlines, Three Seagrass recruits the aid of Mahit Dzmare, the Lsel ambassador to the Empire, thereby saving her former associate, and friend, from the political fallout on Lsel Station from the events of the first novel. Together, the two forge an even stronger relationship, making contact with the aliens. With the help of Nine Hibiscus’s loyal adjutant Twenty Cicada, they unlock the first steps of comprehending their alien enemy and how to effectively communicate back with them. However, rebellion within the fleet (set in motion by elements in the Empire set on influencing young Emperor heir Eight Antidote) risk subverting the progress they make.

All of the rich examination of colonialism, culture, and individuality from the first novel carry on into the second. This specifically holds true within the realms of language and communication, which of course now aren’t just interrogated through the Teixcalaanli Empire – Colonized Lsel divide, but also with the mysterious aliens. These aliens are more ‘Other’ than the “Barbarian” people who exist outside the Empire, distinct not only in culture, but in biology and psychology. The aliens exist with a hive, shared consciousness that passes on through generations, without the individuality or concept of ‘death’ that humans would have. This concept is not remotely new to space opera, but Martine employs it in a fascinating way by contrasting it with the rest of the world building she established since the first book.

The main, and secondary, characters of A Desolation Called Peace are as splendidly drawn as in the first novel, and the further burgeoning relationship between Three Seagrass and Mahit is a pleasure to read and see develop. However, Twenty Cicada, notably shines as a bit of a break-out star in the novel. Martine gives him a captivating backstory and spiritual outlook that wonderfully sets him apart from so much of what drives the other characters we’ve met.

These are novels that I know I will happily return to and reread sometime in the years to come, but I also look forward to anything else Martine writes, in this Teixcalaan universe, or elsewhere.