'Nathan Burgoine's Blog, page 33

Short Stories 366:265 — “Vadija,” by Catherine Lundoff

[image error]It’s sad to be at the end of Out of this World: Queer Speculative Fiction Stories, because it’s been such a wonderful companion and a highlight of my reading this year. But, as they say, “all good things…” And the collection ends with such a unique story, and with such a brilliant emotional tone for a final tale in a collection, so I had to know where it had come from. I asked Lundoff, and charmingly, this was the response:

I don’t really remember what inspired this one. I think I was reading some of Ursula Le Guin’s essays about fantasy and thinking about secondary characters and how few fantasy stories are about joy and looking for it, so this was the result.

From anyone else, “I don’t really remember” might have made me blink in incredulity, but it’s such a perfect comment on the story that I can’t help but forgive. Because, as Lundoff says, it’s about looking for joy, and the way it’s handled is just so very deft. We meet a woman who hears laughter on the wind and is changed. She begins to travel, spreading stories and joys of her own, using words she uncovers in the wind and in stories, and the reader gets the sense that she’s expanding the range of lore and joy as well as her own uplifted spirit, and it’s magical in this uniquely gentle, linguistic way. When she comes face-to-face with a place that is said to be cursed to know no joys, no words, and no laughter?

She tries anyway.

What follows is someone who carries joy via language and laughter and storytelling entering a place where those powers are actively diminished. She tries valiantly, but she can’t quite do it alone. Luckily, she doesn’t have to, and ultimately, despite this being a place cursed to not have those wonderful things she offers, it’s also not completely immune in all ways, and the story ends with this hopeful note about trying, about sharing stories and laughter and language, and at the end of a collection that did just that?

Well. It’s perfect, really.

Short Stories 366:264 — “My Brother’s Keeper,” by Greg Herren

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The next instalment in Survivor’s Guilt and Other Stories, from Greg Herren, is a Chanse MacLeod short story and I am here for it. Most centrally, I am here for the set-up, which is Chanse going back home to Nowhere, Flyover (sorry, Cottonwood Wells). As a fellow “get me the hell out of here” queer fellow, I love stories where characters who’ve left and thrived (or even just survived) return to those awful places, especially if I know I’m in the hands of an author like Herren, who is absolutely not going to drop a truckload of “and then they all reconciled, because people can change” crap on me.

Instead, Chanse is here because his brother is in jail for murdering someone and he’s got just enough of a spark of familial care left to kinda-sorta check in on Bobby. He’s not going to do much else—Bobby isn’t exactly a fine, upstanding fellow—but Chanse doesn’t think even his brother would murder someone, so it’s worth the visit. And it doesn’t take him long to feel even more off about it, especially since his brother more-or-less confesses. If there’s one thing Chanse knows, it’s that his brother never owned up to anything.

It’s a great framework for the story, and I think one of the things I love the most about the Chanse stories is how much of his detective work comes from just getting people, and especially their lesser/baser/worse instincts. This is not a man prone to optimism, by any stretch, and more, I really enjoyed the cynical (and, hey, realistic) take on “going back to the hometown” like I mentioned earlier. Chanse stays exactly as long as it takes to figure out the truth, and then he’s fucking out of there. Yes. All the yes.

Short Stories 366:263 — “End of Days,” by Tanya Huff

[image error]Ohmigosh, how I love Tanya Huff. I was lucky enough to meet her years ago during my bookstore days, and to this day I credit her (alongside Charles de Lint) in me not giving up on urban fantasy completely. That’s neither here nor there, but I thought I’d admit my bias going in, because “End of Days” is one of my favourite stories from The Clan Chronicles: Tales from Plexis and the reasons for it being so are similar to my reasons for adoring Huff in general: the characters are written so damn brilliantly, wittily, and snarkily enjoyable.

We meet Elaine Hutton at the end of her time with Plexis security. That’s right, we’re starting a story with someone who wears a badge (sort of) and is close to retirement, and she’s been tasked with training a new (young) recruit over her last case before she leaves. Admit it, you’re already worried she’s going to die in a blaze of glory to save (and inspire) the inept kid, right? Right? Well, worry not, because Tanya Huff skates all around those tropes without landing on any of them, and instead twists them just-so into something fresh and enjoyable (but snarky and grumpy and witty and ohmigosh I love these characters).

The particular facet of Hutton that’s unique to her in specific is a sad truth of life on Plexis: she’s the only officer anyone’s heard of who doesn’t take bribes of any kind. That makes her unique, and uniquely qualified to take the new kid under her wing, and also qualified to butt heads with some truly disagreeable people who usually bribe their way out of trouble. Ultimately, the end of this one had me chuckling and laughing as I expected it to, but also a wee bit sentimental in the final moments. It’s a great story, but then, how could I have expected anything less?

Short Stories 366:262 — “Noctune,” by E.L. Chen

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Okay, so I’m not going to confess how long I’ve had this anthology sitting on my e-reader, but I am going to say I’m so glad I remembered it was there and popped it onto the pile for this short story project because (a) Canadian and (b) Superheroes (or villains). Masked Mosaic: Canadian Super Stories starts with this story, a Toronto superhero “origin” tale of sorts, where Dough—quintessential Canuck name—a kind of nobody/no-one who makes coffee at the local Starbucks starts to realize he’s… not kind of a nobody/no-one.

See, he’s dreaming, and when he dreams, he’s fighting crime in the same grey hoodie he’s falling asleep on his balcony in. And at first, that’s just a dream, right? I mean, coincidences happen? But as he starts to realize he knows as much about the crimes the superhero is stopping as the superhero would, it gets more confusing. Also, his girlfriend is maybe cheating on him and he’s definitely depressed and maybe this is in his head?

This one needs content warnings for suicidal ideation and depression, but as an opening story for the collection it begins with just enough of the two themes (Canada and superpowers) to make it clear what you’re in for. I also loved the various descriptions of Toronto that weren’t the usual rose-tinted shades version of “the centre of the universe” but something a bit closer to the lived reality. I enjoyed this, and settled in for the rest of the anthology.

Short Stories 366:261 — “Waugh,” by Bryan Washington

[image error]Oof, this story. Okay, we meet Poke, a young sex-worker who is brought into a home by Rod (another sex-worker) where a group of men live and work together under Rod’s rules as a kind of family/protective unit, and for a while, things are—if not good—stable, and much safer than they could have been otherwise. Poke reads as someone who teetered on the edge of destruction, but was pulled back from the edge at the last moment by this Rod, who lands somewhere in the zone of protector and aggressor both. One of Rod’s steadfast rules is the boys who live there must remain HIV-negative, and in this lies the conflict of the tale, as Rod admits to Poke that he himself has tested positive, and then asks Poke to keep it quiet.

Poke’s journey thereafter is one of boundaries and balances, and a slow, hesitant relationship he’s forming with a client. He all but moves out from Rod’s house, but when the others learn the truth of Rod’s status, is drawn partially back in to try and offer something back to Rod. The web of hypocrisy, compassion, wilfulness, and anger that forms as Poke tries to find a singular solution among temporary options is heartbreaking. There was never a moment where I felt any sense of hope for anyone but Poke—and even then, a hesitant hope that I didn’t count on—but even feeling that way didn’t prepare me for the turns the story took.

Ultimately, I think “Waugh” succeeds by virtue of those impossible problems and lack of solutions. The literal losses (of people, of choices, of options) felt very much like the only the way story could have ended, which is always a craft point I admire in a tale. But at the same time, that inevitability in the face of Poke’s own, hesitant hope? It felt all the more cruel, but certainly no less real. As the penultimate story of Lot: Stories, it felt perfectly placed as a reminder to the reader of the time, the place, the people, and the realities faced.

Short Stories 366:260 — “Birth,” by Gil Cuadros

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When I was younger and first coming out, I remember finding Gil Cuadros’ poetry somewhere and an interview where he said writing extended his life post-HIV/AIDS diagnosis. “Birth” feels like a short story drawn from the same vein, a kind of reversal, perhaps. Found in His 2, this is one of those times where I’m struggling to write a review mostly out of a fear of not being able to do the piece justice on any level, but I can’t tell you how incredible this is without trying, so here we go.

The first person narrator speaks of a fetus, a creature he has already named, one he is determined to live long enough to birth, and throughout the telling, it is everyone around him speaking at odds with this goal. He and his lover talk about what kinds of parents they might be—judging themselves harshly—and all the while there is this growth, this sense of coming about this creature. The imagery of this fetus and growth and birth is sometimes parasitic, sometimes a bequeathment, but always incredible and so freaking moving.

Ultimately, this incredibly short piece (three pages?) is so full of a raw and yearning urge to do well by this child that the narrator’s choice becomes clear, and it’s at that point I caught myself on the edge of tears. I often talk a lot about how important it is to have stories of triumph and happiness and I will never change my mind, but I think there is also a triumph in remembrance, and especially so in the case of people like Gil Cuadros. He wrote so vividly, so brilliantly, that every time I find another piece by him, I feel the loss of such an amazing gay Chicano voice with a kind of immediacy entirely evoked by his words.

Short Stories 366:259 — “The Pick-Me-Up,” by Suleikha Snyder

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I adore a good meet-cute, to the point where it’s honestly my favourite part of most rom-coms, romances, and erotica pieces, and “The Pick-Me-Up” is a great example of just such a meet-cute. Found in Prem Numbers, Suleikha Snyder’s wonderful collection, “The Pick-Me-Up” starts us off in a woman’s local bar, where she often comes after crushing days of work for exactly that: a little bit of recovery before heading home. There are familiar voices, familiar shows on the television, and if she’s generally tucked herself into a seat and not really taken part so much as people-watched? That’s fair, and it’s still as restorative.

Until tonight, when she’s really down, and there’s a pair of men who often joke and snark at each other, one of whom is a lean ginger with an Irish brogue and a tendency to zingers. Out of nowhere, she hits a tipping point and zings right back at something he says to his mate, and before long, they’re sparring. And not long after that, they’re trying to make a casual show of leaving the bar a few minutes apart. She’s pretty sure no one will buy it.

But Aleja just feels something about this guy, and tonight she’s giving in to it. What follows is a super-sizzly erotic interlude (something I’m learning Snyder really excels at), with just enough of a promise to nudge this piece from a one-night-stand erotica to a maybe-sorta romance (or start of one) in all the best ways. I love Aleja’s shift into snark, her rising to Conn’s bait when he ups the anté, and the pillow-revelations were also wonderfully on-point to shift Aleja’s notions of Conn. All in all, this was exactly what it says on the tin, a Pick-Me-Up.

Short Stories 366:258 — “A Day at the Inn, a Night at the Palace,” by Catherine Lundoff

[image error]This is yet another case of Lundoff’s writing where I would cheerfully read the novel series spun out from the characters, world-building, and events in the story. “A Day at the Inn, a Night at the Palace” is a sword-and-sorcery fantasy setting, with a man and woman, cousins, who are blades-for-hire. She has a reputation of being above-and-beyond skilled, and he has a dash of magic, which is probably why they’re approached by a princess who’d very much like to have her heir-to-the-throne older brother not be alive by the time her father passes. They’re not assassins, though, so they turn that down (even though said prince is going to be a total disaster for the kingdom, and the princess would likely do way better). Then they hit an inn, and carouse and have a good night.

When they wake up, however, the princess is right there in the room with the swordswoman, and that would be confusing enough were the princess also not absolutely insistent that she’s not the princess, she’s the cousin, and something magical and body-swapping has obviously occurred here. It doesn’t take them long to realize the princess might be “borrowing” her cousin’s body to frame him for the murder of the prince, and they find themselves needed to spring into action to try and get the right body back, to make sure they’re not framed for murder in the process, and to survive the princess’s magic-flinging friend, who could just as easily transform them into horse urine as fix all these issues. It’s a lot.

The adventure has a few grant twists and turns in Lundoff’s hands, and the ongoing plots also dovetail nicely with the swordswoman’s thoughts about her own desires, how her freedoms have come from skills, not birth, and how un-free so many others are. The adventure takes the main stage, but it’s her mind that really sucked me into the tale, as I just wanted to stick around with her, especially after the conclusion, to see what came next. But that is, as I’ve said, one of the wonderful draws of Out of this World: Queer Speculative Fiction Stories—wanting more.

I asked Lundoff about where this story came from, and here’s what she had to say:

Sometimes, you just gotta write that body swap story that’s kicking around in the back of your head, and you have to make it queer sword and sorcery for reasons…

Short Stories 366:257 — “The Weight of a Feather,” by Greg Herren

[image error]Oh wow, I really liked this one. Found in Survivor’s Guilt and Other Stories, Greg Herren’s collection of short mysteries and thrillers, this one stands out by virtue of its setting: the Hoover-era, where the FBI are corrupt and everyone is looking for spies, and those of us of a queer nature are in serious danger. We meet a man who works a paper-pushing DC job, a lacklustre if solid career in politics, as he meets with an FBI agent who is blackmailing him over compromising photographs of him and another man. He confirms the photos are all there, that the negatives are, too, and then… shoots the FBI agent dead.

What follows is a pattern I love in Herren’s short fiction, where you find yourself rooting for the killer (I mean, in this case, it’s even easier to do so, given the blackmail and the reason behind the blackmail), and flinch with every imagined hand grabbing their shoulder from behind. We learn about the man’s lover—a Russian ballet dancer who defected—and his family life—an unfulfilling closeted existence with a wife and children—and we learn about everything he’s risking in an attempt to bid for his freedom. He’s walking his way to his lover, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, trying to dispose of the weapon, trying, trying, trying. And the reader is right there with him, wondering if he’ll succeed.

But, again, Herren drops a twist near the end, and oh, this one had me wincing and hissing on behalf of the fellow. There are no winners in this one, but at the same time, the way he handles what he can handle? It’s fulfilling and definitely darkly satisfying at the same time. It’s not a happy ending by any means, but by the time we’ve seen the fallout of this man’s choices? I don’t blame him a bit.

Short Stories 366:256 — “The Restaurant Trade,” by Chris Butler

[image error]Okay, one of my favourite locations in Plexis, the interplanetary floating trading post of Julie Czerneda’s The Clan Chronicles: Tales from Plexis, is definitely ‘Claws & Jaws,’ the interspecies restaurant. And one of my favourite characters in said restaurant is the owner, Huido, the giant, kind-of-crustacean-like alien who could smash anyone with a swipe, and is often quite grumpy, but cares more about the food and the clients than anything else. He’s often connected with some shady people, but not in a terrible way so much as a cost of doing business on Plexis, and that’s where “The Restaurant Trade” comes steps up.

We start with a human dropping by and casually telling Huido he has a recipe that Huido has openly admitted he’d “give his claw” for. The price is too high, of course, and Huido leaves it at that. Until the human is assaulted, Huido becomes a suspect, and it’s time to delve into the mystery of who’d assault a man for recipe data, and how Huido can clear his name (and, okay, maybe also end up with the recipe?) It’s almost a caper-style story, with a few twists, some alien races, a flim-flam or two, and then, ultimately, a witty little turnaround at the end that puts everything to rights—or at least, to rights for Huido.

Like almost all the stories in the anthology, Butler’s “The Restaurant Trade” would fly solo, and can easily be enjoyed by anyone who hasn’t read the Trade Pact books from Czerneda, but as it’s a shared world and the Trade Pact books are so good, it’d be a shame. Still, if you’re looking for an anthology with some fun, some dark, some action, and some feeling, at one point or another in the book, this one does them all.