'Nathan Burgoine's Blog, page 35

Short Stories 366:245 — “Night Moves,” by Ross Showalter

I don’t know how often I randomly bump into stories—it’s often, but hard to quantify—but I do know how rare it is to bump into those stories and have everything else grind to a complete halt. I read the first few lines, and then dropped everything else I was doing so I could finish it immediately. There’s a lot going on in “Night Moves,” but at the core it’s a relationship piece, a story of a connection between two gay men who’ve got the sex thing figured out, but the rest not so much. The spark, connection, and struggle of a relationship between a hearing man and a deaf man, starting in a place where you know it has gone wrong, and then putting the reader back at the start and charting the way forward.

The descriptive texts of ASL signs between the breaks in the story are just air-kiss perfection, setting a tone via one word alongside evocative motion and each one felt like a shiver up the spine. Here’s the next crack, here’s the crumble… It’s a brilliant transitional tool, and I loved it. More, there’s a sly aside to them given the main character is attempting to learn ASL—but failing to communicate with his deaf lover—that adds all the more impact.

All that to say, you should go read this (it’s available at the link above). It’s sexy, it’s intelligent, and it’s so freaking immersive. And while it’s definitely not a pick-me-up, it’s the kind of story that stayed with me for weeks after, just hovering in the back of my mind, and ultimately I can’t think of higher praise, really. It absolutely sent me looking for more of Ross Showalter‘s tales, and I can’t wait to dive into them.

Short Stories 366:244 — “Beauty,” by Catherine Lundoff

[image error]Okay, if there’s any single thing I can say about Catherine Lundoff’s collection Out of This World: Queer Speculative Fiction Stories, it’s this: the stories go in so many different directions, both narratively and within the larger descriptor of ‘speculative fiction,’ but they always do it in a very queer way and a very clever way. “Beauty” is a perfect example of this, a story that could have been, on the surface, a simpler fantasy setting with a simpler story about a potential arranged marriage between two families in neighbouring kingdoms, and an attraction on the part of the youngest brother and the suitor who has come to claim his eldest sister as a bride.

Instead? Instead we get deep world-building about previous kingdoms which have fallen, a hidden heir to the throne of said kingdom, mystical powers and an entire empire of vampires, familial betrayals and attempted murders, and a bloody coup. Oh, and some damned sexy erotic components, too, full of peril and sensual enticements from dark creatures who could end the princeling in question if they give into their lusts too much. The shifts in this story come in regular beats, nudging the story through layers of greater tension and higher stakes bit by bit, and the payoff is wonderful.

I’ve said this more than a few times in this collection already, but I’d happily revisit this world, and I’d definitely like to learn what happened after the (albeit very hot) semi-ambiguousness of part of the ending. And, as I was lucky enough to touch base with Lundoff before I got into this collection, I got to ask her where the stories came from, and this was the answer for “Beauty.”:

This is a different version of a story that I originally wrote for a yaoi novella anthology. I had fun playing with vampires and yaoi for this one!

(Well hey, look at that, I’m 2/3 of the way through the year! This project, reviewing a short story or novella or novelette every day for a year has been a great ride thus far, but I have to admit the goal of reducing my already high piles of anthologies and collections was totally not achieved. If anything, I’ve bought more collections and anthologies, but is anyone really surprised?)

 

 

Short Stories 366:243 — “Annunciation Shotgun,” by Greg Herren

[image error]Okay, I’m not sure I should admit this, but in this story from Survivor’s Guilt and Other Stories, there’s a moment when a body hits the ground, and… well. I laughed! I seriously guffawed, enough that my husband asked me what was going on. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Like many of the stories in the collection, “Annunciation Shotgun” centres a writer, a man who writes mysteries and is three days away from a deadline. He owns a double-shotgun house, and rents half to a man he describes as a chaos magnet, and said man lives up to the name almost immediately, because he asks the writer over in a panic and it’s because there’s a dead body.

What follows is a back-and-forth between the clueless chaos renter and the writer about the realities of getting rid of a body, and getting away with murder. That it’s self-defence, and that the writer knows full well the body on the ground belongs to the boyfriend of the renter, a man who was emotionally abusive at least, and apparently tipped over into physical assault, which led to his accidental death and the whole conundrum they’re now faced with. The writer’s evening of pot, television, and red wine is definitely off the menu, and instead he’s calling on everything he knows ends up getting people caught.

If there’s one thing you can count on from the tales in this collection, however, it’s a twist or two, and this one comes mid-way through the plan the writer comes up with (and involves a dropped body), and honestly, the shift in tone and tension that follows is just so very Herren that I was completely unprepared for the sudden moment that ended the story and… well. Like I said. Guffaws. It was a perfect pull-the-rug-from-under-the-reader’s-expectations moment, and I really appreciated it.

Short Stories 366:242 — “The Locksmith’s Dilemma,” by Rhondi Salsitz

[image error]Okay, this next tale from The Clan Chronicles: Tales from Plexis could have been written directly for me, frankly. Rhondi Salsitz pens a tale around a trio of characters: one is an investigator for the station, the next is a Bhest, a very recalcitrant alien species who is a master of opening things (be it locks, puzzles, or cyphers), and the last is a sentient mechanical/technological being capable of interfacing with the locksmith. The investigator is asked to do a “Wellness Check” on the locksmith by his family back on his home planet, who wish him to return (theirs is an endangered species). The locksmith is opening some likely stolen objects for some not-so-legal customers for credits he sorely needs. The being is helping him, unaware that the credits are to maintain her independence.

The three characters collide in a unique place-and-time situation, and the weaving of the locksmith and the sentient technological creature is so wonderfully found-family/we’ve-got-each-other that I was instantly on board, as this sort of thing is like cake for me. More, partnered up with the “resisting family request because he’d rather be doing what he loves” and you’ve basically poured me a cup of tea to go with that cake, so I’m down. I wanted nothing but the best for the, uh, Bhest, and as danger lurks and things got out of control, I was genuinely worried for the guy.

Ultimately, like many of the stories in this anthology, things absolutely don’t go to plan, but there’s a layer of kindness revealed in the investigator, and while things might be bleak in the immediate moment for the Bhest and his companion, I was definitely left with the sense that the Bhest had the key to unlocking his way out of the situation, and that in time, for sure, things would be about as well as they could be. His odd partnership with a strange being is worth what he’s going to have to do, and so it will be done.

Short Stories 366:241 — “Reyna,” by David Dean

[image error]This latest jaunt into Crime Travel, a collection where crime stories feature time travel, has a fascinating premise for the time travel itself: a girl realizes she can sort of pull herself out of herself and float around the house, seeing things she couldn’t possibly see, and over time realizes her abilities go further than that, to sharing the point of view of a nearby cardinal, and to, eventually, diving into the past and taking over her own body with the knowledge of what’s to come.

I feel like I need to put a content warning on this one, in that it takes the “disability superpower” trope approach as well: Reyna gains the ability after an accident she doesn’t entirely recall, which has since left her using a wheelchair. The wheelchair is also a monolith in the story that Reyna has a very negative association with, which… well. Given the somewhat recency of her accident, I can see it, but at the same time, I struggle with mobility devices presented as limitations rather than accessibility. She also feels wholeheartedly like she is a burden to her family, but again, Reyna is a child and this is somewhat recent, so. Consider yourself forewarned, the story also falls under “magical cure” as a whole, so I’m not sure I’d suggest disabled readers give this one a go.

The crime comes into play when Reyna decides to revisit the time of her accident to prevent it, and learns her collision-induced amnesia over what happened covers something far, far worse than she knew. The end result involves her not only trying to stop her own accident, but also to attempt to deliver some justice—or at least prevent future harm. This shift in narrative from her attempt to stop something from happening to her to instead stop potentially awful things that have happened since was a nice touch.

Short Stories 366:240 — “Navigation,” by Bryan Washington

[image error]We’re back with the unnamed character we revisit in Lot: Stories with “Navigation,” and this story is like a short, sharp, shock to the system. In the last tale with him, what’s left of his family has fractured down to his mother and himself, with occasional visits from his sister, and now the restaurant is sold they’ve lost the last tenuous grip on the physical remnants of the father who is who-knows-where. The man is now working whatever jobs he can find, but has also met someone (the whiteboy) who wants to learn Spanish so he can work with undocumented and help them. It’s clear the whiteboy doesn’t have a knack for languages, and after lessons they always end up in bed, but the arrangement works, on a temporary, fragile level at least.

The story of the language instruction (and the relationship) parallels with the man’s cleaning job at a restaurant where it’s clear he knows more about the kitchen than the cooks. It’s clear he’d be the better chef. It’s clear he’d be the better translator. But it doesn’t matter, it isn’t going to change, and so he cleans, and teaches, and goes to bed, and the tension wraps a little higher, line by line.

Ultimately, the like many of Washington’s stories, the last lines are an abrupt (but perfect) edge. Razor-sharp, the last moments are a one-two cut, first as the story around the whiteboy comes to its end, and then as the final scene plays out in the restaurant and someone finally offers the man a better position, but only because it’s been revealed the others were stealing. And the man’s reaction felt like triumph, regardless of the realities of what it likely meant thereafter.

Short Stories 366:239 — “Yellowtail,” by Viet Dinh

[image error]When I started this Short Stories 366 project, one of the mail goals was to get through all the dozens of anthologies I’ve had sitting on my shelves either partially unread or never cracked, and while I’ve perhaps accomplished this in part, I’ve also bought so many new anthologies and collections that it’s likely I wiped out any gain. I don’t regret that, but during a bit of nice weather I took His 2 outside with me and started reading and it was very much like time travel. The book was released in the late 90’s, and the tone of the book very much aligns with that time. That’s not a complaint, and Viet Dinh’s “Yellowtail” is a wonderful piece took me out of that sunshine and warm breeze and knocked me back in time and to another place for the duration.

We meet Giang while he’s working at a Japanese sushi restaurant, and everyone but the other employees (who are Japanese) assumes he is, too, though he’s Vietnamese. It’s just the start of the ‘outsider’ vibe, which bubbles and simmers its way to a violent moment before shifting in tone to something more hopeful and possible near the end. We watch him struggle to maintain his role in clothing that literally itches—I loved this part of the narrative, the struggle to be comfortable in the wrong outfit being such a perfect metaphor for not being out in a given place—and his little acts of rebellion and kindness while he prepares sushi are borderline cunning, especially balanced as they are between a somewhat hostile work environment, a hopeful (and handsome) repeat customer, and a loud couple rubbing everyone the wrong way.

Viet Dinh’s tale is, ultimately, a hopeful one, so despite the journey and the dark turns—and there are multiple dark turns—I put the story down feeling the possibility of it all, rather than depressed or defeated. If anything, the pacing, the events, and the Giang’s confessions about former lovers, his family, and his work felt empowering and strong. It reminded me so very much of the 90’s, of that sense of isolation, of watching so many people fall, but also of what it was like to find each other, to finally see other people like me, and to be struck with the reality of not being alone. It’s a heady mix, and I’m glad I pulled it off my shelf.

Short Stories 366:238 — “A Stitch in Time,” by Tonya Liburd

[image error]I’ve read a few of Tonya Liburd‘s stories now, and I think there are two facets that I’m starting to associate with a Liburd story: One, the protagonists are drawn with just enough strokes of the pen to create a character, but not so many that a reader can’t easily picture themselves in the character’s place. It’s a delicate balance, and it’s one Liburd does well, especially when dealing with trauma and survivors. Second, those traumas and survivors are dealt with in a way that feels real, even when there’s speculative elements like there are in “A Stitch in Time.”

The narrative of the tale centres around a man who has lost his girlfriend and is grieving, but from the moment the tale opens, it’s clear there’s more to it than this. He isn’t just grieving, he’s borderline shattered, and is barely holding on to normalcy. As the tale progresses we learn he’s a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, and his own sexuality—and sex drive, in specific—are conflated with this trauma; his girlfriend was one of the few people with whom he could feel “normal.”

The speculative element of the story involves this man having the gift to travel back to any time and relive it via a photograph, and also in his meeting a women who has a gift with any metal tool she creates. These gifts are treated as just another facet of the world around them, in that wonderful way speculative fiction has, but there’s also a sense that these gifts very much relate to their pain and trauma and survival. Ultimately, I loved where Liburd chose to take the end of the story, and where she leaves the characters: on a healthier, hopeful trajectory, but without any sense of a simple “cure.”

Short Stories 366:237 — “Spell, Book and Candle,” by Catherine Lundoff

[image error]Out of this World: Queer Speculative Fiction Stories continues to deliver a wonderful range of stories with “Spell, Book and Candle.” It’s another example of Lundoff’s “just enough, and just when you need it” worldbuilding skills, in that we meet a woman running a (somewhat run-down and inherited) magic shop, learn we mean magic-magic, and learn she’s an actual witch and this is not uncommon in the world we’re visiting for the duration of the story. She’s also a lesbian who had a significant on-again, off-again lover back in college that she regrets having so many “offs” with, who has just walked through the door looking amazing and wants to place an order for an old-fashioned “notice me” love spell.

Our witchy heroine isn’t really loving the idea of helping her ex find someone else—hello, she’s standing right here and why isn’t her ex even noticing that?—so as soon as she hands over the stuff and collects her pay (I mean, business needs first, right?) she delves into the back, grabs some of the more sketchy and perhaps less-than-moral books on love magic, and decides she’s going to win back her ex with magic. And, of course, things go very, very wrong.

Honestly, this was the witchy magic lesbian relationship disaster caper I never knew I needed, and I think all of that comes from the main character’s deeply enjoyable characterization as someone with a very sliding scale for “right and wrong.” In one breath she’s condemning her ex for using magic on a woman that might not just be disinterested but also maybe straight, and then roughly thirty seconds later she’s using books from body-snatching ancestors to ensnare her for herself. Add in a cat familiar, the hijinks of magic-gone-wrong, and you’re left with a smirk as it all falls apart.

I asked Lundoff where this one came from, and I love the answer:

You can never have too many stories about lesbian dating drama and love spells gone awry, in my humble opinion.

Short Stories 366:236 — “Cold Beer, No Flies,” by Greg Herren

[image error]One of the themes in Survivor’s Guilt and Other Stories is Greg Herren’s ability with the unreliable narrator, or characters the reader trusts with a kind of shaky awareness that things are likely not entirely as they seem. “Cold Beer, No Flies” is one such story, and it delivers the punches after leading the reader to a place of empathetic buy-in for the character. Or at least sympathetic.

Here we meet a man in a dead-end town who works at a bar where he’s been entrusted to open five days a week. He’s young enough to still want to leave town, and dented and damaged enough from both his family life and his aborted time in high school to merit the sympathy and empathy I was talking about. His restriction to getting out of town is financial and educational: but he figures if he gets enough cash to take off (like his mother did) then he’ll be able to get his GED and find a job to at least be comfortable. He doesn’t want to end up stuck, not like a man he knows here in town better than many think he does.

The crux of the tale balances on this second man: a closeted, married man with whom the narrator had a clumsy kiss in high school before being outed himself and then violently assaulted—and then leaving school. That man witnessed the attack (he didn’t take part in it, but he did witness it) and while their initial interactions in the bar are awkward because of it, over time they restore something of a friendship. And then more. And then Herren turns it all on a dime with violence and death that are perfectly presented as simple choices that still bear the reader’s empathy—before a final twist that left me breathing out with something I wanted to be denunciation, but honestly was more of a sense of admiration, which only goes to show how well Herren crafts these characters. Well, that or it shows off my revenge streak. Probably both.