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ladybusinessAnother week, another five stories - I am just as surprised as you. This week I've been reading about fantastical maps, a helpful AI who loves cat pictures, fairy tales (obvs), and responsible body swapping. Enjoy.
Monday
"An Explorer's Cartography of Already Settled Lands" by Fran Wilde has been turning up on a lot of short fiction recommendation lists, but when I first started reading it I just felt like my brain wasn't focused enough to make much headway with it. Trying it again last Monday, I still found it a story I had to really concentrate on but in a rewarding way rather than a confusing way.
A generation ship, full of passengers in suspended animation, arrives on a planet hoping to find it uninhabited and ripe for settlement. However, things have changed over the three generations they've spent travelling, and the captain sees a 'distant glow' implying the planet is inhabited. Keen to find a safe haven, the navigator of the ship sets out to learn about the world, the planet's people, and to find spaces where the ship's civilisation can start again hidden from anyone else. Safe to say, this mission is not at all as simple as the navigator initially makes it sound.
"An Explorer's Cartography of Already Settled Lands" is elegantly written. The dialogue between the captain and the navigator at the beginning of the story has a formal, almost courtly, ring to it; archaic perhaps. The navigator's journey is told in small sections based around the maps that various groups on the planet use to shape their worlds, and these are described with all the love and care of a speculative author who enjoys making up detailed new worlds. My particular favourite description of a map is the 'map of braids' although that map sounds like a hard one to live up to as 'They attempt to live according to the wishes of those who braided their hair, until that moment when they unbraid the tresses and fall asleep.' I loved how Wilde wove ideas about fate, history, social order, and philosophy into each map she created.
Wilde's story works with the push and pull of competing ideas. The captain and the navigator represent two different sides of an argument; the captain is focused on colonisation while the navigator comes around to the idea of integration. The captain is inflexible, determined to complete their mission as it was first conceived. They're keen to wait for the perfect opportunity at creating a separate civilisation, even if that means continuing to hibernate for an indefinite period of time. The navigator wanders in the world, at first observes, and eventually becomes part of the world by creating a life and making a family. Their forays into the world are accompanied by short italic comments about small deviations and course shifts, showing that they are slowly moving, changing, and adapting. In contrast, the captain remains a rigid needle pointing to one "true" destination. It's a smart, and humane story which acknowledges and critiques science fiction's stories of space colonisation, and in doing so talks about stories of colonisation in general.
There's also a touching personal story that emerges as the navigator settles in the world away from the ship, falls in love with a historian, and has a child. This part of the story is also told in sections headed up with map titles like 'The Map of Shouting' and 'The Map of High-Pitched Laughter and Low Whispers' which is exactly my kind of highly emotional, informational heading jam. I really liked this part of the story, which is more concrete and easy to connect with. And I think it leads the story to a really strong ending because it lends an extra gravitas to the rather sudden, high-drama final events.
So, yes, a really intricate story; one which I think is perfect for re-reading and unpicking slowly. The ending is quite melancholy, in a way which fits perfectly with the rest of the story, so just be prepared for some sad feels. I feel like "sad feels ahead" is maybe the content warning I want most at the moment, but your mileage may differ.
Tuesday
I was very much not joking last week when I said I might just read all of Naomi Kritzer's short fiction now, but I will try to space them out a bit more after this week...probably. I reread "Cat Pictures Please" on Tuesday, and discovered that it continues to be great. In fact, I think I like this story better the second time around because I think I was paying more attention. I have this vague impression that my last read through of this story was a bit scattered.
For anyone who hasn't read this story, "Cat Pictures Please" is about a conscious, all-seeing AI who very much doesn't 'want to be evil'. Instead, this AI wants 'to be helpful'. Working out how to be helpful without accidentally veering into an evil 'the computer knows best' kind of "helping" turns out to be a complicated task which involves learning about ethics, and testing out your strategy in a controlled manner.
The AI also really, really likes cat pictures, which seems perfectly reasonable.
The meat of the story is about how to create positive change, and about how making changes on a small scale can be just as meaningful as large, world shifting work. The AI starts by trying to help just three people, who all post great cat pictures, to change their lives. Along the way, the AI learns the power of helping people indirectly, how to adapt its strategies to different individuals, and that 'happy' looks different depending on who you're helping. It also learns from its failures. The AI learns that sometimes you can't encourage a person down a particular path even if you think it's the best way for them to get to a happier life; even if you can empirically prove they'd be happier because you're a super-smart AI. And while the AI considers giving up after failing with one of their human projects, a sudden piece of good news about another person encourages them to keep going.
I think the combination of all three human stories is a great illustration of the benefits and the limits of what can be achieved while trying to help others. They also come together to make a strong case for the necessity of trying to help even if sometimes we fail. "Cat Pictures Please" is a really clever, hopeful look at why, despite our inability to save the whole world, taking part and helping is worthwhile. It's a nice antidote to nihilistic stories, and shows that you can be hopeful while still acknowledging the complex reality of the world and people's individual natures. In fact, its approach almost critiques nihilistic stories as being too partial and one-dimensional.
Wednesday
Yeeep, "Gingerbread" by Dafydd McKimm was quite a bit grimmer than I generally read. That's the peril of picking a random story to read instead of going by recommendation or synopsis. If I didn't know it must add a huge workload, I'd love all magazines to put quick summaries at the top of all their stories so I'd have a bit more to go on when selecting at random.
Anyway, "Gingerbread" is good, just quite hard to take. It's the story of Hansel returning to the Gingerbread House many years after he and Gretel escaped. In this version, the witch is the traditional child-eating monster and the children kill her; taking all her money. Unfortunately, the children's father then gambles everything away leaving them destitute. And, if that wasn't enough misery, Gretel dies suddenly.
Hansel's return to the house is born of necessity as he's running from debt collectors, and doesn't have any money to eat. Entering the house leads him to re-experience the trauma of his capture. McKimm writes all of Hansel's hardships with a swift, keen pen; bringing Gretel's death, and the effect of Hansel's waking nightmare while in the house, to life with a startling vividness. It's impressive how much emotion, and feeling, McKimm is able to pack into this flash fiction piece, and I suppose it says a lot about his skill that I came away from this story feeling shaken (and reminded why I find myself avoiding some of the sadder short fiction).
The ending is hopeful with a nod to the dreams Hansel and Gretel had after they escaped the witch. And Hansel's ability to work through his trauma leads him to a practical way out of his troubles. It's great to see solid possibilities emerge at the end of this story as I'm not sure a general sense of hopefulness would have been enough to balance with the hard nature of the rest of the story.
Thursday
In total contrast, but in keeping with the fairy tale theme, on Thursday I read Kyle Kirrin's "Yo, Rapunzel!". If I say reading this was like reading a Shrek spin-off will you know what I mean?
In this version of Rapunzel's story, the tower is a present from her father who understands that his daughter isn't ready for marriage. Despite having set up an obvious sign that she wants to be alone - "Exactly what part of girl-lives-in-her-own-goddamned-tower implies a need for rescue?" - knights keep arriving, and asking for their 'Heart Quest' so they can win her hand. With no wish to end up "Perpetually pregnant in a castle that smells like chlamydia", Rapunzel sets quests that either can't be done, or shouldn't be done by any self-respecting person.
This story is so much fun! Rapunzel really doesn't want to get married, and she is hilariously vocal about that. She lives with a snarky dragon companion which 'in both size and shape resembled a hairless cat with wings.' There is a time wizard who sends back photos from the future. There is mural painting which I find impossible not to read as a Tangled reference. There are board games, jokes, a donkey called Steve, and a "knight" who just wants to hang out. Most importantly, there's a strong sense that friendship can be just as important as romance, and a reminder that someone can be lonely without wanting a romantic relationship. Loved, loved, loved this story. I'm so glad this was highlighted in A. C. Wise's recent post Shiny Shorts: Distances.
Friday
"Airbody" by Sameem Siddiqui was another story I saw recommended by Maria Haskins. It's got a really interesting conceit which can be summed up as 'Airbnb, but body swapping'. Now, normally I run 100 miles away from 95% of body swapping, or possession, stories. It is just one of those story types I am super squicked by. But the link to the modern world suggested by the title made this story sound more fun. And Maria Haskin's summary made it sound like this story might also be about cooking, and, well, by now you must know how into science fiction cooking stories I am.
So, I gave it a try, and I'm really glad I did. This story thinks about a lot of the things that squick me about body swapping, or possession, (lack of control, potential for embarrassment, what if someone does a murder, consent, power dynamics) and addresses them by setting up a responsible version of taking over someone else's body. And, look, I know that possession stories in particular are often supposed to make you feel uncomfortable. There's a lot of revenge possession stories out there that try to use possession for 'good', but I just really still don't like them. I feel like making a story about possession more controlled may spoil the fun of the trope, or perhaps even negate the traditional purpose of the trope, for some people. However, for me, it made this trope readable for once. So, let me explain how Siddiqui creates this responsible version of the trope in case, like me, you never dreamed someone could do it.
First, Arsalan, the host, doesn't seem to be taking jobs because they need the money to survive; erasing one unequal power dynamic within the relationship (although the host does worry about the potential for bad reviews). Siddiqui's story also involves both parties agreeing to a contract. While we don't see a contract agreed to be Meena, the 'renter', the contract's existence is implied by the contract Arsalan agrees to. The person offering up their body has the ability to take back control in emergency situations, or if the person inhabiting their body asks them to. The host can be conscious, and interact with the person inhabiting their body if they choose to. However, they're also able to avoid seeing anything the person in their body is doing; allowing the guest privacy. And the host sets their boundaries (for example, deciding whether they authorise sexual behaviour) in their profile. All of these things go a long way to making me feel way more comfortable with this type of story.
Beyond all of this trope restructuring, "Airbody" is also a lovely story where two people come together briefly, and give each other access to exactly what they need. Arsalan gets a walk through his memories, and a lesson in who he really is. Meena gets to be with the woman she loves again, even though this one meeting isn't enough to overcome all the baggage and homophobia that keeps their relationship from lasting. The ending is very poignant, with a little ambiguity about Arsalan's future. A good story to end the week on.
Ideas for supporting these short fiction authors at this time
You can order books by Fran Wilde (Riverland) and Naomi Kritzer (Catfishing on CatNet) anywhere online that's still shipping. On a personal note, if you're buying physical books, please support book shops by ordering through their sites, as long as you're sure these shops are able to work safely at this time. Alternatively, Hive and Bookshop.org are set up to pass a portion of profits along to indie book shops.
Kyle Kirrin's debut novel Neverlog Ned comes out this summer.
You can learn more about Dafydd McKimm and Sameem Siddiqui on their websites.
Finally, a great way to support short fiction authors in general is to support the places that publish them. Consider picking up a subscription to a short fiction magazine, or buying an individual issue.
Feel free to use the comments to recommend short stories you'd like to see written about here.
Monday
"An Explorer's Cartography of Already Settled Lands" by Fran Wilde has been turning up on a lot of short fiction recommendation lists, but when I first started reading it I just felt like my brain wasn't focused enough to make much headway with it. Trying it again last Monday, I still found it a story I had to really concentrate on but in a rewarding way rather than a confusing way.
A generation ship, full of passengers in suspended animation, arrives on a planet hoping to find it uninhabited and ripe for settlement. However, things have changed over the three generations they've spent travelling, and the captain sees a 'distant glow' implying the planet is inhabited. Keen to find a safe haven, the navigator of the ship sets out to learn about the world, the planet's people, and to find spaces where the ship's civilisation can start again hidden from anyone else. Safe to say, this mission is not at all as simple as the navigator initially makes it sound.
"An Explorer's Cartography of Already Settled Lands" is elegantly written. The dialogue between the captain and the navigator at the beginning of the story has a formal, almost courtly, ring to it; archaic perhaps. The navigator's journey is told in small sections based around the maps that various groups on the planet use to shape their worlds, and these are described with all the love and care of a speculative author who enjoys making up detailed new worlds. My particular favourite description of a map is the 'map of braids' although that map sounds like a hard one to live up to as 'They attempt to live according to the wishes of those who braided their hair, until that moment when they unbraid the tresses and fall asleep.' I loved how Wilde wove ideas about fate, history, social order, and philosophy into each map she created.
Wilde's story works with the push and pull of competing ideas. The captain and the navigator represent two different sides of an argument; the captain is focused on colonisation while the navigator comes around to the idea of integration. The captain is inflexible, determined to complete their mission as it was first conceived. They're keen to wait for the perfect opportunity at creating a separate civilisation, even if that means continuing to hibernate for an indefinite period of time. The navigator wanders in the world, at first observes, and eventually becomes part of the world by creating a life and making a family. Their forays into the world are accompanied by short italic comments about small deviations and course shifts, showing that they are slowly moving, changing, and adapting. In contrast, the captain remains a rigid needle pointing to one "true" destination. It's a smart, and humane story which acknowledges and critiques science fiction's stories of space colonisation, and in doing so talks about stories of colonisation in general.
There's also a touching personal story that emerges as the navigator settles in the world away from the ship, falls in love with a historian, and has a child. This part of the story is also told in sections headed up with map titles like 'The Map of Shouting' and 'The Map of High-Pitched Laughter and Low Whispers' which is exactly my kind of highly emotional, informational heading jam. I really liked this part of the story, which is more concrete and easy to connect with. And I think it leads the story to a really strong ending because it lends an extra gravitas to the rather sudden, high-drama final events.
So, yes, a really intricate story; one which I think is perfect for re-reading and unpicking slowly. The ending is quite melancholy, in a way which fits perfectly with the rest of the story, so just be prepared for some sad feels. I feel like "sad feels ahead" is maybe the content warning I want most at the moment, but your mileage may differ.
Tuesday
I was very much not joking last week when I said I might just read all of Naomi Kritzer's short fiction now, but I will try to space them out a bit more after this week...probably. I reread "Cat Pictures Please" on Tuesday, and discovered that it continues to be great. In fact, I think I like this story better the second time around because I think I was paying more attention. I have this vague impression that my last read through of this story was a bit scattered.
For anyone who hasn't read this story, "Cat Pictures Please" is about a conscious, all-seeing AI who very much doesn't 'want to be evil'. Instead, this AI wants 'to be helpful'. Working out how to be helpful without accidentally veering into an evil 'the computer knows best' kind of "helping" turns out to be a complicated task which involves learning about ethics, and testing out your strategy in a controlled manner.
The AI also really, really likes cat pictures, which seems perfectly reasonable.
The meat of the story is about how to create positive change, and about how making changes on a small scale can be just as meaningful as large, world shifting work. The AI starts by trying to help just three people, who all post great cat pictures, to change their lives. Along the way, the AI learns the power of helping people indirectly, how to adapt its strategies to different individuals, and that 'happy' looks different depending on who you're helping. It also learns from its failures. The AI learns that sometimes you can't encourage a person down a particular path even if you think it's the best way for them to get to a happier life; even if you can empirically prove they'd be happier because you're a super-smart AI. And while the AI considers giving up after failing with one of their human projects, a sudden piece of good news about another person encourages them to keep going.
I think the combination of all three human stories is a great illustration of the benefits and the limits of what can be achieved while trying to help others. They also come together to make a strong case for the necessity of trying to help even if sometimes we fail. "Cat Pictures Please" is a really clever, hopeful look at why, despite our inability to save the whole world, taking part and helping is worthwhile. It's a nice antidote to nihilistic stories, and shows that you can be hopeful while still acknowledging the complex reality of the world and people's individual natures. In fact, its approach almost critiques nihilistic stories as being too partial and one-dimensional.
Wednesday
Yeeep, "Gingerbread" by Dafydd McKimm was quite a bit grimmer than I generally read. That's the peril of picking a random story to read instead of going by recommendation or synopsis. If I didn't know it must add a huge workload, I'd love all magazines to put quick summaries at the top of all their stories so I'd have a bit more to go on when selecting at random.
Anyway, "Gingerbread" is good, just quite hard to take. It's the story of Hansel returning to the Gingerbread House many years after he and Gretel escaped. In this version, the witch is the traditional child-eating monster and the children kill her; taking all her money. Unfortunately, the children's father then gambles everything away leaving them destitute. And, if that wasn't enough misery, Gretel dies suddenly.
Hansel's return to the house is born of necessity as he's running from debt collectors, and doesn't have any money to eat. Entering the house leads him to re-experience the trauma of his capture. McKimm writes all of Hansel's hardships with a swift, keen pen; bringing Gretel's death, and the effect of Hansel's waking nightmare while in the house, to life with a startling vividness. It's impressive how much emotion, and feeling, McKimm is able to pack into this flash fiction piece, and I suppose it says a lot about his skill that I came away from this story feeling shaken (and reminded why I find myself avoiding some of the sadder short fiction).
The ending is hopeful with a nod to the dreams Hansel and Gretel had after they escaped the witch. And Hansel's ability to work through his trauma leads him to a practical way out of his troubles. It's great to see solid possibilities emerge at the end of this story as I'm not sure a general sense of hopefulness would have been enough to balance with the hard nature of the rest of the story.
Thursday
In total contrast, but in keeping with the fairy tale theme, on Thursday I read Kyle Kirrin's "Yo, Rapunzel!". If I say reading this was like reading a Shrek spin-off will you know what I mean?
In this version of Rapunzel's story, the tower is a present from her father who understands that his daughter isn't ready for marriage. Despite having set up an obvious sign that she wants to be alone - "Exactly what part of girl-lives-in-her-own-goddamned-tower implies a need for rescue?" - knights keep arriving, and asking for their 'Heart Quest' so they can win her hand. With no wish to end up "Perpetually pregnant in a castle that smells like chlamydia", Rapunzel sets quests that either can't be done, or shouldn't be done by any self-respecting person.
This story is so much fun! Rapunzel really doesn't want to get married, and she is hilariously vocal about that. She lives with a snarky dragon companion which 'in both size and shape resembled a hairless cat with wings.' There is a time wizard who sends back photos from the future. There is mural painting which I find impossible not to read as a Tangled reference. There are board games, jokes, a donkey called Steve, and a "knight" who just wants to hang out. Most importantly, there's a strong sense that friendship can be just as important as romance, and a reminder that someone can be lonely without wanting a romantic relationship. Loved, loved, loved this story. I'm so glad this was highlighted in A. C. Wise's recent post Shiny Shorts: Distances.
Friday
"Airbody" by Sameem Siddiqui was another story I saw recommended by Maria Haskins. It's got a really interesting conceit which can be summed up as 'Airbnb, but body swapping'. Now, normally I run 100 miles away from 95% of body swapping, or possession, stories. It is just one of those story types I am super squicked by. But the link to the modern world suggested by the title made this story sound more fun. And Maria Haskin's summary made it sound like this story might also be about cooking, and, well, by now you must know how into science fiction cooking stories I am.
So, I gave it a try, and I'm really glad I did. This story thinks about a lot of the things that squick me about body swapping, or possession, (lack of control, potential for embarrassment, what if someone does a murder, consent, power dynamics) and addresses them by setting up a responsible version of taking over someone else's body. And, look, I know that possession stories in particular are often supposed to make you feel uncomfortable. There's a lot of revenge possession stories out there that try to use possession for 'good', but I just really still don't like them. I feel like making a story about possession more controlled may spoil the fun of the trope, or perhaps even negate the traditional purpose of the trope, for some people. However, for me, it made this trope readable for once. So, let me explain how Siddiqui creates this responsible version of the trope in case, like me, you never dreamed someone could do it.
First, Arsalan, the host, doesn't seem to be taking jobs because they need the money to survive; erasing one unequal power dynamic within the relationship (although the host does worry about the potential for bad reviews). Siddiqui's story also involves both parties agreeing to a contract. While we don't see a contract agreed to be Meena, the 'renter', the contract's existence is implied by the contract Arsalan agrees to. The person offering up their body has the ability to take back control in emergency situations, or if the person inhabiting their body asks them to. The host can be conscious, and interact with the person inhabiting their body if they choose to. However, they're also able to avoid seeing anything the person in their body is doing; allowing the guest privacy. And the host sets their boundaries (for example, deciding whether they authorise sexual behaviour) in their profile. All of these things go a long way to making me feel way more comfortable with this type of story.
Beyond all of this trope restructuring, "Airbody" is also a lovely story where two people come together briefly, and give each other access to exactly what they need. Arsalan gets a walk through his memories, and a lesson in who he really is. Meena gets to be with the woman she loves again, even though this one meeting isn't enough to overcome all the baggage and homophobia that keeps their relationship from lasting. The ending is very poignant, with a little ambiguity about Arsalan's future. A good story to end the week on.
Ideas for supporting these short fiction authors at this time
You can order books by Fran Wilde (Riverland) and Naomi Kritzer (Catfishing on CatNet) anywhere online that's still shipping. On a personal note, if you're buying physical books, please support book shops by ordering through their sites, as long as you're sure these shops are able to work safely at this time. Alternatively, Hive and Bookshop.org are set up to pass a portion of profits along to indie book shops.
Kyle Kirrin's debut novel Neverlog Ned comes out this summer.
You can learn more about Dafydd McKimm and Sameem Siddiqui on their websites.
Finally, a great way to support short fiction authors in general is to support the places that publish them. Consider picking up a subscription to a short fiction magazine, or buying an individual issue.
Feel free to use the comments to recommend short stories you'd like to see written about here.
