Short Business: March 2018 Reading
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ladybusinessSo, March is at an end and that means it's time for another installment of Short Business. I compensated for not really having enough brain for long-form narratives by cramming in quite a few short stories, and a whole novella, in March so I hope you like your short fiction posts long.
"A Witch's Guide to Escape: A Practical Compendium of Portal Fantasies" by Alix E. Harrow
"A Witch's Guide to Escape: A Practical Compendium of Portal Fantasies", a story about libraries, the magic of books, and being in desperate circumstances, was easily one of the most amazing stories I read in March. A young man, who desperately needs help, visits the library regularly to check out the same book; The Runaway Prince. A magically inclined librarian becomes concerned, and starts to nudge him into the path of other stories that may help; all the while knowing that there are life-changing books which she isn't allowed to share even if the right book could save a life.
"A Witch's Guide to Escape: A Practical Compendium of Portal Fantasies" is a story for all the librarians out there, because it's shaped around the idea that books and libraries really can change lives. It's also a good pick for all the readers who have met life-changing librarians, and readers who have forged a path to survival out of books all on their own. It's a story about portal fantasies, and how books can provide a necessary escape. It's a story about guides who your interests at heart, not just your "best interests". It's about how the worst book can be your best friend. It's about losing hope, and gaining hope. It's about how sometimes leaving isn't quitting; it's survival. It's about knowing when to break the rules in order to save a life. And it's keen to emphasises that 'books can save lives' isn't just a platitude, but that doesn't that mean there's always a straightforward bookish path to salvation.
This story is absolutely bursting with empathy, and emotion, as well as content and philosophy. I just loved it, and I'm so glad I found it on this list from Jason Sanford (which I was pointed at by a tweet from![[twitter.com profile]](https://p.dreamwidth.org/e0caa790ec10/-/twitter.com/favicon.ico)
ac_wise). Run, go, read it now!
"Flow" by Marissa Lingen
forestofglory recommended that I try this story and, as always, she provided a fantastic recommendation. "Flow" is a story that takes the traditional story pattern of a character growing into their own person, and complicates it; adding multiple layers to an already deep and rich story about rebuilding. Just like her father, Gigi grows up with an innate connection to the woods, her own body, and the magic of the naiads. Gigi worships her father, and is 'sick unto death' of being told she looks like her mother. So, when she is mistaken for her father, and claimed by the naiads because her 'flow' looks like his, she feels proud. She essentially shapes her life around this identification with her father, especially after he dies unexpectedly.
When her connection to the naiads, and her independent ability to roam the woods, is snatched away by a new disability, Gigi not only loses a sense of herself, and her independence, she also loses a final connection to her father. The story then follows her as she reshapes herself, after a lot of painful confusion, into a woman who approaches the world in a very different way but ultimately still believes in the importance of her father's work. By the end of the story, the narrator has crafted herself a new identity which also necessarily makes space for the memory of her father and her disability. I particularly enjoyed how the story made use of the feminist and fantasy symbol of renaming to signpost that Gigi's metamorphosis is emotional and philosophical as well as physical.
"Flow" elegantly contends with some big themes in a small space: separation between parent and child; identity, feminism, and mothers; magic and disability; environmentalism. It's definitely a story to dwell in; a tale full of symbols and subtext which add extra meaning to the first person narration. It's also a story which pushes the reader to think about magic as if it were real, but in a very different way than say a story like Harry Potter does. "Flow" encourages the reader to think about how practical disciplines, like ecology, might work in harmony with magic if nature were full of spirits, and in doing so quietly calls on the reader to ask how natural magic might be used to influence environmental issues. The closest comparison I can think of is how Kate Elliott's Spiritwalker books entwine magic into the methods of production. Practical magic, indeed.
"The Whalebone Parrot" by Darcie Little Badger
In keeping with my resolution from last month, I worked on reading some less chirpy SFF stories in March. I had mixed results with this idea, but it did at least give me the push I needed to finally give The Dark magazine a try. The Dark is an interesting publication (it focuses hard on publishing women and chromatic writers). However, because it's a horror mag I've always assumed all its stories would be too much for me to take. I started with a story highlighted by its editor, Silvia Moreno-Garcia, whose writing I really love, and partly based my pick on the idea that a story with a quirky title couldn't possibly be too terrifying. This strategy worked out extremely well for me, as "The Whalebone Parrot" turned out to be very much my thing. Much of its horror is atmospheric, rather than gorey, and it's got a strong subtextual line which is something I really appreciate in horror stories.
"The Whalebone Parrot" is set in the 1800s, and focuses on two sisters who have been separated, but are reunited just as one of them is about to give birth. Emily is called to the secluded Whalebone Island, where her sister Loretta lives with her lighthouse keeper husband Albert. Before long, Loretta, pregnant with her first child, begins to display unsettling signs of madness. However, Emily is sure that something more supernatural is to blame for her sister's behaviour, and sets out to save Loretta from both the spirits and the sanatorium.
Loretta's interracial marriage, the possession which she undergoes, and even the parrot of the title, reminded me strongly of Wide Sargasso Sea. In Jean Rhys' reply to Jane Eyre, she presents Rochester's 'mad' wife as a displaced woman of mixed-race whose insanity partly stems from society's reaction to her racial identity. And, as "The Whalebone Parrot" unravels, the reader begins to understand how race complicates Emily's relationship with Loretta. Emily and Loretta were Native American orphans raised in an 'orphanage-school' run by racist white women. Loretta, now married to a white man, hides her face from the sun under a veil in an effort to lighten the skin. Emily is to be employed as a nursemaid to her sister's first child, and has been cautioned to tell no one that she is Loretta's sister.
However, unlike the narrator of Wide Sargasso Sea, Loretta is given a chance at a happy ending. Albert take his wife's side against his racist family; cutting all contact with them even when his father is ready to die. He releases Emily from the lie about being an employee, saying that '"It is better—safer!—if the public believes that you are hired help. Their ignorance does not impact our honest, private lives. I’ve always wanted a little sister.”' And, when Albert believes his wife has gone mad, the story allows Emily to work on her sister's behalf to free her from her possession. I cannot emphasise enough how much I need people to "win", in some way, when it comes to horror stories in order for them to be palatable enough for me to appreciate and analyse. Otherwise, it's screaming nightmares all the way. So, the ending of this story worked very well for me indeed. Highly recommended.
"Cemetery Man" by Silvia Moreno-Garcia
After trying out a story she'd recommended, I felt confident enough to have a go at one of Silvia Moreno-Garcia's own horror stories. So, on to "Cemetery Man", which also proved a good choice for me. This story is very much in the Mira Grant sphere of horror. There's a little bit of gore, but mostly full of weird science, and compelling women trying to keep themselves together in the middle of impossible circumstances.
After being shot down in battle, soldadera Catalina finds herself in a strange military hospital run by the Cemetery Man; a figure who resurrects the dead and turns them into opposition fighters. Catalina is left to figure out what's happened to her, and to plot her escape. I liked Catalina's continual drive to escape, and I thought the story was really well paced in general. I could definitely could have done with knowing more about the real life war this horror story is based around, but that's on me not the story. And, even with my historical ignorance leaving me missing out on the finer details, I got the general sense of what was happening in the background of the story. Yes, "Cemetery Man" was a very successful pick indeed.
"The Greatest One-Star Restaurant in the Whole Quadrant" by Rachel K. Jones
"The Greatest One-Star Restaurant in the Whole Quadrant" was another strong find that I came across as I tried to read more outside of my comfort zone. However, be warned it is rather more gruesome than "The Whalebone Parrot" or "Cemetery Man".
This story takes the 'robot teams do something cute' and flips it on its head. Cyborgs who are escaping from service (read: robot slavery) in a stolen food concession must start making food for humans in order to evade capture. Unfortunately, there isn't a lot of edible food left aboard and certainly nothing that could pass as steak. So, the cyborgs have to get creative.
Please proceed with caution friends who think they have stumbled on another cute story about robots subverting expectations, working as a team, and being smart. When I say 'get creative' you should know the cyborgs are partly covered in human 'meat', and there is nothing else even resembling meat on board. There is definitely unknowing cannibalism in this story is what I'm saying. However, if you can deal with some grizzly descriptions of harvesting the meat, and with knowing that people eat human flesh, you may enjoy this story. At its heart, "The Greatest One-Star Restaurant in the Whole Quadrant" is about the way service gets inside your head, and makes you lust for validation. It's also kind of a critique of capitalism (and maybe a warning to writers not to focus on reviewer's star ratings but that could just be me projecting).
"The Greatest One-Star Restaurant in the Whole Quadrant" is very interesting but quite brutal in places. And, I'll be honest, I did not like the ending. However, that's just a personal thing because I hate narratives where characters who were trying to escape oppression get caught out by their own personal failings, and are destroyed. It's pretty much why I can't watch big HBO shows about flawed, violent men caught in a trap of toxic masculinity anymore because, as much as I hate what they do to other people, I often feel that the punishments visited on them by their narratives are really shady. Your mileage will almost definitely vary.
"Skills To Keep The Devil In His Place" by Lia Swope Mitchell
I really enjoyed this story about a girl explaining how to act if you should happen to see the real life Devil, and developing coping strategies with a new friend. I liked the structure of the story, which breaks itself into sections headed with the skills mentioned in the title. Rachel's voice is light, and sarcastic. And, although the story is supposed to be 100% focused on talking about the devil, and the SFF details of the story, the reader learns so much about Rachel and Julie which is great. They both felt like real people with lives by the end of the story; not props to tell a supernatural story about the devil. I think it's a real achievement to run such an action-packed, creepy story, and develop two characters and a couple of side relationships in such a short space. As with "The Greatest One-Star Restaurant in the Whole Quadrant", I advise bracing for some very full on gore in places. However, if you can handle that "Skills To Keep The Devil In His Place" is a great teen horror story.
I have one query about this story, although maybe this is all in my head (but it feels enough like it's wafting around the page enough for me to bring it up). I definitely feel like the main characters, Rachel and Julie, are into each other. For me, it's in so much of the subtext of this story. However, the story doesn't actually put them together, or make any flat out reference to them being interested in each other. Sooooo…. I kind of feel like I imagined it all, but also maybe the story is hinting at the attraction between the two girls but doesn't want to committing to it on the page. Which makes me feel weird. Idk, I think I need someone else to read it, and see if they see anything between Julie and Rachel or if my slash goggles are clouding my view of this story.
"Spirit Tasting List for Ridley House" by Alex Acks
"Spirit Tasting List for Ridley House" is certainly an accomplished horror story. Unfortunately, while I loved the framing device, and the language, of this story, I wasn't really prepared to find two dead gay men among the ghosts, and this surprise has rather coloured my view of the story. One of the risks with reading stories straight from a magazine, instead of via recs, is that I'll be brought up short by unexpected stuff (which is why I rely on recs a lot now). I now really want the backstory for these two characters (and a different magical ending). And it's really not fair to the author, or the story, to concentrate on that over a review of what's there, but that's where I've landed I'm afraid. It's gorgeously written, and based on a smart, original concept. It has a quiet tone that weaves gently around the house, and mimics to perfection the way the restaurant and wine industries advertise product. I would absolutely read other stories by this author if they were rec'd to me, but this one was not for me.
"Six Hangings in the Land of Unkillable Women" by Theodore McCombs
I swear we will move on soon to something other than horror, but before that we have to look at "Six Hangings in the Land of Unkillable Women" about which I would like to say, 'Rrr, argh, rrr.' I'm still trying to work out how I feel about this story. While I understand the points it's making, I'm not sure the actual story was a compelling enough accompaniment to the message it wants to put across. However, when I analyse it, the story builds on a strong structure, underpinned by a feminist lens, which complements its more subtextual feminist points. And these are all things I usually love, so… I think this is a case of being able to appreciate a story but not feeling it in my heart.
In the world of "Six Hangings in the Land of Unkillable Women", women can't be killed by men anymore, but a notorious female criminal needs hanging. So Edith Smylie, wife of a police officer, offers to do the job. As an older woman, caught slightly outside a new wave of suffrage and "New Women", Edith is on the cusp of proto-feminism but is constantly pulled back by society and habit. She also has a young daughter who tries to force her mother into a 'proper' shell. So, Edith's motivation for agreeing to be a hangwoman is partly prompted by a desire to break with 'the proper'. Ultimately, seeing the baying crowd of men waiting for the hanging she falters and acknowledges that she didn't want to kill anyone; rather she wanted to know that there were no limits on her as a woman. The ending of this story suggests that out of death something new can come alive, and that the newness can be both terrifying and inspiring. This stands as a metaphor for Edith's life, and the changes affecting women in wider society.
That all sounds great, right? So, what's my problem? I think perhaps my disconnection from this story comes about because, despite being largely impervious to violence, women never break free and run amok. In one way, this makes absolute sense - structural sexism continues to exist and to insist that women stay in their place, and stay their hands. Also, individual ethics are a thing. However, feminist stories which gift women with invincibility are as much for insisting on the true, insidious nature of subtle oppression as they are for imagining new scenarios. And I find it hard to believe that some of these newly impervious women wouldn't go on a revenge fueled killing spree, and that men's inability to kill woman wouldn't change gendered power dynamics in some more obvious way. Also, the story is set in 1890s America - I feel like at least some black women would be coming for past slave owners/current landowners. Hmmm. I guess my reaction is probably just a reminder that I need to read The Power, right?
"The Triumphant Ward of the Railroad and the Sea" by Sara Saab
Moving on to a story that is a little bit creepy, but not exactly a horror story now. "The Triumphant Ward of the Railroad and the Sea" follows Neave, a competitive eater, who travels from competition to competition on a train called the Dbovotav Coastal Express. Right from the get go, it's clear that there's something odd about the train, and that Neave has made more of a home out of a travelling place than should perhaps be possible. In fact, the relationship between Neave and the train feels reminiscent of the relationships found in stories about travelling circuses. Except in this story the most significant attachment is between the narrator and an inanimate mode of transport.
There are other people aboard the train, most notably Srdan; the unofficial conductor who just appeared one day in a conductor's uniform. Neave and Srdan maintain a strange, wary alliance although it feels as if both might like to be closer. As Neave disembarks to take part in various competitions, a strange force from the sea begins to exert its power over the two main characters and the citizens of the towns.
Aw, I loved this weirdo story even though the ending was somewhat abrupt. It felt like something Maria Dahvana Headley or China Miéville might have written, and I mean that as a huge compliment. The magic of this story comes partly from the way it creates atmosphere with sensory descriptions. 'The Dbovotav hoots in the dark, a hollow and lusty sound,' a description which conjures up loneliness, comfort, and a strange tinge of wonder. Neave's first person narrative is full of touches like that, as well as striking images and details which conjure up a particular atmosphere; usually stark, striking and rich. And the contrast between the richness of Neave's attention to detail, and her deliberate distance from just how odd it is that she makes her home aboard a self-driving train, is part of what makes her such an intriguing character. By the end of this story, I was just swallowed up by the author's vision, and by their commitment to deliberately unexplained weirdness. I'd love to see more of Neave's journey as she works with the Dbovotav; her 'ally' in a war beyond normal comprehension.
"Her Brother and His Sister" by Bill Kte'pi
"Her Brother and His Sister" is another story I found at The Dark (seriously check this place out). It's a take on Hansel and Gretel that frankly I'm entranced by even if I don't completely understand the substance of the story. The story deliberately presents different possible realities, and never confirms which one is true. And although it does end in a very concrete manner, it still doesn't really settle anything. Perhaps the different realities represent a mix of different versions of the Hansel and Gretel tale, and I'd see that more if I was familiar with the way different collections tell the story? Perhaps it's all a commentary on the possibility of taking different paths from the same place (a theme which is interesting when you think about the recurring fairy tale device of paths in the woods)? Anyway, it's a great story to be swept along by, and it bases itself around a fairy tale structure so the rhythm builds beautifully. I enjoyed the writing, the atmosphere, and the smarts of the sister character, even though I'm not clear at all what's actually going on in places.
"How the Maine Coon Cat Learned to Love the Sea" by Seanan Mcguire
Shall I concentrate on just a nice story after all this creepiness? Would you like to read a lovely origin myth about cats escaping from the whims of a sea goddess, and living happily ever after? Then dive right into "How the Maine Coon Cat Learned to Love the Sea". It's got a delicious rhythm, complete with repeating phrases, and a playful sense of narrative awareness. Also, it's got a ton of determined cats and soft, smart, magical solutions to small problems. Just a really delightful story that will warm your heart. I could imagine the cats from Monstress telling this story to their kittens.
Brother's Ruin by Emma Newman
I always forget I can talk about novellas I read in hard copy in Short Business posts, but no more! I'm finishing up this month's post with a quick look at Brother's Ruin - a novella by one of my favourite writers, Emma Newman.
Charlotte Gunn has a lot of secrets. She's not only the talented illustrator of a hot new poetry book, she's also an extremely powerful Latent mage. However, in the 1800s where women aren't encouraged to work and mages are bought from their families whether they want to go or not, Charlotte must use all of her skill to hide her talents from everyone except her beloved brother Ben. When Ben is reported as a Latent, and shows the merest breath of skill, Charlotte uses her own magic, at great risk to herself, to make sure that mages make him a high offer for his skills in order to save her family from financial ruin. And she does all this while investigating a dangerous man's intentions towards her father, who has run up debts in service to his family.
This should all make for an exciting novella, but Brother's Ruin didn't really get going for me until quite near the end. While Emma Newman's world certainly contains some fascinating magical elements, I wanted a more intimate, insider look at them. Based on the ending of Brother's Ruin that probably means I'll really enjoy the sequel, Weaver's Lament when I get round to it.
What I did really appreciate about this novella is that Newman shows the reader a different model of magical, historical heroine. Compared with many heroines in historical fantasy, and historical fiction in general, Charlotte is quite traditional. She wants to get married and have children. She doesn't chafe against feminine fashions (although it's acknowledged that they are rather difficult to maneuver in sometimes) and she performs domestic tasks easily. In other stories Charlotte might be a passive antagonist or a secondary character. However, in Brother's Ruin her desire and drive for a traditional life is actually a path to self-determination. Revealing herself as a magical woman would mean she couldn't marry, have children, or pursue her (currently covert) career as a professional illustrator. So, Charlotte hides her magical gift in order to pursue her own dreams; despite being repeatedly told that Latents who hide are selfish and cowardly.
While I love female characters who rail against society's expectations, it's really great to see a story embrace another model of heroine. And it's also great to see hints that Charlotte's judgment on certain matters, like her choice of fiancee, may be clouded, but that this doesn't invalidate her overall desire for a family. I look forward to seeing how Charlotte keeps herself grounded, and on her personal right path, when there are sure to be so many swirling demands clashing around her in the next novella.
Have you read any of these stories? Let me know what you thought in the comments! And as always I'm open to recs for stories to read :)
"A Witch's Guide to Escape: A Practical Compendium of Portal Fantasies" by Alix E. Harrow
"A Witch's Guide to Escape: A Practical Compendium of Portal Fantasies", a story about libraries, the magic of books, and being in desperate circumstances, was easily one of the most amazing stories I read in March. A young man, who desperately needs help, visits the library regularly to check out the same book; The Runaway Prince. A magically inclined librarian becomes concerned, and starts to nudge him into the path of other stories that may help; all the while knowing that there are life-changing books which she isn't allowed to share even if the right book could save a life.
"A Witch's Guide to Escape: A Practical Compendium of Portal Fantasies" is a story for all the librarians out there, because it's shaped around the idea that books and libraries really can change lives. It's also a good pick for all the readers who have met life-changing librarians, and readers who have forged a path to survival out of books all on their own. It's a story about portal fantasies, and how books can provide a necessary escape. It's a story about guides who your interests at heart, not just your "best interests". It's about how the worst book can be your best friend. It's about losing hope, and gaining hope. It's about how sometimes leaving isn't quitting; it's survival. It's about knowing when to break the rules in order to save a life. And it's keen to emphasises that 'books can save lives' isn't just a platitude, but that doesn't that mean there's always a straightforward bookish path to salvation.
This story is absolutely bursting with empathy, and emotion, as well as content and philosophy. I just loved it, and I'm so glad I found it on this list from Jason Sanford (which I was pointed at by a tweet from
"Flow" by Marissa Lingen
When her connection to the naiads, and her independent ability to roam the woods, is snatched away by a new disability, Gigi not only loses a sense of herself, and her independence, she also loses a final connection to her father. The story then follows her as she reshapes herself, after a lot of painful confusion, into a woman who approaches the world in a very different way but ultimately still believes in the importance of her father's work. By the end of the story, the narrator has crafted herself a new identity which also necessarily makes space for the memory of her father and her disability. I particularly enjoyed how the story made use of the feminist and fantasy symbol of renaming to signpost that Gigi's metamorphosis is emotional and philosophical as well as physical.
"Flow" elegantly contends with some big themes in a small space: separation between parent and child; identity, feminism, and mothers; magic and disability; environmentalism. It's definitely a story to dwell in; a tale full of symbols and subtext which add extra meaning to the first person narration. It's also a story which pushes the reader to think about magic as if it were real, but in a very different way than say a story like Harry Potter does. "Flow" encourages the reader to think about how practical disciplines, like ecology, might work in harmony with magic if nature were full of spirits, and in doing so quietly calls on the reader to ask how natural magic might be used to influence environmental issues. The closest comparison I can think of is how Kate Elliott's Spiritwalker books entwine magic into the methods of production. Practical magic, indeed.
"The Whalebone Parrot" by Darcie Little Badger
In keeping with my resolution from last month, I worked on reading some less chirpy SFF stories in March. I had mixed results with this idea, but it did at least give me the push I needed to finally give The Dark magazine a try. The Dark is an interesting publication (it focuses hard on publishing women and chromatic writers). However, because it's a horror mag I've always assumed all its stories would be too much for me to take. I started with a story highlighted by its editor, Silvia Moreno-Garcia, whose writing I really love, and partly based my pick on the idea that a story with a quirky title couldn't possibly be too terrifying. This strategy worked out extremely well for me, as "The Whalebone Parrot" turned out to be very much my thing. Much of its horror is atmospheric, rather than gorey, and it's got a strong subtextual line which is something I really appreciate in horror stories.
"The Whalebone Parrot" is set in the 1800s, and focuses on two sisters who have been separated, but are reunited just as one of them is about to give birth. Emily is called to the secluded Whalebone Island, where her sister Loretta lives with her lighthouse keeper husband Albert. Before long, Loretta, pregnant with her first child, begins to display unsettling signs of madness. However, Emily is sure that something more supernatural is to blame for her sister's behaviour, and sets out to save Loretta from both the spirits and the sanatorium.
Loretta's interracial marriage, the possession which she undergoes, and even the parrot of the title, reminded me strongly of Wide Sargasso Sea. In Jean Rhys' reply to Jane Eyre, she presents Rochester's 'mad' wife as a displaced woman of mixed-race whose insanity partly stems from society's reaction to her racial identity. And, as "The Whalebone Parrot" unravels, the reader begins to understand how race complicates Emily's relationship with Loretta. Emily and Loretta were Native American orphans raised in an 'orphanage-school' run by racist white women. Loretta, now married to a white man, hides her face from the sun under a veil in an effort to lighten the skin. Emily is to be employed as a nursemaid to her sister's first child, and has been cautioned to tell no one that she is Loretta's sister.
However, unlike the narrator of Wide Sargasso Sea, Loretta is given a chance at a happy ending. Albert take his wife's side against his racist family; cutting all contact with them even when his father is ready to die. He releases Emily from the lie about being an employee, saying that '"It is better—safer!—if the public believes that you are hired help. Their ignorance does not impact our honest, private lives. I’ve always wanted a little sister.”' And, when Albert believes his wife has gone mad, the story allows Emily to work on her sister's behalf to free her from her possession. I cannot emphasise enough how much I need people to "win", in some way, when it comes to horror stories in order for them to be palatable enough for me to appreciate and analyse. Otherwise, it's screaming nightmares all the way. So, the ending of this story worked very well for me indeed. Highly recommended.
"Cemetery Man" by Silvia Moreno-Garcia
After trying out a story she'd recommended, I felt confident enough to have a go at one of Silvia Moreno-Garcia's own horror stories. So, on to "Cemetery Man", which also proved a good choice for me. This story is very much in the Mira Grant sphere of horror. There's a little bit of gore, but mostly full of weird science, and compelling women trying to keep themselves together in the middle of impossible circumstances.
After being shot down in battle, soldadera Catalina finds herself in a strange military hospital run by the Cemetery Man; a figure who resurrects the dead and turns them into opposition fighters. Catalina is left to figure out what's happened to her, and to plot her escape. I liked Catalina's continual drive to escape, and I thought the story was really well paced in general. I could definitely could have done with knowing more about the real life war this horror story is based around, but that's on me not the story. And, even with my historical ignorance leaving me missing out on the finer details, I got the general sense of what was happening in the background of the story. Yes, "Cemetery Man" was a very successful pick indeed.
"The Greatest One-Star Restaurant in the Whole Quadrant" by Rachel K. Jones
"The Greatest One-Star Restaurant in the Whole Quadrant" was another strong find that I came across as I tried to read more outside of my comfort zone. However, be warned it is rather more gruesome than "The Whalebone Parrot" or "Cemetery Man".
This story takes the 'robot teams do something cute' and flips it on its head. Cyborgs who are escaping from service (read: robot slavery) in a stolen food concession must start making food for humans in order to evade capture. Unfortunately, there isn't a lot of edible food left aboard and certainly nothing that could pass as steak. So, the cyborgs have to get creative.
Please proceed with caution friends who think they have stumbled on another cute story about robots subverting expectations, working as a team, and being smart. When I say 'get creative' you should know the cyborgs are partly covered in human 'meat', and there is nothing else even resembling meat on board. There is definitely unknowing cannibalism in this story is what I'm saying. However, if you can deal with some grizzly descriptions of harvesting the meat, and with knowing that people eat human flesh, you may enjoy this story. At its heart, "The Greatest One-Star Restaurant in the Whole Quadrant" is about the way service gets inside your head, and makes you lust for validation. It's also kind of a critique of capitalism (and maybe a warning to writers not to focus on reviewer's star ratings but that could just be me projecting).
"The Greatest One-Star Restaurant in the Whole Quadrant" is very interesting but quite brutal in places. And, I'll be honest, I did not like the ending. However, that's just a personal thing because I hate narratives where characters who were trying to escape oppression get caught out by their own personal failings, and are destroyed. It's pretty much why I can't watch big HBO shows about flawed, violent men caught in a trap of toxic masculinity anymore because, as much as I hate what they do to other people, I often feel that the punishments visited on them by their narratives are really shady. Your mileage will almost definitely vary.
"Skills To Keep The Devil In His Place" by Lia Swope Mitchell
I really enjoyed this story about a girl explaining how to act if you should happen to see the real life Devil, and developing coping strategies with a new friend. I liked the structure of the story, which breaks itself into sections headed with the skills mentioned in the title. Rachel's voice is light, and sarcastic. And, although the story is supposed to be 100% focused on talking about the devil, and the SFF details of the story, the reader learns so much about Rachel and Julie which is great. They both felt like real people with lives by the end of the story; not props to tell a supernatural story about the devil. I think it's a real achievement to run such an action-packed, creepy story, and develop two characters and a couple of side relationships in such a short space. As with "The Greatest One-Star Restaurant in the Whole Quadrant", I advise bracing for some very full on gore in places. However, if you can handle that "Skills To Keep The Devil In His Place" is a great teen horror story.
I have one query about this story, although maybe this is all in my head (but it feels enough like it's wafting around the page enough for me to bring it up). I definitely feel like the main characters, Rachel and Julie, are into each other. For me, it's in so much of the subtext of this story. However, the story doesn't actually put them together, or make any flat out reference to them being interested in each other. Sooooo…. I kind of feel like I imagined it all, but also maybe the story is hinting at the attraction between the two girls but doesn't want to committing to it on the page. Which makes me feel weird. Idk, I think I need someone else to read it, and see if they see anything between Julie and Rachel or if my slash goggles are clouding my view of this story.
"Spirit Tasting List for Ridley House" by Alex Acks
"Spirit Tasting List for Ridley House" is certainly an accomplished horror story. Unfortunately, while I loved the framing device, and the language, of this story, I wasn't really prepared to find two dead gay men among the ghosts, and this surprise has rather coloured my view of the story. One of the risks with reading stories straight from a magazine, instead of via recs, is that I'll be brought up short by unexpected stuff (which is why I rely on recs a lot now). I now really want the backstory for these two characters (and a different magical ending). And it's really not fair to the author, or the story, to concentrate on that over a review of what's there, but that's where I've landed I'm afraid. It's gorgeously written, and based on a smart, original concept. It has a quiet tone that weaves gently around the house, and mimics to perfection the way the restaurant and wine industries advertise product. I would absolutely read other stories by this author if they were rec'd to me, but this one was not for me.
"Six Hangings in the Land of Unkillable Women" by Theodore McCombs
I swear we will move on soon to something other than horror, but before that we have to look at "Six Hangings in the Land of Unkillable Women" about which I would like to say, 'Rrr, argh, rrr.' I'm still trying to work out how I feel about this story. While I understand the points it's making, I'm not sure the actual story was a compelling enough accompaniment to the message it wants to put across. However, when I analyse it, the story builds on a strong structure, underpinned by a feminist lens, which complements its more subtextual feminist points. And these are all things I usually love, so… I think this is a case of being able to appreciate a story but not feeling it in my heart.
In the world of "Six Hangings in the Land of Unkillable Women", women can't be killed by men anymore, but a notorious female criminal needs hanging. So Edith Smylie, wife of a police officer, offers to do the job. As an older woman, caught slightly outside a new wave of suffrage and "New Women", Edith is on the cusp of proto-feminism but is constantly pulled back by society and habit. She also has a young daughter who tries to force her mother into a 'proper' shell. So, Edith's motivation for agreeing to be a hangwoman is partly prompted by a desire to break with 'the proper'. Ultimately, seeing the baying crowd of men waiting for the hanging she falters and acknowledges that she didn't want to kill anyone; rather she wanted to know that there were no limits on her as a woman. The ending of this story suggests that out of death something new can come alive, and that the newness can be both terrifying and inspiring. This stands as a metaphor for Edith's life, and the changes affecting women in wider society.
That all sounds great, right? So, what's my problem? I think perhaps my disconnection from this story comes about because, despite being largely impervious to violence, women never break free and run amok. In one way, this makes absolute sense - structural sexism continues to exist and to insist that women stay in their place, and stay their hands. Also, individual ethics are a thing. However, feminist stories which gift women with invincibility are as much for insisting on the true, insidious nature of subtle oppression as they are for imagining new scenarios. And I find it hard to believe that some of these newly impervious women wouldn't go on a revenge fueled killing spree, and that men's inability to kill woman wouldn't change gendered power dynamics in some more obvious way. Also, the story is set in 1890s America - I feel like at least some black women would be coming for past slave owners/current landowners. Hmmm. I guess my reaction is probably just a reminder that I need to read The Power, right?
"The Triumphant Ward of the Railroad and the Sea" by Sara Saab
Moving on to a story that is a little bit creepy, but not exactly a horror story now. "The Triumphant Ward of the Railroad and the Sea" follows Neave, a competitive eater, who travels from competition to competition on a train called the Dbovotav Coastal Express. Right from the get go, it's clear that there's something odd about the train, and that Neave has made more of a home out of a travelling place than should perhaps be possible. In fact, the relationship between Neave and the train feels reminiscent of the relationships found in stories about travelling circuses. Except in this story the most significant attachment is between the narrator and an inanimate mode of transport.
There are other people aboard the train, most notably Srdan; the unofficial conductor who just appeared one day in a conductor's uniform. Neave and Srdan maintain a strange, wary alliance although it feels as if both might like to be closer. As Neave disembarks to take part in various competitions, a strange force from the sea begins to exert its power over the two main characters and the citizens of the towns.
Aw, I loved this weirdo story even though the ending was somewhat abrupt. It felt like something Maria Dahvana Headley or China Miéville might have written, and I mean that as a huge compliment. The magic of this story comes partly from the way it creates atmosphere with sensory descriptions. 'The Dbovotav hoots in the dark, a hollow and lusty sound,' a description which conjures up loneliness, comfort, and a strange tinge of wonder. Neave's first person narrative is full of touches like that, as well as striking images and details which conjure up a particular atmosphere; usually stark, striking and rich. And the contrast between the richness of Neave's attention to detail, and her deliberate distance from just how odd it is that she makes her home aboard a self-driving train, is part of what makes her such an intriguing character. By the end of this story, I was just swallowed up by the author's vision, and by their commitment to deliberately unexplained weirdness. I'd love to see more of Neave's journey as she works with the Dbovotav; her 'ally' in a war beyond normal comprehension.
"Her Brother and His Sister" by Bill Kte'pi
"Her Brother and His Sister" is another story I found at The Dark (seriously check this place out). It's a take on Hansel and Gretel that frankly I'm entranced by even if I don't completely understand the substance of the story. The story deliberately presents different possible realities, and never confirms which one is true. And although it does end in a very concrete manner, it still doesn't really settle anything. Perhaps the different realities represent a mix of different versions of the Hansel and Gretel tale, and I'd see that more if I was familiar with the way different collections tell the story? Perhaps it's all a commentary on the possibility of taking different paths from the same place (a theme which is interesting when you think about the recurring fairy tale device of paths in the woods)? Anyway, it's a great story to be swept along by, and it bases itself around a fairy tale structure so the rhythm builds beautifully. I enjoyed the writing, the atmosphere, and the smarts of the sister character, even though I'm not clear at all what's actually going on in places.
"How the Maine Coon Cat Learned to Love the Sea" by Seanan Mcguire
Shall I concentrate on just a nice story after all this creepiness? Would you like to read a lovely origin myth about cats escaping from the whims of a sea goddess, and living happily ever after? Then dive right into "How the Maine Coon Cat Learned to Love the Sea". It's got a delicious rhythm, complete with repeating phrases, and a playful sense of narrative awareness. Also, it's got a ton of determined cats and soft, smart, magical solutions to small problems. Just a really delightful story that will warm your heart. I could imagine the cats from Monstress telling this story to their kittens.
Brother's Ruin by Emma Newman
I always forget I can talk about novellas I read in hard copy in Short Business posts, but no more! I'm finishing up this month's post with a quick look at Brother's Ruin - a novella by one of my favourite writers, Emma Newman.
Charlotte Gunn has a lot of secrets. She's not only the talented illustrator of a hot new poetry book, she's also an extremely powerful Latent mage. However, in the 1800s where women aren't encouraged to work and mages are bought from their families whether they want to go or not, Charlotte must use all of her skill to hide her talents from everyone except her beloved brother Ben. When Ben is reported as a Latent, and shows the merest breath of skill, Charlotte uses her own magic, at great risk to herself, to make sure that mages make him a high offer for his skills in order to save her family from financial ruin. And she does all this while investigating a dangerous man's intentions towards her father, who has run up debts in service to his family.
This should all make for an exciting novella, but Brother's Ruin didn't really get going for me until quite near the end. While Emma Newman's world certainly contains some fascinating magical elements, I wanted a more intimate, insider look at them. Based on the ending of Brother's Ruin that probably means I'll really enjoy the sequel, Weaver's Lament when I get round to it.
What I did really appreciate about this novella is that Newman shows the reader a different model of magical, historical heroine. Compared with many heroines in historical fantasy, and historical fiction in general, Charlotte is quite traditional. She wants to get married and have children. She doesn't chafe against feminine fashions (although it's acknowledged that they are rather difficult to maneuver in sometimes) and she performs domestic tasks easily. In other stories Charlotte might be a passive antagonist or a secondary character. However, in Brother's Ruin her desire and drive for a traditional life is actually a path to self-determination. Revealing herself as a magical woman would mean she couldn't marry, have children, or pursue her (currently covert) career as a professional illustrator. So, Charlotte hides her magical gift in order to pursue her own dreams; despite being repeatedly told that Latents who hide are selfish and cowardly.
While I love female characters who rail against society's expectations, it's really great to see a story embrace another model of heroine. And it's also great to see hints that Charlotte's judgment on certain matters, like her choice of fiancee, may be clouded, but that this doesn't invalidate her overall desire for a family. I look forward to seeing how Charlotte keeps herself grounded, and on her personal right path, when there are sure to be so many swirling demands clashing around her in the next novella.
Have you read any of these stories? Let me know what you thought in the comments! And as always I'm open to recs for stories to read :)
