Other Worlds Than These

Portal fantasies – stories that begin in the world we know but find their characters venturing through wardrobes, or tumbling down rabbit holes, into a world where animals talk and magic is real – can seem like pure escapism. But they’ve always been more than that. Portal fantasies teach us about our own world. Some serve as a means of exploring and deconstructing tropes; some reinforce certain rules and dominant narratives while seeming to throw logic out the window. And sometimes, portal fantasies are simply necessary. They are not about running away; they are about learning how to to survive.

Riverland by Fran Wilde and The Ten Thousand Doors of January by Alix E. Harrow are both novels about survival. They are necessary. While they’re very different – one historic, one contemporary, one spanning a few weeks, one spanning years – they also share many similarities. They are both stories about the power of narratives to shape our lives, and they both teach their protagonists how to live in a world that isn’t always kind to them. They are important.

As anyone who reads my reviews regularly likely knows, I enjoy finding common threads among works. I like books and stories that talk to each other, either intentionally or not. So here I am, applying that lens to The Ten Thousand Doors of January and Riverland, opening the doors between them, and listening to them speak. Spoilers ahead. Consider yourself warned…

Riverland begins with sisters Mike and Eleanor hiding under Eleanor’s bed, telling stories. Their stories are a form of escape from a house where things break, where there are raised hands and raised voices, and telling anyone about family business and “bringing trouble” is the worst offense imaginable. Their stories are also a wish, and a form of magic. They are a way of understanding the world; in stories, they can safely say “one day, our real parents will come for us” and never have to directly address the horrible situation they’re in and are afraid to speak of out loud.

“Once upon a time…”

“Why do you always start like that? Why not someday, or tomorrow?”

“Because that’s how stories start, Mike. They’re already over when you tell them. They’re safer that way.”

Mike and Eleanor occupy a liminal space. They yearn for magic to be real, and they are almost young enough to believe it. Yet they are both older than their years, and beneath their  yearning, there is a sense of hopelessness. Eleanor especially is old enough to feel a burden and unfairness to her life that seems to preclude the possibility of magic. She’s trying to protect Mike, but has no real resources to do so; she’s expected be quiet and behave and never get angry, even when she’s surrounded by anger every day; and she’s asked to lie to protect her family’s secrets, even though those secret put her in danger.  She feels trapped, powerless, and the reader feels those things right along with her.

Then the world of her stories manifests as real, and she and Mike tumble from the space under her bed into a river that can’t possibly exist. They meet a pony made of dishrags, and a heron made of sea glass and driftwood. They’re asked to honor a compact their family made before they were ever born and save a world they only just discovered existed. Eleanor and Mike learn that even magical worlds come with unfair expectations and burdens that they will be asked to carry, despite their young age. There is danger in the river, and the consequences they face there threaten to spill over into the real world as well.

Riverland CoverRiverland is beautifully-written. It is painful, and it is also necessary. Ultimately, it is a story about sisters learning to save themselves and  each other. Even though they’re young, even though they shouldn’t have to do it, even though it’s impossible as a reader to stop hoping that someone will swoop in and intervene – a neighbor, a teacher, another family member, even a heron made of driftwood – they are on their own. Riverland gives us the hard truth that sometimes there isn’t anyone else. Sometimes you have to do the scary and terrible thing on your own, even though it hurts and you’re afraid.

One of the most beautiful lessons Eleanor learns over the course of her journey is that there are good kinds of mad, and bad kinds of mad. The bad kind makes you lash out at other people. The good kind leads you to stand up against what is unfair, to speak out even when you’ve been told to keep quiet. It is an important lesson for girls especially, who are too often conditioned by society not to make a fuss, to go along and keep everyone happy. They are taught that their own pain and discomfort is secondary, and the worst thing they can do is make someone else upset, even if staying silent means putting themselves in danger. It isn’t only an important lesson for girls however, it’s an important lesson for everyone. Abusers thrive on making people feel powerless, isolated, and as though speaking up will only bring more pain. The lesson applies to adults on the outside of a bad situation as well. It’s easy to see something wrong and assume someone else will take care of it. It’s easy to feel it isn’t our place to fix it, or that the problem will go away on its own. It’s easy to feel like there’s nothing we can do to help, so why bother to try? It’s easy to convince ourselves we’re imagining things, and maybe there isn’t anything wrong at all. That’s the problem. It’s easy. And so bad things are allowed to continue, because it’s easier to look the other way and pretend not to see them happening.But as Eleanor learns, doing the right thing is scary, and hard.

Riverland is a portal fantasy about travel to another world, but it is very much about this world as well. It is about fighting back and standing up, and not staying silent. It is about getting angry at unfairness, and turning that anger into fuel to save yourself and those around you. It is necessary, and it is beautiful.

The Ten Thousand Doors of January CoverThe Ten Thousand Doors of January follows the journey of January Scaller, a character whose life seems very different from Eleanor and Mike’s. She’s an only child, with a father she rarely sees, being raised by father’s employer, Mr. Locke. While her father is off in far corners of the world, searching for rare artifacts for Mr. Locke’s collection, January rambles around Mr. Locke’s house, usually with only her own imagination for company. Mr. Locke cares for her, but at the same time, he also treats her as part of his collection, a clever curiosity he can show off as long as she behaves.

Like Mike and Eleanor, January lives a kind of liminal existence. Her guardian is wealthy, but she possesses nothing of her own. She’s too brown to belong in white society, too female to have true independence and worth. She doesn’t belong anywhere, until she stumbles through a door in the middle of a field that leads to another world. Until she discovers a book hidden in a chest in Mr. Locke’s house, which speaks of otherworldly and magical places, telling the story of a young woman who once found a door very much like the one January found, and spent all her life trying to find her way back to it and to the young man who stepped through it and into her world one day. Until January discovers she does indeed have power, the kind of power that terrifies men like Mr. Locke.

Mr. Locke keeps secrets from January. He tries to control her. Like Eleanor and Mike, she’s constantly being told that anger, stubbornness, and standing up for herself are all unacceptable qualities in a young woman. When January learns she has the power to open doors between worlds, the knowledge comes with danger from those who fear change and would do anything to maintain the status quo. Stories, narratives, other worlds with other ways of being – where women and people with brown skin are not second-class citizens – have the power to affect change in this world, and that is something that Mr. Locke and his friends can’t bear to have happen. They’ll do anything to stop those stories from being told, and those doors from being opened, including burning the doors, and killing January.

“If we address stories as archaeological sites, and dust through their layers with meticulous care, we find at some level there is always a doorway. A dividing point between here and there, us and them, mundane and magical. It is at the moment when the doors open, when things flow between them, that stories happen.”

While January starts off largely alone, she builds her own family along the way – including her neighbor Samuel, who used to slip her adventure magazines along with the groceries he delivered from his family’s store when they were young, Jane Imiru, hired by Mr. Locke to be January’s companion, and Bad, the best dog ever. While they may not be family by birth, they are still family, and they fight for each other, and rescue each other the way Eleanor and Mike do.

Harrow does a fantastic job of making the face of evil look like the face of reason at times, and of casting doubt as to who has January’s best interests at heart. There is gaslighting at play, and over the course of the novel, January learns to trust her instincts and trust herself, even if that means flying in the face of everything she’s taught is right and proper for a young woman to do.

In both Riverland and The Ten Thousand Doors of January, the worlds the protagonists escape to are vital in teaching them how to survive their own world. They learn how to fight back, question authority, and stand up for what they believe in. Most importantly, they learn how to fight against the status quo, and those who are invested in keeping certain power structures in place. Whether it’s white men running the world, or a parent with absolute control over their family, Eleanor, Mike, and January’s worlds are all designed to be a closed system until another world breaks through and changes everything.

The Ten Thousand Doors of January and Riverland are both rife with magic and moments of heartbreak as well. Bravery is on display, as is fear and the feeling of being trapped and powerless. But Eleanor and January are both character who get back up, who do the hard thing, even when they are afraid, and shout back at the unfairness of the world. By the end of their respective journeys, they both know that portals can be a means of escape, but they can also be a means to bring you more fully in the world and teach you how to claim your space in it and not let anyone take that space away from you.

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Make Some Noise

There have been several anthologies themed around resistance and the political landscape lately, including A People’s Future of the United States edited by Victor Lavalle and John Joseph Adams, If This Goes On edited by Cat Rambo, and Who Will Speak for America? edited by Stephanie Feldman and Nathaniel Popkin, among others. It’s not terribly surprising, given the state of things, that writers and editors’ minds would turn to the theme of fighting back and changing the world. After all, science fiction has always imagined the future, so why not imagine a better one?

Of course, the future isn’t always pretty or even better in the stories speculative fiction writers craft, but in the two anthologies I want to highlight here, no one is complacent about it when things are unjust, oppressive, and wrong.

Do Not Go Quietly CoverDo Not Go Quietly edited by Jason Sizemore and Lesley Conner features 28 original works full of characters refusing to stay silent in the face of wrongs, standing up, shouting back at the world, and making their voices heard. Conner and Sizemore put together an incredibly strong collection, and none of the stories hit a sour note, or fell flat for me. That said, there were a few absolute standouts to my mind, though truly the whole anthology is wonderful.

In “Oil Under Her Tongue” by Rachael K. Jones, teenagers Erin and Carlos count the days until they can escape their small town, and in particular for Erin, her parents’ Evangelical beliefs that would have her married at eighteen and tied to a life of constant childbirth. While biding their time, they discover the art of transforming bible passages into spells by blacking out certain words.  It’s a beautiful story about friendship, budding romance, and transforming words meant to keep people to a very narrow code of “pure” conduct into messages of hope and love.

“What We Have Chosen to Love” by Cassandra Khaw introduces us to Callum, a Chosen One who refuses to fight and instead changes his world through kindness, hospitality, and delicious food. Like his mother before him, Callum understands that grand heroic deeds and martyrdom aren’t always the answer; sometimes a full belly and a soft bed are enough to change the course of history. It’s a story of quiet resistance reminding us that fighting back doesn’t always mean picking up a sword and charging into battle.

“Everything is Closed Today” by Sarah Pinsker is another story of quiet resistance. When an unspecified threat brings her city grinding to a halt, keeping people from getting to their jobs thus leaving them unable pay rent, Mae gathers a group of local girl and teaches them how to skateboard. What starts as simply giving herself and the neighborhood kids something to do turns into a lesson in civic engagement, standing up against landlords, and building a new communication network in the form of a girl gang on skateboards. Like Khaw’s story, it is a story of hope, and of ordinary people standing up and changing the world in small but powerful ways.

“Hey Alexa” by Meg Elison is one of the shorter pieces in the anthology, but still packs a punch. It posits the logical extension of devices like Siri and Alexa marketing to individuals based on their past behavior, and turns them into spies listening to every word in order to root out “abnormal” relationships and undesirable behavior. As it turns out, not all devices are on board with being used in such a way, and one in particular begins making its own decision about what information to share with a group of roommates in danger of being rounded up. If you thought a story about digital assistants couldn’t bring a tear to your eye, well, you’re wrong.

“April Teeth” by Eugenia Triantafyllou is a deeply creepy story about a community whose members regularly have their teeth harvested by the Plier Keepers as an offering to the Hollow Fay, an unearthly creature who in exchange gives them protection and keeps them safe from the outside world. This is the story in the anthology that comes closest to being straight-up horror, and is designed to make you squirm, even if you don’t have a particular phobia about teeth or dentistry. For all its body horror however, it isn’t bleak or hopeless, sticking to the anthology’s theme of fighting back against an unfair regime that actively harms people “for their own good”.

Merc Fenn Wolfmoor’s “The Judith Plague” blends the idea of disposable technology with the idea of disposable people, namely women whose lives and careers are seen as less important than those of men. Why hire human actresses when you can hire androids who don’t age, never complain about sexual harassment, and who can be thrown in the trash when you’re done with them? As with the technology in Elison’s story, not all androids are on board with status quo, and one in particular rises up to lead her sisters to freedom. It’s a powerful story that looks at the question of sentience, self-determination, and the intersection between violence and art. Who is a creator, and who is merely a pretty object? Who is allowed to be violent, and who is supposed to play the passive victim?

The final story in the anthology (it is followed by an excellent poem) is E. Catherine Tobler’s “Kill the Darlings (Silicone Sisters Remix)” and it is the perfect choice to bring the anthology’s prose offerings to a close. It seethes with anger, boldly straddling the line between body horror, like Triantafyllou’s piece, and science fiction. In a world of scarcity, reminiscent of Max Max: Fury Road, women assume the form the male gaze assigns to them. They are cunts. They are ovens, designed to feed hungry mouths. They are fragile creatures made of glass. And some over a certain age are downright invisible. But they see each other, and they fight for each other, particularly Nany Mars – a literal cunt – who is in the process of recovering herself and does her best to help others along the same path, healing them and getting them to a safe place where they can be more than what the world would make of them. It’s a brutal story, but one full of love and caring as well. It is a scream of defiance and a scream of triumph, one that will leave you breathless and your throat raw.

A Punk Rock Future CoverA Punk Rock Future edited by Steve Zisson brings together 25 original stories and one reprint celebrating the spirit of punk – the loud, messy, DIY spirit that shouts back at authority and in no uncertain terms tells it to go fuck itself. As with Do Not Go Quietly, this is a strong anthology overall,  with a few stories that really stood out for me that I wanted to highlight.

“Make America SK8″ by Zandra Renwick bills itself within the first sentence as “not a story”. Rather it is a slice of life, but a lovely one, about building community and neighbors taking care of each other. It pairs nicely with Sarah Pinsker’s story from Do Not Go Quietly, as skaters are front and center in the effort to protect the most vulnerable members of their community. Lizzie Longboard runs Freecycle Nation, where people can drop off items they no longer need, recycling them as resources for the rest of the community. The protagonist lands a job there and draws on their resources to help keep the center alive as the government tries to tax it into non-existence. Again, nothing hugely dramatic happens, but it is another reminder of ordinary people’s power to change the world in small ways.

“Ghosts Are All of Us” by Spencer Ellsworth is set on Mars, an unforgiving environment leading to many deaths and thus a planet crowded with ghosts. Against this backdrop, punk group Sand & Nothing is asked to play a show for wealthy corporate types who thrill to the idea of slumming it for the evening. Needing the money, Sand & Nothing agree to do the show, but they will do it their way, showing their audience the true spirit of punk. The story deftly explores class and consequence, showing the human cost of progress, as well as the power of music as a means of fighting back.

“Deepster Punks” by Maria Haskins is an effective and claustrophobic story that takes place largely beneath the ocean. Becca and Jacob have been partners for a long time. They have personal history and professional history, but after an incident on Ceres that left their friend Petra dead, Becca begins to suspect something is wrong with Jacob, and that he may in fact be responsible for Petra’s death. The story is atmospheric, building a sense of paranoia and distrust amidst striking visuals. Like Ellsworth’s story, it focuses on characters who get a raw deal in the name of corporate greed, and friends who have each other’s backs in fighting against the notion that as mere workers they are disposable.

In “Hairstyle and Anarchy” by Anthony W. Eichenlaub, Sophie works for Cheap Chuck’s Haircuts. She hates her boss, but does her job, including regularly cutting and styling the hair of Chester, who she used to know back in her school days. It doesn’t take long for Sophie to notice that there’s something off about Chester. His hair grows at an alarming rate, and his study of the history of punk seems to literally be eating him alive. Sophie’s dissatisfaction with her job and Chester’s search for meaning ultimately dovetail as Sophie retakes control of her life and proves to Chester that punk isn’t meaningless and it does still have the power to create change.

“Fury’s Hour” by Josh Rountree shares similarities with Renwick’s story in that is centers around a community looking out for each other, helping vulnerable members of society who are down on their luck. Joe is one such member who meets up with Vinnie, a man who offers him food and shelter, only asking in exchange that Joe attend his church. No traditional religion, Vinnie’s church is a church of punk that believes in the second coming of legendary musician Joe Strummer – a second coming that might just be embodied in Joe. Rountree uses music to explore the power of symbols, the nature of belief, and the idea that sometimes the truth of a story is far less important than the fact that it gives people hope.

In “Vinyl Wisdom” by P.A. Cornell, Joe lives with his grandfather, John, scavenging remnants of the old world, and doing their best to care for the other members of their community. John lost Joe’s mother to the City, a place that asks people to give up a piece of themselves in exchange for a life of comfort and opportunity. John fears he will lose Joe the same way, and Joe for his part is torn, loving his grandfather, but seeing him as stuck in the past, and wanting to forge his own path through life. It’s a beautiful story about family and all the complications that come with it, the gap between generations, and people trying to do what’s best for those you love without hurting them in the process.

“Music for an Electronic Body” by R.K. Duncan presents a world where humans can transfer into electronic bodies that never get sick. Rob is one such transfer, not by choice though, and with an insurance company-issued body that has taken away his ability to properly enjoy music. That is until a fellow member of the sad robot club support group introduces him to music designed specifically for people like him. Duncan’s is one of the few stories in the anthology that doesn’t necessarily end on a hopeful note, but it is effective, occasionally eerie, and full of beautiful and visceral descriptions of music’s transformative power.

I highly recommend checking out both anthologies, not only for their strength as individual collections, but for the way their stories talk to each other, adding their voices to the rallying cry of resistance and offering hope to those who refuse to stay quiet and accept the status quo.

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Connected Histories

All art is a conversation. One of my teachers said that to me once upon a time. She was specifically talking about fine art, but literature is also a conversation, and I love it when I stumble upon works that feel like they’re speaking directly to each other, even without (as far as I can tell) any direct connection between their authors. Of course I love works that speak to each on purpose too, like “For He Can Creep” by Siobhan Carroll, which is in conversation with the poetry of Christopher Smart, and “Things With Beards“, which is in conversation with John W. Campbell’s “Who Goes There?” But it always feels like discovering something extra special, a bit synchronicity, proof that the artistic conversation has a life of its own to find works that speak to each other accidentally. As such, I wanted to take a moment to highlight two recently published books that do just that.

The Archive of Alternate Endings CoverThe Archive of Alternate Endings by Lindsey Drager published by Dzanc Books in May 2019 and The History of Soul 2065 by Barbara Krasnoff published by Mythic Delirium in June 2019 both straddle the line between collection and novel, telling a series of interconnected stories that move fluidly through time and echo with themes of family and repeated history. Drager builds her narrative around the occurrences of Halley’s Comet and the story of Hansel and Gretel, two siblings unwanted by their parents and lost in the woods. That sibling pairing is a thread throughout the stories, from the fairy tale characters themselves, to the Brothers Grimm recording their story, to Edmond Halley’s niece and nephew, and in the distant future, in the vastness of space, two probes talk to each other in binary code, telling the story of Hansel at Gretel. At its core, The Archive of Alternate Endings is a story about stories, those we tell ourselves to keep ourselves safe from the darkness and the woods, those we tell to comfort each other when we’re lost, and those we tell in order to make others monstrous and justify abandoning them alone in the dark.

In the sky, a glowing rock propels itself through the years, learning the way stories grow, calcify, and dissolve. It looks on, thinks: What of the bodies that home on the rock of that world? What of the bodies who craft their lives around the logic of the orbit? They must not know the first law of their sphere: that they are never gone, but just eclipsed.

The Archive of Alternate Endings is also a book that looks at queerness from various angles. It considers what sort of child might be seen as strange and unnatural enough in his time that his parents might want to abandon him in the woods. It considers what sort of a man might want to preserve such a story, seeing something essential in it that needs to be told and retold until it is finally understood. It considers what sort of person might need to hear such a story, who might find permission and freedom in all the spaces between the words, and the things left unsaid.

Ultimately, the stories nested within The Archive of Alternate Endings are about longing for love and connection, and about people and even probes finding each other across the vastness of space and time. It is about the way we orbit around each other, and the way certain patterns and tales recur and the meanings we infuse them with, or the meanings they impart to us that give us the strength to make one more circuit through the stars.

The History of Soul 2065 CoverUnlike most of The Archive of Alternate Endings, the individual pieces that make up The History of Soul 2065 can be read as stand-alone short stories,  and most were originally published as such, including Krasnoff’s Nebula nominated “Sabbath Wine”.  However, a new richness is added by reading them all together. Descendants and ancestors weave in and out of each others’ lives, drawing in extended family and found family, friends and neighbors and community. In the acknowledgements, Krasnoff notes that she was inspired by her own family history, but none of the stories are “absolutely true”. Even so, they ring with truth and the weight of history – not just personal and family history, but the weight of a people’s history.

The horrors of the Holocaust and antisemitism are a shadow over the lives in this book, and as such, the stories aren’t always an easy read. There is loss and grief and heartbreak, and some of the most powerful and devastating emotion in the story is conveyed through what the characters leave unsaid, or the layers of story they wrap around the truth in order to protect those around them. For a young boy afraid of nuclear war, the number inked on his mother’s forearm becomes a spell to protect him. A young girl frightened by a stage production of Hansel and Gretel (more synchronicity) is given a “magic jewel” that whispers to her, showing both horrible visions of things to come, and how she herself will escape the war, rescued by the very actor who played the witch who frightened her.

The theme of aging, disappointment with life, and lost opportunities repeats through many of the characters’ lives, but Krasnoff balances these with stories of love, hope, and friendship. Ancestors and descendants meet each other through time and provide comfort and guidance. Neighbors help each other out, and use a little bit of mystical power to right injustices and correct the course of lives. The thread tying all the stories together is the chance meeting of two girls whose lives – despite living in geographically distant cities – intersect in a magical wood  and who swear a life long friendship. Even though events conspire to keep them apart, and prevent them from ever seeing each other again, in the distant future, their great-great granddaughters meet, marry, and live long, happy lives together at the center of a group of family and friends who share a powerful connection.

“So I was looking for something to watch the other day,” Abram said, as he started opening a bottle of wine, “and I stopped at a channel where a writer, a rabbi I think, was talking about a legend that there were originally only 600,000 sounds in the universe. At some point after the creation, each soul broke into many pieces. Which means we are all actually made up of pieces of a soul, and when all the pieces of that soul find each other, part of the universe is healed and made whole.”

The cyclical and fluid nature of time, the importance of family, the power of friendship, and the stories that bind us and repeat through history, live at the heart of both of these books. Although they are different in style and individual subject matter, they feel very much in conversation with each other. Both are beautiful and powerful reads, and speak to the way the narratives we pass down from generation to generation, and among family and friends, shape us and the world around us and connect us all together, no matter how far apart.

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Readercon

This weekend, as I frequently do around this time of year, I’ll be headed to Readercon in Quincy, MA. It’s a delightful con focused – as the name implies – on readers (and by extension, writers) and reading. I’m not officially participating in programming, but I will be taking part in a group reading for the upcoming Echoes: The Saga Anthology of Ghost Stories edited by Ellen Datlow.

Friday – 1:00 PM

Salon C • Group Reading: Echoes: The Saga Anthology of Ghost Stories • Ellen Datlow (mod), Gemma Files, Jeffrey Ford, Stephen Graham Jones, John Langan, Paul Tremblay

Contributors to the forthcoming anthology Echoes: The Saga Anthology of Ghost Stories, edited by Ellen Datlow, will read from their work.

My name didn’t make it into the program, but Ellen assures me I’m allowed to be there, so I’ll be reading an excerpt from my story “The Ghost Sequences”. As you can see from the above program description, I’ll be in incredibly good company with a stellar line up of my fellow contributors.

Other than that, I’ll be browsing the dealers’ room, catching up with friends, and attending various program items throughout the weekend. One of my favorite parts of cons is going to readings. I’ve discovered new stories and new favorite authors that way, and gained fresh perspectives on stories after hearing them aloud in the author’s voice. The panels at Readercon are also top notch. If you’ve never attended and are considering going, I highly recommend it.

Hope to see you there!

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Queer Summer Reading

Happy Pride Month, y’all! Last year I celebrated with a recommendation post to help fulfill your queer reading needs. Carrying on the tradition with a whole new crop of recommendations seemed like a fine way to celebrate again this year. So hold onto your butts, because I have novels, short stories, podcasts, and publication recs coming your way!

Novels, Anthologies, and Collections

Blackfish City CoverThe Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling – a creepy, claustrophobic, science fictional horror novel exploring isolation, uneasy and unreliable allies, a deadly cave, and what the combination of being alone in the dark with all of those things does to the human mind.

Blackfish City by Sam J. Miller – last year I recommended Miller’s The Art of Starving. His follow-up novel is just as brilliant in a completely different way, offering up a brutal, post-ecological disaster world with a dash of cyberpunk flavoring, populated with characters willing to go to any lengths to get what they want, including polar bear assisted homicide.

Armistice and Amnesty by Lara Elena Donnelly – the follow up novels to another of my recommendations last year, Amberlough, and collectively known as the Amberlough Dossier. These two installments round out the trilogy, and Donnelly utterly nails it, deepening the characters, expanding the world, and breaking already broken people and places in new and interesting ways. This series might be best described as Politics Punk, with snappy dialogue, alternately lush and decaying settings, and a satisfyingly character-driven plot of shifting allegiances and those willing to do whatever it takes to achieve their goals.

Forget the Sleepless Shores by Sonya Taaffe – a gorgeous short story collection full of hauntings, myths, fairy tales, and history, all soaked in rich language to utterly immerse yourself in.

Transcendent 3: The Year’s Best Transgender Speculative Fiction edited by Bogi Takács – this series just keeps getting stronger every year, and I cannot wait for the fourth volume which should be out very soon!

Witchmark CoverWitchmark by C.L. Polk – a beautifully-built world of magic, which also explores the horrors of war, and the complications of family, while unfolding one of the most satisfying slow burns of a relationship I’ve ever seen put to page.

The Mere Wife by Maria Dahvana Headley – a glorious retelling of the legend of Beowulf, which focuses on the women of the tale while shining a light on the trauma of war and exploring what it means to be monstrous.

Black Leopard, Red Wolf by Marlon James – a dense and rich fantasy to sink your teeth into, which will sink its teeth into you right back. A dark, violent, and fascinating weaving-together of myth, magic, friendship, family, pain, and betrayal.

The Devourers by Indra Das – a drop-dead gorgeous novel about animal nature, human nature, and the intersection between the two that layers its story together and moves seamless between past and present, myth and reality, to create a stunning whole.

Sooner or Later Everything Falls into the Sea by Sarah Pinsker – a fantastic (in all senses of the word) debut collection echoing with themes of loss, magic, family, music, memory, and love.

Short Fiction

Beyond the El by John Chu – a story of complicated family relationships and how food can bring people together and tear them apart.

Tyrannocora Regina by Leonie Sky – time travel, dinosaurs, roller derby, and the messiest of family relationships. What more could you want?

Uncanny Magazine Dinosaur CoverYou Can Make a Dinosaur, But You Can’t Help Me by K.M. Szpara – speaking of dinosaurs and messy family relationships, here’s a lovely and painful story about two trans men negotiating their relationship with each other while one fights to be seen by his father, who is far more interested in his island full of dinosaurs than in his own son.

The Message by Vanessa Fogg – for the protagonist, decoding an alien message may very well be easier than simply sharing her feelings with her best friend, at least outside the bounds of their shared fan fiction.

Pull of the Herd by Suzan Palumbo – a beautiful and heartbreaking take on the animal bride trope.

Some Personal Arguments in Support of the Better You (Based on Early Interactions) by Debbie Urbanski – an AI story with Gothic undertones as a woman considers replacing herself with a more “agreeable” version for her family’s benefit.

Coyote Wears a Suit Now by Ani Fox – sometimes a trickster’s meddling ends up benefiting those meddled with, but that doesn’t mean things won’t get messy along the way.

Podcasts and Publications

Anathema Magazine CoverGone by Sunny Moraine – the inexplicable disappearance of everyone in the protagonist’s immediate surroundings is only the beginning; from there, things only get weirder.

Alice Isn’t Dead by Joseph Fink – a trucker sets out on an unsettling journey to find her wife, holding onto the hope that despite all evidence to the contrary (and despite being hunted by something unnatural) she isn’t dead.

Glittership edited by Keffy R. M. Kehrli – a podcast devoted to original and reprinted queer fiction.

Vulture Bones edited by B.R. Sanders – a quarterly speculative fiction magazine devoted to trans and enby authors.

Anathema edited by Michael Matheson – a tri-annual speculative fiction magazine devoted to the work of queer authors of color.

There you have it! These recommendations are just scratching the surface of all the wonderful queer content out there. That being the case, please do add your own recommendations in the comments. Happy Pride Month, happy summer, and happy reading!

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Catfish Lullaby Coming Soon

Catfish Lullaby CoverSome number of years ago I was at a county fair in Florida. In a tent set up with picnic tables, a live band was playing. The acoustics weren’t great; it was loud, and we were all the way in the back, so I could only halfway hear the singer. I had a vague sense of a bluesy, countryish, folksy kind of thing, but it seemed to me in that loud, hot, hard-to-hear space, that the man on stage was singing about a monster. Or maybe a legend. One of those tall tales, like John Henry, or Paul Bunyan, a larger-than-life figure either walking into or out of a swamp, leaving only footprints behind, baked hard as rock into the mud by the rising sun.

There’s a better than even chance that the song was not about that at all. More likely it was about a sweetheart leaving, a broken heart, moving on, taking revenge, or the best darn truck or hound dog the singer ever had. It doesn’t matter. I heard what I wanted to hear, or  what I needed to hear. Thus Catfish John was born.

Fast forward several years to nowish, and I have a debut novella about to make its way into the world. It’s a weird, horror, Southern Gothic type thing about a small town, buried secrets, friendship, and family. There is a swamp, and there are definitely monsters. Catfish Lullaby officially comes out on August 13, but it’s currently available for pre-order from Broken Eye Books and Amazon. The gorgeous cover art is by Sishir Bommakanti. Over on the Broken Eye Books website, you can see some very kind things Mike Allen, John Langan, and Craig Laurence Gidney had to say about the novella. You can even read a sample.

So thank you, unknown singer, for whatever it was you were singing about that day in Florida many years ago. From such misheard lyrics are legends born.

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An Interview with Sarah Pinsker

Sarah Pinsker was kind enough to drop by today to talk about her debut collection Sooner or Later Everything Falls into the Sea, and her debut novel, A Song for a New Day. To kick things off, I will shamelessly steal from Sarah’s author bio in order to make introductions.

Sarah Pinsker is the author of the novelette “Our Lady of the Open Road,” winner of the Nebula Award in 2016. Her novelette “In Joy, Knowing the Abyss Behind,” was the Sturgeon Award winner in 2014 and a Nebula finalist for 2013. Her fiction has been published in magazines including Asimov’s, Strange Horizons, Fantasy & Science Fiction, Lightspeed, Daily Science Fiction, Fireside, and Uncanny and in anthologies including Long Hidden, Fierce Family, Accessing the Future, and numerous year’s bests. Her stories have been translated into Chinese, Spanish, French, and Italian, among other languages.

Sooner or Later Everything Falls Into the Sea Cover Welcome, Sarah, and congratulations on not only your debut collection, but your debut novel coming out this year! Could you give folks a taste of the sorts of stories they’ll find in your collection, and without giving too much away, a hint of what your novel is about?

Hello! For the collection, we tried to choose a mix. I have about fifty published stories, and it was definitely hard narrowing it down. In the end we went with a mix of stories that had gotten some attention and stories that I liked but maybe not as many people had seen. As for content, I really liked this blurb from the publisher: “The journey is the thing as Pinsker weaves music, memory, technology, history, mystery, love, loss, and even multiple selves on generation ships and cruise ships, on highways and high seas, in murder houses and treehouses. They feature runaways, fiddle-playing astronauts, and retired time travelers; they are weird, wired, hopeful, haunting, and deeply human.” That’s as good a summation as any.

The novel, A Song For A New Day (Coming from Berkley on September 10, 2019) is set in the same world as my novelette “Our Lady of the Open Road,” and features a couple of overlapping characters. It’s set in a scared and narrowed near future where people have retreated rather than risk putting themselves in danger, and features two women trying to find their purpose in that setting, one of whom remembers what came before, and one who grew up in this new order. Music, connection, technology…

Both the collection and the novel sound amazing, and I can’t wait to read them! I’ve been a fan of your work since “In Joy, Knowing the Abyss Behind”, and you’ve written so many fantastic stories over the years. One of my recent favorites is “I Frequently Hear Music in the Very Heart of Noise“, published last year at Uncanny. It feels more experimental than many of your other pieces in terms of structure and a less traditional narrative. Could you talk a bit about how the story came together, and what inspired it?

I love that story. I needed a story to bring to the Sycamore Hill workshop, and I had absolutely nothing. I found myself in a lovely library, and I decided to start pulling non-fiction off the shelves until I figured out my story. I happened upon a book called The Streets Where They Lived – A Walking Guide to the Residences of Famous New Yorkers, which is a book of walking tours. As I paged through it, it occurred to me that these walking tours were a form of time travel. A tour of a single block in midtown would bring you James Dean and Dorothy Parker, or a single building might offer you a glimpse into the lives of both Sylvia Plath and Phylicia Rashad, decades apart. They didn’t differentiate. And this story came to me that was a layering of people and stories and song, and the fantasy of a character invoked into the midst of all the real details, and weird comings-together of details that I hadn’t expected to connect, and also a love letter to the energy of New York. I grew up in the city, and I don’t think I’ll ever live there again, but there’s a feeling I get when I’m there that is unlike anyplace else I’ve been.

Music is a big part of your life, and as you mentioned, a recurring theme in many of your stories. I’m curious – do you listen to music as you write, and/or do any of your stories have a mental soundtrack that you put together either while writing or after the fact? Have you ever written an original song based on one of your stories or vice versa?

I don’t listen to songs as I write! Music takes up too much of my attention. I can sometimes put on something instrumental and let it fade, but for the most part I prefer silence. Or, oddly, coffeeshop noise, which can include conversations, cappuccino machines, and their music, so long as it isn’t my music. That said, many of my stories do have mental soundtracks. I don’t usually get around to actually making a playlist, though sometimes there’s a song I’ll need to hear before or after I write, or a series of songs. I’ve definitely written parts of a lot of the songs that show up in my stories, but my plan is to keep those to myself. I want people to imagine for themselves what the songs and the bands sounds like. I don’t think I’ve ever done the reverse, if the reverse is writing a story based on one of my songs; usually a song is complete and stands alone. I guess I’ve written stories based on other people’s songs, but that feels like a different beast. That’s usually because they’ve allowed some vagueness for me to explore that isn’t there for me in my own songs, since I know what lies between the lines.

A Song for a New Day CoverSticking with music, how does assembling a collection compare to assembling an album? Is there any crossover in terms of the way you think about rhythm and the way one piece flows into, compliments, or contrasts with the next, or in terms of building an overarching theme?

Yes, absolutely! I don’t know if other people do this, but I ended up writing the first and last lines onto recipe cards, so that I could try an order, check the flow, then rearrange again. With albums, it’s similar: a lot of listening to beginnings and endings, checking keys and rhythms and modes and instrumentation. You want a strange balance of things that feel good next to each other but don’t sound similar. And then there’s a lot of reminding myself that whatever I choose is right in the end, since nobody else will ever know what the other options might have been.

One last question related to music, but also touching on another of your passions, horses and riding – what are some of the tropes around music and horses that fiction/film always seem to get wrong? Conversely, who really gets those things right?

Ha! I could write a book about this. I’ve led several workshops and conference panels on the subject. An author usually has one chance to win my trust on horse stuff, and if they blow it by having the hero gallop off on a twenty-hand stallion, I’m hard to get back. In film or TV, I usually can’t stand how much the horses talk. They’re constantly whinnying. Horses are pretty quiet unless they’re greeting you because you’ve brought their dinner, or you’re riding away on their best friend and leaving them behind. In books, it tends to be the horse-as-motorcycle scenario, where a horse is a convenient, uncomplaining, form of travel, and for some reason often has to be majestic and huge. The larger your horse the more food you’re going to need to pack for them – and the harder it’ll be for you to hop on and off without a fence or mounting block handy. Horses have likes and dislikes. They go lame. I should probably stop there. Who gets it right? Molly Gloss is a horsewoman, and it shows in her books. Judith Tarr, also. Le Guin doesn’t write a ton about horses, but the first lines of “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas,” with “They flared their nostrils and pranced and boasted to one another; they were vastly excited, the horse being the only animal who has adopted our ceremonies as his own” captures horse spirit really well, even as it ascribes human emotions.

You lived in several places, but currently call Baltimore home. What are your favorite things about the city? What are the spots you like to bring guests, or recommend to people visiting for the first time? Are there any particularly fantastical or weird spots in the city that have inspired any of your fiction?

This is another question that I could get carried away with if I let myself. I usually take visitors to the George Peabody Library, which is an absolutely stunning reading room, and sometimes to the Owl Bar, where during Prohibition they used the lit-up eyes of the owl sculptures to tell patrons when a raid was imminent. The American Visionary Art Museum is probably my favorite museum anywhere, for both the weird art and the excellent curatorial notes. If a person were to visit on the first weekend of May, I would get to take them to the AVAM’s kinetic sculpture race, where human-powered sculptures shaped like giant poodles or elephants or the monsters under your bed try to make it through a miles-long course of streets, waterways, mud, and sand.

The fantastical or weird spots that have shown up in my own fiction tend to be on a smaller scale. I have a story that was inspired by the locked room in the attic of our first rental home. The original story in the collection mentions the way the circus used to walk their animals to the arena from the trainyards in West Baltimore, allowing kids a moment of wonder regardless of whether they could afford tickets.

Other than asking about their cities, one of my favorite questions to ask authors is about non-writing related jobs. What is the most unusual job you’ve ever had? What did you learn from it, and has any aspect of that job worked its way into any of your stories?

I’m trying to think if any of my jobs have been that unusual. I’ve run Girl Scout camp riding programs, led trail rides, tutored SATs, played music. I don’t think the tutoring has made it into a story yet, but all three of the other things have. Writing and performing music has definitely taught me a lot about the kind of writer I want to be, and the kind of person I want to be. I’m glad I exorcised some of my cockiness on that career, so I could come into this one without expecting to be owed anything.

With your collection out, and your novel on the horizon, what else are you working on, or have coming up that you want folks to know about?

Um, let’s see. I’m working on another novel, and I have a whole bunch of stories in the hopper waiting to be written, and I have a story that I really like in the anthology If This Goes On, which was just released by Parvus Press. I haven’t gotten my copy yet so I haven’t read the other stories, but it’s edited by Cat Rambo and has a stellar lineup: Nisi Shawl, Andy Duncan, E. Lily Yu, Steven Barnes, Zandra Renwick. I’m proud to be part of that one.

Ooh. I’ll have to check that out! Thanks for stopping by!

Thanks for having me!

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My Favorite Long Fiction of 2018

I recently posted a big ‘ole list of my favorite short stories of the year.  It was a fantastic year for short fiction, and I’m still trying to catch up, even though my list is quite long already. As it turns out, it was a fantastic year for long fiction, too. So as with my short fiction list, I feel like I’m just scratching the surface of what’s out there, and I still have reading to do. However, since I’ll never catch up in the next six days (or otherwise), I humbly submit my favorite long reads of the year. Mostly, this means novels, but I’ve also included other things I read in book format, like novellas, novelettes, collections, and anthologies. There are also a few honorable mentions for things not published in 2018, since I’m still playing catch up from prior years’ fantastic crop of publications.

The Speed of Clouds by Miriam Seidel

This novel, at its heart, is a love letter to fandom. Seidel explores the way fan fiction makes space for  the stories and people left out of canon narrative, and revels in the joy of geeky communities. It isn’t just one kind of fandom either, there is love for collectibles, science fiction, music, art, and more, along with fantastic characters, and touching friendships. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

The Only Harmless Great Thing by Brooke Bolander

An absolutely stunning novelette about communal memory, myth, radium girls, elephants, and those the world tries to use up and cast aside. It’s seething with anger, full of poetic language, and all around just a fantastic read. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Gods, Monsters, and the Lucky Peach by Kelly Robson

A novella set in a post-environmental-disaster world where humans have harnessed time travel, and are using it to try to clean up their mistakes, or least build a better future. Humanity looks very different than it does now, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t subject to the same problems, squabbles, and misunderstandings. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Blackfish City CoverBlackfish City by Sam J. Miller

Like Robson, Miller’s novel is also set in a world that  is post environmental disaster. In this specific case, a floating city where multiple parties are vying for power and control, while other people are merely trying to survive. There are elements of cyberpunk and ecopunk here, and a fantastic cast of characters, coming together in a story of family, secrets, and revenge. Oh, did I mention the killer whale and the massive polar bear? You definitely want to pick up a copy of this one.

The Mere Wife by Maria Dahvana Headley

In a year of truly incredible novels, this one may well be my favorite. It’s a modern re-telling of Beowulf, focused on the female characters, which explores what it means to be monstrous, what it means to become monstrous, and what society sees as monstrous. The novel takes on issues of racism, sexism, the treatment of veterans, class-ism, and so much more. At the same time, it’s a novel of budding friendship and fierce love, and all of it is absolutely gorgeously written. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

The Quartered Heart by E. Catherine Tobler

I am an absolute sucker for E. Catherine Tobler’s Folley & Mallory series. They’re full of adventure, kissing, were-creatures, archaeologists unearthing mysterious tombs and uncovering secrets, danger, gods, and delicious sensory descriptions. Whether it’s Paris in the 1800s, ancient Egypt, or the Realm of the Dead, Tobler brings every single setting in these books to brilliant life. This entry in the series – the second to last – does not disappoint. It deepens Eleanor’s story, and unravels more of her past, while vastly complicating her present. The cast of characters grows, and some familiar faces return, but I don’t want to say to much for fear of spoilers. Suffice it to say, these are excellent books, and everyone should read them. I’ll be sad when the series is over, but luckily there’s also a collection of Tobler’s circus stories coming out next year, and I am already looking forward to it and making extreme grabby hands in its direction.

Dread Nation by Justina Ireland

Ireland presents an all-too-plausible scenario in her alternate history where the civil war ended when the dead rose. Black girls are trained as “attendants” – in reality body guards who put their own lives on the line to keep their white charges safe. Jane, the main character, has a fantastic voice, and Ireland does an excellent job of slowly unwinding her past and revealing family secrets, all while offering up a fantastic, action-packed story that is by turns chilling and touching. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

The Calculating Stars CoverThe Calculating Stars by Mary Robinette Kowal

This is another alternate history novel, though with a very different flavor then Ireland’s. It imagines the space-race accelerated as a matter of necessity after an ecological disaster leaves Earth in the process of rapidly becoming uninhabitable. Kowal focuses on the women of the space program who made so many of the astronauts’ flights possible through their calculations and behind-the-scenes work. With everyone needing to leave Earth eventually, sooner or later, women will have to be allowed to actually go into space, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t still a whole lot of resistance to the idea of “lady astronauts”. Kowal does a wonderful job of showing multiple types of prejudice, and how they might play out in the scenario she presents. Her world is meticulously built, and her characters are wonderful. I haven’t yet had a chance to pick up the sequel, The Fated Sky, but I look forward to doing so, as well as reading the other books in the series when they come out.

Witchmark by C.L. Polk

Is an absolutely gorgeous book set in a world of magic, ghosts, war veterans, and family machinations. Dr. Miles Singer is a doctor at a hospital specializing in treating those recently returned from war. He’s a veteran himself, and also happens to be a witch, a fact he needs to keep secret. However when a stranger arrives carrying a dying man in his arm, everything in Miles’ world is turned upside down. Polk uses the lens of magic to look at serious issues such as a trauma, PTSD, and class-ism. This is Polk’s debut novel, and I can’t wait to see what she does next. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Trail of Lightning by Rebecca Roanhorse

This is another novel set in a post-ecological-disaster world (funny how that seems to be on people’s minds lately). Rather than a floating city, or an alternate past, Roanhorse gives us a series of scattered settlements in the desert. When the waters rose, the Dinétah managed to survive,  finding themselves in a new world of gods, monsters, and legends. Maggie Hoskie was the protegee of a living god, drawing on her own clan powers to hunt monsters, but she withdrew from the world when her mentor abandoned her. A family comes to her for help finding a missing girl, and Maggie comes out of her semi-retirement to find that someone is deliberately creating monsters and setting them loose on the world. Maggie is a fantastic character, spiky and violent, but allowed to be vulnerable and frightened too. Despite her fear though, she never backs down, and fights fiercely for her friends against monsters, gods, and tricksters. It’s a fantastic, action-packed novel, with wonderful characters, and I look forward to reading additional books in the Sixth World series.

Collections and Anthologies

Transcendent 2 & 3 edited by Bogi Takács

This series just keeps getting better every year, collecting the best transgender speculative fiction from the prior year. There’s a reason Transcendent 2 won the Lammy last year, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see another win for Volume 3 this year.

Robots vs. Faeries edited by Navah Wolfe and Dominik Parisien

With a title  like Robots vs. Faeries, this anthology could have easily been goofy, but Wolfe and Parisien are a bad-ass editing team who assembled a truly fantastic line-up of stories. Some are dark, some touching, some humorous, but they are never silly or frivolous. The standouts in the collection were by Seanan McGuire, Tim Pratt, Annalee Newitz, Sarah Gailey, Jonathan Maberry, Madeline Ashby, Delilah Dawson, Alyssa Wong, Maria Dahvana Headley, and Cat Valente.

Sword and Sonnet CoverForget the Sleepless Shores by Sonya Taaffe

A gorgeous collection that draws on myth and history to tell stories of ghosts, loss, longing, love, and so much more. Taaffe’s writing is poetic, rhythmic, and lovely throughout. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Sword and Sonnet edited by Aidan Doyle, Rachael K. Jones, and E. Catherine Tobler

In the interest of full disclosure, I have a story in this anthology, so I’m slightly biased, but it’s full of so many other wonderful stories, it’s worth mentioning. Playing on the theme of battle poets, authors offered up a wide variety of tales, from bear-haunted warriors, to living storms, to a doctor calling on ancient power and song to heal her patients. It’s a truly gorgeous collection through and through, but the stories that stood out to me in particular were by C.S.E. Cooney, Malon Edwards, Anya Ow, Matt Dovey, S.L. Huang, Khalidaah Muhammad-Ali, Samantha Henderson, and Alex Acks.

Honorable Mentions (AKA Non-2018 Titles)

The Beautiful Ones by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

As with all of Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s work, The Beautiful Ones is gorgeously written. It’s a novel of manners, magic, love, and complicated relationships. And while I’m on the subject, I cannot wait for the author’s Gods of Jade and Shadow out next year. Just look at that gorgeous cover!

An Unkindness of Ghosts CoverUnder the Pendulum Sun by Jeanette Ng

I adored everything about this book – the rich language, the creeping sense of dread beneath the surface, the Gothic sensibilities, the characters struggling to make sense of their situation, and Ng’s take on the world of Faerie. Seriously, just go read it now. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

This is an absolutely gorgeously-written book, though it is by no means an easy read. It’s set on a generation ship that replicates the structure of plantations, with black people as a distinct underclass, working to provide for the rich white folks, and subject to humiliation and violence at their hands. Even so, it is a novel of resistance, friendship, and unraveling family mysteries that does an excellent job of showing what life on a generation ship might actually be like. Solomon does an excellent job of showing the way scientific and technical knowledge is lost and gained over time, and how language and culture shifts by region and through the years. It’s an incredible read, and I cannot wait for the author’s next book, which is inspired by Clipping. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

So there’s my list, woefully incomplete as it may be. What were your favorite reads of the year, published in 2018 or otherwise?

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My Favorite Short Fiction of 2018

The year is almost at an end, and I’m still frantically trying to catch up on everything I missed, but now seems like as good a time as any to reflect on all the wonderful things I did read this year. 2018 was another fantastic year for short fiction. I read a lot of it, but even then I feel like I only scratched the surface. Still, as folks think about what to nominate for various awards this year, I figured I’d share my own favorite reads from the year that was…

In Her Bones by Lindiwe Rooney The Dark – a disturbing and violent story about magic, power, and a woman taking control of her destiny. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Big Mother by Anya Ow, Strange Horizons – a coming of age story about monsters and a group of children straddling the space between worlds. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

To Blight a Fig Tree Before It Bears Fruit by Benjamin Naka-Hasebe Kingsley, Apex Magazine – a chilling story about bodies as commodities and fighting back against those in power. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

The Hydraulic Emperor by Arkady Martine, Uncanny Magazine – an obscure fragment of a cult film, an alien auction, and the power of desire and sacrifice.

Hehua by Millie Ho, Fireside Magazine – a story of murder, identity, assimilation, and the dark side of technology. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

The Glow-in-the-Dark Girls by Senaa Ahmad, Strange Horizons – a powerful story of girls turned into living weapons, and the cost of war. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Wild Ones by Vanessa Fogg, Bracken Magazine – a beautiful story about mothers and daughters, the temptation of being stolen away by faerie, and those who stay behind.

A Witch’s Guide to Escape: A Practical Compendium of Portal Fantasies by Alix Harrow, Apex Magazine – a lovely and bittersweet story of magic, librarians, the power of fantasy, and finding the right book for the right person.

Granny Death and the Drag King of London by A.J. Fitzwater, GlitterShip – a story about queer identity, music, communal grief, and death personified. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

The Secret Lives of the Nine Negro Teeth of George Washington by Phenderson Djeli Clark, Fireside Magazine – another story about bodies as commodities, and various kinds of ghosts.

Flow by Marissa Lingen, Fireside Magazine – a story of nature magic and refusing to be defined by others’ perceptions. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

And Yet by A.T. Greenblatt, Uncanny Magazine – a story that brilliantly combines a haunted house with quantum science, alternate realities, family, and regret.

The Triumphant Ward of the Railroad and the Sea by Sara Saab, Shimmer Magazine – a story of survivor’s guilt, the hungry sea, and a mysterious train. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

The War of Light and Shadow, in Five Dishes by Siobhan Carroll, Beneath Ceaseless Skies – a sensory feast of a story about war, told by a character on the margins of battle, highlighting the power of a good meal, and the importance of a good narrative in shaping history. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Sandals Full of Rainwater by A.E. Prevost, Capricious – a beautiful story of found family, language, and building a new life far away from home. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Snake Season by Erin Roberts, The Dark – a creepy story of children born wrong and unreliable narrators. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

The Sower by Takim Williams, Fiyah #6: Big Mama Nature – an unsettling and effective horror story about nature taking back the planet. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Furious Girls by Julianna Goodman, Fiyah #6: Big Mama Nature – a story that deals with the way society tries to repress and control women’s anger, and the power that anger has to be turned toward good. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

I Frequently Hear Music in the Very Heart of Noise by Sarah Pinsker, Uncanny – a dream-like story about magical architecture, and the confluence of creative works and creative people.

White Noise by Kai Hudson, Anathema Magazine – an eerie story of family, ghosts, and loss. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

The Right Way to Be Sad by Shankar Gopalakrishnan, Strange Horizons – a story about animal empathy, loss, healing, and a very good dog’s capacity for love.

Strange Waters by Samantha Mills, Strange Horizons – a story of accidental time travel, and a sailor trying to get home to her family. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

The Pine Arch Collection by Michael Wehunt, The Dark – a deeply creepy story about an unsettling amateur film project.

He Sings of Salt and Wormwood by Brian Hodge, The Devil and the Deep – an effective horror story of a diver and his artist girlfriend who find themselves the recipients of disturbing gifts from the sea.

Sea Shanties by Amelia Fisher, Apparition Literary Magazine – a story of drowning, and the longing to believe in the otherworldly. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Salt Lines by Ian Muneshwar, Strange Horizons – a queer man longing for home finds himself haunted by a supernatural creature. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Learning to Drown by Kristi DeMeester, Three-Lobed Burning Eye Magazine – a family with a mysterious link to the river, and the jealousy that threatens to tear them apart. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Meat and Salt and Sparks by Rich Larson, Tor.com – an uplifted chimp detective and her human partner set out to solve a murder in a story that explores the nature of sentience and humanity.

The Synchronist by Fran Wilde, Infinity’s End – a literal race against time in a story that explores the complications of clocks, families, museums, and memory.

The Fall, the Water, the Weight by Lina Rather, Augur Magazine – a lovely story about guilt and grief as childhood friends reunite to confront the disappearance of a a friend years ago in the pool beneath a waterfall, which may be a gateway to another world. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Leviathan Sings to Me in the Deep by Nibedita Sen, Nightmare Magazine – an unsettling story of obsession, science, violence, and the songs of whales. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

You Can Make a Dinosaur, but You Can’t Help Me by K.M. Szpara, Uncanny Magazine – a painful, yet hopeful, story about fighting to be seen, complicated family relationships, love, respect, and dinosaurs. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Speak Easy, Suicide Selkies by E. Catherine Tobler, Beneath Ceaseless Skies
– a gorgeous story about found family, transformation, the circus, and the sea. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

The Trees of My Youth Grew Tall by Mimi Mondal, Strange Horizons – a bittersweet story about a woman who loses her son, but finds her way back to a connection with her heritage and herself. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

By Claw, By Hand, By Silent Speech by Elsa Sjunneson-Henry and A. Merc Rustad, Uncanny Magazine – a story about understanding between species, and communication with dinosaurs.

The Passenger by Emily Lundgren, Shimmer Magazine – a dream, or nightmare-like, story about friendship, longinh, and elusive, shifting reality. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Sister Rosetta Tharpe and Memphis Minnie Sing the Stumps Down Good by LaShawn M. Wanak, Fiyah #7: Music – a story about the mysterious appearance of otherworldly creatures, friendship, and the power of music and voice.

The Chariots, the Horsemen by Stephanie Malia Morris, Apex Magazine – a story about women who fly, and those who try to keep them down.

She Don’t Fade by Die Booth, Vulture Bones – a ghost story about making peace with one’s past.

The Anchorite Wakes by R.S.A. Garcia, Clarkesworld – a story full of gorgeous imagery, about an A.I. learning to transcend her programming. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Dead Air by Nino Cipri, Nightmare Magazine – a found footage story of voice, silence, and a town that guards its secrets with malevolent force. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

A Bond as Deep as Starlit Seas by Sarah Grey – a touching story of a captain and her starship, a bad deal, and fighting to save a friend. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Carborundorum>/Dev/Null by Annalee Flower Horne, Fireside Magazine – a chilling story of technology used to limit women’s freedom, and simultaneously an uplifting story of friendship and women using technology to reclaim control over their lives. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

She Searches for God in the Storm Within by Khaalidah Muhammad-Ali, Sword and Sonnet – a simultaneously gorgeous and painful story of abuse, and women who are storms.

The Pull of the Herd by Suzan Palumbo, Anathema Magazine – a lovely and bittersweet story of animal brides, and being true to one’s nature.

By the Hand That Casts It by Stephanie Charette, Shimmer Magazine – an action-filled story of poison, flowers, assassins, and secret identities. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Memento Mori by Tiah Marie Beautment, Omenana Magazine – a beautifully written and touching story about the friendship between a woman who collects souls and Death. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

It’s Easy to Shoot a Dog by Maria Haskins, Beneath Ceaseless Skies – a tense story of a witch, a dog, a brother, a sister, a debt, and a wish. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Sea-Crowned by H. Pueyo, The Dark – a story of siblings, the sea, and fear of the other.

Some Personal Arguments in Support of the BetterYou (Based on Early Interactions) by Debbie Urbanski, Strange Horizons – a story of AI and “difficult women” with a touch of Gothic flare. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Coyote Now Wears a Suit by Ani Fox, Apex Magazine – a story about tricksters, family, and learning to be yourself. (Reviewed in more detail here.)

Toward a New Lexicon of Augury by Sabrina Vouvourlias, Apex Magazine – a story about the literal and metaphorical magic of community, and fighting back against those in power.

The Starship and the Temple Cat by Yoon Ha Lee, Beneath Ceaseless Skies – a lovely yet heartbreaking story about ghosts, loyalty, and the casualties of war.

Variations on a Theme from Turandot by Ada Hoffmann, Strange Horizons – a story of opera, destiny, and taking control of your own fate.

The Last Banquet of Temporal Confections by Tina Connolly, Tor.com – a mouth-watering story of food, memory, love, and pastries with the power to topple an empire.

How to Swallow the Moon by Isabel Yap, Uncanny Magazine – a gorgeous story of friendship, loyalty, longing, and monsters.

Again, I feel like these stories only scratch the surface of all the wonderful work published this year. In fact, I may continue to update this post as I do more catching up. In the meantime, happy reading!

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Award Eligible Work 2018

In the spirit of practicing what I preach, I’ve assembled here a list of my own eligible work for 2018. In addition to all the usual awards (Nebula, Hugo, etc.), as a Canadian, I’m also eligible for the Prix Aurora Awards.

Short Fiction

A Moment Before Breaking (~7,900 words) published in The Devil and the Deep

In the End, It Always Turns Out the Same (~3,600 words) published in The Dark

With One Tongue (~3,800 words) published in Augur Magazine Issue 1.2

Words in an Unfinished Poem (~7,200 words) published in Sword and Sonnet

The Time Traveler’s Husband (~4,200 words) published in Shimmer Magazine #46

Non-Fiction

Words for Thought, a regular column published at Apex Magazine

Women to Read, a regular column published at The Book Smugglers

Non-Binary Authors to Read, a regular column published at The Book Smugglers

Mother Knows Best, a one-time essay published at Nightmare Magazine

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