Short Business: What I Read On My Holidays
Aug. 3rd, 2020 10:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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ladybusinessI've got just enough time before I go back to work to fit in one more Short Business post about a few of the stories I read while I was off. I'm still on a serious, life-long hunt for SFF stories that are fun so that's what I've been trying to pick out this week.
It's hard to top forestofglory's description of "A Guide For Working Breeds" by Vina Jie-Min Prasad. 'It is incredibly charming, and also rather dystopic' just about nails this story from the author of "Fandom For Robots". It reminds me vaguely of Martha Wells' Murderbot series, but with the violence more in the background. Or, Naomi Kritzer's "Cat Pictures Please", but with a strong preference for videos of doggos. Basically, it's a great addition to the subgenre of robot stories that focuses on robots who want more agency, and are very keen to discuss robot labour politics. I also really enjoyed the 'odd couple' dynamic between mentor and mentee robot who both have wildly different personalities, especially as this dynamic led to a lot of the story's humour and sweetness. The ending is the best, particularly if you like robots, racoons, or dogs.
I came across "Baba Yaga and The Seven Hills" by Kristina Ten while scrolling through trusted story recommender A. C. Wise's Twitter profile looking for any story that looked like it wouldn't emotionally devastate me. Ten's story is a little bit on the creepy side because it embraces Baba Yaga in all her child-eating witchery, but I personally had a really good time reading this story as part of my 'must be fun' short story search. Baba Yaga travels to San Francisco to seek magical advice after she neglects the needs of her chicken-legged house, and it runs away. In the city, Baba Yaga finds many new types of magic, but none really help her with her house.
This story kind of gives me Martin Millar vibes. The culture clash between new and old magic, as well as the modern living situation Baba Yaga finds herself in without her hut, bring a light touch of comedy to the story which is then grounded by the wild, unconventional, and sinister nature of some of Baba Yaga's behaviour. The balance between comedy and disquieting weirdness is really well done. And I think Ten's best decision is to write Baba Yaga as oblivious of how unsettling some of her actions are because it gives an extra, natural tinge of horror to this piece.
Rachael K. Jones says a friend described "The Woeful Tale of Sir Banana" as 'VeggieTales meets Game of Thrones'. I saw it more as a cute version of Gravity meets the end of The Lego Movie with fruit, but yeah if you like Game of Thrones and you like fruit there 's something here for you too.
In this story Danny, a space hauler stranded and awaiting an improbable rescue, tries to keep himself going by inventing a story for his young niece. I think the device of having a narrator create a story which pulls the reader away from the narrator's immediate circumstances can be difficult to pull off; one story (usually the more immediate one) is often more interesting than the other, and readers can find themselves plowing through a story they don't really care about to get to the one they really want. So, I was impressed that Jones managed to create a narrative where both the story Danny was making up, and the story of his fight for survival in space, were equally interesting and compelling. I cared about the fate of the fruit kingdom even though I knew it "wasn't real" (a reaction I don't think even the hugely beloved Lego Movie really managed to pull off with its ending). And I think Jones' ability to create two stories that are so engaging and so well-balanced with each other is both a sign of Jones' skill and a clever meta-comment on the importance of fiction even during the toughest of times.
Also, speaking of Jones' skill, she is so great at creating natural, easy-going sounding narratives that hit you in the gut. This story is almost quiet, and gentle, which is perhaps the last thing you would expect from a story about a man trying not to die in space. And it's actually the quietness, the softness of the way the story unfolds, and the sharp, sudden places where Danny expresses emotion, that make this such an emotional story. Dramatics would have dampened the feel of this story, and Jones controls the tone superbly to create maximum emotional effect.
One of the best things about this story is seeing how the details of Sir Banana's quest and the narrator's struggle to survive fit together as you go along so I won't talk too much about the finer points of the story's structure. I will say, however, because I know it sounds like a bit of a grim premise, that everything turns out okay for Danny. This is a sweet story that just passes through the lands of worry and concern, but provides the reader with a happy ending.
I broke away from my search for fun stories to read the winner of the Hugo Awards short story category "As The Last I May Know" by S. L. Huang. I haven't read the whole Hugo shortlist this year because the short fiction tastes of Hugo voters tend to run a little bit bleak at times, but I still try to read the winner every year. And while Huang's story about a country at war, and an innovative safeguard against escalation, is full of sad, difficult moments it's not a story I would categorize as bleak.
Huang's story thinks quietly and seriously about war, and about the way people in power talk about the decisions they make. In this world, a child of the Order is chosen to house the codes that activate 'seres' which seem to equate to nuclear weapons. If a president wants to use seres they must kill the child, in a witnessed ceremony, in order to retrieve the codes. In this way, the Order hopes to make it incredibly difficult for a president to sanction the use of these weapons. The Order's feeling is that it's easy to push a button and murder people far away, but when you have to kill your own, young citizen before you can make that decision the choice becomes more difficult. Having seen the devastation that the use of seres did to their own country, the Order is keen to stop their country from using seres on others. Huang's story begins as Nyam, the current 'chosen one' is taken to live with the new president Otto Han; a man the Order worry is too keen to use seres as the war worsens.
Even without reading the rest of the nominated stories, I'm not surprised to see that "As The Last I May Know" won. It navigates a big question carefully and skilfully, presents a smart sci-fi premise, and creates a full, rich character in Nyma. In fact, Huang's choice to make Nyma the core is the making of "As The Last I May Know". The reader's growing investment in Nyma as they spend time with her mirror's Otto Han's reaction, and he struggles to kill Nyma even when his country looks lost.
Making Nyma the heart of this story, rather than grounding the story in the perspectives of the people making decisions about her, gives her a crucial voice. Even though she sometimes feels like she is seen but not heard, particularly as a sympathetic group begins to use her for their propaganda, her life, poetry, and thoughts speak clearly to the reader. Readers quickly develop a strong connection to this intriguing character who is caught up in weighty decisions about her life. Throughout the story, and particularly at the end, Nyma gains a great deal of agency despite being in a situation that takes away a lot of her control. Her final choice is incredibly brave and principled, and I enjoyed the way the open ended nature of the story left the reader focused on Nyma's decision; on how she forges her own destiny in an unexpected way.
It's hard to top forestofglory's description of "A Guide For Working Breeds" by Vina Jie-Min Prasad. 'It is incredibly charming, and also rather dystopic' just about nails this story from the author of "Fandom For Robots". It reminds me vaguely of Martha Wells' Murderbot series, but with the violence more in the background. Or, Naomi Kritzer's "Cat Pictures Please", but with a strong preference for videos of doggos. Basically, it's a great addition to the subgenre of robot stories that focuses on robots who want more agency, and are very keen to discuss robot labour politics. I also really enjoyed the 'odd couple' dynamic between mentor and mentee robot who both have wildly different personalities, especially as this dynamic led to a lot of the story's humour and sweetness. The ending is the best, particularly if you like robots, racoons, or dogs.
I came across "Baba Yaga and The Seven Hills" by Kristina Ten while scrolling through trusted story recommender A. C. Wise's Twitter profile looking for any story that looked like it wouldn't emotionally devastate me. Ten's story is a little bit on the creepy side because it embraces Baba Yaga in all her child-eating witchery, but I personally had a really good time reading this story as part of my 'must be fun' short story search. Baba Yaga travels to San Francisco to seek magical advice after she neglects the needs of her chicken-legged house, and it runs away. In the city, Baba Yaga finds many new types of magic, but none really help her with her house.
This story kind of gives me Martin Millar vibes. The culture clash between new and old magic, as well as the modern living situation Baba Yaga finds herself in without her hut, bring a light touch of comedy to the story which is then grounded by the wild, unconventional, and sinister nature of some of Baba Yaga's behaviour. The balance between comedy and disquieting weirdness is really well done. And I think Ten's best decision is to write Baba Yaga as oblivious of how unsettling some of her actions are because it gives an extra, natural tinge of horror to this piece.
Rachael K. Jones says a friend described "The Woeful Tale of Sir Banana" as 'VeggieTales meets Game of Thrones'. I saw it more as a cute version of Gravity meets the end of The Lego Movie with fruit, but yeah if you like Game of Thrones and you like fruit there 's something here for you too.
In this story Danny, a space hauler stranded and awaiting an improbable rescue, tries to keep himself going by inventing a story for his young niece. I think the device of having a narrator create a story which pulls the reader away from the narrator's immediate circumstances can be difficult to pull off; one story (usually the more immediate one) is often more interesting than the other, and readers can find themselves plowing through a story they don't really care about to get to the one they really want. So, I was impressed that Jones managed to create a narrative where both the story Danny was making up, and the story of his fight for survival in space, were equally interesting and compelling. I cared about the fate of the fruit kingdom even though I knew it "wasn't real" (a reaction I don't think even the hugely beloved Lego Movie really managed to pull off with its ending). And I think Jones' ability to create two stories that are so engaging and so well-balanced with each other is both a sign of Jones' skill and a clever meta-comment on the importance of fiction even during the toughest of times.
Also, speaking of Jones' skill, she is so great at creating natural, easy-going sounding narratives that hit you in the gut. This story is almost quiet, and gentle, which is perhaps the last thing you would expect from a story about a man trying not to die in space. And it's actually the quietness, the softness of the way the story unfolds, and the sharp, sudden places where Danny expresses emotion, that make this such an emotional story. Dramatics would have dampened the feel of this story, and Jones controls the tone superbly to create maximum emotional effect.
One of the best things about this story is seeing how the details of Sir Banana's quest and the narrator's struggle to survive fit together as you go along so I won't talk too much about the finer points of the story's structure. I will say, however, because I know it sounds like a bit of a grim premise, that everything turns out okay for Danny. This is a sweet story that just passes through the lands of worry and concern, but provides the reader with a happy ending.
I broke away from my search for fun stories to read the winner of the Hugo Awards short story category "As The Last I May Know" by S. L. Huang. I haven't read the whole Hugo shortlist this year because the short fiction tastes of Hugo voters tend to run a little bit bleak at times, but I still try to read the winner every year. And while Huang's story about a country at war, and an innovative safeguard against escalation, is full of sad, difficult moments it's not a story I would categorize as bleak.
Huang's story thinks quietly and seriously about war, and about the way people in power talk about the decisions they make. In this world, a child of the Order is chosen to house the codes that activate 'seres' which seem to equate to nuclear weapons. If a president wants to use seres they must kill the child, in a witnessed ceremony, in order to retrieve the codes. In this way, the Order hopes to make it incredibly difficult for a president to sanction the use of these weapons. The Order's feeling is that it's easy to push a button and murder people far away, but when you have to kill your own, young citizen before you can make that decision the choice becomes more difficult. Having seen the devastation that the use of seres did to their own country, the Order is keen to stop their country from using seres on others. Huang's story begins as Nyam, the current 'chosen one' is taken to live with the new president Otto Han; a man the Order worry is too keen to use seres as the war worsens.
Even without reading the rest of the nominated stories, I'm not surprised to see that "As The Last I May Know" won. It navigates a big question carefully and skilfully, presents a smart sci-fi premise, and creates a full, rich character in Nyma. In fact, Huang's choice to make Nyma the core is the making of "As The Last I May Know". The reader's growing investment in Nyma as they spend time with her mirror's Otto Han's reaction, and he struggles to kill Nyma even when his country looks lost.
Making Nyma the heart of this story, rather than grounding the story in the perspectives of the people making decisions about her, gives her a crucial voice. Even though she sometimes feels like she is seen but not heard, particularly as a sympathetic group begins to use her for their propaganda, her life, poetry, and thoughts speak clearly to the reader. Readers quickly develop a strong connection to this intriguing character who is caught up in weighty decisions about her life. Throughout the story, and particularly at the end, Nyma gains a great deal of agency despite being in a situation that takes away a lot of her control. Her final choice is incredibly brave and principled, and I enjoyed the way the open ended nature of the story left the reader focused on Nyma's decision; on how she forges her own destiny in an unexpected way.
