Review: As the Curtain Falls, by Robert Chilson

As the Curtain Falls, by Robert Chilson

a review by Rich Horton

Rob Chilson  began publishing in 1968, with "The Mind Reader" in Analog. He has published a great many short stories since then, with Analog and F&SF his primary markets. He published as by "Robert Chilson" for about the first decade of his career, and mostly as "Rob Chilson" since then. This novel was his first, published by DAW in 1974. (This makes it what James Davis Nicoll likes to call "Disco Era SF.")

I know Rob personally, mostly from various conversations over the years at ConQuesT, the Kansas City convention. (Rob lives in the KC area.) And I've enjoyed a lot of his fiction, mostly in Analog -- colorful and thoughtful SF, often set far in the future. Rob has called himself one of the last writers trained by John Campbell -- and he's one of relatively few writers to have sold stories to all four of Analog's editors (Campbell, Ben Bova, Stanley Schmidt, and Trevor Quacchri.) Having said all that, I'm disappointed to say that As the Curtain Falls isn't really very good.

It's a Dying Earth novel, set a billion years in the future. The protagonist is one "Trebor, Executive-Heir of the Forestallers of Amballa, son of Sirrom, son of Leinad the Buller." He's now the leader of one faction in the small nation Amballa -- after his father's murder. He is looking for an alliance with the leader of a faction in another nation, Linllalal. And he learns to his distress that the leader of that faction has also been murdered -- and that they now propose that he marry this man's daughter, Viani. An offer which he finds insulting and distasteful -- as too does she, after a short while. But things are quickly complicated when Viani is kidnapped, either by Trebor's enemies or hers ... and honor requires him to try to rescue her.

Let's back off a bit. The attentive reader might have quickly discerned that "Trebor" is Robert, the author's name, spelled backwards. And soon enough we meet a Knarf, and a reference to an historical Imperator called Suiluj, and several more (check the names of Trebor's father and grandfather.) I can believe that a young man, writing his first novel, found this sort of thing cute -- and I could mention at least one more writer, of a similar age, who did much the same thing in this first novel. That said, while a minor irritation, it is an irritation. Perhaps worse are the opening paragraphs, a dreadful and overdone attempt at portraying some sort of exotic beauty in the dying earth landscape. I suspect the influence may have been Clark Ashton Smith, or perhaps William Hope Hodgson. (Indeed, the cover art, by Hans Ulrich Osterwalder and Ute Osterwalder, is reproduced from a German collection of stories by Hodgson.)

Anyway, the story continues, with Trebor chasing Viani and her kidnappers. There is a distinct sense of the author making things up as he goes along. He does find her, and her fetching maid, with whom he quickly has some fun ... making, eventually, both of them angry. There is an encounter with an apparently immortal man digging up "Dawn age" treasures; a battle against ogres; and another kidnapping, leading Tregor to a city ruled by a Witch Queen, also apparently immortal. He manages to escape, but he is still pursued by the Witch Queen, and a member of the sect that killed his father. He realizes he is in possession of a powerful "sigil", which might lead him to the "Kinsworth Legacy". The ladies are rescued again, and they make their way to the Legacy ... still pursued by enemies. Leading to a fairly appropriately cynical conclusion.

I complained about the prose at the beginning, but I should say it quickly settles to, well, good enough prose, if nothing special. The plot is, as I suggested, somewhat discursive and inconsistent. There are some nice action scenes, and some parts that drag, and a lot of rather implausible developments. It's sexy enough (for its era), and doesn't take itself too seriously. The "Dying Earth" milieu is a constant presence, with much discussion of the very deep time represented by past Empires, but there's not enough there that's original enough, or truly inspiring enough, to really work. In the end, at least it held my attention, but I was never thrilled. A very minor work, not really a novel that deserves remembering. But I will reiterate that Chilson, well, Got Better, and he has produced some very enjoyable work in later years.

One more criticism -- not the author's fault. The copy-editing is utterly dreadful. There are numerous annoying typos -- such as "football" for "footfall", a bit distracting in a novel set a billion years hence. Or, on the back cover, "Kingsworth Legacy" instead of "Kinsworth Legacy". And dozens more. Also there was at least one case where several lines were completely omitted. DAW was not known back then, I'd suggest, for great production values, but this seems far worse than their norm. 

I have another Chilson novel to hand -- The Shores of Kansas. It looks somewhat more promising, and I'll be giving it a try soon.

Review: Sunfall, by C. J. Cherryh

Review: Sunfall, by C. J. Cherryh

by Rich Horton

I read C. J. Cherryh's collection Sunfall when it first appeared in 1981. I remember enjoying it, and thinking that the opening story, "The Only Death in the City", should have got a Hugo nomination, but I remember little else. So I was happy that our book club chose it for the August meeting this year.

Sunfall was marketed ambiguously, never identified as a collection, doubtless because novels tend to sell better than collections. And, indeed, the stories are vaguely linked by setting and theme, though there are no direct links. And they are all original to the book. (One more story, "MasKs", was added in 2004 for The Collected Short Fiction of C. J. Cherryh.) I always assumed that one reason "The Only Death in the City" didn't get a Hugo or Nebula nomination was that many voters passed over the stories in Sunfall on the assumption that they were chapters in a novel, though it did finish 4th in the Best Short Story category for the Locus Awards. It comprises six stories (not counting "MasKs"), each set in a major world city. There is a brief prologue establishing the setting and theme -- Earth is an old, dying world, and many of its remaining people are concentrated in the great ancient cities. The six stories are:

"The Only Death in the City" (Paris) (6800 words)

"The Haunted Tower" (London) (15700 words)

"Ice" (Moscow) (10600 words)

"Nightgame" (Rome) (6400 words)

"Highliner" (New York) (11100 words)

"The General" (Paris) (10600 words)

The later, seventh, story, "MasKs", is set in Venice, and is about 17,500 words.

"The Only Death in the City" is about the first new child born in Paris in a long time -- most children are reincarnations of the residents. As he grows up, he eventually falls in love with Ermine, one of the ancients. And he realizes he does not want to live over and over, replaying the same scenes in different permutations -- so he makes a bargain with Death, that he will truly die and not be reincarnated. It's a highly romantic story, and the romanticism is effective, and the inevitable ending works. It remains a very good story, though I think it affected me even more 30 years ago.

"The Haunted Tower" concerns Bettine Maunfrey, a mistress of the Lord Mayor of this latterday London. She is a callow woman, born to poverty and only too aware that she needs to keep the interest of the Mayor to keep her position -- but she is tempted into an affair with a young man and is sent to the Tower. Once there she encounters the ghosts of the Tower -- the past victims, such as Richard III's nephews, Anne Boleyn, the Earl of Essex, and even Queen Elizabeth I (not truly a Tower victim, of course.) And an old Roman soldier. They make it clear to her that is is politics, not sex, that has imprisoned her, and she realizes that she has gotten entangled in a revolutionary plot, as her young lover used the access she accidentally gave him to steal secrets. Eventually the Mayor offers her her freedom in exchange for revealing the name of the thief ... It's a pretty effective story but not a great one.

In "Ice" the Moskva of this future has returned, it seems, to essentially 15th Century or so conditions, with added cold. Andrei is one of the few who dare venture outside, to hunt. One day on his return he encounters a pack of wolves, seemingly led by a mysterious great white wolf. He barely makes it to safety, and finds himself terrified by the prospect of going back outside the walls, but at the same time drawn to the great beauty of the ice and the white wolf. He puts it "I have lost my luck". He is to be married to his beloved Anna in the spring, but even this joy seems to have been taken from him. He decides he must go back outside -- to his fate, he believes. But his friend Ilya, Anna's brother (and obviously coded as gay, and in love with Andrei) insists that he go instead, though he lacks the skill and experience of Andrei. Again -- the plot drives to the one possible conlusion. I liked this story quite a bit.

"Nightgame" is more science-fictional. Rome is again ruled by an Emperor -- the current one, Elio DCCII, is a 12 year old boy. He has become more and more bored with the primary entertainment -- in which a prisoner is sent to a virtual environment to be hunted or otherwise exposed to great dangers, and inevitably to die. The prisoner's mental state is recorded as "dreams" that people can experience for themselves. But the decadent local prisoners don't put up enough of a fight. So a man who supplies people for this dream recording has obtained a native of one of the planets humans have colonized, who lives in a more "primitive" environment ... and who may put up a better fight. Though the basic outlines of this are clear, the execution, and the final resolution, are nicely handled. Another good story.

"Highliner" is again true science fiction. It's set in an ever expanding New York, comprising, it seems, larger and larger skyscrapers. The "highliners" are those who work on the outside, maintaining the buildings or working the construction crews expanding them. One such is Johnny Tallfeather (the name evoking, of course, the Mohawk "skywalkers" who have worked in bridge and skyscraper construction for decades.) Johnny and his team are approached by someone representing a corporation which wants the latest new construction to be slightly altered to favor them. He's uneasy about this, but there seems no alternative -- and then when they are working on it, there's an accident -- and it's quickly clear that it was no accident -- as witnesses to the corporations corrupt actions Johnny and his team are to be murdered. But Johnny survives, and in his anger convinces his union to stage a strike. It's a pretty solid story.

"The General" is set in the Forbidden City, as it is again threatened by the nomadic tribes of Central Asia. The Forbidden City, or City of Heaven, is not ready for war -- they are devoted to beauty and pleasure, though they maintain an army, which has been sufficient in the past when one small tribe or another attacks. But this time the tribes have been unified by title General, Yilan, and a true "horde" has been assembled, and the City is doomed. Yilan, however, is dying, and the question of succession is important -- he wishes for his protege Shimshek, despite the latter's having gotten Yilan's wife pregnant; but Boga, a cruel rival, clearly is planning his bid. Meanwhile, two young lovers in Peking witness the city's apparent fall ... Much of this is informed by Yilan's realization (echoing, slightly, the many ghosts in "The Haunted Tower") that he is only the latest sort of reincarnation of past conquerors -- Alexander, Arthur, Caesar -- even (somewhat unconvincingly) Hitler; and he hopes for a new pattern to emerge in the twilight of Earth. For me, this was an ambitious story that didn't really work.

So how does the book work as a whole? First, it's clearly not set in a consistent far future -- these stories are best viewed as variations on a theme -- six separate looks at how one particular city might evolve in the very far future -- some somewhat fantastical, some straight SF. In the end, it's far more about the cities than it is about the "Dying Earth" future. As a story collection, it's quite good, with two or three exceptional stories and no real clunkers. Cherryh can really write, and that too is a pleasure throughout. 

It's also from an interesting period in Cherryh's career, as Mark Tiedemann suggested: she had established her reputation with the Morgaine novels and the Faded Sun novels (as well as the linked books Brothers of Earth and Hunter of Worlds), and for this brief period she published a number of almost experimental books: Sunfall, certainly, but also Wave Without a Shore, and Hestia, and Port Eternity. Part of this was Don Wollheim's willingness to let her try different things, part of this was, I think, Cherryh stretching her wings, as it were. It's nice to see this sort of phase in a major writer's career.

Finally, a quick look at the story written for the later edition, "MasKs", which I had not read until justnow. And I have to say, it's a very enjoyable story. It's set in Venice -- Venezia -- and the only real indication that it's in the future is that the threat of floods, of the sea, is more insistent than ever. Venice is not welcoming (in this future) to "foreigners" -- that is, to non-Venetians. But the story concerns too such -- an old woman exiled from Milan, and her young granddaughter; and a man, Cesare, exiled from Verona, an ambitious man. And the new Doge -- a commoner, but so far a successful Doge. The granddaughter, Giacinta, anticipates here first carnevale, her first taste of freedom, but her grandmother makes it clear she is supposed to marry Cesare, to ensure her grandmother's finances, and to support Cesare's bid for power. And all might go that way, but Giancinta sneaks away and meets a mysterious young man -- and when she meets Cesare she recognizes his cruelty. Can she possibly escape? Really, there are no surprises here, but it's a nice romantic story. (And I have no idea why the K is capitalized.)

Review: The Godel Operation, by James L. Cambias

Review: The Godel Operation, by James L. Cambias

by Rich Horton

James L. Cambias has been publishing short fiction since the turn of the millennium (and even a few months before.) He has published six novels in the past decade. He also has done a good deal of work designing games. I have known him personally for several years (and liked his fiction for a lot longer.) Indeed, I read The Godel Operation in two shifts on a plane -- on the way to Massachusetts, and then on the way back (plus an extended stay in the airport waiting for a flight delayed several hours). Part of the trip to Massachusetts included a visit with Jim to a bookstore in my Dad's hometown of Hadley, and then dinner at Jim's house. You may calibrate this review as you choose! (I am friends with a good many SF writers, and I still review their books, and I do think I remain objective, though I might discreetly ignore a story than I disliked by a writer I liked rather than be mean to them.)

The Godel Operation was published by Baen in 2021. It is set some 8000 years in the future, in a very diversely populated Solar System, collectively called "The Billion Worlds". There is a fundamental divide between the inner system and outer system -- the former dominated by AIs, the latter heavily populated by humans with a large admixture of AIs. Much of this goes back to a war in the Fourth Millennium, which led to the depopulation of Venus and Earth and nearly to the extinction of humans.

The story is narrated by Daslakh, an AI living in a habitat called Raba in the Uranus trailing Trojans, who has been doing ice mining along with a man named Zee ("pretty clever for a lump of meat", allows Daslakh.) Zee begins to wonder if his life is really meaningful and Daslakh, surprised that he actually cares enough for a meat person to worry about his state of mind, asks the God of Raba -- i.e. the high-powered AI in charge -- to see if he can do something for Zee. And suddenly Zee reveals that he feels guilty about breaking up with an old girlfriend named Kusti Sendoa because she wanted to move away -- and so he's going to find out where Kusti might be in the Billion Worlds ...

Daslakh is smart enough to realize that Kusti is fictional -- a plant by the God of Raba to distract Zee from his depressive thoughts. As Daslakh expects, none of the Kusti Sendoas who respond are the right one. But, instead of giving up, Zee decides to track "his" Kusti down anyway. And soon Zee and Daslakh are on their way to Uranus itself, the last place Kusti was known to be heading. When they get there, they stumble into what seems a kidnapping, of a woman named Adya, and they rescue her. For their trouble, they are thrown into space, and miraculously are rescued as well -- and on that ship is Kusti Sendoa. Who doesn't remember Zee.

All this in the first couple of chapters. The story continues kinetically from there, across the Solar System. It soon turns out that Adya and Kusti are both (coincidentally?) in search of the same thing, something called the "Godel Trigger", which if released would represent a monstrous weapon against AIs. The two women don't trust each other, for good reasons (such as that it was Kusti's companions who tried to kidnap Adya) and they seem to have differing uses for the Trigger. Zee and Daslakh have a different view as well -- especially as Daslakh is an AI -- and one with secrets, secrets even from himself. Zee, predictably, is falling for Adya, but is tormented by his loyalty to his memory of Kusti.

The rest of the novel proceeds on two timelines -- the "present" -- that it, Tenth Millennium -- in which Daslakh, Zee, and company try to track down the Godel Trigger, and a series of episodes set millennia earlier, during and after the terrible war, which, the reader quickly guesses, involves Daslakh's own distant past; and also factions among the AIs, some who wish to destroy humankind and others to live with them. It's really tremendous fun. I was engaged from the getgo. Daslakh's snarky voice is a delight. The details of life in space, and of the interactions of various flavors of both AIs and "meat intelligences", are clever and believable. The twisty motivations, and twisty revelations, and wheels within wheels plotting, is intriguing. 

There is at least one more Billion Worlds novel (The Scarab Mission), and the setting is expansive enough (I mean, a Billion worlds, right?) for more. I don't want to call this "good old-fashioned SF", because it's 21st Century SF, with 21st Century science and people (well, at least 100th Century people, I guess!) -- but its delights recalled the delights I felt when first reading SF.  I recommend this novel highly.

Convention Report: Readercon 32, July 2023

Readercon 2023

Readercon is a Science Fiction convention focused on the written word. I had intended to come to it for a long time, but various things intervened, most obviously in recent years the pandemic. This year I finally made it. One reason is that I had an official (of sorts) role -- I am a member of the Cordwainer Smith Rediscovery Award jury, and that award is presented at Readercon. 

Thursday

Readercon is held in the Boston area, lately in Quincy, a suburb to Boston's south. As it happens, my father was born in Massachusetts, in Hadley in the west central part of the state. I decided to come in on Thursday and head out to Hadley to see the house Dad grew up in. Jim Cambias, an SF writer I've known for a number of years, also lives in that area, and he had recommended a used book store in Hadley, Grey Matter. I stopped first at my Dad's old house -- I had visited it a couple of times when my Nana was still alive, in 1969 and 1973. (Also in 1960, when my Poppy was also alive, but I don't remember that!) The house is, remarkably, still there, though as the picture here shows, maybe not in such great condition. Right across the street is Hopkins Academy -- where Nana taught and Dad went to school. Founded in 1664!

Then I went on to Grey Matter, and met up with Jim. It is indeed an excellent used book store, and I bought severeal books (Cather's Song of the Lark, Charlotte Bronte's Villette, a few more.) Jim had invited my to dinner at his house, and he went home to start cooking. To give him some time, I headed to Easthampton, and Kelly Link and Gavin Grant's bookstore, Book Moon. I bought another book (Prodigies, by Angelica Gorodischer) and chatted with Kelly and Gavin for a while. 

Dinner (lamb with chickpeas) was wonderful. Jim's wife Diane Kelly and their son Robert were there as well, and the conversation was excellent too, touching on such things as Diane's yeoman efforts to introduce her students to classic movies. Then I headed to Quincy -- I had a 9 o'clock panel, on The Trashy and the Sublime, that is, Highbrow vs. Lowbrow literature. (I suppose the general consensus is that historically that distinction has been so class-marked as to be all but meaningless; which is a good observation. That said, I still believe there is a worthwhile distinction -- I don't think that Dan Brown and George Eliot, just as an example, are on a similar level, just because Brown sold a whole lot of books.) Fellow panelists were Gillian Daniels, Emma J. Gibbin, and Yves Meynard.

After the panel I spent a nice time talking to Greg Feeley, whom I have known for some time both online and in-person, Neil Clarke (same), and Michael Dirda, who I have known online for a while but was delighted to meet for the first time in person. And then I finally checked into my hotel room! (I got to the con with no time to spare to, you know, put my suitcase in my bedroom, before the panel.)

Friday

My only official obligation on Friday was the announcement of the Cordwainer Smith award, part of the opening ceremonies (at 10 PM!) So the rest of the day was free, for panels, food, book shopping, etc.

I decided to do breakfast at the hotel (the nearest restaurants required driving, unless you were Scott Edelman.) It was (as expected) pretty routine, and overpriced. I did take the time to go through the dealers' room. As you might hope, it's very book-focused at Readercon. I didn't buy a whole lot. (Well, I'll show a picture of all the books I got later on. Remember -- some were free!) Much of the day ended up in extended conversations. Which is really the point of a con anyway! 

I did attend the panel on the Encyclopedia of Science Fiction, featuring co-editor John Clute (who has been with the Encyclopedia since the first print edition in 1979) and managing editor Graham Sleight. The panel focussed on the recent transition to the Fourth Edition -- the first two editions (1979 and 1993) were print, in 2011 they went online with the support of Gollancz, in 2021 the Fourth Edition was established, independently. This is truly a fundamental resource, one I check constantly, and the work of maintaining it is literally endless. They rely primarily on contributions, and I do recommend you visit the site and contribute if you can. (It's pretty easy!) John and Graham told a lot of stories, discussed their methods, problems, focus. It was a wholly interesting panel. 

I also looked in on Jim Kelly's Kaffeeklatsch, and as it wasn't quite full, I joined it. Jim is always great to talk to -- we had several occasions for (all too brief) chats throught the con.

Dinner was at the hotel restaurant again, this time with Greg Feeley and his wife Pamela. I think this was the first time I've met Pam in person. We had a good conversation -- in many ways a continuing part of an ongoing conversation with Greg that last the whole con. As Greg put it, we "settled everyone's hash". The dinner -- was fine, but, of course, overpriced. Ah, yes, hotel restaurants.

Maybe this is the time to sneak in an announcement. One of the subjects that came up with multiple folks over the weekend was, well, the state of publishing. Given my age, and the age of many of my friends, the state of publishing for older writers is an issue. And -- well, it's affected me. Not because of my age, I hasten to add -- more, I think, a general malaise in the market for short fiction in print. My Best of the Year anthology series, which has run since 2006, 16 years worth through 2021 (19 books), has been, at least temporarily, discontinued. The 2021 book was electronic only -- pandemic supply issues (and pandemic personal issues, too) were a big reason. But my publisher, for various reasons, hasn't been ready to publish subsequent issues, and finally pulled the plug recently. This is a blow, needless to say. And it's a wider concern. Jonathan Strahan's BOTY has also been discontinued. Neil Clarke's continues, for now, as does John Joseph Adams' "Best American" book (a different, and quite valuable, beast.) And Allen Kaster has been doing a very solid series of books for a few years -- but I don't think his books get wide distribution. I think there's still a place for an anthology like mine -- SF and Fantasy -- and I hope to find a way to continue it, either with another publisher, or by some other avenue.

Having said that, I note that lots of great fiction is not finding a publisher. And -- for quite understandable reasons -- many of the authors who have lost their publishers are older. That doesn't mean their books aren't excellent -- it just means that publishers aren't getting in on the ground floor of an exciting career, they are instead publishing the last few books of a distinguished career. And perhaps that doesn't excite them as much. And now -- I hope this won't embarrass him -- I'll mention a novel Greg Feeley has written, Hamlet the Magician. I have had the chance to read an excerpt, and I have to say -- it's wonderful. It truly is. If the potential of that excerpt is maintained (and I don't see why it wouldn't be) this could be a true Fantasy classic. But ... it hasn't found a publisher. Let's just say -- I live in hope, and it's something I look forward to sometime reading in its full form.

Okay, enough of that industry talk! On to the Cordwainer Smith Award. It was exciting to give this in person. Ann VanderMeer and I presented it, representing the jury (the other two members, Steven H Silver and Grant Thiessen, were not present.) The winner is Josephine Saxton. I give a fuller acount here.

Immediately following was a new Readercon "Meet the Prose" event. In the past this was just a gathering, where fans and prose mingled. This year they tried a sort of "speed dating" format -- three pros sat at a table, and fans in groups of three sat in for a few minutes. I confess I was skeptical and didn't sign up myself (in part because I don't think I'm enough of a "pro" that folks would want to "meet" me) -- but by all accounts it was quite successful. I spent some time chatting with folks in the con space, and some time at the bar -- or at the nice outdoor patio space, but didn't stay too late.

Saturday.

This was my heavy panel schedule day. I had a very good night's sleep, and skipped breakfast -- I really wasn't hungry. I went to the con space at 11 and watched the panel about Arthur Machen. I've been aware of Machen for a long time, but have never tried him. But this panel really convinced me I should try him -- and indeed, I have a copy of The Great God Pan/The Hill of Dreams on its way to me! The panelists were Michael Cisco, Elizabeth Hand, Michael Dirda, The Joey Zone, and Henry Wessells. It occurs to me that there is a mode of horror that works for me -- Robert Aickman, Thomas Ligotti, Kelly Link, and, yes, Elizabeth Hand. Perhaps my avoidance of horror is based on the slasher stuff I remember from the late '90s (and some of the super low-end magazines I reviewed for Tangent!) Anyway, Machen sounds totally worth a look.

My three panels were at 3, 6, and 8. The first was Non-Narrative Fiction -- that is, stories told through things like emails, blog posts, FAQs, found objects, etc. (And letters!) My fellow panelists were MJ Cunniff, Sarah Pinsker, and Ken Schneyer. We had a good discussion citing examples of those stories, reasons why to use that sort of storytelling strategy, and so on. I moderated -- I hope moderately. I think it went well. 

Next was The Works of D. G. Compton -- who was the previous Cordwainer Smith Award winner. Readercon practice is to discuss the award winner at length at the con following the award. I moderated again. Fellow panelists were Brett Cox, Steve Popkes, and Greg Feeley. We each covered one of his novels at some length, and mentioned a few more. Novels mentioned were The Continuous Katherine Mortenhoe (and its sequel Windows), Chronocules, Ascendancies, and Farewell, Earth's Bliss. I mentioned David's new novel, And Here's Our Leo. Compton is a remarkable and original novelist, who really should be read more widely. 

My third panel was on Bodice Ripping, Hard Boiling, and other Improbable Literary Joys. The idea was to discuss clichés that are basically impossible, or, any lazy use of improbable or impossible or incorrect science (or history) in a story. Unfortunately a couple of panelists dropped out in advance because they wouldn't be able to make the convention, and another got sick and had to leave. So I was the only one left! I did the only thing I could, and asked the audience to help, and they came through excellently.

I didn't do breakfast, as I said, and there wasn't really time for dinner. But I did have a nice lunch, again at the hotel. I ate with Greg and Pam Feeley again, and also met for the first time a long-time Facebook friend, Hyson Concepcion. Also along were Steve Dooner, and (I hope I get the name right) Tom Olivieri. We had a good talk, about many subjects, a lot centered around teaching issues, as most everyone there was a teacher. (I'm not, but my family is chock-full of them -- my grandmother, my mother, my wife, my daughter, my daughter-in-law -- even my Dad taught community college classes on how to pass the state sanitation test for restaurant folks for years.) One big subject was AI, and students cheating via AI.

This time I stayed out pretty late, had some drinks and talked to lots of people, mostly on the patio. In particular I spent a long fun time talking with Sheila Williams.

Sunday.

Sunday was a light day. I did sleep late -- a good thing (especially as events turned out!) I didn't eat much, though I did have a cannoli provided by Scott Edelman. (Of course I said it would be better if I took the gun and left the cannoli.) (And alas I missed the donuts Scott brought the previous day.) The only panel I attended was a reading, by Rick Wilber, who I'm always glad to see, partly because he has St. Louis roots and indeed grew up just a couple of miles from where I have lived for the past nearly 30 years, and attended church at Mary Queen of Peace, very close to my house indeed. (Walking distance, actually, though a longish walk.) Rick read an intriguing time travel tale about a Scottish politician from the near future traveling back in time to about 210 A.D. and meeting (well, more than just meeting!) the Emperor Septimius Severus.

Oh, and I also checked in at the Serial Fiction panel, mainly to get a chance to talk to Kate Nepveu, a veteran of the glory days of Usenet, especially rec.arts.sf.written. It was neat seeing her. I also talked for a while with another rasfw vet, Paula Lieberman. 

Other than that, more conversations, mostly farewells. I did talk for some time to my friends Claire Cooney and Carlos Hernandez, who made me insanely jealous telling of seeing the new production of Sweeney Todd on Broadway. Sweeney Todd is one of my favorite musicals (maybe my favorite), and I've seen it twice in St. Louis, at the Opera Theatre and at the Muny (two diametrically opposite venues!) -- plus of course I've seen the movie. This new production seems tremendous.

The meat of the weekend, of course, was conversation. That's what makes a con! I'll try to list everyone I spoke with, some old friends, some new -- but I know I'll forget some. (I really should either take notes or write these things immediately I come home!) So -- I talked with Greg and Pam Feeley, Michael Dirda, Neil Clarke, Mark Pitman, Barney Dannelke, Claire Cooney, Carlos Hernandez, Sarah Smith, Rick Wilber, Jim Kelly, Ken Schneyer, Hyson Concepcion, Steve Dooner, Tom Olivieri, John Clute, Elizabeth Hand (all too briefly), Kate Nepveu, Paula Lieberman, Sheila Williams, Gary Wolfe, Dale Haines, Ann VanderMeer, Ellen Datlow, Jeffrey Ford, Sally Kobee, Joseph Berlant, Peter Halasz, Henry Wessells, Sarah Pinsker, Alexander Jablokov, A. T. Greenblatt (all too briefly), Charlie Jane Anders, Annalee Newitz (both too briefly as well!), Diane Martin, Ellen Kushner, Eileen Gunn, Elizabeth Bear, Yves Meynard, Gillian Daniels, Gwynne Garfinkle, Michael Swanwick, Greer Gilman, Robert Redick, Arula Ratnakar, Scott Andrews, Scott Edelman, Zig Zag Clayborne. And Greg Bossert!

There were some people I hoped to see but didn't quite connect with: Matthew Kressel, Arley Sorg, Chris Brown, Karen Heuler, Christopher Mark Rose, Filip Hadar Drnovsek Zorko, John Wiswell, Robert Kilheffer, Nikhil Singh, Eric Schaller, Benjamin Rosenbaum. There was one other person I would have dearly dearly loved to meet -- he was listed among the participants, but I don't know if he made it: Eugene Mirabelli.

Oh, and I bought some books, and I got some for free. I'll just post a picture! I guess I should mention the titles: the blank one is Tales of Adventurers, by Geoffrey Household. There's Alexander's Bridge and The Song of the Lark, by Willa Cather; The Mote in Time's Eye, by Gerard Klein; issues of If and F&SF; Villette, by Charlotte Bronte; Prodigies, by Angelica Gorodischer; Death Goes to the Dogs, by Anna Tambour; Outspoken Writers books by Karen Joy Fowler and Paul Park; The Sea, by John Banville (cleverly shown upside down in the picture!) and Beyond the Black Stump, by Nevil Shute.

Then came the trip home. Well. As you may have heard, there's been some rain recently in the Northeast. Lots of rain. And there was a lot on Sunday. I started getting messages from Southwest Airlines that there might be delays at the airport. I called them, and it looked like the flight I was taking would be delayed by three hours out of Boston. It connected through Chicago Midway. That flight was delayed too -- but only by one hour. You can do the math and see that I wasn't going to make that connection. It looked like I had two options ... stay in Boston for another day and catch a flight out at ... 7:30 PM Monday. Or catch the flight to Chicago, miss my connection, and sleep in the airport and catch an early flight the next morning. I even called my brother Pat, who lives in the city, to see if I could stay with him instead of the airport, but there were, er, complications! 

I decided to head to the airport, and see what would happen. I got there, turned in the rental car, and got in Southwest's full service line. People in front of me had similar problems. One woman -- who looked like she might be from Germany -- spent 15 minutes at the counter, and suddenly the Southwest rep told her -- seeming surprised -- that he had a solution! She looked ecstatic, then rushed off to catch her new flight. The next was a family of three -- two adults and their young adult daughter. They seemed to be scheduled on the same flight to Chicago as I was, with similar connection problems. It looked like maybe the daughter could be put on a flight, but there wasn't room for all three. They left, disappointed. I went up to the counter, started to explain my problem, and the rep said, let me handle it. And within a minute or so he found a seat on a supposedly full nonstop flight to St. Louis. It was supposed to leave at 6:55 (and it was already 6:30 or so) but no problem, it was delayed a few hours. I was delighted to take it!

So I went through security, and to the gate, and the flight was leaving at 11:10 or so, getting in to St. Louis after 1:00 AM. Hey, that beats sleeping at Midway Airport and not getting to St. Louis until early the next morning! So I tried to get some dinner -- went to a pizza place in the airport which as soon as I walked up announced it was closed. The other restaurant had an enormous line. So I settle for a frankly terrible sandwich at a "New England Market" or something. And I sat in the lounge for a few hours. I did get to talk to a youth hockey team from Ottawa. I had actually seen a couple of them in the hotel, and they had said they were Blues fans (because the Senators are so bad.) They were in Boston for a tournament, and now were heading to St. Louis for another tournament. Nice kids, and they got my Letterkenny references instantly.

Finally time came for the flight. The flight attendant was nervous as we boarded -- weather was coming to St. Louis, and if we didn't get there in time we might have been diverted to Indianapolis. But, thankfully, we got in just in time. There was thunder and lightning -- but mostly to the south. Mary Ann picked me up, I went home -- and slept in my own bed!

Bottom line is simple -- this was a wonderful convention, I'm thrilled to have gone, the weekend was great fun -- and it's just so cool to be connected to my SF community after the years of the pandemic.

Review: White Cat, Black Dog, by Kelly Link

White Cat, Black Dog, by Kelly Link

a review by Rich Horton

White Cat, Black Dog is Kelly Link's fifth full-length collection. These books represent probably the most impressive portfolio of short fiction from the past quarter century. They are witty and sometimes sad, wildly imaginative, often horror-tinged, sometimes comic, sometimes surrealistic. They are character stories and idea stories, engaging, beautifully written, and above all strange. 

The conceit behind this book is stories based on fairy tales. Each source work is identified -- which is a good thing, because the connections are not always obvious. Link's primary modes are fantasy and horror, but her work does sometimes touch on SF. Conceit or no conceit, the collection is fully the equal of her previous books -- every story is intriguing, draws the reader in, offers mysteries, doesn't always offer solutions, gives us characters we care for but question, shows us wonder and beauty and fear. I'll treat the stories mostly in order of the TOC, except I'm saving the best for last.

"The White Cat’s Divorce" is good satirical fun, based on Madame D'Aulnoy's "The White Cat". A rich man decides to put his sons through trials to determine his heir. As usual, the youngest son is the protagonist, and we see him go through his three trials -- though mostly he spends his time at a strange house he ends up at in a snowstorm, occupied by intelligent cats. A particular white cat befriends him (and more, perhaps), and the young man stays with her until he must return to his father. As we expect, the rich man betrays his sons each time, setting another task. The white cat, of course, is the fulcrum of the eventual resolution of that problem. This is smart stuff, very funny when it wants to be, appropriately dark when it wants to be.

The only story original to this volume is "Prince Hat Underground", based on "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" (or perhaps its Swedish variant, "Prince Hat Under the Ground".) Prince Hat and Gary are a gay couple who've been together for decades. One day they are out together and a woman comes up to them -- someone who clearly knows Prince Hat. Gary knows Prince Hat has a past, and gathers this woman is part of that past, so is perhaps not surprised when Prince Hat vanishes. But Gary determines to follow him, and finds his way to Iceland, and to a world under the ground. This is a story carried by the characters, who are a delight, and by the exceptionally witty prose. And it is profoundly grounded, and sensible.

"The Girl Who Did Not Know Fear" is based -- you guessed it! -- on "The Boy Who Did Not Know Fear." Abby is an academic who gets stranded in Detroit after a conference. For strange reasons no flights leave for days, and she spends her time in her hotel, missing her wife and daughter. And finally gets a flight home. Nothing could sound less fantastical -- and maybe the story really isn't fantastical. But there are details -- for instance, the way Abby is marooned in Detroit begins to seem almost like a horror story. More, there is something implied but not said about the nature of this world ... Anyway, it’s a Kelly Link story, which by itself is recommendation enough, and it’s strange but homey in a very Kelly Link way.

"The Game of Smash and Recovery" is a rare pure SF piece from Link, about a girl, Anat, and her older brother, Oscar, who live in what seems to be a spaceship orbiting an alien world. There are Handmaidens (who might be robots, but who knows?) and Vampires (who might be aliens, but who knows?), and Oscar keeps promising Anat that their parents will soon return... The real question is "What is Anat?" -- and who knows? I was persistently reminded of Gene Wolfe, in all the best ways. Mysterious, moving, scary, and ever surprising. (I confess the link to the cited fairy tale, "Hansel and Gretel", never occurred to me on first reading, and still is not clear to me.)

"The Lady and the Fox" is a "Tam Lin" story, and that's pretty unmistakable. Miranda is the daughter of Joanie, who was a dresser for the very rich Elspeth Honeywell, but Joanie is in a Thailand jail, and Miranda has been invited to spend Christmas with the Honeywells. Elspeth's son Michael is Miranda's friend, and the Honeywell family is intriguing but tiring, until Miranda meets a strange man, Fenny, outside the house ... Year after year she sees this unaging man, only at Christmas, and somehow he fascinates her. even as Michael is in love with her, and Miranda herself is making her own way in the world. A satisfying and involving piece.

"Skinder's Veil" tells of a Ph. D. student, Andy, who is struggling with his dissertation. He gets an offer from an old friend who is house-sitting in a remote location, to take over for her while she visits her sister. Andy gets there late, to find a note with strange instructions -- he must let anyone who visits into the house, except the owner, Skinder. And for a while this seems okay, especially when a young woman, Rose-Red, visits and invites herself into Andy's bed. But a bear visits too, and the bear has stories to tell. What is this story about? I'm not sure, but I'm willing to keep asking myself -- what is Andy's eventual fate? This is a weird one, and still fascinating.

I said I'd save the best story for last. "The White Road" is set in what seems a post-apocalyptic future. All technological devices don't work -- or are too dangerous to use, for reasons we eventually learn. The narrator is part of a traveling company of actors and singers. They are heading from Chattanooga to Memphis with a young man who has a job waiting there. We hear about the "White Road" that appears at certain times -- what it means takes a while to come clear. And we notice that every place seems to have a corpse rotting somewhere -- and these corpses need replacing. Various delays mean they get to a town where the narrator hopes to see a woman he loves -- but the town is deserted. And there is no corpse ... These corpses are important -- they keep some sort of monsters away. But they are actors -- one of them will pretend to be dead, and the others will mourn them. All this is deeply strange -- stranger than I've made it seem -- and the White Road is strange as well. And what happens: the playacting, the mourning -- the aftermath ... is a gut punch, deeply sad, oddly beautiful. This is one of the great recent stories, remarkably affecting, weird in the best, most complete, way. What's it about? Death. Guilt. Loss. Lots of things. Astonishing work.

Cordwainer Smith Rediscovery Award for 2023: Josephine Saxton

Cordwainer Smith Rediscovery Award for 2023: Josephine Saxton

I am a member of the Cordwainer Smith Rediscovery Award Jury. The award is intended to recognize a writer of particular merit who has, for whatever reason, fallen to some extent out of the public eye. Usually this means a writer who is either deceased, or who has not published for a significant period. The other members of the jury are Ann VanderMeer, Steven H Silver, and Grant Thiessen. The award is presented at Readercon, a long-running convention in the Boston area devoted to written SF and Fantasy. For 2023 we selected Josephine Saxton.

Saxton was born Josephine Mary Howard in 1935 in Halifax in Yorkshire, England. She began publishing in 1965, as Josephine Saxton, with "The Wall", in Science Fantasy. Over the next several years she published a number of stories, largely in F&SF, though some appeared in anthologies like England Swings SF, Stopwatch, Alchemy and Academe, Orbit, and Again, Dangerous Visions. Her first three novels, beginning with The Hieros Gamos of Sam and An Smith, came out from Doubleday in the US between 1969 and 1971. One more novel, Queen of the States, appeared in 1986. Two books about a character named Jane Saint showed up in 1986 and 1989, each comprising a short novel or novella and some stories (the latter not necessarily about Jane Saint.) The collections The Power of Time and Little Tours of Hell, were published in 1985 and 1986, the first collecting most of her early stories, the second a set of short horror pieces. Since 1989 her only book has been a nonfiction work on gardening. Saxton is still alive, now 88 years old.

This body of work, though fairly small, is quite remarkable, and thoroughly original. She does not typically present a coherent science fictional or fantasy "world" -- instead, we see utterly strange happenings that either represent in some sense the characters' internal state of mind or thematically symbolize what's going on. I think it's fair to say that for many readers this is a problem. For me, I find myself completely enchanted by Saxton's prose, and by her imagination. Her novels draw you into their worldview if you let them, they take you on an unexpected journey, and they can be truly powerful. I don't think she exactly fit anywhere generically -- she was fortunate to find in the SF scene of the mid-60s a receptive editorial audience. She seemed to fit within the English New Wave, but she never appeared in New Worlds -- most of her early work was published in the US. I think, really, she is sui generis.

I have reviewed three of her novels, Vector for Seven (my personal favorite), The Hieros Gamos of Sam and An Smith, and Queen of the States. Here are the reviews:

Vector for Seven

The Hieros Gamos of Sam and An Smith/Queen of the States.

Ann VanderMeer and I represented the jury at Readercon this year. We gave the following announcement of our selection: 

The Cordwainer Smith Rediscovery Award jury have selected Josephine Saxton for the 2023 Award. Ms. Saxton's first story, "The Wall", appeared in Science Fantasy in 1965. She has since published dozens of short stories including "The Consciousness Machine", "The Power of Time", and "Elouise and the Doctors of the Planet Pergamon"; as well as the novels The Hieros Gamos of Sam and An Smith, Vector for Seven, Group Feast, Queen of the States; and the Jane Saint stories, comprising two short novels and several related stories. Her fiction is as original as any writer we know, marrying a striking almost surrealistic imagination with a fiercely feminist yet wholly personal viewpoint. She is like no other writer, and a writer whose work is as fresh now, three decades since her last short story appeared, as it was when she emerged in the mid 1960s.

Ann then read the opening of a brand new story from Josephine Saxton, the first from her in some 30 years, that showed that even in her 80s she retains her ability.

I hope contemporary readers seek out Saxton's work -- it is challenging, yes, but extremely rewarding, exciting, and as I've said, wholly individual. Most of her work is available in ebook form from Gateway Orion.

Resurrected Review: Spotted Lily, by Anna Tambour

Resurrected Review: Spotted Lily, by Anna Tambour

In honor of her new 2023 story collection, Death Goes to the Dogs, I'm resurrecting a review I did back in 2005 of Anna Tambour's first novel, Spotted Lily. I'll get to Death Goes to the Dogs sometime, mind! (And I'm assured that despite the cover illustration, it is not really a horror collection.) Anna herself is truly one of the most individual voices in our field, and this was clear right from her start.

Anna Tambour's first novel is funny, moving, and true. At the open it seems set to be a satirical account of a somewhat aimless young woman's deal with the devil, and as such it is funny enough. But along the way -- or more probably, from the start, did we but know it -- it becomes an affecting look at an Australian woman's discovery of herself. Oh, and a love story too. With plenty of erotic imagery -- but with most of the actual eroticism suppressed.

Angela Pendergast is a 30ish Australian woman who has moved from her family's ranch in the bush to the big city. She wants to be a Writer, specifically a Bestselling Writer, but she finds it hard to actually get down to writing her Novel. Put simply, she wants to Have Written, not to write. She has a part-time job at a New Age bookstore, and she lives in a house with a few roommates.

Then the Devil shows up. He wants to be the new roomer -- but more than that, he offers her a deal. He'll write her Novel, a guaranteed bestseller. In exchange, of course, for the usual.

So far, so relatively normal. But both Angela and the Devil, whom she names Brett Hartshorn, aren't quite such simple characters. Soon Brett is immersing himself in human literature, trying to decide what makes a bestseller. (Before too long he lights on Barbara Cartland, and who can argue?) Meanwhile Angela is being remade as a glamorous Author, which amounts to accepting her curviness as loveliness, and to abandoning herself to the ministrations of a couple of fashion advisers. Which is a bad description of that portion of the book -- the "advisers" aren't conventionally portrayed at all, and Angela (now called Desirée Lily) is quite a different "Author".

But the book has further twists and turns. It seems what the Devil wants, and for that matter what Angela wants, isn't quite as clearcut as we might have thought. Never is the next plot development what we expect, as Angela learns more and more about things she has ignored, as she indeed becomes a bestselling author, in a very surprising and funny way, and as the Devil, indeed, is delivered his promised soul.

Inevitably one of the things Angela really needs is to return home, to come to an accommodation with the bush she left, with the parents she left. And, finally, she needs to come to one more accommodation -- another striking surprise!

Spotted Lily is quite an impressive debut. Perhaps most of all it is a very funny book, without being what you would call a comedy. It is also a believable and complete portrait of a woman. It is very surprising, and refreshingly so. I thought perhaps the need to always be original led to a bit of a strain for effect right at the close -- I admit I expected a slightly different, more conventional resolution, and I'm not quite sure the final twist really works -- but it's completely honest to the spirit of the book. Anna Tambour, on the strength of Spotted Lily and her earlier story collection, Monterra's Deliciosa & Other Tales &, is one of the most delightful, original, and varied new writers on hand.