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New Death is hilarious and ridiculous and unsettlingly normal. It is a condition wherein a corpse both subjectively and objectively rotates to orient the deceased's feet to its observer. The small yet pervasive ways that such a change would affect the world are explored well, and in a very entertaining manner. The ending is perhaps the weakest point, but still serviceable.

The Condition of New Death

Polynia was some sweet magical realism wherein great icebergs materialize over London. It's framed as the recollection of a man who was a young boy at the time, and I think that goes some way towards supporting its magical quality.

The titular story - rather a set of fragments - was interesting but ultimately underwhelming.

This novel just hasn't grasped me. It's been okay so far, if meandering, but simply isn't amazing. Perhaps I'm out of the reading mood at the moment as my previous attempt at a novel fell similarly flat.

This novel just hasn't grasped me. It's been okay so far, if meandering, but simply isn't amazing. Perhaps I'm out of the reading mood at the moment as my previous attempt at a novel fell similarly flat.

Ugh, I quit. The florid language and the excruciating pace is boring me.

'A Storm of Wings'

A lengthy prologue indeed! At first I found the story unlike my expectations, and was disappointed. But moving past I found myself able to appreciate the story for its own merit. It's a surprisingly well condensed tale of the fall of an empire and the rise of another, both by way of war powered by forces unlike any seen in the dying world's recorded history.

The Pastel City - Prologue on the Empire of Viriconium

A strange little exploration of the space between reality and illusion. The narrative follows a journalist for a fringe magazine, presenting a series of fantastical vignettes that explore one self delusion after another while the protagonist herself losses her grip on shared reality.

Yep, I think that's it. I think the slow slip into madness had finally reached its Rubicon.

Each chapter has been, for the most part, a brief vignette showcasing another form of paranoid delusion or conspiracy theory. These are tied together by exploration of the protagonist's relationship with her work and her boss. It makes for convenient bite-sized reading sessions. The protagonist is also growing progressively less reliable a narrator, and has begun to realise this herself.

I'm enjoying the procession of weird ideas that the protagonist is being subjected to - each ridiculous but with perhaps an inner core of philosophical insight and truth.

There is poetry to the words here, when they aren't made awkward by translation. In fact their being translated may actually add to the air of strange, dank otherness that clings to the narrative so far.

The recommended reading list and biographical notes will serve well.

The story had moments that stood out, but it felt directionless, which makes sense considering its construction.

The story had moments that stood out, but it felt directionless, which makes sense considering its construction.

'Festival Lives'

The foreign outlooks were more varied and interesting than those of the previous writers, at least. It was interesting to hear how different the literary landscape is in some of these other places.

'European Editor Perspectives on the New Weird'

More of the same - truthy essays repeating each other a bit too much.

'Whose Words You Wear'

It is perhaps the most compelling argument; that it doesn't matter whether New Weird "actually" exists or not, because the conversation surrounding its possibility is what has changed the speculative fiction landscape.

'Tracking Phantoms'

These mini-essays are perhaps too academic for me. Their commonality seems to be the assertion that New Weird defies definition, which may well be true, but it needn't be repeated quite so many times from quite so many mouths.

These mini-essays are perhaps too academic for me. Their commonality seems to be the assertion that New Weird defies definition, which may well be true, but it needn't be repeated quite so many times from quite so many mouths.