Today is Australian writer Sean McMullen's 70th birthday. In honor of this, I'm posting a compilation of my reviews of his short fiction in Locus. (My review of his story "Electrica", from the March-April 2012 F&SF, somehow has disappeared from my hard drive, but fortunately Steven Silver reviews it in Black Gate here.)
Locus, September 2002
From Sci Fiction, "Voice of Steel" by Sean McMullen is a delightfully loopy (no pun intended) story in which a contemporary woman stumbles on a way to communicate through time with the early 15th Century English scientist William Tynedale. The working out is goofy in almost a pulpish fashion, but the consequences of the plot machinations are thought-provoking.
Locus, December 2002
Sean McMullen's "Walk to the Full Moon" (F&SF, December) is nice, mainly for its quite original explanation for the appearance of a pre-Neanderthal woman in modern day Spain.
Locus, October 2006
Interzone for August has a fine mathematical fantasia from Rudy Rucker and Terry Bisson, “2 + 2 = 5”, in which a mathematician proves that there are holes in the number system; and another story about numbers, “The Measure of Eternity” by Sean McMullen, a lush piece set in the legendary Arabian city Ubar, in which a cruel king, a beautiful courtesan, her servant, and a beggar who has, quite literally, nothing, learn how important nothing can be.
Locus, September 2009
As for the new stories in the August-September F&SF: the cover piece is something of a departure for Sean McMullen. “The Art of the Dragon” is told by an art historian who happens to be one of the first witnesses to a dragon who eats human works of art, beginning with the Eiffel Tower. He is anointed an “expert”, and as such gets a front row seat for the dragon’s continuing career, which basically involves a lot more destruction, and he also witnesses the sometimes daffy human reaction, such as the Dragonist cult which ends up trying to appease the dragon with a virgin sacrifice. McMullen’s point is interesting, though I think he took too long getting to it – still, a thought-provoking piece.
Locus, August 2010
Sean McMullen has the best story at Analog for September. “Eight Miles” tells of an expert balloonist in 1840 London hired by a rich man to take him and a passenger to unusually high altitudes. The passenger is a strange foxlike woman, apparently only barely intelligent, but she gains mental acuity as altitude increases. The rich man thinks she is of a race inhabiting the Himalayas, hence her preference for altitude. The reader will quickly know where she really hales from, and the story doesn’t surprise in getting to that reveal, but the ending slingshots nicely from there.
Locus, January 2011
Sean McMullen’s “Enigma” (Analog, January-February) is a classical SF puzzle planet story, and also something of a Fermi Paradox story. A group of explorers, each a mix of human/animal traits, tries to figure out the meaning and history of a strange, nearly indestructible, and quite abandoned, alien city. The answer is perhaps a bit of a stretch to believe, but it’s wrapped around a decent theme, and the result of the team’s discovery is interesting and bittersweet.
Locus, June 2017
The March-April Interzone includes a new Sean McMullen story, “The Influence Machine”. This has a bit of a steampunk flavor. It’s set at the turn of the 20th Century, told by an Inspector for the Metropolitan Police in London, a man with a scientific education. He investigates a disturbance caused by a young woman with an intimidating looking machine, and decides she is harmless, but not before seeing what her machine can do: it takes pictures of what seems to be an alternate London. In somewhat reluctant sympathy with her position as a woman with scientific ability who is not respected, he continues his association with her, as she is able to use her machine to learn scientific secrets from that alternate (and more advanced) world, until her discoveries attract the attention of the authorities, who become very interested. This puts the narrator in a tricky moral situation. All is resolved in a satisfactory fashion.
Friday, December 21, 2018
Thursday, December 20, 2018
Old Bestseller (Not!): The Confidence-Man: His Masquerade, by Herman Melville
Old Bestseller (Not!): The Confidence-Man: His Masquerade, by Herman Melville
a review by Rich Horton
Herman Melville (1819-1891) is now one of the canonical Great American Writers, known mostly for his novel Moby-Dick (1851), and a bit less for his first novel Typee (1846), and for his last short novel, Billy Budd, which was left unfinished at his death and was not published until 1924. In fact, Melville's career as a prose writer lasted essentially 11 years, from 1846 until 1857. Except for Billy Budd, his literary work the rest of his life was poetry, and while his books of poetry sold risibly in his lifetime, his reputation in that field has waxed enormously, and he ranks now, in critical estimation, perhaps third among American poets of his time, behind only Whitman and Dickinson.
While I have often heard it said that the failure of Moby-Dick ruined Melville's career, I don't think that's quite correct. No doubt the sales for that novel were disappointing compared to his very popular earlier books, but it still seems to have sold moderately well. The following three novels, however: Pierre; or, The Ambiguities; Israel Potter: His Fifty Years of Exile; and The Confidence-Man: His Masquerade; were far less successful, both financially and critically. In particular, the publisher of The Confidence-Man went bankrupt, and it is doubtful that Melville was paid at all for the book. All those books were largely panned by contemporary critics. By the end of his life, Melville was regarded as a minor writer of sea stories. It was only beginning in the 1910s, and accelerating in the 1920s after the publication (and success) of Billy Budd, that his reptutation burgeoned. And while Moby-Dick is still regarded as his masterpiece, and a truly towering work of American literature, many of the other novels, The Confidence-Man perhaps most of all, have gained a significant place in the canon.
I have a copy of Moby-Dick, but while I will read it eventually, I just wasn't in the mood. And The Confidence-Man, a novel I had only barely heard of until recently, seemed fascinating. So I decided to make it the second piece by Herman Melville I ever read. (I read "Bartleby the Scrivener" as an assigned work in High School.) I read The Confidence-Man in the Library of America collection of his later prose work.
The Confidence-Man: His Masquerade was published on April 1, 1857; and the action of the novel is set on that same date. There is no question that the date was chosen with malice aforethought.
It opens as a man boards the steamer Fidèle in St. Louis. He seems mute, and displays a slate, rewriting quotations from 1 Corinthians 13: "Charity thinketh no evil", "Charity never faileth", etc. In contrast, a barber, who plies his trade on the boat, sets up his shop with the sign "NO TRUST". And we see that a reward is offered for a mysterious impostor.
All this actually sets up expectations, potentially, for a bit of plottiness. But the novel does not proceed this may. As the journey downriver continues, we are introduced to a variety of men, beginning with a severely crippled black man, begging for alms. He meets with resistance -- distrust -- and is defended by a man in mourning, with a weed in his hat. This man strikes up a conversation with a businessman, promoting the idea of confidence and trust in other people. And by the by he mentions an opportunity to buy shares in a certain company, rumored to be in distress.
And so the book continues, with a variety of individuals appearing and disappearing, with one person usually speaking -- at length -- with another, urging confidence in and charity towards one's fellow man. And often somewhat obliquely suggesting an investment, or a loan, or the purchase of an improving medicine, or some other scheme. Both sides of the conversations are presented with force -- the men (or is it one man?) urging confidence, and various people professing skepticism. Certain longer stories are offered, one about Colonel John Moredock, the Indian hater; another about the ill effects of accepting a loan, etc. The barber professing "No Trust" is debated.
This continues through the course of the day, as the boat passes Cairo and heads further down the river. We soon realize that the conversations are the point of the book -- the constant debate between seemingly virtuous "confidence" in others -- clearly, however, from the mouth of a "confidence man", who appears to (with indifferent success) be attempting to swindle the passengers -- and a more skeptical attitude, a more individualistic approach to life.
If nothing happens, if no plot emerges, it doesn't matter. The book is almost mesmerising at times. It's a remarkably modern-seeming novel in design, and in aim. Melville's prose is not, I suppose, modern -- it's of the 19th century, but vigorously his, not like any other writer. The sentence are very long (often occupying whole paragraphs), and they demand careful reading, but also reward it. The book seems engaged in portraying the American character, as Melville saw it, and from none too happy a vantage point. It is quite a remarkable performance, a striking and completely original novel. And often quite a funny one.
a review by Rich Horton
Herman Melville (1819-1891) is now one of the canonical Great American Writers, known mostly for his novel Moby-Dick (1851), and a bit less for his first novel Typee (1846), and for his last short novel, Billy Budd, which was left unfinished at his death and was not published until 1924. In fact, Melville's career as a prose writer lasted essentially 11 years, from 1846 until 1857. Except for Billy Budd, his literary work the rest of his life was poetry, and while his books of poetry sold risibly in his lifetime, his reputation in that field has waxed enormously, and he ranks now, in critical estimation, perhaps third among American poets of his time, behind only Whitman and Dickinson.
While I have often heard it said that the failure of Moby-Dick ruined Melville's career, I don't think that's quite correct. No doubt the sales for that novel were disappointing compared to his very popular earlier books, but it still seems to have sold moderately well. The following three novels, however: Pierre; or, The Ambiguities; Israel Potter: His Fifty Years of Exile; and The Confidence-Man: His Masquerade; were far less successful, both financially and critically. In particular, the publisher of The Confidence-Man went bankrupt, and it is doubtful that Melville was paid at all for the book. All those books were largely panned by contemporary critics. By the end of his life, Melville was regarded as a minor writer of sea stories. It was only beginning in the 1910s, and accelerating in the 1920s after the publication (and success) of Billy Budd, that his reptutation burgeoned. And while Moby-Dick is still regarded as his masterpiece, and a truly towering work of American literature, many of the other novels, The Confidence-Man perhaps most of all, have gained a significant place in the canon.
I have a copy of Moby-Dick, but while I will read it eventually, I just wasn't in the mood. And The Confidence-Man, a novel I had only barely heard of until recently, seemed fascinating. So I decided to make it the second piece by Herman Melville I ever read. (I read "Bartleby the Scrivener" as an assigned work in High School.) I read The Confidence-Man in the Library of America collection of his later prose work.The Confidence-Man: His Masquerade was published on April 1, 1857; and the action of the novel is set on that same date. There is no question that the date was chosen with malice aforethought.
It opens as a man boards the steamer Fidèle in St. Louis. He seems mute, and displays a slate, rewriting quotations from 1 Corinthians 13: "Charity thinketh no evil", "Charity never faileth", etc. In contrast, a barber, who plies his trade on the boat, sets up his shop with the sign "NO TRUST". And we see that a reward is offered for a mysterious impostor.
All this actually sets up expectations, potentially, for a bit of plottiness. But the novel does not proceed this may. As the journey downriver continues, we are introduced to a variety of men, beginning with a severely crippled black man, begging for alms. He meets with resistance -- distrust -- and is defended by a man in mourning, with a weed in his hat. This man strikes up a conversation with a businessman, promoting the idea of confidence and trust in other people. And by the by he mentions an opportunity to buy shares in a certain company, rumored to be in distress.
And so the book continues, with a variety of individuals appearing and disappearing, with one person usually speaking -- at length -- with another, urging confidence in and charity towards one's fellow man. And often somewhat obliquely suggesting an investment, or a loan, or the purchase of an improving medicine, or some other scheme. Both sides of the conversations are presented with force -- the men (or is it one man?) urging confidence, and various people professing skepticism. Certain longer stories are offered, one about Colonel John Moredock, the Indian hater; another about the ill effects of accepting a loan, etc. The barber professing "No Trust" is debated.
This continues through the course of the day, as the boat passes Cairo and heads further down the river. We soon realize that the conversations are the point of the book -- the constant debate between seemingly virtuous "confidence" in others -- clearly, however, from the mouth of a "confidence man", who appears to (with indifferent success) be attempting to swindle the passengers -- and a more skeptical attitude, a more individualistic approach to life.
If nothing happens, if no plot emerges, it doesn't matter. The book is almost mesmerising at times. It's a remarkably modern-seeming novel in design, and in aim. Melville's prose is not, I suppose, modern -- it's of the 19th century, but vigorously his, not like any other writer. The sentence are very long (often occupying whole paragraphs), and they demand careful reading, but also reward it. The book seems engaged in portraying the American character, as Melville saw it, and from none too happy a vantage point. It is quite a remarkable performance, a striking and completely original novel. And often quite a funny one.Birthday Review: Midnight Robber, by Nalo Hopkinson
Midnight Robber, by Nalo Hopkinson
a review by Rich Horton
Today is Nalo Hopkinson's birthday. In honor of that, I've resurrected a review I did on my SFF.net newsgroup back when it came out. (I've buffed it slightly.)
Midnight Robber appeared in 2000, and was a Hugo and Nebula nominee for Best Novel in 2001. is a pretty darn good book, with a couple of weaknesses. The novel is excellent, with a convincing and involving main character, and a neat setting on an alien planet with cool aliens, and a solid plot involving the main character dealing with severe family issues and coming of age.
The story is about a girl from the planet Toussaint, called Tan-Tan. Toussaint is a highly technological planet: most of the work is done by machines, and everybody (except a few resisters) has an implant which connects them to a planet-wide AI. The AI monitors everybody as well as linking them to news and such -- thus crime would seem to be difficult, and when crime does happen, the criminals are treated harshly, exiled to a primitive planet called New Half Way Tree. Tan-Tan is the daughter of the Mayor of her town, Antonio. Antonio is a serial adulterer himself, but when he catches his wife in flagrante, he flies into a rage, and abandons she and Tan-Tan for several months, and eventually plots revenge against his wife's lover. This crime leads to his exile to New Half Way Tree -- and more or less by accident, he takes Tan-Tan with him. This whole first section is a bit slow, and to my mind not well enough integrated with the rest of the novel. Antonio doesn't seem well-portrayed -- and Tan-Tan's mother Ione is both an unpleasant and unnecessary character. Moreover it introduces a subthread about the anti-tech people on Toussaint (those who choose not to be linked to the AI, and who do their own hand work) which doesn't really go anywhere. Also, there is some mumbo-jumbo about the connection and means of transport between Toussaint and New Half Way Tree that was superfluous. (There are bits about Tan-Tan's childhood and about the tech background to Toussaint that are important -- those could have been introduced in flashbacks, I thought.) But I am making a mountain out of a molehill.
Once Tan-Tan and Antonio get to New Half Way Tree, the book comes alive. They are met by an intriguing ostrich- or lizard-like alien called Chichibud, who guides them through some peril to a human village. The village is ruled harshly but apparently fairly by a couple of hard men. It seems that the aliens are regarded as rather simple by the humans, but they engage in mutually beneficial trade, and though there are mysteries, no human has time to investigate on this harsh planet. Tan-Tan grows up, making friends with the simple-minded daughter of another exile, and with a local boy. But her relationship with her father grows horrible, and she is driven to a terrible act as she turns 16. The rest of the book follows her into the wilderness, where she is saved by Chichibud and brought to his home, where she learns something of the secrets of the aliens (called douens) way of life. When her past comes to threaten the aliens as well, she leaves and wanders the bush with an alien friend. Soon she is the "Midnight Robber", trying to atone for her crimes and her guilt, some of which is misplaced, by acting as a sort of Robin Hood character in the various human villages.
Eventually Tan-Tan must find a way back into human society. I thought possibly some of the resolution was just a bit convenient -- also I thought the time scale to the book a bit compressed towards the end. But it remains exciting and interesting, and the resolution if convenient is still satisfying. There are some open questions about the human/douen relationship, but though a sequel is possible, it's not necessary.
a review by Rich Horton
Today is Nalo Hopkinson's birthday. In honor of that, I've resurrected a review I did on my SFF.net newsgroup back when it came out. (I've buffed it slightly.)
The story is about a girl from the planet Toussaint, called Tan-Tan. Toussaint is a highly technological planet: most of the work is done by machines, and everybody (except a few resisters) has an implant which connects them to a planet-wide AI. The AI monitors everybody as well as linking them to news and such -- thus crime would seem to be difficult, and when crime does happen, the criminals are treated harshly, exiled to a primitive planet called New Half Way Tree. Tan-Tan is the daughter of the Mayor of her town, Antonio. Antonio is a serial adulterer himself, but when he catches his wife in flagrante, he flies into a rage, and abandons she and Tan-Tan for several months, and eventually plots revenge against his wife's lover. This crime leads to his exile to New Half Way Tree -- and more or less by accident, he takes Tan-Tan with him. This whole first section is a bit slow, and to my mind not well enough integrated with the rest of the novel. Antonio doesn't seem well-portrayed -- and Tan-Tan's mother Ione is both an unpleasant and unnecessary character. Moreover it introduces a subthread about the anti-tech people on Toussaint (those who choose not to be linked to the AI, and who do their own hand work) which doesn't really go anywhere. Also, there is some mumbo-jumbo about the connection and means of transport between Toussaint and New Half Way Tree that was superfluous. (There are bits about Tan-Tan's childhood and about the tech background to Toussaint that are important -- those could have been introduced in flashbacks, I thought.) But I am making a mountain out of a molehill.
Once Tan-Tan and Antonio get to New Half Way Tree, the book comes alive. They are met by an intriguing ostrich- or lizard-like alien called Chichibud, who guides them through some peril to a human village. The village is ruled harshly but apparently fairly by a couple of hard men. It seems that the aliens are regarded as rather simple by the humans, but they engage in mutually beneficial trade, and though there are mysteries, no human has time to investigate on this harsh planet. Tan-Tan grows up, making friends with the simple-minded daughter of another exile, and with a local boy. But her relationship with her father grows horrible, and she is driven to a terrible act as she turns 16. The rest of the book follows her into the wilderness, where she is saved by Chichibud and brought to his home, where she learns something of the secrets of the aliens (called douens) way of life. When her past comes to threaten the aliens as well, she leaves and wanders the bush with an alien friend. Soon she is the "Midnight Robber", trying to atone for her crimes and her guilt, some of which is misplaced, by acting as a sort of Robin Hood character in the various human villages.
Eventually Tan-Tan must find a way back into human society. I thought possibly some of the resolution was just a bit convenient -- also I thought the time scale to the book a bit compressed towards the end. But it remains exciting and interesting, and the resolution if convenient is still satisfying. There are some open questions about the human/douen relationship, but though a sequel is possible, it's not necessary.
Monday, December 17, 2018
Birthday Review: The Blue Flower, by Penelope Fitzgerald
Penelope Fitzgerald, one of my favorite writers, was born 102 years ago today. I discovered her in the early '90s, I think, as a result of a mention in connection with Kingsley Amis or Anthony Powell or someone similar. I immediately sought out everything I could find -- a bit of a trick back then -- and then in 1996 she published The Blue Flower, which made her a worldwide figure, 4 years before her death. But as you can see below, I bought my copy from the UK, in the early days of online bookstores. (I'm sure I paid a premium!)
I'm reposting this review, from way back in 1996, on the occasion of her birthday. And I should note that it's the second book called The Blue Flower I have reviewed on this blog -- a while back I covered Henry van Dyke's story collection with the same title.
Date: Sun, 08 Dec 1996
The Blue Flower, by Penelope Fitzgerald
Flamingo (UK), 1995
Trade paperback edition 1996, 5.99 pounds, $11.95 in Canada
ISBN 0-00-655019-3
Penelope Fitzgerald is a rather well-known author in the U.K., having been short-listed for the Booker Prize four times and winning once (for Offshore (1979)). However, her books are harder to find in the States, and this one, her latest, has yet to be published here. (So thank God for online bookstores, Bookpages in this case!)
[The Blue Flower was of course soon published in the US, and attracted considerable approving notice.]
The Blue Flower is the story of the romance of Friedrich von Hardenberg, later famous as the German Romantic poet-novelist-philosopher Novalis, with a 12-year old girl, Sophie Von Kuhn. The story is told in brief chapters, from the points of view of several characters: Hardenberg himself, a female friend who may fancy herself a rival of Sophie's, Hardenburg's sister, Sophie's sister, and so on. The large cast of characters is wonderfully described, each character briefly and accurately limned, and all treated with humor and affection. In addition, details of how life was lived in 18th century Saxony are casually strewn throughout the book, and a very accurate-feeling picture of everyday life, and more importantly, how everyday people thought, is the result.
The main characters are odd but interesting: Fritz von Hardenberg is a young artist with Romantic attitudes: and at the same time realistically a brother and a son, and also a fairly conscientious apprentice salt-mine inspector. Sophie is a 12-year old girl of very little intelligence, and is unsparingly presented as such (indeed, her character is probably treated with less sympathy than any other in the book.)
As far as I can tell, every character in the book (at least every even moderately prominent character) is historical, though it is hard for me to be sure how closely Fitzgerald's characterizations resemble the historical record. Knowledge of the historical events depicted here casts a sort of pall over the events of the novel: we know that Sophie will die very young, and von Hardenberg not much later. (Novalis first became famous for a series of prose poems written in Sophie's memory ("Hymns to the Night"), and his major work, the novel Heinrich von Ofterdingen, was left uncompleted at his death.) Despite this pall, the book is funny, engaging, and beautiful in a delicate-seeming fashion.
Fitzgerald is one of my favorite authors. As I said, she seems to be less well-known in the US than elsewhere: and I'm not quite sure why. She does not seem overtly "English", for instance. The fine novels Innocence, The Gate of Angels and The Beginning of Spring do seem to be available here. [More recently, all of her novels have been reprinted in the U.S.] I recommend all her work highly. If I had to mention an author she resembles, it might be Anita Brookner, but Fitzgerald seems warmer than Brookner. Others have suggested Barbara Comyns, Barbara Pym, Elizabeth Taylor, and Muriel Spark (all, to be sure, British women authors of roughly her generation.)
I'm reposting this review, from way back in 1996, on the occasion of her birthday. And I should note that it's the second book called The Blue Flower I have reviewed on this blog -- a while back I covered Henry van Dyke's story collection with the same title.
Date: Sun, 08 Dec 1996
The Blue Flower, by Penelope Fitzgerald
Flamingo (UK), 1995
Trade paperback edition 1996, 5.99 pounds, $11.95 in Canada
ISBN 0-00-655019-3
Penelope Fitzgerald is a rather well-known author in the U.K., having been short-listed for the Booker Prize four times and winning once (for Offshore (1979)). However, her books are harder to find in the States, and this one, her latest, has yet to be published here. (So thank God for online bookstores, Bookpages in this case!)
[The Blue Flower was of course soon published in the US, and attracted considerable approving notice.]
The main characters are odd but interesting: Fritz von Hardenberg is a young artist with Romantic attitudes: and at the same time realistically a brother and a son, and also a fairly conscientious apprentice salt-mine inspector. Sophie is a 12-year old girl of very little intelligence, and is unsparingly presented as such (indeed, her character is probably treated with less sympathy than any other in the book.)
As far as I can tell, every character in the book (at least every even moderately prominent character) is historical, though it is hard for me to be sure how closely Fitzgerald's characterizations resemble the historical record. Knowledge of the historical events depicted here casts a sort of pall over the events of the novel: we know that Sophie will die very young, and von Hardenberg not much later. (Novalis first became famous for a series of prose poems written in Sophie's memory ("Hymns to the Night"), and his major work, the novel Heinrich von Ofterdingen, was left uncompleted at his death.) Despite this pall, the book is funny, engaging, and beautiful in a delicate-seeming fashion.
Fitzgerald is one of my favorite authors. As I said, she seems to be less well-known in the US than elsewhere: and I'm not quite sure why. She does not seem overtly "English", for instance. The fine novels Innocence, The Gate of Angels and The Beginning of Spring do seem to be available here. [More recently, all of her novels have been reprinted in the U.S.] I recommend all her work highly. If I had to mention an author she resembles, it might be Anita Brookner, but Fitzgerald seems warmer than Brookner. Others have suggested Barbara Comyns, Barbara Pym, Elizabeth Taylor, and Muriel Spark (all, to be sure, British women authors of roughly her generation.)
Sunday, December 16, 2018
Birthday Review: Two Collections by Peter Dickinson (and Robin McKinley)
Peter Dickinson was born 91 years ago today, and died 3 years ago today. He was an exceptional writer of mysteries, of SF, of Fantasy, and of YA literature. I discovered him fairly young through his Inspector Pibble mysteries, beginning with The Glass-Sided Ants' Nest; and soon after was surprised to see his Changes YA SF trilogy in the bookstore. Soon I was reading SF novels such at The Green Gene and The Poison Oracle; and then his Alternate History Mystery series, starting with King and Joker.
The reviews below are of his late "Elemental" story collections, including stories both by him and by his wife, Robin McKinley. These were lovely stories, somewhat Young Adult in nature. I reviewed Fire for Fantasy Magazine, and I've appended my brief look at Earth and Air from Locus. (Alas, I never wrote about Water.)
Fire
by Robin McKinley and Peter Dickinson
G. P. Putnam’s Sons
$19.99 | hc | 297 pages
ISBN: 978-0-399-25289-1
October 2009
A review by Rich Horton
Husband and wife Peter Dickinson and Robin McKinley have separately each had remarkable writing careers. This is the second book they have done together, collaborating on the book but not the individual stories. The two longer stories here are by McKinley, the three shorter ones by Dickinson. All are Young Adult fantasies, about “fire spirits” of various types, such as a salamander, a phoenix, and a dragon.
The book is very enjoyable, its varied nature enhancing the pleasure. Dickinson opens the book with “Phoenix”, in which a young girl fascinated by nature encounters a boy of a similar age in a private preserve. She soon gathers that the preserve belongs to the boy’s family, and she gains his approval and explores it with him. Eventually she learns the real story, which is quite strange, and which involves, of course, a phoenix, and rebirth, as well as an unusual and quite sweet love story. Dickinson’s other two stories aren’t quite as effective. “Fireworm” is set in a prehistoric community menaced by the title creature, which burns its way into their cave. The hero is an outcast, because of his illegitimate birth, who is gifted in a dream the strange path he must follow to vanquish the fireworm. It is all quite interesting, but never really connects. “Salamander Man” is about another outcast, a boy who is the slave of a woman selling magical objects. She is a fairly benevolent owner, but cannot resist when a magician insists on buying the boy. Magicians have a bad reputation, but this one has a different fate in mind for the boy. Again, the working out is quite interesting – the problem here is that we are told too much, not shown. It might have worked better at twice the length.
McKinley’s stories are more character-oriented, perhaps more traditional YA. “Hellhound” tells of Miri, a girl just out of high school, who loves horses and never wants to leave her parents’ farm and riding stable. She loves dogs too, but only on graduation can she persuade her mother to let her adopt one, and she ends up with a very strange dog indeed. Well, the title gives it away, but this is, we learn, a good hellhound. Which is revealed engagingly when Miri’s brother and his girlfriend run into trouble at a haunted graveyard on their property … The fantastical element here, while real, is secondary to a set of delightful characters.
And my favorite story is the longest, “First Flight”, nearly a novel. Ern is the third son of a carpenter, who wants his sons to fit traditional roles. That means the eldest will be a dragonrider, the second a spiritspeaker, and the third a wizard. The story turns on Ern’s character – he is convinced that he’s a clumsy bumbler, and he is half-ashamed that his forte seems to be healing, for some reason a disparaged art. He also loves animals, and has made a pet of a sort of dog/dragon hybrid … And then he must accompany his oldest brother to his brother’s first flight on a dragon, which exposes him (and us) to the wonders of the majestic dragons, and their curious method of flying (something like spacewarps, I thought …). The shape of the whole thing is clear from the start, but it’s so perfectly executed, and Ern is such a well portrayed first-person protagonist, that I was enthralled.
This is a wonderful blending of talents of two writers who have already given us some of the best YA fantasy of the past few decades. Recommended.
Earth and Air, by Peter Dickinson (Big Mouth Press)
Last month I mentioned Peter Dickinson's “Troll Bridge”, which appeared in F&SF and also appears in his new collection Earth and Air, subtitled Tales of Elemental Creatures. The stories are all quite enjoyable. I particularly enjoyed “Ridiki”, a version of the Eurydice story substituting a boy's beloved dog Ridiki for Eurydice, and “Wizand”, which cleverly portrays the unusual lifecycle of the wizand, which confers power on witches, including in this story a 20th century girl named Sophie. Most intriguing, perhaps, is the final story, “The Fifth Element”, which doesn't as obviously deal with an “elemental creature” as the other stories. Instead, it's an odd science fiction horror story, that reminded me of Philip K. Dick's first published story, “Beyond Lies the Wub”, and well as Robert Sheckley's “Specialist”, in telling of the multispecies crew of a sort of tramp starship, and what happens when their “ship's Cat” dies.
The reviews below are of his late "Elemental" story collections, including stories both by him and by his wife, Robin McKinley. These were lovely stories, somewhat Young Adult in nature. I reviewed Fire for Fantasy Magazine, and I've appended my brief look at Earth and Air from Locus. (Alas, I never wrote about Water.)
Fire
by Robin McKinley and Peter Dickinson
G. P. Putnam’s Sons
$19.99 | hc | 297 pages
ISBN: 978-0-399-25289-1
October 2009
A review by Rich Horton
The book is very enjoyable, its varied nature enhancing the pleasure. Dickinson opens the book with “Phoenix”, in which a young girl fascinated by nature encounters a boy of a similar age in a private preserve. She soon gathers that the preserve belongs to the boy’s family, and she gains his approval and explores it with him. Eventually she learns the real story, which is quite strange, and which involves, of course, a phoenix, and rebirth, as well as an unusual and quite sweet love story. Dickinson’s other two stories aren’t quite as effective. “Fireworm” is set in a prehistoric community menaced by the title creature, which burns its way into their cave. The hero is an outcast, because of his illegitimate birth, who is gifted in a dream the strange path he must follow to vanquish the fireworm. It is all quite interesting, but never really connects. “Salamander Man” is about another outcast, a boy who is the slave of a woman selling magical objects. She is a fairly benevolent owner, but cannot resist when a magician insists on buying the boy. Magicians have a bad reputation, but this one has a different fate in mind for the boy. Again, the working out is quite interesting – the problem here is that we are told too much, not shown. It might have worked better at twice the length.
McKinley’s stories are more character-oriented, perhaps more traditional YA. “Hellhound” tells of Miri, a girl just out of high school, who loves horses and never wants to leave her parents’ farm and riding stable. She loves dogs too, but only on graduation can she persuade her mother to let her adopt one, and she ends up with a very strange dog indeed. Well, the title gives it away, but this is, we learn, a good hellhound. Which is revealed engagingly when Miri’s brother and his girlfriend run into trouble at a haunted graveyard on their property … The fantastical element here, while real, is secondary to a set of delightful characters.
And my favorite story is the longest, “First Flight”, nearly a novel. Ern is the third son of a carpenter, who wants his sons to fit traditional roles. That means the eldest will be a dragonrider, the second a spiritspeaker, and the third a wizard. The story turns on Ern’s character – he is convinced that he’s a clumsy bumbler, and he is half-ashamed that his forte seems to be healing, for some reason a disparaged art. He also loves animals, and has made a pet of a sort of dog/dragon hybrid … And then he must accompany his oldest brother to his brother’s first flight on a dragon, which exposes him (and us) to the wonders of the majestic dragons, and their curious method of flying (something like spacewarps, I thought …). The shape of the whole thing is clear from the start, but it’s so perfectly executed, and Ern is such a well portrayed first-person protagonist, that I was enthralled.
This is a wonderful blending of talents of two writers who have already given us some of the best YA fantasy of the past few decades. Recommended.
Earth and Air, by Peter Dickinson (Big Mouth Press)
Birthday Review: Stories of Ted Kosmatka
Ted Kosmatka is another of the long list of SF writers born on this date. Here's a selection of my reviews of his stories.
Locus, August 2007
Another new writer, Ted Kosmatka, also impresses with a dark story: “The Prophet of Flores”, set in an alternate world in the Earth has been proven to be only 5800 years old, and in which evolutionists are crackpots. A scientist is recruited to study the dwarf people of the Indonesian island Flores – but these discoveries are politically and religiously bombshells. Even in a world where Creationism is true, the forces of orthodoxy are unwilling to accept the implications of scientific investigation. Effective stuff.
Locus, June 2008
The June F&SF opens with a tense novelette from Ted Kosmatka, who is a rising star of short SF – where he stands now reminds me of where, say, Paolo Bacigalupi stood in 2004. Like Bacigalupi on occasion, or early Greg Egan, he has a certain tendency to yoke his neat SFnal ideas to thriller plots. This works best if the plot can be made to turn, at least in part, on the idea – and that’s the case in “The Art of Alchemy”. The narrator is a specialist in memory metals, working for a steel company based in northern Indiana. He tells his story in past tense, and for him it is the story of his love affair with Veronica, a brilliant and beautiful black woman, an up and coming management star with the company, who for some reason chose him. But he comes to learn that she has multiple loyalties – to her own past, of course, but also to the company. And when she gets an offer to the specs for a miracle material that may threaten the future of the steel business those loyalties are tested. And so are the narrator’s loyalties. The story nicely balances a wrenching love story with a good near future SF idea with a crackling thriller conclusion.
Locus, August 2008
I recently in these pages brought up Greg Egan’s name in connection with Ted Kosmatka. The comparison seems even stronger with “Divining Light”. Here Kosmatka, like Egan, examines esoteric Physics and also human consciousness, as a rather damaged researcher finds a way to investigate what sort of “consciousness” is required to collapse quantum events – with scary implications of much wider import than purely Physics.
Locus, June 2009
Belatedly I’ll catch up with Subterranean’s online offerings. For Spring, Gardner Dozois is the Guest Editor, and the best story so far (Spring is not over!), is Ted Kosmatka’s “The Ascendant”, set in a very odd prison, apparently part of some sort of arcology, and telling of a child born to a woman prisoner, and his growing awareness of his world. The story ends, alas, well before the boy’s story ends – surely more work in this setting is forthcoming.
Locus, November 2009
Much darker is “Blood Dauber” (Asimov's, November), by Ted Kosmatka and Michael Poore. Bell is a zookeeper, who rather loves his job despite its awfulness. But his life is a mess: his job doesn’t pay well, and his wife resents the financial stress that results. And to tell the truth Bell is a bit of a mess anyway. Things come to something of a head when he makes friends (sort of) with a criminal working off his community service time at the zoo. At the same time he discovers a very strange insect, that appears to actively adapt to local conditions. Bell begins to experiment with the insect, trying to adapt it to different environments. But crises in his personal and professional life impinge, leading to a horrifying conclusion, and dark resolution.
Locus, January 2012
At the January/February F&SF I liked “The Color Least Used in Nature”, by Ted Kosmatka, a dark and powerful story of a boat builder in a South Pacific island. The fantasy element is slim -- walking trees that make remarkable boats -- but the heart of the story is wonderful, a complex mix of an elegiac look at the effects of colonialism on the island people with the effects of love disappointed and violence on the life of the boat builder, and of the women he loves and his children.
Locus, May 2016
The April Asimov’s is one of the best magazine issues I’ve seen in some time. All three novelettes are very fine. Ted Kosmatka’s “The Bewilderness of Lions” and Dale Bailey’s “I Married a Monster from Outer Space” both seem pure examples of stories that use thinnish SF tropes quite well in service of more mundane concerns. Kosmatka’s story is Caitlin, who consults for a political candidate as a kind of data miner. She is able to predict unusual happenings that might affect the campaign, quite successfully, until someone seems to notice, and makes her an offer … So far, so typical: a shadowy conspiracy running the world (I was reminded a bit of the film version of Philip Dick’s “The Adjustment Bureau”): but Kosmatka gives Caitlin a powerful back story, concerning her brother, and ties it very effectively to her ultimate dilemma.
Locus, August 2007
Another new writer, Ted Kosmatka, also impresses with a dark story: “The Prophet of Flores”, set in an alternate world in the Earth has been proven to be only 5800 years old, and in which evolutionists are crackpots. A scientist is recruited to study the dwarf people of the Indonesian island Flores – but these discoveries are politically and religiously bombshells. Even in a world where Creationism is true, the forces of orthodoxy are unwilling to accept the implications of scientific investigation. Effective stuff.
Locus, June 2008
The June F&SF opens with a tense novelette from Ted Kosmatka, who is a rising star of short SF – where he stands now reminds me of where, say, Paolo Bacigalupi stood in 2004. Like Bacigalupi on occasion, or early Greg Egan, he has a certain tendency to yoke his neat SFnal ideas to thriller plots. This works best if the plot can be made to turn, at least in part, on the idea – and that’s the case in “The Art of Alchemy”. The narrator is a specialist in memory metals, working for a steel company based in northern Indiana. He tells his story in past tense, and for him it is the story of his love affair with Veronica, a brilliant and beautiful black woman, an up and coming management star with the company, who for some reason chose him. But he comes to learn that she has multiple loyalties – to her own past, of course, but also to the company. And when she gets an offer to the specs for a miracle material that may threaten the future of the steel business those loyalties are tested. And so are the narrator’s loyalties. The story nicely balances a wrenching love story with a good near future SF idea with a crackling thriller conclusion.
Locus, August 2008
I recently in these pages brought up Greg Egan’s name in connection with Ted Kosmatka. The comparison seems even stronger with “Divining Light”. Here Kosmatka, like Egan, examines esoteric Physics and also human consciousness, as a rather damaged researcher finds a way to investigate what sort of “consciousness” is required to collapse quantum events – with scary implications of much wider import than purely Physics.
Locus, June 2009
Belatedly I’ll catch up with Subterranean’s online offerings. For Spring, Gardner Dozois is the Guest Editor, and the best story so far (Spring is not over!), is Ted Kosmatka’s “The Ascendant”, set in a very odd prison, apparently part of some sort of arcology, and telling of a child born to a woman prisoner, and his growing awareness of his world. The story ends, alas, well before the boy’s story ends – surely more work in this setting is forthcoming.
Locus, November 2009
Much darker is “Blood Dauber” (Asimov's, November), by Ted Kosmatka and Michael Poore. Bell is a zookeeper, who rather loves his job despite its awfulness. But his life is a mess: his job doesn’t pay well, and his wife resents the financial stress that results. And to tell the truth Bell is a bit of a mess anyway. Things come to something of a head when he makes friends (sort of) with a criminal working off his community service time at the zoo. At the same time he discovers a very strange insect, that appears to actively adapt to local conditions. Bell begins to experiment with the insect, trying to adapt it to different environments. But crises in his personal and professional life impinge, leading to a horrifying conclusion, and dark resolution.
Locus, January 2012
At the January/February F&SF I liked “The Color Least Used in Nature”, by Ted Kosmatka, a dark and powerful story of a boat builder in a South Pacific island. The fantasy element is slim -- walking trees that make remarkable boats -- but the heart of the story is wonderful, a complex mix of an elegiac look at the effects of colonialism on the island people with the effects of love disappointed and violence on the life of the boat builder, and of the women he loves and his children.
Locus, May 2016
The April Asimov’s is one of the best magazine issues I’ve seen in some time. All three novelettes are very fine. Ted Kosmatka’s “The Bewilderness of Lions” and Dale Bailey’s “I Married a Monster from Outer Space” both seem pure examples of stories that use thinnish SF tropes quite well in service of more mundane concerns. Kosmatka’s story is Caitlin, who consults for a political candidate as a kind of data miner. She is able to predict unusual happenings that might affect the campaign, quite successfully, until someone seems to notice, and makes her an offer … So far, so typical: a shadowy conspiracy running the world (I was reminded a bit of the film version of Philip Dick’s “The Adjustment Bureau”): but Kosmatka gives Caitlin a powerful back story, concerning her brother, and ties it very effectively to her ultimate dilemma.
Birthday Review: Stories of Jeremiah Tolbert
Today is Jeremiah Tolbert's birthday. I've been enjoying his short fiction since 2005, and here's a compilation of some of my Locus reviews of his work. Alas, something weird happened to some of my files from 2016, so some stuff is gone. But here's a lot of it:
Locus, May 2005
I suppose as a Missourian I should have resented Jeremiah Tolbert's "The Kansas Jayhawk vs the Midwestern Monster Squad" (Interzone, March-April), as it tells of a battle between genetically engineered "state monsters", including the Kansas Jayhawk and the Missouri Tiger: and the Jayhawk wins! But the story is just too fun – set in a future where the "geeks shall inherit the Earth" – and where they have encouraged radical and goofy science projects like creating Godzilla-sized monster mascots.
Locus, March 2008
The latest issue of Shimmer magazine is a special Pirate issue, guest-edited by John Joseph Adams of F&SF. There were fine pieces in multiple modes, but I liked best a couple that took a SFnal tack. Jeremiah Tolbert’s “Captain Blood’s B00ty” has college hackers using magic and IP-tracking software to locate a pirate treasure online.
Locus, May 2009, review of Federations
Jeremiah Tolbert’s “The Culture Archivist” is very fine, about a man illegally saving what he can of an alien culture’s ways in advance of a commercial invasion from his “federation”. The story modulates nicely from an almost Strossian romp to a serious examination of its central issue (which is not to deny that Stross’s romps have serious points, too!)
Locus, April 2011
GigaNotoSaurus opened 2011 with a couple of quite different and quite entertaining stories. Jeremiah Tolbert’s “Work, With Occasional Molemen” (January) is wackily fun B-movie style SF, about a man in Topeka with a rather weird (and sometimes criminal family – in an odd way his family dynamics reminded me of those in the (much much darker) Oscar-nominated movie Winter’s Bone, which as it happens is set sorta kinda in between where Jeremy and I live) – who ends up cutting a deal with, well, molemen he finds underground.
Locus, June 2011
In June, Fantasy offers a science fiction story, with a fantasy theme, zombies: “You Have Been Turned Into a Zombie by a Friend”, by Jeremiah Tolbert. The story is set in high school, and the main character is uneasily perched between the “socialistas”, apparently a “popular” group, and some old rather geekier friends. But her (I assume) geekier instincts save her when a cellphone app starts turning everyone into mindless slaves. Her job is to help her friends escape, and in the process figure out who’s behind things. The villain has an affecting story too, and I quite enjoyed the working out.
Locus, March 2016
I really liked a fantasy by Jeremiah Tolbert in the February Lightspeed, "Not by Wardrobe, Tornado, or Looking Glass". It seems that almost everyone in the world is escaping to fantasy worlds via "rabbit holes" -- everyone but Louisa, who desperately wants one of her own. The "real world" is decaying, as more and more people leave, reflected in Louisa's increasingly pointless temp job in a law office, and in her frayed relationship with her sister. Then fantasy creatures begin to colonize our "real world", and Louisa is finally pushed to contemplate what is a "real world" and what is a "rabbit hole" and what is the best way to live your real life?
Locus, September 2016
At the August Lightspeed, I enjoyed Jeremiah Tolbert’s “Taste the Singularity at the Food Truck Circus”, set in a somewhat climate-altered near future Kansas City. The narrator is an accountant who once dreamed of being a chef, but now sublimates his ambitions to sampling food trucks. He runs into a guy he’d met at a cooking class long before, and ends up with an invitation to the Food Truck Circus, a not quite legal gathering where some truly wild food is offered (like modified tapeworms, that taste good and also consume some of the extra calories you’re ingesting). The plot is a bit slight, mainly concerning the ways the Circus discourages spies, and the resolution, if sensible, comes off a bit flat, but the story is amusing and the food ideas are fun.
I’m not really that into Lovecraftian horror but Swords v. Cthulhu seemed to offer a bit more action, maybe a bit less cosmic despair, than usual, so I looked into. It’s fair to say there’s still some cosmic despair on offer, but plenty of action, and a fair bit of fun. I particularly liked a couple of stories. Jeremiah Tolbert’s “The Dreamers of Alamoi”, in which the madman Garen the Undreaming, who never sleeps and has a soul in shards as a result, is engaged by a brother and sister to go to Alamoi, where everyone who gets to close is mentally ensnared to work on a massive edifice. The best thing about this is Garen’s character, and the story is good fun as well.
Locus, October 2017
Lightspeed’s October issue includes a longer than usual original story, a novella called “The Dragon of Dread Peak” by Jeremiah Tolbert. It’s a sequel to “The Cavern of the Screaming Eye”, which appeared in Lightspeed a year ago, and introduced narrator Ivan and his friends, who have formed a team to investigate “dungeonspace”, the various fantastical realms that can be reached from their home city. Their practice runs haven’t been going well since the events of the first story, and the team is in danger of falling apart. And Ivan is still lying to his mother, who doesn’t want him to mess with d-space after his brother died there. And now there’s a new temptation: a desperate attempt to get some credit – and a chance to meet with someone who just might know something about his brother – by dealing with the Wizard Briggsby. But Briggsby wants them to steal from a dragon … This is enjoyable stuff, and it looks liked to be a pretty good YA series of stories (or indeed a novel) in the making.
Locus, May 2005
I suppose as a Missourian I should have resented Jeremiah Tolbert's "The Kansas Jayhawk vs the Midwestern Monster Squad" (Interzone, March-April), as it tells of a battle between genetically engineered "state monsters", including the Kansas Jayhawk and the Missouri Tiger: and the Jayhawk wins! But the story is just too fun – set in a future where the "geeks shall inherit the Earth" – and where they have encouraged radical and goofy science projects like creating Godzilla-sized monster mascots.
Locus, March 2008
The latest issue of Shimmer magazine is a special Pirate issue, guest-edited by John Joseph Adams of F&SF. There were fine pieces in multiple modes, but I liked best a couple that took a SFnal tack. Jeremiah Tolbert’s “Captain Blood’s B00ty” has college hackers using magic and IP-tracking software to locate a pirate treasure online.
Locus, May 2009, review of Federations
Jeremiah Tolbert’s “The Culture Archivist” is very fine, about a man illegally saving what he can of an alien culture’s ways in advance of a commercial invasion from his “federation”. The story modulates nicely from an almost Strossian romp to a serious examination of its central issue (which is not to deny that Stross’s romps have serious points, too!)
Locus, April 2011
GigaNotoSaurus opened 2011 with a couple of quite different and quite entertaining stories. Jeremiah Tolbert’s “Work, With Occasional Molemen” (January) is wackily fun B-movie style SF, about a man in Topeka with a rather weird (and sometimes criminal family – in an odd way his family dynamics reminded me of those in the (much much darker) Oscar-nominated movie Winter’s Bone, which as it happens is set sorta kinda in between where Jeremy and I live) – who ends up cutting a deal with, well, molemen he finds underground.
Locus, June 2011
In June, Fantasy offers a science fiction story, with a fantasy theme, zombies: “You Have Been Turned Into a Zombie by a Friend”, by Jeremiah Tolbert. The story is set in high school, and the main character is uneasily perched between the “socialistas”, apparently a “popular” group, and some old rather geekier friends. But her (I assume) geekier instincts save her when a cellphone app starts turning everyone into mindless slaves. Her job is to help her friends escape, and in the process figure out who’s behind things. The villain has an affecting story too, and I quite enjoyed the working out.
Locus, March 2016
I really liked a fantasy by Jeremiah Tolbert in the February Lightspeed, "Not by Wardrobe, Tornado, or Looking Glass". It seems that almost everyone in the world is escaping to fantasy worlds via "rabbit holes" -- everyone but Louisa, who desperately wants one of her own. The "real world" is decaying, as more and more people leave, reflected in Louisa's increasingly pointless temp job in a law office, and in her frayed relationship with her sister. Then fantasy creatures begin to colonize our "real world", and Louisa is finally pushed to contemplate what is a "real world" and what is a "rabbit hole" and what is the best way to live your real life?
Locus, September 2016
At the August Lightspeed, I enjoyed Jeremiah Tolbert’s “Taste the Singularity at the Food Truck Circus”, set in a somewhat climate-altered near future Kansas City. The narrator is an accountant who once dreamed of being a chef, but now sublimates his ambitions to sampling food trucks. He runs into a guy he’d met at a cooking class long before, and ends up with an invitation to the Food Truck Circus, a not quite legal gathering where some truly wild food is offered (like modified tapeworms, that taste good and also consume some of the extra calories you’re ingesting). The plot is a bit slight, mainly concerning the ways the Circus discourages spies, and the resolution, if sensible, comes off a bit flat, but the story is amusing and the food ideas are fun.
I’m not really that into Lovecraftian horror but Swords v. Cthulhu seemed to offer a bit more action, maybe a bit less cosmic despair, than usual, so I looked into. It’s fair to say there’s still some cosmic despair on offer, but plenty of action, and a fair bit of fun. I particularly liked a couple of stories. Jeremiah Tolbert’s “The Dreamers of Alamoi”, in which the madman Garen the Undreaming, who never sleeps and has a soul in shards as a result, is engaged by a brother and sister to go to Alamoi, where everyone who gets to close is mentally ensnared to work on a massive edifice. The best thing about this is Garen’s character, and the story is good fun as well.
Locus, October 2017
Lightspeed’s October issue includes a longer than usual original story, a novella called “The Dragon of Dread Peak” by Jeremiah Tolbert. It’s a sequel to “The Cavern of the Screaming Eye”, which appeared in Lightspeed a year ago, and introduced narrator Ivan and his friends, who have formed a team to investigate “dungeonspace”, the various fantastical realms that can be reached from their home city. Their practice runs haven’t been going well since the events of the first story, and the team is in danger of falling apart. And Ivan is still lying to his mother, who doesn’t want him to mess with d-space after his brother died there. And now there’s a new temptation: a desperate attempt to get some credit – and a chance to meet with someone who just might know something about his brother – by dealing with the Wizard Briggsby. But Briggsby wants them to steal from a dragon … This is enjoyable stuff, and it looks liked to be a pretty good YA series of stories (or indeed a novel) in the making.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)