Adrian Collins's Blog, page 209

REVIEW: The Scottish Boy by Alex de Campi

I suppose that knights’ tales are mostly laughed off by the general reading public as something archaic nowadays. Largely seen as relics from a far-off time when your grandpa, when still a stripling, delighted in the likes of Walter Scott’s ‘Ivanhoe’, Ronald Welch’s ‘Knight Crusader’ or Howard Pyle’s ‘Men Of Iron’. Eventually it became fashionable to deconstruct the chivalric myth in Cervantes-like fashion, as your teenage dad discovered when he picked up GRR Martin’s ‘A Game Of Thrones’. Yet even that approach slowly petered out, so that in time I was certain that there was no literary angle left through which knight errantry might provoke a strong reaction from readers. Boy was I wrong.

Arise Lady Alex de Campi, a heralded Queen of Grimdark. And not idly do I bestow such a lofty title upon this fine debut novelist, for de Campi has to date painstakingly carved out a critically acclaimed career from penning grim and gritty graphic novels. If only there were more risk-taking writers around like her who had half her talent – and it’s not just me saying it. Legendary bestselling author Chuck Wendig probably described her work best: “I have adopted the rule that I will read anything that Alex de Campi writes, and this rule has served me well.” This, coming from him, is no mean endorsement.

And it looks like de Campi is set to carry her stellar ability from comic book writing into novels, for her debut ‘The Scottish Boy’ oscillates splendidly between savagery and sophistication, filled as it is with moral ambiguity and a pervasive sense of real danger. It’s a knight’s tale set in medieval times, with as perilous a war-torn setting as our Grimdark hearts could hope for. This is not to mention a fresh romantic angle that is intimately (heh, you can say that again) explored and which is wholly unprecedented in fiction.

This novel is so unbelievably brave in the insane amount of risk it takes, that I doubt that it would ever have been touched with a ten-foot bargepole by the ailing, risk averse big end of town in the publishing industry, battered around as it has been for over a decade by sheer Amazon.com dominance. Let’s just say that I can’t see too many midwestern housewives picking this one up at their book club or while baking Bundt cakes for the bible-bashing, God-fearing hubby. So it’s hardly surprising that it was instead snapped up by the celebrated UK publisher Unbound, known to publish various grim and gritty trope-breaking titles in historical fiction like Paul Kingsnorth’s ‘The Wake’.

This plucky London-based publisher has used online means to successfully revive subscription publishing of yore, which was the method used to publish works by Voltaire, Samuel Johnson and Charles Dickens. Unbound bucks the aggressive discounting trend in modern bookselling by charging readers a premium to fund fiction that can’t break into the mainstream in exchange for having their names listed in the book they support as well as a copy of the same title. Yet despite this added cost, a whopping 834 patrons dived in to fund the production of de Campi’s debut, making it a huge success by crowdfunding standards before it even went into print.

The book’s protagonist, nineteen-year-old Harry de Lyon, is a stout fellow and the son of an impoverished English knight Sir Owen de Lyon who perished at the Battle of Bannockburn, scene of Scotland’s greatest triumph. Despite his mother’s misgivings, our Harry yearns to become a knight, so that he is soon taken into the service of one Sir Simon de Attwood. Unfortunately for Harry, he proceeds to lose both mother and Simon when the former dies of something or other and the latter perishes during the battle on Halidon Hill between the English and the Scots. Harry is late for Sir Simon’s last battle but is still knighted by the English King after a certain Baron Montagu puts in a good word for him. The newly knighted Harry feels somewhat embarrassed by his dream coming true since he thinks that it is undeserved. So that he quickly jumps at the chance to join the ruthless Baron Montagu’s hastily assembled warband in an undercover mission past the border with Scotland. Montagu’s target is a distant keep, where to Harry’s horror there ensues a heartless slaughter of the fastness’ starving and unarmed inhabitants, which include women and children. None are spared, save for a fierce boy, who is bound hand and foot after being dragged away from his home by Montagu’s men, before being hurled into a cage.

To his English captors, this boy is Scottish and therefore nothing short of a wild beast whose life is not worth the steam of their piss. It is only Harry (too shocked to wield his blade in the keep) who offers the rabid prisoner any kindness on the band’s return journey south. Harry feels utterly revolted by every bit of his first knightly venture yet matters further worsen when Montagu orders him to take the Scottish boy into his household and train him up to be his squire. De Lyon is reluctant to do this, yet finally relents when he is informed by the heartless Montagu that the Baron has purchased the debts burdening Harry’s estates, which in turn means that Harry will be rendered landless if he doesn’t take in his Scottish ward and secure his captivity.

Despite his initial misgivings, the recently orphaned Harry has no idea of the nightmare he is soon to suffer at the hands of the Scottish boy named Iain. Iain proves to be as easy to subdue as a wildcat being given a warm bath on a Sunday morning. For a while Sir Harry patiently takes it all on the chin, extending great kindnesses to his fellow orphan Iain. As a result, he endures all manner of threats, insults, jibes as well as wounds while desperately and hopelessly trying to turn Iain into a reliable squire. Yet it all proves in vain, with Harry finally reaching breaking point when Iain mortally injures his favourite horse and then flees Harry’s estate. The escaped Scottish boy is picked up by the local Sheriff who grievously wounds him, before a remorseful Harry steps in to take Iain back into his home. In time Harry’s renewed efforts with Iain bear fruit at the cost of an unexpected and enticing turn of events, when Harry finds himself not only a debt slave to Montagu but also Iain’s slave to love. For as they say, the human heart in conflict with itself is the only thing worth writing about.

I found ‘The Scottish Boy’ an engaging read on several levels. The characters are well-crafted to the point that they are each vivid enough to make them easily recognisable to the reader. This avoids the common pitfall of most historical novelists, who tend to bog down their narratives with a cast of thousands. De Campi is also a specialist on the particular period of history which forms the historical backdrop, so that her references to the paraphernalia, customs and calendar of the period are subtly blended into a brisk writing style in the third person present which also contains some fantastic metaphors.

Although easy to read, her writing is at times also as deep and reflective enough as required to reveal the torment endured by the novel’s protagonist who finds himself increasingly drawn into a highly dangerous relationship with a boy who poses highly dangerous political consequences. De Campi is also careful to leave enough mystery simmering throughout her tale, with the McGuffin being Iain’s true background since his French is flawless for a Scot and it slowly becomes apparent that he is no mere Scottish lordling and a whole lot more than what first met the eye. It would be remiss of me not to add that the warmth and cheer of Harry’s household is well-realised and provides a good backdrop for the grittier events which ensue when Harry and Iain venture onto the jousting grounds as well as the grim wars of the Continent.

The combat scenes throughout the book are a testament to de Campi’s deep knowledge of jousting and fighting techniques, as well as the warfare of the period. These scenes in novels often descend into sword-waving triumphs achieved through sheer will, yet de Campi keeps it all technical and plausible so that it’s pulled off really well. Probably the hardest task she set herself in this literary venture was converting Iain’s blind hatred for all things English into a raging passion for the English knight Harry. The debut author pulls it off magnificently and even makes it look easy, yet this feat requires deft, patient plotting and a deep understanding of her characters’ emotional journeys which are inch perfect and achieved spectacularly well.

What chiefly sets this novel apart from other knightly tales is a homosexual attraction that is kindled between Iain and Harry and which blossoms into a series of full-frontal and graphic sexual encounters. De Campi is uncompromising in her description of these scenes, which are akin to an unexpected burst of roaring power chords ripping through a neatly accomplished orchestral piece. It’s not necessarily everyone’s cup of tea and I learned this first hand when reading this book in serial format on The Pigeonhole, an online book club in which readers can post their comments on the right hand side of the book’s pages.

The extent of de Campi’s bravery was evidenced by the protests and expressions of outrage by a number of readers following these sex scenes. It made me feel privileged, for I felt that I was bearing witness to a historic moment in literature: the birth of a great and timeless classic which had broken literary boundaries to great public outrage, like Thomas Hardy’s ‘Jude The Obscure’ or DH Lawrence’s ‘Sons And Lovers’. Some readers on The Pigeonhole claimed that the scenes were too graphic. I’ll reserve my judgement on this, except to say that I found this reaction from readers to be both awe-inspiring and exciting, in a time in which I thought that there were no taboos left to be broken. Here is a novel which seeks to break new ground in fiction while also exploring a feature of life in martial circles that was probably a lot more common than people dare to admit, and which has largely been swept under the carpet.

So it’s a five on five rating for this daring, accomplished debut. It’s another absolute gem published by Unbound and an impressive first step into the literary world by Alex de Campi, hopefully the first of a few more to come.

Buy The Scottish Boy by Alex de Campi

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REVIEW: Orbiter by Warren Ellis

Warren Ellis is a writer that asks profound questions, and that is no different in his graphic novel Orbiter. In his acclaimed series, Transmetropolitan, he talked about the role of the media and investigative reporting. In Freakangels he talks about absolute power and in Trees he writes a story about the science fiction trope of a supergod. A supergod is a being so powerful, so complete, that humanity is but a speck of dust to them. The most clever part about all this excellent writing throughout his catalog is that Ellis tells his tales in the guise of well written graphic novel stories. His books are both deep and thoughtful and exciting but also beautiful. Orbiter is no different. It might even be Ellis’s best story thus far.

Ten years ago, Venture, a U.S. space shuttle, soared for the heavens but lasted in space only a few minutes and promptly disappeared. It left without a trace. This broke the U.S. space agency and the hearts and minds of would-be explorers the world over. Now, at present, Kennedy Space Center is a shantytown. The reader does not ever know the specifics of what happened to Venture, and why the U.S. is in such decline, so much so that people are starving and living in lean-tos. But, I could guess it has to do with the demise of NASA and of hope for the future in general. Space travel and the hope for more can be a buoying thing to society. It is the ultimate what-if. Without that, life can become long and sad and there is nothing to strive for. After a few pages describing what a shit hole life has become, the Venture comes wailing like a ball of hellfire through the air and slams into the ground liquidizing a few unfortunate souls that were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The big question is why Venture is back. But the more significant and more interesting question is, “where has the Venture gone?”

The military step in as they are want to do. “Is the Venture a threat to the U.S.?” A military commander, Colonel Bukovic of U.S. Space Command, gathers a team of scientists to investigate. The best and brightest the U.S. has to offer have been languishing in poverty and boredom due to NASA no longer existing. Bukovic, an angry military commander trope, needs the answers yesterday on what is going on with this ship. It looks like it hasn’t aged a day, it should have run out of gas years ago, and where is the crew?

We jump from an overall exposition of the state of the U.S. to a much more intimate look at the scientists as characters. Michelle Robeson, once a prominent biologist, is now trapped on the Earth and has lost her greatest love.

“been trapped on this planet since Venture disappeared. It radiates from her. This palpable feeling of something having been stolen from her.“

Terry Marx is a young and violently brilliant engineer. He comes off at first as a little hamfisted. Wrong with girls and awkward in conversation and personality. As the story is propelled forward, he, as a character, gets a lot more solid and interesting. The great mystery of it all is what drives him. He never got the opportunity to use his intelligence to reach out to the stars, that was taken from him when NASA was closed. Now with Venture back, he can flex the mind muscles that have laid dormant for so long. The final main character is Anna Bracken. Anna was a psychologist whose primary purpose was to help and study those astronauts who have returned from space flight. “To help make sense of it all.” She knows that she will never go to space, but she can experience the sense of wonder and thrill vicariously through helping ones who had. When NASA was shuttered, she lost her chance of hope and wonder. It was taken from her as it was taken from all citizens when NASA closed. Each of the three main characters represents a viewpoint. Michelle lost her ability to experience the greatness of space, and she will always yearn for it. Terry lost his chance to dive deeper, to peel back the layers of science to find what was underneath, and Anna lost her opportunity to live vicariously.

We, as a society, lost so much when NASA closed.

Now the Venture is back and full of questions.

Ellis tackles something fundamental in Orbiter, and it is this, “if you take away the greatest thing a human can yearn for, an impossible thing, what is left? How do we go on?” Space flight is, synonymous with dreaming for a lot of people. If we shutter space flight, do we take away people’s ability to dream big? Maybe. It certainly helps to know that great things are happening. Orbiter is a science fiction story that asks the essential questions, “who are we?” And, “can we be more?” Inside of the more profound questions, Ellis writes a good character study on the three types of people as well coupled with gorgeous graphics. Layers inside of layers

It is a beautiful and deep science fiction that should be read and often.

Buy Orbiter by Warren Ellis

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3 freelance editors worth every red cent

When you aren’t assigned an editor by a publishing house, parsing through and selecting the right freelance editor for you can be incredibly difficult. Some are qualified, some are not; some have swish marketing and flashy websites but aren’t great, while others have terrible looking websites (or none at all) but are worth their weight in gold; how are you supposed to tell who is going to bring your work up another level, and who is going to be a waste of money and time?

While I don’t know every editor on the planet, and I do not claim that if an editor is not on my list that they are committing some great evil stealing your money (let’s be VERY clear about that), but what I CAN do is recommend some editors based upon their work for me and work for people I know and trust (who have put out a quality work on the other end).

Mike Myers – https://www.sffeditor.com/

Mike is the copy editor at GdM. The polished quality of the stories and articles we put out is due to him, not me. He edited the Stabby Award Winning Evil is a Matter of Perspective, the cyberpunk collection Neon Leviathan, and almost every issue of Grimdark Magazine. He is a big part of the reason GdM was shortlisted for a British Fantasy Award.

One of the things I like about Mike is that, like me, he knows what he is good at. He’s not an author with an editorial side hustle–he is an editor. This is his jam. Mike has a BA in British literature from Brown University, an MA in British and American literature from California State, an MS in English language arts education from Long Island University, and an MBA from University of South Florida.

AJ Spedding – https://www.phoenixeditingandproofreading.com/

AJ is the owner of Phoenix Editing, editor-in-chief at Cohesion Press, and pitch consultant for Blur Studios. Amanda has worked on stories from Cohesion’s SNAFU series that were optioned for the Emmy award-winning animated Netflix series Love, Death & Robots, spearheaded by Tim Miller (Deadpool, Terminator: Dark Fate) and David Fincher (Mindhunter, Fight Club, Seven).

Like with Mike, AJ is highly qualified to make sure your work shines. She has a Diploma of Publishing (Professional Book Editing, Proofreading & Publishing) and a Cert. IV Editing.

Sarah Chorn – https://www.bookwormblues.net/

Sarah comes highly recommended by a range of self and traditionally published authors in the dark and grimdark SFF community. She’s worked on three books by GdM fan-favourite Michael R. Fletcher (who, having worked in both traditional and self publishing is a great litmus test for professional editors vs. freelancers), edited SPFBO finalists such as Blood of Heirs, and is a trusted member of the SFF author community.

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An Interview with Robert Jackson Bennett

We managed to grab a quick word with Robert Jackson Bennett. He is the author of the Divine Cities trilogy, The Founders trilogy, of which two books are written, Foundryside and Shorefall, as well as numerous fantasy and horror novels. He is also a two-time award winner of the Shirley Jackson Award and has been shortlisted for World Fantasy, Locus, and British Fantasy awards.

He took some time out of his busy schedule to answer some questions for us:

 

You have touched upon the question of what it means to be human in many of your books, mainly what true humanity is. Do you find that this is a concept that you gravitate towards? And, if so, why?

I would say that I find myself exploring the ways in which peoples, cultures, and civilizations find themselves in positions of power, and what influences and experiences affect how they then choose to use those powers.

A critical thing that keeps returning is the idea of entitlements, permissions, privileges, and what one deserves. I have a gut intuition that when a person comes by an advantage, either of their own doing or by something else’s, they quickly cobble together the logic to support that this wasn’t happenstance, but in fact something that they earned or that they deserve. This then gives them the right to do with it as they wish.

What I come back to a lot is wondering – why do we do this? What amplifies this impulse? Is it destructive? And, if so, what societal measures could temper it?

 

Sancia is the epitome of a strong character. My favorite quote from Foundryside is, “But the fire was you as well?” Sancia shrugged. “Shit got out of hand.” Which I think sums her up perfectly. When you first sat down to write The Founders Trilogy, did she start differently as a character? 

Sancia was all over the place when I first wrote her. Initially she loved stealing, and was something of a wilding, this mad, savage girl from the gutters who was a bit of a kleptomaniac. I quickly realized this wasn’t going to work: making it an uncontrollable impulse deprived her of choice, and it’s choice – compelling and understandable, if not necessarily sympathetic – that makes a character strong.

I realized then that Sancia was a creature whose life was formed almost wholly by survival: she was someone accustomed to thinking that every tomorrow was uncertain, and you had to fight for every one. This made her pragmatic, brutal, utilitarian – a lot of fun to write for. And indeed, she probably represents the modal form of humanity: for thousands of years, your survival was uncertain. It’s only very recently, and only for some, that that’s changed. Representing that clash of mindset – between people whose safety is guaranteed, and those for whom it’s not – quickly became an obvious and important part of Foundryside.

 

Speaking of Sancia, in one of your scenes from Foundryside, Sancia relives some traumatic memories from her past. It is evident that Sancia has a form of PTSD that she is dealing with. I thought this scene was a thoughtful depiction of a character living with mental illness. Did you research PTSD when creating Sancia’s character?

I didn’t, I’m afraid. I try to make the reality of the story conform to the characters and the plot more than our true reality, when possible. I wanted to make the other characters in the story (as well as the audience) understand the trauma and suffering that had taken place and still was taking place outside of the little bubbles of the campos. If that moment aligned with our actual reality, that’s good – but my general understanding is that PTSD is considerably more complicated than most people, and certainly most writers, would expect.

 

Scriving is one of the most interesting abilities I have read about in fantasy. It seems like it is a combination of capabilities, one that requires courage, talent, and grit. How did you come up with the scriving?

I was driving around, trying to think up a magic system and feeling somewhat irritated, because most magic systems do not feel organic. The idea of someone experimenting and, say, killing a bunch of magic animals, and then stuffing bits of them in a piece of wood, and then positioning their body in just the right way, and thinking the right thing, and saying the right mixture of Latin nonsense – that’s preposterous. No one would ever logically go about discovering that system of magic. And yet, this is what has happened in Harry Potter. (Which I know is a whimsical story, but as the plot engages more and more with the magic, one quickly realizes that if the magic’s shaky, the plot will be too.)

So I thought about that, and decided that magic is basically just a list of instructions given to reality on how it should change, and become something different. At first it was like a legal contract – but then I decided that code was much messier, and much more fun.

 

You recently released book two of The Founders Trilogy, Shorefall. How was the writing of Shorefall different from the writing of Foundryside?

Shorefall was different because it wasn’t a mystery at heart. You knew who the bad guy was, what he was doing, and largely why. This made writing it a bit trickier.

It was also hard because I could tell what I and the audience wanted the next book to be, and how the story wanted the next book to be. Because I went into it wanting to write a sort of Russian Revolutions story with magic, where the Commons would rise up against the campos, and there’d be fighting in the streets, and basically just be Les Mis but with more magic and less bread crimes.

But this wasn’t really how the series wanted to go. That’s a social revolution story – the spreading idea that the governed should have some say in how they’re governed – but Foundryside is really a story about technology, and how technology shapes our attitudes and societies. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized this needed to investigate innovation – which can be such a wonderful thing, but is often used to the worst ends.

Will innovation always trend toward serving the powerful? Is this how it’s always fated to go? I realized that this wasn’t on Sancia’s mind yet – so I had to introduce a character to pose those questions to her.

 

Last year I had the immense pleasure of reviewing an advanced copy of Vigilance. It struck me very hard, especially as it described people being regularly close to violence, and numb to it. I am a Las Vegas native and lived across the street from the Clackamas Town Center shooting. I have lived close to extreme violence twice now. Was the catalyst for writing Vigilance a single violent event, or was it the onslaught daily violence in the US. 

I was out walking, and feeling pissed off about shootings and the news several years ago, and I thought about the most lurid, exploitative plot I could imagine, a Running Man style story where mass shooters are the contestants and civilians are encouraged to be vigilant at all times to be ready for them. It was about the ugliest thing I ever thought of.

I never thought to actually write it until a friend asked for a novella. The Parkland shooting had occurred, so I figured – why the hell not. Why not get this poison out of me?

 

Stepping out of the specifics of your books for a moment, I’d like to ask you about writing in general. What is the most challenging part of your artistic process? 

Starting the book. The opening does an incredible amount of work, and all of it has to land. There can’t be any fat in it, otherwise people will get bored.

 

Are you a pantser or ploter? 

Pantser. I think of plotting as planning an educational course for a child I’ve never met. You’re saying to yourself, “By this time, I expect them to have these grades, and have these skills developed, and then they’ll be this kind of major and get this job.” And then you meet the child and realize that they’re not the perfect being you imagined, and there’s no way you can just force them through this abstract plan. You have to work with them and realize they have their own priorities and goals, and trend toward that.

 

The last question I like to ask is a fun one. The dinner party question. If you could invite three people to a party, alive, dead, or fictional, who would they be and why?

Talleyrand, Katherine Hepburn, and Dorothy Parker. That’d be a hell of a fun time.

 

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REVIEW: Foundryside by Robert Jackson Bennett

Foundryside by Robert Jackson Bennett is a story that blurs the lines between science fiction and fantasy in his steampunkesque fantasy novel.

When people think of fantasy as a genre, often, they think of high fantasy. The genre pioneered by our lord and savior, J.R.R Tolkien. But now, 60 years later, since Lord of the Rings, fantasy is a much broader and more complicated genre. Writers, instead of being pigeonholed in a particular style, now take their ideas to new levels by branching out and combining types. What was once thought of as a non-marketable story in the fantasy genre is now just another Tuesday, and we are better for it as readers.

“All things have a value. Sometimes the value is paid in coin. Other times, it is paid in time and sweat. And finally, sometimes it is paid in blood.

Humanity seems most eager to use this latter currency. And we never note how much of it we’re spending, unless it happens to be our own.” 

Foundryside is the first book of a new trilogy by author Robert Jackson Bennett, whose previous works include The Divine Cities trilogy. Reading Bennett’s stories, you get the overall feeling that the human condition and how that condition reflects on other citizens are at the forefront of his mind in his stories. Robert has taken a keen love of fantasy and an understanding of the genre and mixed it with a social conscience. Often in his writing, he asks tough philosophical questions such as: what is humanity? What is true freedom? Or, what are social classes? In Foundryside, Bennett creates a world defined by steampunkesque creations that are given life and magic by the ancient scribed sigils scrawled upon them. Sigils that can make up be down, wood believe itself to be stone, entirely changing physics and the laws of nature. With this kind of power comes inherent problems. Most of those problems come in the form of a monopoly on scrived material between ruling houses. These houses, much like gang organizations, have power over the city and its people. The poor people that work for and around them can barely feed themselves.

“Every innovation—technological, sociological, or otherwise—begins as a crusade, organizes itself into a practical business, and then, over time, degrades into common exploitation.”

Enter Sancia: protagonist, a thief who has a troubled past. She fights to eat and live like all the other poor people of the city Tevanne. Sancia takes a job to steal something incredibly valuable. The trick is, don’t look in the case.

Sancia looks in the case. Now everyone wants to kill her. Looking in the case might have been the best or worst idea she ever had. Whichever, the choice to peer inside has enormous and far-reaching effects for Sancia as a protagonist, people are dying around her, the city is quaking on its posts, and the houses have turned their steely scrived visage on this lowly thief. There are consequences for her friends and allies, and for the city of Tevanne itself. The politics shift in this story at a breakneck pace, and you never know who the good guys are. But you know one thing, you want Sancia, the underdog to win.

“I did what was necessary to gain my freedom. Wouldn’t you?”

Foundryside is a fantastic all-around novel. Complete enough to be read as a stand-alone, but as a part a trilogy, I feel that the world that Bennett has built will continue to get fuller and more interesting. The second novel Shorefall released last month, and if ratings and reviews are indicators, Shorefall is as good or better than its predecessor Foundryside, which is a tall order.

I know I am looking forward to diving into the second book as soon as possible. The world of Tevanne is a world I want to immerse my self in again and again.

Buy Foundryside by Robert Jackson Bennett

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A Post-Pandemic World: The Ultimate Cyberpunk Primer

Want to understand the surveillance-state dystopia our world has descended into? Need a primer on our cyberpunk present? Desperate to know what comes after the plague?

Well friends, you’ve come to the right place. I doubt there are many humans in the world with a Doctorate in Cyberpunk, but I am one of them. So let me put this vast reservoir of knowledge about an ever-more-relevant, and incomparably cool (neon-lit, black leather cool), subject to work, for you.

We live in a world where China has unfurled a system of high tech mass surveillance across the country. It is testing ‘social credit schemes’ that rate the social and political rectitude of citizens, and punishes them if they diverge from the party line. In the US and elsewhere, giant corporations have more power than ever before, impoverishing their workforces while the owners simultaneously become the richest people in human history. In an acutely cyberpunk moment, giant corporations like Disney and Nike promote their products as a moral imperative. Russia meanwhile prosecutes psyops against democracies through cyber warfare, using personal data harvested by western social media companies. Deepfakes, fake news, and server hacks; high-tech disinformation campaigns from a rogue mafia state led by a former KGB colonel. As we will see, Covid-19 is accelerating these and other trends, solidifying our cyberpunk present and propelling us into a dark, cynical, neon-lit future.

As Ursula Le Guin said, science fiction is not predictive, it is descriptive. That is, science fiction writers (some of us, anyway), take the DNA strands of the future we can see already in the present, and write about those. To be sure, the further we try to project forward, the more difficult the exercise becomes – but, without question, the world today, and the one we are careening into, was imagined decades ago.

In this spirit, I begin this primer with an author who was not even writing science fiction, but who nonetheless established a narrative template that formed the basis for cyberpunk.

Hardboiled Fiction – Film Noir

Dashiell Hammett: Nightmare Town (1924), Red Harvest (1929), The Maltese Falcon (1930), The Glass Key (1931).

If we take Blade Runner (1982) as the Sistine Chapel of cyberpunk – and we should – then we must acknowledge this masterpiece draws its influences heavily from the past. The hardboiled traditions embodied in the film – the cynical detective, the femme fatale, the neon-drenched city at night, the perpetual rain, moral ambiguity, corruption, and alienation – hark back to the cinema of the 1940s and the literature of the 1930s.

The literature of this era was concerned with the trauma of the modern world. Rapid urbanisation, the Great Depression, the Second World War, and the horrors of fascist Europe; these are the foundation stones of the noir cosmology. The creator of the hardboiled style – Dashiell Hammett – was a private eye before he was a writer, working for the Pinkerton Agency during a time when they were known for thuggish union-busting. He witnessed first-hand the crushing underfoot of working people at the hands of the monied elite.

It is perhaps no surprise then that Hammett’s early Novella, Nightmare Town contains a trenchant critique of capitalism. Hammett uses the rather improbable scenario of a whole town collectively willing to conspire to make prohibition-era alcohol for an East Coast crime syndicate. Worse, they lure people to town for work, kill them, and take their identities, planning to later burn down the town and claim the insurance. Aside from corruption, we see in this work the seeds of paranoia and conspiracy that are hallmarks of cyberpunk.

Watch: Miller’s Crossing (1990). Coen Brothers neo-noir using elements of Red Harvest and The Glass Key.

Read: The Maltese Falcon. Why now: First, it’s a fucking great read. Hammett is one of the most elegant and spare prose stylists around. Second, he provides us with a cyberpunk archetype: the private eye. Now it need not be specifically a private eye, but rather what this character represents: a loner who works to their own, often opaque, code; who exists somewhere between the criminal underworld and ‘civilised’ society. Third, Hammett was – according to Raymond Chandler – unique among crime writers of his time, because: “he wrote of a world in which gangsters can rule nations.” He imagined a reality where crime seamlessly pervades the body politics and defines a whole culture. Today, we live in a world where Putin rules Russia, Trump the US, and Xi Jinping China.

Proto-Cyberpunk

Philip K Dick: Minority Report (1956), We Can Remember it for you Wholesale (1966), Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep (1968), James Tiptree Junior: The Girl Who Was Plugged In (1973)

While hardboiled literature was a formative influence on both Neuromancer and Blade Runner, we must also look to some of the great science fiction writers to complete this picture. The works of Philip K Dick, insofar as they depict social decay, surveillance paranoia, and the questioning of technological progress, flow directly into cyberpunk. For James Tiptree Jr. (Alice Sheldon), she imagined a world in The Girl Who was Plugged In where celebrities are also social media influencers – glorified manikins for product placement, where the masses are manipulated and enthralled by targeted advertising, and where the Earth is stripped-mined in order to create ephemeral consumer products.

Directly, the three PKD stories were made into the cyberpunk films Minority Report, Total Recall, and Blade Runner respectively (though with Tom Cruise and a happy ending, Minority Report is borderline). Indirectly, the ideas in these stories are also influential: the relationship between technology and free will (Minority Report), between memory and identity (We Can Remember…), and the pure commodification of the android (and human) body (The Girl…). All stories are concerned with the dehumanising possibilities of technological advancement.

Read: Philip K Dick short stories. Why now: The drug-fuelled paranoia of Philip K Dick is more relevant than ever. Locked down in our homes, social media giants and governments have hit the motherload of personal data. We know that these entities, through social credit programs, or through increasingly sophisticated algorithms, try to erode free will. As a Chinese citizen, speaking of tech controls in their country was quoted as saying in a recent article in The Guardian: “I thought the days when humans are ruled by machines and algorithms won’t happen for at least another 50 years, this coronavirus epidemic has suddenly brought it on early.”

Imagine how Philip K Dick would react to a world where tech companies could predict our behaviour better than we ourselves could. Where each of us carry a tracking and monitoring device for their benefit – the smartphone – in our own pockets, and do so willingly.

Birth of the Cyberpunk Era

Ridley’s Scott’s Blade Runner (1982) and Williams Gibson’s Neuromancer (1984) are the twin foundational events of cyberpunk. Cool, cynical, dark, prescient; Blade Runner provided aesthetic template for a generation of film-makers; Neuromancer – though it came two years later – is widely considered to have initiated the cyberpunk era.

Like the private eye, Rick Deckard as a ‘blade runner’ exists somewhere between the law and the underworld. He is not a police officer, but rather a state-sanctioned hitman used to kill ‘retire’ androids. These androids (or Replicants) are a slave caste created by Tyrell, a megacorporation, for use in establishing the ‘off-world colonies’. Earth has become increasingly uninhabitable (in Do Androids Dream… the cause is ‘World War Terminus’ in Blade Runner and its sequel, environmental catastrophe is hinted at). Here I’m reminded of Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos, planning their own off-world colonies as we make the Earth uninhabitable through climate change. The rebel Replicants – led by Roy Batty, played by an incandescent Rutger Hauer – believe furiously, desperately, in their own existence, whereas to society they are seen as mere commodities. As Batty says to Deckard, after terrorising and chasing him though an abandoned building: “Quite an experience to live in fear, isn’t it? That’s what it’s like to be a slave.”

In Neuromancer, William Gibson cited hardboiled fiction as informing his vision of the mean streets of the near future. The term ‘cyberspace’ was coined by Gibson, as was his conception of ‘the matrix’. Hackers, mirrorshades, street samurai, corporate conspiracy, Japanese dystopian cityscapes, neural jacks, drug addiction, cybernetic augmentation, sentient A.I., the Russians! ooh baby, give it to me.

What both these stories did was choke off the exhilaration of futurity. That is, where much of the science fiction that had gone before saw technological progress as an intrinsic good, Neuromancer and Blade Runner saw the dark potential of such power. The heroes of this literature are not heroic explorers, or captains of industry, or presidents. The anti-heroes are the conflicted androids and private eyes that have seen the corruption of the power, and the suffering of the marginalised and dispossessed.

Watch: Blade Runner. Why now: Released in 1982, Blade Runner described a future history of urban decay, multiculturalism, corporate greed and corruption, boundless commodification and existential alienation, and was unerringly right on all counts. I hope it isn’t right about an Earth depopulated by environmental (or biological) crisis, as well.

Anime Cyberpunk

Katsuhiro Otomo: Akira (1988), Mamoru Oshii: Ghost in the Shell (1995).

East Asia was, obviously, a key aesthetic influence on both Neuromancer and Blade Runner, works that fused their near-future visions with the techno, teaming, sometimes squalid city-life of places like Hong Kong and Tokyo. But beyond this clear aesthetic connection, at the core of Japanese cyberpunk is a cultural experience unlike any other.

Japan is the only nation to have experienced the horror of nuclear war, to have suffered the fullest measure of the destructive power of modernity. The atomic bomb: the apotheosis of scientific discovery, brought about the most barbaric single moment of mass violence in human history. The devastating aftereffects – orphaned kids, radiation sickness, a loss of national independence, the destruction of nature – have been an ongoing influence on cyberpunk anime. For example, At the finale of the seminal Akira (1988) – set in a dystopian 2019 – a white incandescent blast swallows Neo-Tokyo, leaving a skeleton city in its aftermath.

Japanese cyberpunk is obsessed with the way technology transforms society and the human body, and as a means of pervasive control. Sometimes this means a tendency toward body horror – the physical invasion of the body and the mind as a metaphor for the radical changes technology can have on the nature of humanity, and of the self.

“Cyborgs are not about the future, they are about contemporary society and its current transformations,” according to SF scholar Sharalyn Orbaugh. I agree. We are all cyborgs now – whether prosthetics, organ transplants, pacemakers, digital exo-memory (smartphones); the outsourcing of brain function to the algorithmic decision making of major corporations, to choose the products we will purchase; the news articles we will read; the intimate relationships we will embark upon. Our bodies and our minds have been invaded.

What to watch: Ghost in the Shell (1995). Why now: Sexy. As. Fuck. Major Motoko, sure, but also the tech, the vistas, the haunting music – one of most aesthetically gorgeous films of all time. Work of fucking art. But there’s more to it, than this. Ghost in the Shell combines ultraviolence with deep contemplation on the nature of human identity. The questions posed by the anime are not merely philosophical, but as argued above, are pressing down on us in every aspect of our modern lives.

Modern Cyberpunk

Richard Morgan: Altered Carbon (2002), Charlie Booker: Black Mirror (2011 – 2019)

It’s worth clarifying here that The Matrix, often listed as one of the best cyberpunk films, is not part of the sub-genre. It has the veneer – even a cyberpunk fetish – but is ultimately a hero’s journey narrative, ticking every box of Joseph Campbell’s monomyth: the call to adventure, the mentor (Morpheus), the chosen one (Neo), all of it. The Matrix is about a chosen one fulfilling a prophecy. Friends: happy endings are not cyberpunk. Look at the world around us. Do you think this is going to end well? As a reviewer said about my short story collection, Neon Leviathan:

“I’m reminded of a quote from Orwell’s Animal Farm, in which the old donkey Benjamin says, “Life will go on as it has always gone on—that is, badly.” …every story seems to emulate this one Orwellian quote in one way or another. And that, I think, is the appeal of Neon Leviathan. The malleability of identity and perceived reality aside, life always goes on as best it can. It might not be glorious, it might not be happy, it might not even be what we’ve been made to believe it to be, but—in the end—humans will persevere in whatever way they can, just as they always have.”

What to read: Altered Carbon. Why now: This novel blew me away fifteen years back, when I first read it. It really captured the essence of cyberpunk, I thought, in its hardboiled style, its ultraviolence, and its social commentary. But it wasn’t a mere throwback. It was new, at the same time, showing that the sub-genre still had a lot to say, and could say it with style.

The enduring spectre of the billionaire class (Elon Musk, Twiggy Forest, Gina Rinehart, all the rest) living in gilded bunkers while arguing for a return to work, demanding an expendable worker class to sacrifice themselves on the altar of economic growth, is pure cyberpunk. Altered Carbon shows that one of the most dehumanising things of all is extreme wealth. The immortal billionaires in the novel (‘Methuselahs’) are monsters, their extraordinary privilege completely alienating them from a sense of common humanity.

What to watch: Black Mirror. Why now: The show is at its best when talking about the surveillance state – by mega corporations, by governments, and by individuals of each other – and showing the ways in which these forms of surveillance can destroy us. Its exploration of the ethics of new technologies is – usually – nuanced and intelligent, and a warning of how we may collaborate with the methods of control enabled by our gleaming new technologies.

Conclusion

The thing about the DNA strands of the future observable here in the now, is this: there’s quite a lot of them, for a multitude of different timelines. Yes, we live in a cyberpunk present, but we don’t have to continue this descent, into a future where China is the global superpower, the US has fallen apart, inequality is staggering, climate change unchecked, and the technologies of surveillance and control pervasive. I don’t write about these things in my work because I want them to happen, I write about these subjects as a warning: if we fuck this up, it’s only going to get worse. As cool as the dark, neon-drenched, ultraviolent future appears, better ones surely exist.

Don’t believe me? Then believe Richard Morgan, author of the text listed in this primer, who said:

“Haunting and iridescent – combines the paranoid weirdness of the best Philip K Dick, the chilly but cool-as-fuck future gleam of cyberpunk, and an achingly beautiful literary inflection reminiscent of mainstream heavyweights like Murakami or Ishiguro. T. R. Napper’s futures feel at once gritty and vertiginous and close-focus human in the way only the best SF can manage. Whatever roadmap he’s working from, I can’t wait to see where he’s taking us next.” 

Or Adrian Tchaikovsky (Children of Time) in the foreword to the collection:

“Each one of the stories in this volume is a carefully-crafted masterpiece that, whilst it presents a narrative of its own, is nonetheless a window into a larger world, a current of history that flows a winding path from one to another, carrying us with it.”

“Napper’s own personal history feels as though it pervades the collection. An Australian with more than a decade overseas on the sharp end of foreign aid, he’s seen a great deal of how human nature can twist under pressure, or under temptation…[his stories] have an acute sense of place, not just in a generic cyberpunk future but an Australian and Southeast Asian one that builds on tensions of race, sovereignty, class division and international relations, all currently front and centre in today’s news.”

Anna Smith Spark (The Court of Broken Knives)

“Brilliant… it’s rare for people to write well and deeply about the aftermath of violence, about its effect on the perpetrator, but Napper does this so, so well.”

Reading and watching list

Not everything on this list is cyberpunk; for your delectation I have also included some noir, neo-noir, proto-cyberpunk, and science fiction noir. The latter category has a large – but not complete – crossover with cyberpunk.

Watch: Double Indemnity (1944), The Third Man (1949), Kiss Me Deadly (1955), Yojimbo (1961), Soylent Green (1973), Chinatown (1974), Escape from New York (1981), Terminator (1984), Robocop (1987), Bubblegum Crisis (1987), Total Recall (1990), Battel Angel Alita (1993), Strange Days (1995), Gattaca (1997), Cowboy Bebop (1997-98), Memento (2000), Infernal Affairs (2002), The Proposition (2005), Looper (2012), Ex Machina (2014), The Rover (2014), Person of Interest (2011 – 2016), Upgrade (2018), Blade Runner 2049 (2017), First Reformed (2018), Mr Robot (2015 – 2019), Mr In-Between (2018 – ).

Read: James M. Cain, The Postman Always Rings Twice (1934), Graham Greene, Brighton Rock (1938), Albert Camus, The Outsider (1942), Geoffrey Homes, Build My Gallows High (1946), Alfred Bester, The Stars My Destination (1956), Charles Willeford, The Burnt Orange Heresy (1971), George V Higgins, The Digger’s Game (1973), William Gibson, Burning Chrome (1982), Rudy Rucker, Software (1982), Bruce Sterling (ed.) Mirrorshades (1986), George Alec Effinger, When Gravity Fails (1986), Pat Cadigan, Synners (1991), Neal Stephenson, Snow Crash (1992), Natsuo Kirino, Real World (2003), Peter Temple, The Broken Shore (2005), Vu Tran, Dragonfish (2005), Megan Abbott, Queenpin (2007), Michael Chabon, The Yiddish Policeman’s Union (2007), Hannu Rajaniemi, The Quantum Thief (2010), Madeline Ashby, Companytown (2016), Sam J Miller, Blackfish City (2018), T. R. Napper, Neon Leviathan (2020).

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REVIEW: The Druid by Steven A. McKay

To my mind The Druid is everything historical fiction should be and more. The reader is served with a lesser known (and therefore original and highly interesting) setting which serves as the backdrop to a desperate hunt for an abducted princess. The characters are engaging and easy to follow, with their backstories and motivations being steadily and satisfactorily revealed with each page turned.

McKay is an exciting and inspiring historical novelist and what I love about his writing is that he clearly understands the strengths and the pitfalls of the ‘historical fiction’ genre. Which makes for a highly engaging story which constantly shifts between riveting action or scenes possessed of a simmering, underlying tension. So that there’s no sagging and boring ‘history lesson’ bits and the historical detail is seamlessly melded into a plot bursting with adrenaline and suspense.

That said, it would be superficial to label this book as just another ‘boys own’ action-filled, sword-waving romp. I think that the female characters are plausible and satisfying, without the author ever resorting to any fawning ‘mansplaining’ (an approach that’s unfortunately often used by certain historical novelists to try and loop in a female readership) in the way they’re crafted. In fact, McKay doesn’t baulk from describing intimate scenes as intricately as those scenes which include a raging battle.

The novelist makes no secret of Tolkien’s influence on him as a writer and it’s a relief to finally find an author who’s confident enough to also include a song or two in his story. That said McKay’s style is unique and all his own: there are some original and humorously grim scenes like the one in which the queen of Alt Clota urges her husband King Coroticus to remove a severed Pictish head from their dining table before asking him to bring her a beer.

McKay also casts the figure of a druid in a whole new light. For his druidic protagonist Bellicus is no bumbling, asexual and feeble Getafix from the Asterix comics but a physically imposing and formidable combatant who’s wise beyond his years. Despite these impressive qualities, Bellicus is not superhuman and struggles with moments of confusion and doubt. The enemy he hunts is also not to be trifled with and this is satisfactorily set out in the narrative.

Fans of high fantasy who want to take a break from their usual genre might want to give The Druid a try, since it also contains a strong and well-crafted mystic element which borders on and at times spills over into the realm of magic.

Buy The Druid by Steven A. McKay

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REVIEW: The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires by Grady Hendrix

I received a review copy of The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires in exchange for an honest review. I would like to thank Grady Hendrix and Quirk Books.

I have had The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires on my bookshelf for a little while but I finally decided to pick it because my fellow Grimdark Magazine reviewer Elizabeth Tabler advised me that Hendrix was a great author and because of the following quotation from the author’s note which had me extremely intrigued.

“With this book, I wanted to pit a man freed from all responsibilities but his appetites against women whose lives are shaped by their endless responsibilities. I wanted to pit Dracula against my mom. As you’ll see, it’s not a fair fight.”

This story follows Patricia Campbell. She is a wife, parent and housewife extraordinaire. Her husband is a workaholic, and her two children are becoming young adults who have very different interests to keep them occupied. Patricia also looks after her mother-in-law, who lives with the family, as she is suffering from dementia. The only time that Patricia gets to escape from the neverending list of chores family life presents is when she can unwind at her book club meetings. The club is made up of a close group of friends who all enjoy reading true crime novels, chatting about their families and talking about serial killers.

One evening after the book club meeting Patricia is viciously attacked in her own garden and she doesn’t come out unscathed. It is around this time that she meets the handsome stranger James Harris. He’s good-looking, charming, and well-read and gradually becomes friends with Patricia and establishes himself as a respectable member of the Mt. Pleasant community. Patrica believes that something doesn’t quite add up when it comes to this new neighbour and when children start going missing or killing themselves in a neighbouring town, Patricia is convinced that James Harris has something to do with it. Little does she know, at first, the sort of creature that she is dealing with and how this all may have dramatic and potentially catastrophic effects on her family’s, and the entire neighbourhood’s lives.

I found The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires to be an addictive read from the very start. The novel is well-paced and I really enjoyed Hendrix’s witty and sharp writing style. It is set in a pleasantly pictured Charleston in the late ’80’s- the early ’90s. There are many moments about home and family life and drama, friends gossiping about the happenings of the neighbourhood and also characters talking about the books they are reading in preparation for, or at the book club evenings. The novel then throws up gruesome and graphic moments aplenty, that are often of a disturbing manner. These incidents are featured more frequently as the novel progresses when Patricia, and us as readers, find out more about James Harris and the part he is playing. Some of the horrendous incidents really stand out for their devious darkness. These instances were uneasy to read as all the horrors were painted crystal clear in my mind’s eye. Certain moments from The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires will stay with me for a long time, such as the scene with the rats, the creepy descriptions of what James Harris does to his victims, and also the gruesome and brutal finale.

The crafted characters were great. I adored the moments where the book club females were able to forget family woes and issues and just relax and talk about the books. The members all had different personalities and the way that I saw some of my mum in Patricia, I saw some of her friends in Patrica’s friends like Grace, Kitty, and Mrs Greene. I think this relatability to the characters made them such a joy to read about and to follow in their day-to-day problems and then the more disturbing dilemmas with James Harris. These ladies are the strongest characters in the novel, however much their husbands with their well-paid jobs and fine careers like to think otherwise, and, as Hendrix’s author’s note alluded to, James Harris never had a chance.

I had a great time reading The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires. It only took me two days to finish these 400 pages and I’ll definitely be checking out more of Hendrix’s back catalogue. This is a brilliantly crafted horror experience that should be made into a Hollywood or Netflix film as soon as possible.

8/10
Buy The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires by Grady Hendrix

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REVIEW: Mile 81 by Stephen King

Curiosity kills the cat. In this case, curiosity kills human beings. Mile 81, one of Stephen King’s short stories, is brutal. They are all brutal because he is King. Brutality and horror are his bread and butter, but dammit, this one was vicious. Setting the scene, we have an unassuming rest stop, one that could be on any major highway through the United States. It is a place where people in motor homes stop to stretch their legs, or young teenagers go to get into trouble, drink beer, and have sex. It is a place that has an eerie and almost sinister quality to it just from the number of souls that pass through it every day.

Pete Simmons, a typical younger brother, is out alone mucking around. His older brother wanted nothing to do with him today and sent Pete off to play and entertain himself. Pete, as younger brothers do, found himself at the old mile 81 rest stop. Walking around, he finds nude magazines, filth, and broken bottles. He also finds a bottle of vodka, Being the young and stupid kid he is. We have all been there; he drinks until he passes out.

While he is passed out, a mud-covered station wagon pulls into the parking lot. It ignores the posted signs of “Closed, no service,” and rests there. It squats in the parking lot like a mud-covered toad. What the characters of the story don’t know is that this squatting toad of a car is so much more than it looks. Much like an angler fish, the mud-covered station wagon juts both of its doors open and awaits its prey: the curious onlooker or the kind bystander.

The story progresses with a helpful person after a helpful person meeting an unlikely demise.

This is a novelette, so there is not very much character development. What we do have is a crazy and unlikely story about a scary situation. I loved it. Mile 81 is a story that taps into a purely horror-filled moment written as only King can write it.

Buy Mile 81 by Stephen King

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Can Magic be Science by another name?

The fantasy of my reading youth all fell into the category we would now call ‘soft magic’. It had no rules and no structure beyond the occasional dusty tome or wizarding school. If someone had asked me to explain the magic systems of Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings or The Belgariad by David Eddings, I couldn’t have done more than point to the places in the narrative where magic existed. I could see it, I knew it was there, I just couldn’t explain it.

This reinforced a childhood full of the unexplained; wonderous magic that lives in fairytales, where some animals can talk and others can’t, houses made of gingerbread somehow survive the weather and a witch seems capable of doing whatever they like so long as it is required by the narrative.

It meant I grew up thinking magic = the unexplainable. That in order for it to be magic, it had to have no rules.

So when I first tried to explain my fantasy world to someone back in the mid-2000s, I told them it had no magic.

Them: “Then how is it fantasy?”

Me: “It’s not set in this world.”

Them: “Wait, do you mean you’ve written historical fiction?”

Me: *increasingly sweaty and panicking that I’d wasted a lot of time* “No! At least, I don’t think I’ve ever read about someone in history who could speed up time or reanimate the dead. I think I’d remember that.”

Them: “…That’s magic.”

Me: “No, it’s a malfunctioning reincarnation system unlocking disused areas of the brain. Although they don’t know that by this time in history because their soul science isn’t advanced enough.”

Them: “…”

It wasn’t the light bulb moment it ought to have been however, as it took many years before I could confidently use the word ‘magic’ to talk about my world. Because like Arthur C Clarke said: “Magic’s just science that we don’t understand yet.”

One day, when I write about the future of this world, it won’t be considered magic anymore.

So what is Soul Science?

A relative of mine once spent a considerable chunk of time talking about being regressed through past lives and how each one had left a lasting effect on her soul. The concept had never come my way before, and though I struggled to believe it as fact in the real world, I started to extrapolate what it might mean were it true.

What if every soul was reincarnated a certain number of times before taking knowledge back to a creator? They might not have memories, but would they gather wisdom? And what would happen if something went wrong a soul came back too many times?

And so I built the magic system I never knew I had.

In my world, reincarnation is the basis of life. Every soul is reincarnated seven times, learning along the way such that a ‘one’ is simple and a ‘seven’ is the sort of person you would describe as an old soul. For the most part the reincarnation occurs without issue, but as with all systems there are anomalies, and these anomalies are the source of the magic.

The over-reincarnation of everyday souls unlocks psionic abilities. They become increasingly rare and increasingly powerful as reincarnations range from eight times up to fourteen, from Prescients (eights), to Empaths (nines) and Timeburners (twelves)

Sometimes a single soul is born into two bodies, or two souls are born into one body. The latter is called a Deathwalker, and it’s one of these you’ll find in the pages of my most recent book, We Ride the Storm.

Cassandra is a Deathwalker. She is one of two souls trapped within the same body. For a long time she thought the other soul just an annoying voice in her head she could not escape, because as the dominant personality she never gave it space to flourish.

The reason for the name is that a soul is needed for a body to function, and having a ‘spare’ inside her, dead bodies call to her like empty vessels. Empty vessels that can be temporarily filled.

The following excerpt is from the first time they consciously choose to use this ability in combat:

Let me out!

I dropped beneath a blind thrust and caught one of the remaining two guards a jab in the crotch. He joined the young man howling on the stones as the fifth and final man edged toward the door. There a pause for breath, a single moment of peace within a battle, and without dragging my gaze from my assailants, I gripped the commander’s dead hand. The call of death ceased as She bled out through my skin.

The commander groaned.

“Being dead feels worse than being fucked by fat merchants,” he said and even the young man bleeding out upon the floor grew whiter still, his mouth twisting in horror. With a scrape of buckles and boots the commander rose to his feet and every surviving soldier stared at him over my head.

“You’re all staring at me,” he said, the note of amusement hard to ignore. “Haven’t you ever seen a dead man walking before?”

She walked the man’s body forward, and when its silk surcoat brushed my arm I shivered. The man had been dead and now he walked again. Talked again, the voice the same just not the soul.

I glanced at his profile, at his unchanged features and the open wound in his neck, and a pair of all too knowing eyes stared back. Then She moved on toward the centre of the room. No weapon. Just a far too confident swagger. She was as bad as the young guard, all big dreams and no experience.

“Get down, you idiot!” I said. “You’re not even armed.”

She didn’t turn, but with the commander’s hand she drew the commander’s sword, the sort of thing the real man would never have been stupid enough to do. The threat of a blade, however ill held, spurred the remaining guards to movement. One of them made for the door in a panic only to trip over my foot and tumble headfirst into a welcoming blade. The other launched himself at his former commander and buried his dagger up to the hilt in the dead man’s eye. She grunted, more with annoyance than anything, and pushed him away, the awkward move managing to slice the man’s groin.

As his comrade landed on the stones beside him, the youngest soldier shouted for help. I snatched the sword from Her hand and plunged it into his throat, ending his shout in a gurgle of air and blood and a final hiss of death.

“What are you?” the last guard said, gripping the gushing wound in his groin. “I saw you die.”

She pulled the dagger from her own dead eye with a grunt as running feet came along the passage. Two, maybe three men. I growled. “Kill this one. I’ll get these.”

“No.” The commander’s hand wrested the sword from mine and I let it, the touch of the still warm but all too dead flesh making me shiver again. “I’ll do it.”

No time to argue. She strode out wearing her commander-skin and the footsteps halted in the passage. Alone in the sudden silence of the room, the dying guard and I sucked simultaneous breaths and let them go. “What is he?” he repeated. “What are you?”

“Monsters,” I said, hefting a dagger that seemed suddenly heavy in my hand. “I’m sorry.”

“But you’re—”

I slit his throat and the words ended in blood pouring over my hand.

Voices sounded outside. A soldier walked in, followed by a second. They both halted on the threshold, taking the scene in at a soldier’s speed. Before the second could move, a blade appeared through his chest. The other almost got me before I got him, and his corpse joined the others in a mess of blood and flesh upon the floor.

A sob welled up from the depths of my soul.

“Cassandra Marius crying?” the commander jeered, though I knew they were not his words. He was long gone now, never to return.

“Fuck you,” I said. “That was messy and hideous and we’re running out of time. And that last one nearly got me. Was that the plan? Get me killed so we both have dead bodies?”

“No, you were meant to be ready to get him as he came in.”

“Oh yes? Where was that in the plan?”

“I told you when I went out.”

I glared at the widening eye before me, some sort of realisation dawning behind it and its gouged-out brother. “Fuck,” She said. “You can’t hear me if I don’t speak out loud when I’m out here.”

“Yeah, I thought that was kind of obvious.”

Blood oozed from her glaring eye socket. “I’m not exactly used to this, all right?”

“Just like you’re not used to using a weapon. Swords are for big open areas, not confined little rooms, all right? And even so you’re better off keeping to fists and daggers and dirty tricks.” I looked around at the dead bodies. “We need to get out of here before more come. We can pretend like you’re marching me out. Just… wrap something around your eye. We have to move.”

Find out if Magic can be Science in We Ride the Storm by Devin Madson

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