'Nathan Burgoine's Blog, page 53

Short Stories 366:71 — “The Great Loneliness,” by Maria Romasco Moore

[image error]The variance in the tales of the Women Destroy Science Fiction audiobook has been a fantastic bounty of awesome, frankly. Each tale seems to spin in a completely different direction, and thematically the same variance applies. Unlike Queers Destroy Science Fiction (which I found often pretty soul-crushingly depressing and relentless), the up-and-down-turns of Women Destroy Science Fiction really left me compelled to keep going. I rarely wanted to take a break.

“The Great Loneliness” has the sci-fi trifecta down: setting, world-building, and character. We’re on an Earth long past viable, where people live in floating cities or underwater, or at the very least protected from the lethal outside. Humanity is now a small number, made up of those who survived the worst (usually by being both wealthy and lucky) and with the aid of science capable of incredibly specific genetic accomplishments. Artificial wombs, gene-splicing, clones grown specifically for “back-up” parts… This is not a happy future.

And yet. A really unusual mother who has crafted as much as birthed her daughters watches as images of another world are beamed back to Earth from one of countless ships sent out into (and beyond) our galaxy. The time lapse makes things positively glacial, but the signal sends a clear image: finally, we’re not alone. What does that mean to those left on Earth? What does that mean for a woman who has been left behind once already? Her daughters? Her only friends? Well, Romasco Moore spins that out into a really engaging and emotional arc, and I truly enjoyed it.

Short Stories 366:70 — “And Then There Were (N-One),” by Sarah Pinsker

[image error]It’s obvious by now, I’m sure, that I’m a huge lover of “second-chance” or “path-not-taken” style stories, especially with a dash of the magic or psychic or other. When Jeffrey Ricker pointed me to “And Then There Were (N-One),” by Sarah Pinsker, he knew what he was doing, is all I’m saying. (You can read it at that link, by the way).

Okay, without spoilers: a version of Sarah Pinsker who is an insurance investigator is invited to SarahCon, because it turns out another version of her in another quantum reality has figured out how to pierce realities. SarahCon is exactly what it sounds like: a hotel full of alternate versions of Sarah, complete with panels with topics and discussion groups, all around the notion of divergence points, different life choices, and being surrounded by all sorts of people who are Sarah—but not.

We follow this Sarah as she decides to go, and then is confronted with something she never expected: one of the Sarahs is murdered. How do find a killer when all of the suspects are you, and you know you’re not a killer? What would it take to push you—a different you, of course—to that point? It all unfolds with a brilliant pacing and so many moments of surreal introspection. I also loved the range of details, bits and pieces of lives and turning points, and how it was all handled through this lens of one particular Sarah. Basically it was magic, and I loved it. Give it a read.

Short Stories 366:69 — “A House by the Sea” by P. H. Lee

[image error]I hadn’t read Le Guin’s The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas in a really, really long time, so it took me a few paragraphs into this piece by Lee from Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction before it clicked what I was reading. The tone is excellently done—Lee uses a similar style and creates a kind of echoing voice for this homage, and they end up doing so in a hauntingly poignant way that I truly appreciated.

The idea of these people—the ones who couldn’t handle the truth of what it cost Omelas to have its “perfect” society—finding this place and living here is a seed that’s at first planted straightforwardly, and then I started to ponder the lens of the anthology and it clicked into place. These are the people who left. The ones who refused the price of the suffering of even one for the benefit of all and… yes. I found myself sort of lulled into a silence after reading it, leaning back in my chair and just nodding my head in agreement.

Those from outside this house can’t figure those within it. Those from outside this house rarely visit. They find it uncomfortable to be there, and even the visits of the doctors don’t go smoothly nor without friction. Oh, yes, this all just felt so right. If you’ve never read The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas, nabbing a quick synopsis would be enough to put the frame of reference into this tale, but it’s worth seeking out as well, and frankly this homage/continuance does it so much justice.

Short Stories 366:68 — “Neither Witch Nor Fairy,” by Nghi Vo

[image error]This next visit to the (speculative) past from Long Hidden: Speculative Fiction from the Margins of History takes us to Belfast in 1895, where a younger sibling is listening to the older brother read from the newspaper, and trying to fight off an inborn rage. It’s a quickly engrossing start for a story that teeters on the edge of rage and sorrow throughout, as this sibling begins to realize that—like the woman tortured and killed for being a changeling in the newspaper—it’s possible the sensation of understanding means the same thing: what if I’m not human?

What follows is a kind of fight-or-flight run through the streets of Belfast once the brother has gone to bed, and a recollection of everything their mother once taught them about the fairies, and a moment of decision that puts the child face-to-face with a terrible opportunity: a chance to learn the truth about whether or not it’s true. Changeling, or human?

But when you’re dealing with the fairies, there’s nothing so straightforward as an answer likely in play, and yet in this case, it ultimately turns out to be enough in a really, really satisfying way for me as a queer reader. It’s not an easy story to read, and certainly the arc of the sibling is painful and raw and easily felt, but Nghi Vo takes it to a place where I was left thinking this would be someone thriving, not just surviving, and that made all the difference.

Short Stories 366:67 — “Let It Shine,” by Alyssa Cole

[image error]My Audible-available quartet of novellas from Alyssa Cole comes to an (almost) close today with “Let it Shine.” Of the four historical novellas, this one comes the closest to present day, set in 1961, when the Freedom Rides are underway and racist anti-black violence is front-page news.

Sofronia (or “Sophie”) has done everything in her power since a certain day of her childhood to be proper and polite. Her father, a preacher, expects nothing less, and that certain day was the last time she stood up to bullies, spoke her mind, or raised her voice. It was also the day her mother died, and in Sophie’s mind, the two are inextricably linked: pushing back leads to punishment.

Her childhood friend Ivan was also there on that day, a tiny Jewish boy who was being taunted and attacked by the antisemitic bullies. His path took him in another direction: to become stronger and able to handle taking a hit, he is now a strong and wide and tough boxer on his way to a champion standing.

They haven’t seen each other since the day Sophie stopped speaking out and Ivan decided never to be weak again, and when they find each other at a meeting of planned nonviolent protest, neither can deny how they feel about each other. But this is not a world that would treat either of them kindly, let alone together. Still, if Sophie can find her voice, and Ivan can allow himself to be vulnerable, there’s a shot at real happiness.

I really liked this one, with one minor caveat: both of the main characters are treated horribly by their surviving parents and there’s that sense of “family is so important, forgiveness is needed” in there I often rankle with. It by no means undoes the narrative and the story is freaking phenomenal, but I mention it as I’ve had a few people thank me for mentioning it in the past. And once again, this was performed to perfection by Karen Chilton.

Short Stories 366:66 — “Kin,” by Bruce McAllister

[image error]I can’t remember who it was who suggested I check out LeVar Burton Reads, but I’m so glad they did. It’s a podcast where, well, it’s all there on the tin: LeVar Burton reads. But specifically, he curates and reads short fiction he loves (as a short fiction writer, I could add that to the impossible bucket list, no?). How could I say no to that?

“Kin,” was not at all what I was expecting. The description sounds like a simple enough set-up: a twelve-year-old boy hires an alien assassin to protect his sister. But what unfolds is so much more than that. The situation the sister is in (which was my only slight qualm), the reason the boy wants someone killed to save her, and how he knew to approach this particular alien assassin in particular all come together out of some brilliant world-building (not just of a future Earth it’s far, far too easy to imagine, but of alien races and cultures).

More, the emotionality of the story, which McAllister plays out in a truly touching scene between the alien and the boy, honestly got me a little choked up. And then the ending? There were so many layers slowly building (and peeling away) throughout this tale, revelations about both the perfectly ordinary boy and the extreme and dangerous alien that I just freaking loved this story.

And while like all good short fiction, of course I’d love more in this world with these characters, the reality is it was completely self-contained and did an amazing job telling that one, single story.

Birthday Presence (and a giveaway)!

[image error]

Isn’t he great?

It’s that time of the year again! I have made it around the sun once more without being taken down by a large predator or other natural disaster, big or small. While traditionally celebrated with burning an ever-increasing number of wax effigies atop a confection and ritual chanting, I’m not one for tradition most of the time, and my husband decided we should book it and head to somewhere warm and I did not argue. So my view is of Hawai’i as I type this. My life is a solid good this year.

As is tradition, I’m going to make this whole birthday thing book-related. As I have so often told my in-laws, husband, and all my friends: “I don’t need any presents.” I really don’t. I’m forty-five. The last thing I need is more stuff and things.

But presence? Every author loves presence.

What am I talking about? My annual birthday request for you to write a review about a book you loved.

Now, it doesn’t have to feel like homework. Honest! In fact, I’ve said it a few times before, but a review can be three sentences. Here’s my go-to example, a quickie review of Jeffrey Ricker’s The Unwanted (you should read it, by the way):

[image error]

So, for my birthday, grab a book you loved and throw a review out there somewhere into the world (to be super clear here, it totally does not need to be a book I wrote). Write that review at an online e-tailer, at your library website, a tweet, a FB post, you name it. If writing even a three sentence review is too daunting, don’t worry. Go find a book you loved, see if there’s a great review out there, and boost the signal. Or go make a request for the title at your library. Or just link the publisher’s website link to the book with a little “I loved this!” Or, or, or. I promise, there are ways to do this that require almost no effort.

No matter which way, once you’ve made noise today, link it back here for me to see (or on my FB page, or my Twitter feed, wherever you saw this post) and we can make some noise for some loved books today. Now, thanks to time zones, I realize I’m posting this late in the day for a lot of people, so let’s just say all of the day tomorrow (since I’ll be in flight and transit all March 6th as well).

So, once I’m back in my own place and time-zone, March 7th I will write down the names of all of you who do so, and then Max will do a super-random draw from all the people who made noise about books they loved. Whoever wins can have a copy of Exit Plans for Teenage Freaks or Of Echoes Born or any of the books I’ve put words in the winner hasn’t yet read (or have, hey, maybe they want another copy, that’s totally allowed).

Either way? Better than melted effigies.

So, to make it super clear:

Write a review about a book, or just bellow about a book you’ve loved somewhere on the interwebs.
Let me know about it. (Here, or FB, or Twitter, or wherever).
Max will pick a winner.
I’ll announce it March 7th.
Winner picks a book and I’ll get it to them.

Aloha!

Short Stories 366:65 — “Off-Broadway: 1971,” by Jewelle Gomez

[image error]I know it’s probably cheating to go through The Gilda Stories as short fictions (in my defence, my introduction to Gilda was through a Gilda short story in New Orleans at Saints & Sinners Literary Festival), but the leaps through time and the interconnectedness of the story-chapters is so damn appealing and whatever, my short story project, my rules. I’m also including novellas and novelettes, so whatever.

“Off-Broadway: 1971” hits a major turning point in the ongoing tales of Gilda: though once or twice before she’s encountered people she considered changing into a vampire like herself, previously she’s realized those people weren’t quite right for the life. But this time? This time she’s not just unsure, she’s truly afraid of making a mistake. And given her history (and events of earlier stories) that’s not surprising.

70’s New York is beautifully rendered in this story, and more than that, the politics and culture of the time are almost a character in and of themselves (this is often the case in The Gilda Stories, frankly, and one of the reasons I freaking adore Gomez as an author). And as Gilda faces down the reasons for her uncertainty and decides whether or not she will bring someone over, the world around them both continues the way it always does. The juxtaposition there is so gently drawn, and I love it. Gilda knows time continues, she has cared for and lost so many people, and yet she is connected to life, and that continues to be her strength.

Short Stories 366:64 — “Canth,” by K.C. Norton

[image error]“Canth” is one of those stories that feels like a glimpse of a larger tale already underway. As a reader, it was as though I stumbled upon an audiobook that had been playing in the background, but I had no way to ask it to begin again, so instead I was left to try to understand what was going on from tiny clues peppered throughout. That’s not to say “Canth” felt unfinished, but that this story, found in Women Destroy Science Fiction, gives you the barest minimum to understand character and motivation, and leaves the explanations for technology and history to be waved aside as less than important.

And it works. The captain is a woman who has hired a small ship and crew to chase after something she lost: her own ship, the Canth, which unfortunately has a perpetual motion machine at its heart and as such will never stop until it wants to—the notion that her ship can want to stop is one of those unexplained pieces, as is a casual aside that the way the machine works is because it is powered by her mother’s heart.

Around her, the hired crew threaten the sense of security in isolation that the captain has had in the Canth, and her worries and fears about what might happen are a large part of the tale, until everything turns sideways when the ship stops, and reveals it absolutely had a destination in mind—and they are no longer alone. “Canth” was performed really well on the audiobook, too, with a depth of emotional fragility in the captain’s performance especially.

Short Stories 366:63 — “Wally Roux, Quantum Mechanic,” by Nick Carr

[image error]Sometimes I hit a rut in audiobooks where even though I might be enjoying a few collections at once (as is almost always the case) and have a few full-length audiobook novels by authors I adore performed by performers I always find good I just can’t quite bring myself to click the play button and move forward. Instead, I walk the dog in silence (which is when I listen to most of my audiobooks) or I put on some music instead. It doesn’t tend to last long, this “pause,” but when it does, I’m always a bit out of sorts.

“Wally Roux, Quantum Mechanic,” got me back into the audio groove when I hit one of those odd slump-pauses. And the vast majority of that is solely thanks to William Jackson Harper, who narrated this YA novella to sheer freaking perfection. If you kinda-sorta recognize the name, it’s likely because William Jackson Harper is the actor who plays Chidi Anagonye on The Good Place. His tone, effusive portrayal of confusion, amusement, joy, and sarcasm, and his generally amazing cadence, brings Wally Roux, the teenage protagonist of “Wally Roux, Quantum Mechanic” to vibrant life.

Wally is having some problems. Some of them are typical: he doesn’t feel like he fits in, he’s not sure his mother quite “gets” what life is like for him (a problem compounded by his adopted state), he doesn’t want to ride the bus to his elite school… y’know, stuff. Oh, and also there’s something wrong with the space-time continuum, because when he walks to school it’s uphill in both directions. What follows is a story about a freaking genius boy—who isn’t necessarily anywhere near as genius when it comes to talking with other people—trying to (a) stabilize quantum reality, (b) figure out this whole teenage stuff stuff, and (c) perhaps slip into a parallel world where things are different for some perspective. It’s deftly written, in broad strokes that sometimes only hint at deeper hurts, but it never feels shallow despite the brevity or the sometimes irreverent tone.

And, like I said, it totally got me out of my funk.