'Nathan Burgoine's Blog, page 66

Sunday Shorts—Madeleine by Amal El-Mohtar

[image error]When I originally listened to the Queers Destroy Science Fiction anthology, it was in the midst of winter, and I have to admit the overall tone of the stories as a whole is often only darkly triumphant (if they’re triumphant at all). That’s not surprising, given the times we live in, but by mid-winter, I started to get a bit worn down by the stories in the collection, when tale after tale was predicated on so much queer suffering or where the solution was often “settling” for a lesser evil of some sort, or what scant freedoms might be offered.

“Madeleine” from El-Mohtar gave me the slightly happier conclusion I needed to keep going in the collection, much like Yang’s “Plant Children.”

That isn’t to say “Madeleine” is a cheerful story. It’s not. It’s about a woman who has lost her mother to Alzheimer’s, and who had taken part in some sort of trial for a new treatment, and who is now the only person in that trial to be showing strange symptoms: sometimes, she’s falling into remembering her own past so vividly she’s completely unaware of what’s going on around her. It might very well be dangerous if it happens at the wrong time.

Her therapist wants her to come up with a coping strategy that minimizes the danger, but when she starts to see a young girl in her memories who she has never before met, she starts to realize there’s more to this than meets the eye, and that it may very well be the drug trial after all, and she embarks on a plan to solve the mystery of just who this person is intruding on her memories.

The conclusion—while, again, not super-cheerful exactly—was just what I needed after stories of queer people not finding a place to exist, having to retreat to exist, or suffering from PTSD: a hopeful start, a connection, and a hand reaching out to lift someone else up.

#ShortStoryMonth Day Thirty-One — The Bending the Landscape Anthologies

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Saving the Best for Last

Despite headaches and grey skies (and the way the latter causes the former), I made it through the whole month of chatting about short fiction relatively unscathed. Today, I’m gonna round it up with a trio of anthology recommendations on a theme that I really loved.

Bending the Landscape.

There are three of these: Bending the Landscape: Horror, Bending the Landscape: Fantasy, and Bending the Landscape: Science Fiction, and they’re treasures and hold a special place in my heart as some of the first anthologies of specifically queer stories I’d read that actually didn’t snub their nose at genre (and instead whole-heartedly embraced it!) Edited by Nicola Griffith, these anthologies offered original gay and lesbian fictions and I ate them up.

Added bonus? These were three of the first books my husband loaned to me when we met mumble-mumble years ago. They’re still up in our library in a place of honour.

Thanks for coming along with me this month, and if you’ve got any short fiction you think I need to read, just tell me. I’m always ready for more!

#ShortStoryMonth Day Thirty — Give me your Queer Superheroes, Please.

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Queer Power

When I was thinking of prompt ideas for the month, I wanted to include a day where I could ask for recommendations flat-out. Mostly, this was done completely selfishly because I really, really want to ask y’all for short stories with queer superheroes.

Yeah, I know that’s really specific.

I can think of a few by Charles Payseur (his Spandex and Superpowers series, which is often supervillains but I’ll totally settle for supervillains, too), and I got to take part in an anthology once, The Lavender Menace, where I debuted some of my own superheroes and supervillains in short story format.

So. Consider this me, standing in front of you, hand out, asking you for your queer superheroes.

 

#ShortStoryMonth Day Twenty-Nine — “The Happy Prince,” by Oscar Wilde

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Bittersweet

When I first started writing short stories, I had (earned) a reputation for writing “bittersweet” stories, to the point where when I was asked to submit a story for an anthology a few stories after my debut, the editor in question added, as an aside, “maybe something funny or upbeat this time?”

Eep.

I think I’ve found my balance since then, and I do actually really enjoy writing the sweet as much as the bittersweet, and the funny as well as the sad, but today’s prompt reminded me of the power of a sadder tale—especially in the hands of a queer writer with brilliant allegorical skill—and thus, I landed on “The Happy Prince,” by Oscar Wilde.

I’ve always loved Wilde, and when he does humour especially he shines (I mean, come on, “The Canterville Ghost” is, as well as moving, quite brilliantly funny). But it’s the way he balances multiple things at once that I envy. Bittersweet. Tragic beauty. Funny enlightenment. And often with the shortest of tales.

It would be easy to look at “The Happy Prince” as a simple sort of fairy tale or fable about giving and love and how people don’t see what’s often right in front of them, but there’s a kind of unrequitedness to the tale that always struck me as so inherently queer, and the notion of the breaking heart inside the statue, heard but unseen?

Yeah. I loved that.

 

#ShortStoryMonth Day Twenty-Eight — The “Destroy” issues…

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Destroy, Destroy!

I have a habit of backing kickstarters and fundraisers for anthologies and then being excited when the anthologies show up and then reading the first story and then… Okay, so I have dozens of anthologies from which I’ve only read the first story or two, okay? I specifically set myself a task of reading through them this year, for a project next year where I’m going to talk about a short story a day every day for the year, and as a result, I’ve been reading through all the various “Destroy” issues of Science Fiction.

If you don’t know what I mean, they’re anthologies that were put together to—let’s politely say “counter”—a certain subset of people who were decrying how adding voices to science fiction was destroying it. Never mind that those voices were always there. Never mind that those voices are brilliant. End result? Some amazing anthologies.

So, Women Destroy Science Fiction, People of Colo(u)r Destroy Science Fiction, Queers Destroy Science Fiction and Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction? Nab ’em. I’ve really enjoyed each and every one of the stories I’ve read of them thus far, and if I could send myself a message back in time to have read them when I received them, I would.

 

#ShortStoryMonth Day Twenty-Seven — “A Little Queermas Carol,” by Sassafras Lowrey

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Not As Short, But Oh So Sweet

Ah, novellas! I love me novellas. And this one? A Little Queermas Carol is adorable.

It’s not the kind of thing I expected to say about a Queer Leather Little retelling of A Christmas Carol, but then again, having been lucky enough to meet Sassafras Lowrey a few times at the Saints and Sinners Literary Festival, it’s a combination in retrospect that makes perfect sense. Much like Leather Ever After: An Anthology of Kinky Fairy Tales envisioned familiar fairy tales with a kinky and erotic lens to amazing effect, A Little Queermas Carol takes on a genderqueer Little/Daddy dynamic and brings forth the same result: a great narrative that invites in the very people that the original version of the tale would never have dreamed to even mention, let alone include.

Even better, that spirit of light-hearted joy that so infuses a Little narrative doesn’t shy away from the hurts and pains that many queer Littles have experienced. This isn’t a story of sunshine and rainbows, much like the original Dickens, and is instead a story of someone taking their pain and finding the joys and rainbows where they can—which, as in the real world, is often in the company of others like themselves who can truly empathize.

Novellas like A Little Queermas Carol are exactly the kind of narratives we need: stories that remind us we exist, have always existed, and will continue to exist. The spirits of past, present, and future queerness are very much alive in this novella.

More novella love? No problem! How about a quartet of audio-available novellas from Alyssa Cole, Four Novellas. Also, the final novella “Lava Falls” from the titular Lava Falls from Lucy Jane Bledsoe is phenomenal. If you’re in the mood for a YA “Home Alone” meets “Lost in Space,” then also check out Zero G from Dan Wells.

Sunday Shorts—A Word Shaped Like Bones by Kris Millering

[image error]I really struggled with this short story from Women Destroy Science Fiction on a few levels. One is kind of embarrassing, but I’ve admitted it before, so: I don’t do well with squick factor. The narrative of this short story places an artist in a small single-room space-ship on a long journey and there’s a dead man in the corner, slowly decaying. The decaying is described multiple times, and man, I had to make sure I was doing other things while I listened to this one so I couldn’t get too caught up in the details.

The story about the artist herself has a sharp-edged arc: she is traveling to an alien world to deliver sculptures she is crafting on the way. They are very alien—they don’t communicate with anything close to human language, and the thoughts of the artist are full of how this is such a unique thing for an artist to accomplish, with more than an edge of bitterness about her own successes (or lack thereof in a critical sense) back on Earth.

The payoff for this story will definitely vary by the readership. I loved how the narrative ended for the delivering of art half of the story, but the “who is the dead man?” part left me less satisfied. The breakdown of the narrative voice (she is definitely an unreliable narrator) certainly doesn’t show a sympathetic character, but she’s not so completely out of the range of empathy, and I think any creative types will find the journey and result an easy place to touch.

#ShortStoryMonth Day Twenty-Six — “You Ride the Bus,” by Jeffrey Ricker

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The Best Things in Life Are Free

One of the things I do love about authors who write short fiction (and who have books I can purchase) is how often they’ve got a free story or two floating around so you can read them and fall in love with their words. Now, pointing you towards a Jeffrey Ricker short story is a cheat, because I already love his fictions and I’ve been telling people to pick up his books for years, but this prompt reminded me of a story of his.

“You Ride the Bus” has such a perfect balance of vulnerability, hesitancy and a dash of spark and hope—and as it’s written in second person and crafted so specifically, to me it also had this perfect counterpoint of queerness even though it’s not explicitly so (or at least, I don’t recall it being so, and now I want to go read it again).

Although I just said I love how short fiction can introduce you to an author, and I also said you should buy all of Jeffrey Ricker’s books (and I mean it), I do want to be clear: short fiction is its own art, its not just a tool or a lesser version of larger fictions, and stories like “You Ride the Bus” are a great example of this.

More freebies? I’ve mentioned Matt Bright’s lovely “The Library of Lost Things” already this month, but go check it out again if you missed it; also, last year I did a flash fiction draw challenge every month, where each month I drew a card to come up with a story prompt based on three things: a genre, a location, and an object. Many authors took part, and the final round-up, which links to all the stories from the year and the prompts thereof, is here.

#ShortStoryMonth Day Twenty-Five — Audio Short Fiction

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What Do You Hear In These Sounds?

I love audiobooks, which will surprise no one who follows my blog, but it bears repeating. If I spend too much time focusing on something near me (especially back-lit somethings) I get headaches and migraines, so especially when I’m working on a writing project, it can be audiobooks outweighing print books in my consumption on a regular basis. But even when my eyes don’t need a break, walking the dog—which I do four or five times a day—is made a wee bit less tedious with an audiobook.

Audiobook short fiction is fairly easy to find, especially if you’re willing to check out a podcast or two. I have a few I follow: Glittership,  Levar Burton Reads, and Beneath Ceaseless Skies. Podcast short fiction’s upswing has been such a joy to enjoy—especially with how much of it I’ve been able to find with queerness.

I do also pick up anthology and collection audiobooks through Audible (I have a subscription there), and have been lucky enough to have a few of my own tales recorded in audio format through those collections. Fool For Love, This is How You Die, and Foolish Hearts, all of which contain a story by me as well as many super-talented authors, are available.

What about you? Do you listen to audiobooks, and if you do, do you have a favourite source of audio shorts specifically?

#ShortStoryMonth Day Twenty-Four — Nothing Without Us, edited by Cait Gordon and Talia Johnson

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Gimme

I’ve almost always got an anthology or two on the horizon I’m looking forward to, so narrowing it down to one today was rough. But! Recently, there was a successful kickstarter for Nothing Without Us and I freaking can’t wait for this anthology. Edited by Cait Gordon and Talia Johnson, it’s the kind of anthology I love the most, described on its website thusly:

Nothing Without Us is a multi-genre, own-voices anthology where the lead characters identify as disabled, Deaf, neurodiverse, Spoonie, and/or manage mental illness. This collection includes both speculative and realistic fiction, which flow together beautifully as we navigate through the stories of these heroes.

Watching the kickstarter hit the goals (and then stretch to an audio version!) was awesome, and now all I have to do is wait patiently for the book to appear.

Wait.

Patiently?

Damn.

I’ve also loved every Trebor Healey collection thus far, so knowing that Falling, his latest collection, is coming soon is also a great piece of news; ditto Stories to Sing in the Dark by Matthew Bright, who is a short fiction author (and amazing editor and amazing cover designer) I’ve mentioned about a bajillion times before.

What about you? Any upcoming pieces (or collections, or anthologies) you’re looking forward to?