Artifact Space, Miles Cameron
I received this to review courtesy of the publisher and NetGalley.
Is Marca Nbaro really just too good, too fast? Yes.
Is some of the ‘science’ highly dubious, and does much of the technology require quite a lot of hand-waving? Also yes.
Did I absolutely devour this book and am I eyeing off the sequels? Also yes.
Nbaro grew up in an orphanage, which was hell, and now she’s shipping out on one of the nine greatships of human space, the Athens. It’s all she’s ever wanted to do and be. Of course, getting there wasn’t at all straightforward, and the first few weeks aren’t straightforward either. And then when things settle down for her personally, things go very sideways for the ship.
One thing I appreciated, in my current need for not-too-confronting fiction, is that we don’t start off in the Orphanage. There’s enough to understand just how dreadful Nbaro’s life was there, but there’s no dwelling on the horror. Instead, this is a very smartly paced story: it’s basically the written version of an action movie, and it’s good at it.
I can’t quite figure out the politics behind the human world here: Nbaro hasn’t exactly joined the military – they’re a merchant service more than a military – but there are nonetheless marines, and the ship has weapons… everyone is encouraged to be involved in trade while they’re serving… it’s a weird mix of capitalism and socialism. Doesn’t really bare close examination, but at least it’s slightly different from unrestrained capitalism. Mostly.
Look, overall, this is a swash-buckling action novel with an outrageously clever and capable lead character who is nonetheless very appealing, and I enjoyed it a lot.
Countess, by Suzan Palumbo
Did I ignore this book for several months because I have never read The Count of Monte Cristo? Yes.
Was that foolish? Also yes.
Should I have paid attention to the fact that this is a) gender flipped (mostly), b) space opera, and c) a novella, NOT LIKE the 1000+ PAGE PLUS ORIGINAL? Oh yes.
So, this book is great. Like everyone who has raved about it has suggested. A young migrant woman rises through the military hierarchy of her beloved adopted home, desperately proving that she can be as good as any of the white-skinned folks (did I mention this is anti-colonial as well?) of her new planet. And then, of course, things go very bad because Jealousy, and she ends up in prison. It’s not too much of a spoiler to say she escapes (the original is basically one long revenge fantasy, as far as I can tell), and then things… well. Things change.
Palumbo writes beautifully, illuminating the relatively-newly-colonised planets as distinct places but also evoking the original Terran homelands, especially of the Caribbean. I did go and read the Wiki for The Count after reading this, to get a sense for how closely she kept to the original, and the answer is ‘pretty close but also not slavish’ – SEE LENGTH in particular. Having said that, this is obviously an excellent example of how you don’t need to have read the original even when it’s clearly a book riffing off another: Palumbo has made this story all her own.
Magnificent.
The Folded Sky
Apparently I didn’t review either Ancestral Night or Machine? Oops.
Quick recap: very far future, galactic colonisation, (most) humans live alongside other species, they have ‘right-minding’ to deal with anti-social tendencies, and there’s an ongoing search for the remnants of long-dead very powerful alien predecessors. Also, there’s FTL travel, through White Space.
The three books in the White Space series are connected by being set in the same universe and dealing with some of the big issues, and events from previous books make the next books happen, but there’s basically no character connections.
In this book, the archinformist (historian) Dr Sunya Song has left her family to go do research in one of the most exciting discoveries in centuries – an ancient AI left by that predecessor civilisation. Of course, things do not go at all as planned, starting with the very snarky AI ship she travels on, moving rapidly to a pirate attack, and then the arrival of her arch-nemesis. And there are the actual and attempted murders.
This is a space opera, with a whole lot of discussion about inter-species relationships on a personal and societal level, with both the continuation of racism and the desire to understand The Stranger playing significant roles. There’s also some interesting crossover between this and Arrival / “Story of Your Life” in terms of how someone can come to understand a species whose entire way of looking at reality is utterly different from your own.
On a more mundane level, this is also a murder mystery, since Song gets involved in that side of things, when perhaps she shouldn’t.
Overall this is a really fun story, with characters I enjoyed and a plot whose resolution I didn’t entirely expect. However I must note that there were disappointments, particularly in some poor editing. For example on p414 of the trade paperback, and a few other times, questions are asked and then not answered in the conversation. Obviously this is sometimes deliberate, but there’s no suggestion that’s the case here – it just feels like a line is missing. There’s also some repetition of information that feels like it’s been doubled up because someone wasn’t sure where it should go.
Will I read another book in this series? Of course I will.
New Philippine Speculative Fiction 1
And another book sent by Charles! You can buy it from the publisher.
This anthology is both a mixed bag and a diverse collection – ah English, you are hilarious.
Some of the stories brought together here are absolutely brilliant. There are very few names that I recognised, and many that I hope will have their work picked up by and read further afield.
Of course, any anthology is going to struggle to please a reader with every story. So as expected, there were stories that really did not resonate with me here. Most of those were the horror stories – which is entirely to be expected, since that is not my vibe at all. In particular some of them leaned far too heavily on body horror for my tastes, so I simply skipped them. If that’s your vibe, then I’m glad for you that they’re included here. There were plenty of other stories here that did work for me: there are 35 stories included!
Some stories were clearly and obviously leaning into Filipino places, ideas, history, and language; I definitely didn’t get all of the references in those, but I got enough that I could appreciate the story. Others were, I guess, more “universal” – whatever that means, given the stories are presented largely in English. One of the fun things about an anthology like this is that the only connective tissue is the identity of the authors: there are no themes or ideas tying the stories together, so you have absolutely no idea what you’re going to read next.
Some favourites:
- Jose Elvin Bueno, “Cadena de Amor” – the narrator’s perspective here was intriguing, and the story tantalising
- Vida Cruz-Borja, “Call of the Rimefolk” – art, space, aliens, love, family. This story is magnificent.
- Exie Abola, “Shadow Sisters” – difficult to characterise, gut-wrenching if you’ve got siblings.
- Ian Rosales Casocot, “The Apologist” – I don’t like this story. It made me angry and feel powerless. It’s very well written and it reflects modern media too well for my liking – how rich people can get away with anything, and how PR works. More people should read it.
- Kate Osias, “The James Machine” – AI stories are still very Now. This is a simple story, in the sense that the narrative is straightforward and it doesn’t dive deep into philosophy; it’s also poignant and lovely, and the subtitles throughout are a masterstroke.
Highly recommended for getting a taste of what the Philippines is producing.
Flight&Anchor, Nicole Kornher-Stace
Reasons to read the Acknowledgments at the end of the book: you find out that the brilliant book you just read is a prequel written some years after two other instalments.
Cue happy dancing.
In some medium-term future, America has gone entirely corporate, and there’s wars between the main ones (I mean…). This is, however, not the focus of this story at all (but possibly is of the main novel, Firebreak?). Instead, the focus is on 06 and 22 – two children who are no longer children in many ways, but still have some child-like aspects. They have been changed by a corporation, and I don’t really want to go into exactly how or why because discovering that was part of the absolute joy in reading this book. It’s not exactly pleasant, so maybe don’t read it if you’re feeling particularly attuned to nasty things happening to kids, but there’s not a lot of terrible detail, so there’s that.
The story is basically split in two. The main bits are focused on 06 and 22 – biologically 12, kept in a secret facility for four years – having broken out and now trying to find food and survive in what is basically a foreign environment. There’s an intense focus on the relationship between the two (don’t be gross, not like that), which is clearly a huge aspect of the later books but still works without knowing anything of their futures. It’s beautiful and sometimes funny and also quite affecting.
The other, smaller part of the story is the experience of the Director, as she tries to figure out how to get the pair back. For someone who is quite clearly reprehensible, Kornher-Stace does a good job of both humanising her and never minimising how awful she is. It’s an admirable presentation and again, makes me very keen to read more about her, even though I do now know some of what will happen to her in the future: Kornher-Stace is clearly writing this for people who’ve read the other stories, and yet the future-reflections actually still work for someone like me.
I enjoyed everything about this story and have every intention of going to find the rest.
The Iron Garden Sutra, A.D Sui
Um. Wow. This is absolutely brilliant.
I read this courtesy of NetGalley and the publisher; it’s out in February 2026.
Humans have spread through the stars. People die on spaceships, and in accidents, and sometimes lost slow-traveling generation spaceships are found with all crew dead. In those instances, monks of the Starlit Order are often called on, to lay the dead to rest, and to remind the dead that they are one with the Infinite Light. Not everyone believes in the Infinite Light (and the Infinite Light doesn’t care about your belief), but the monks seem to carry out a role that people need. People have always needed closure with death.
Iris is a Starlit monk, and as such has a personal AI in their head – not something that is very well regarded any more. Iris isn’t sure that he’s a very good monk, but he wants to be good at it. He is sent to a newly ‘arrived’ generation ship – sent many generations ago, just now arriving in populated space, and all crew dead. When Iris arrives onboard, however, he is not alone: there’s an archaeological team onboard as well, which just makes everything more difficult. And then things get even MORE difficult, but it’s not the fault of the humans…
I’m tempted to say that this is a little bit gothic – a giant spaceship is kind of like a house, right? I’m not sure whether or not it’s horror; I did not find it scary, although I imagine that if it were a film I would have found it so. Guess it’s a good thing I’m not doing the genre marketing.
No matter the genre, I absolutely adored this book. I love Iris and his inner conflict, although I definitely wanted to scold him at several (many) points and urge him to take better care of himself. I was deeply amused by Iris’ relationship with his AI (VIFAI), as well as occasionally troubled. The archaeologists and engineers are characterised swiftly and beautifully – even the ones who don’t live all that long (spoiler!). The arguments between the different groups were all too believable. And I was utterly intrigued by the eventual reveal of what was going on; it may not be an entirely unique take, but it’s incredibly well done and feels like a really fascinating direction for further exploration.
AND THEN I got to the end and discovered there’s another book in the offing! Truly a wonderful surprise. A.D Sui keeps being one to watch.
Death of the Author, Nnedi Okorafor
I am so torn by this book.
On the one hand, I really liked the structure and the themes and the way it developed, and the final twist did EXACTLY what it was meant to.
On the other hand… I did not particularly enjoy the writing itself.
The novel’s structure comprises three parts: sometimes we’re following Zelu’s life as she navigates being Nigerian-American, and a paraplegic, and unemployed, and a struggling author. Sometimes we get interviews with people in Zelu’s life, from later in time than the bit we’re reading of Zelu’s life. And sometimes we’re reading the science fiction novel that Zelu writes pretty early on in the book, which becomes a phenomenon: it’s about the robots who are left on Earth after the humans are gone (died?), and whether the embodied can coexist with the disembodied. So, for me, structure: big tick. This way of telling a story, and the story itself, are fantastic.
Themes? Well, they’re kind of obvious from the above paragraph, aren’t they. Zelu is impacted by multiple structural inequalities; she rages against them, and the way she does so informs a lot of the novel. Okorafor is doing A LOT with ideas of AI, both in Zelu’s novel and her life. There’s an enormous amount to unpack around questions of identity (for immigrants, the way people view those with disabilities, patriarchy, etc etc). Okorafor has a deft hand – the novel is in no way preachy, but it was also (at least for me) impossible to avoid thinking about the ideas. And I mean that in a good way.
And then there’s the reference to Roland Barthes’ essay, of course. That the author is just another reader when it comes to interpreting a text. You don’t need to have read his piece, or even have heard of it, to understand the novel, but it’s certainly another level if you have.
And yet. I did not especially enjoy the novel, on a word or sentence level. Rusted Robots, Zelu’s novel, is not a novel I would rate by itself – is that part of the point? I have no idea. Perhaps I am simply not connecting with Okorafor’s style – which is fine! There are plenty of novels that other people hate and I love! But it makes me sad, because I wanted to love this book a lot, and I cannot in all honesty say that I did. I did not find the reading experience a transportive one.
When There are Wolves Again, EJ Swift
I read this courtesy of Netgalley and the publisher. It’s out in October.
I have never read a book quite like this.
It is one of my favourite books of the year.
Partly it’s the structure. We open with Lucy and Hester talking in 2070, and then swiftly move to Lucy recounting her life, starting as a child going to stay with her grandparents during 2020 (yes, the real 2020). Chapters alternate between Hester – documentary film maker, estranged from her family, a lineage of dogs her constant companions – and Lucy, growing up in a Britain rapidly coming apart thanks to climate change, also largely estranged from her parents. Both women provide a lens through which to understand the ecological changes being wrought – the heat, the floods, the fires – as well as the attempts at mitigation, particularly through rewilding efforts. These two interwoven narratives – lives that have brushed against one another over decades, then finally cross in 2070 – are a beautiful way of exploring different reactions to events, giving two generational perspectives on those events, and laying out the similarities and differences between the two women.
Partly it’s the climate change. I have read a few books focused on its near-future impacts, but it’s not something I have sought out; I generally find such speculation too depressing to want to immerse myself in. And Swift’s vision definitely has its grim aspects. As well, my exposure has tended to focus on America (because cultural imperialism) or Australia (because home). To read about what might happen in Britain – the fires, the impact of 40+ degree heat in a place where homes REALLY aren’t designed for it, let alone the impact on wildlife and particularly birds – was shocking all over again. Perhaps, even probably, this sort of thing has been written before. But I haven’t read it, and I’m going to go out on a limb and say very little will have been written with the lyricism and intensity that Swift brings.
And partly it’s the ultimate hope that Swift holds out. Between 2020 and 2070, truly devastating things happen, death and destruction and political evil (I haven’t even mentioned Albion First yet). And yet. And yet, there are people actively trying to mitigate the worst effects, who struggle on in the face of immense pressure. Greta Thunberg is name-checked. People push on despite obstacles, mostly as a group, and this offers hope.
I loved it.
All That We See or Seem, Ken Liu
I read this courtesy of NetGalley and the publisher. It’s out in October.
Julia had a difficult childhood, which included living on the streets and learning to be a hacker. Now, she’s making ends meet by doing pretty basic work; it’s not fulfilling but it brings in some money. Her life is thrown into turmoil when Piers turns up: he’s a stranger, looking for someone who can help him find his wife Elli. She’s a oneirofex – someone who leads others in vivid dreams – and she’s gone missing. It’s a case of pulling on a thread and the entire garment unravelling, as Piers and Julia discover unexpected things in Elli’s past that have very real consequences right now.
And then the story goes in a direction I really didn’t expect. The swerve made me quite disoriented, but eventually I could see what Liu was doing, and overall I think it works.
This is a near-future novel, and the key aspect is that it’s very clear Ken Liu has given enormous thought to the question of “AI”: what “artificial intelligence” actually means, how it might be used in future in large and and small ways, and particularly what the consequences might be. Liu is no “it’s all Skynet” doomsayer, but he’s also no “this is the answer to everything” evangelist. Julia, in particular, uses AIs in useful and creative ways. But at the same time, there is no doubt that the ubiquity of AI in this world has had some dreadful consequences: for artists, for privacy, for security, for what I would think of as ordinary life. This is a challenging novel in the best possible way: with an engaging narrative and characters that matter, Liu makes you think about things that are happening right now. It’s not didactic, but to me at least it’s pretty clear what Liu wants you to think at the end of the novel (but maybe I, as an anti-LLM person, am just reading in what I want to see).
Canterbury 2100
I really thought that I had reviewed this fifteen years ago when I first read it, but apparently not. How ridiculous! Anyway, I decided to reread it on a whim, and it’s still a delight.
It’s based on Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, of course – pilgrims telling stories as they travel to Canterbury. Here, after a series of apocalyptic events only vaguely referred to, a bunch of people (mostly pilgrims) are travelling to Canterbury on a nuclear and steam-powered train. They’re delayed by rain (and worse), and start telling stories. The same sort of stories, at heart, as those told in Chaucer’s story: individuals and communities, loss and love and hope and tragedy, believable and not; all revealing tantalising glimpses about the people and their world.
There’s a great range of styles, as there should be in an anthology like this, and maybe sometimes the stories don’t seem like they’re quite coming from the same world. But honestly, would someone from Kununurra tell the same sort of story about Australia as someone from Canberra? And did you really think all of these people were telling the unvarnished truth? … all of which is to say, the collected stories feel real in a very human way.
Published in 2008, one of the fun bits is to look at the authors and see who I still know. Third up is Angela Slatter, who is still going from strength to strength; likewise Trent Jamieson, Lisa L Hannett, Kaaron Warren. There’s Martin Livings and Laura E Goodin and Grant Watson and Thoraiya Dyer… and of course it’s edited (and with connecting text) by Dirk Flinthart. Truly it’s a who’s who.
If you can still find it, this is such a fun anthology.
Randomly Yours, Alex 