A Letter to the Luminous Deep, by Sylvie Cathrall
I picked this up because someone mentioned the sequel, and I thought it sounded amazing. And because it turns out I’m a bit of a sucker for the epistolary novel.
There’s a tangle of letters here. Henerey Clel and E. were writing to each other for some months… and then they disappeared, presumed drowned. Their correspondence is pieced together by Henerey’s brother and E.’s sister, some months later again, through their own correspondence. And notes from other people are also included, to flesh out various issues along the way.
Why are Henerey and E. presumed drowned? Because the world they live on has almost no land above the ocean; because E.’s house is literally underwater – and there was some sort of disaster while they were outside, near that house. The world itself is one of the most wonderful and intriguing parts about the novel; exactly how it works is gradually – very gradually – teased out over the course of the entire book, and piecing together its history is almost as much fun as learning about E. (reclusive, highly intelligent and curious, anxious, probably has OCD) and Henerey (scholar, slightly awkward, frustrated by academia, highly intelligent and curious), and of course about Sophy and Vyerin.
The language won’t work for everyone: it’s a bit on the highly-stylised end. “O dearest E.!” and so on. But for me, I felt it was done with such love – Cathrall isn’t making fun of the language, but writing it with immense enjoyment – that I was prepared to go along with it, and even enjoy it most of the time.
I must admit that I put a hold on the second book… and then let it lapse. I read the blurb, and I’m not really convinced that it sounds as compelling as the first book. At least, not enough to read it immediately. Does this first book need a sequel? I think it probably does, but also I’m willing to let the mystery just sit, at least for now.
The Greatest Fight of Sunny Granada, and other stories
This is another of the book sent by a Filipino friend. You can buy it over here.
I’d not come across Kenneth Yu’s work before, but apparently this is his second collection of short stories. There’s a really interesting variety in the stories presented here.
The eponymous story is very clearly science fiction, and told non-linearly, about a man who starts off as a boxer/MMA etc on Earth and then leaves the planet to find more career options fighting aliens in the arena. Certainly on one level it’s about fighting as a sport and sport for money, but of course it’s also about family and inheritance and Place as home.
Then there’s “Spider Hunt,” which feels more like fantasy; “The Probe” is maybe SF, maybe fantasy, and works by muddying the lines. “Beats” is also genre-defying, intriguing and mysterious.
While I can see, and appreciate, what “Operation: Bleach” is doing, I’m as white as they come; I suspect it hits far harder for folks with browner skin than mine and who live in a society that upholds my sort of skin as somehow preferable. It’s another story told inventively – a series of newspaper articles and comments – and it’s probably my favourite story of the collection.
I found “Lost for Words” a bit confusing, to be honest – it’s very short, and I don’t think entirely works as a story. Then “All That We May See” tips into horror, “One Morning at the Bank” is a superhero story, and “Blending In” feels basically like realism.
And then “For Sale: Big Ass Sword” is told entirely as an ad on Talipapa, which I understand to be an online trading site for the Philippines; the story leans into folktales/fairy tales, and is a really solid conclusion.
It was never predictable what the next story would be like, and I really enjoyed that aspect, as well as the stories themselves.
Mapping New Stars: A Sourcebook on Philippine Speculative Fiction
Available to buy from The University of the Philippines Press.
This is another book sent to me by the wonderful Charles Tan, who knows that I have an abiding interest in non-fiction about science fiction and fantasy…
I love that this book exists. The Philippines as a modern nation has such a fascinating (note: not necessarily a positive term!) and tumultuous modern history – the various waves of colonisation and everything that goes with them – that to begin unpicking influence and purpose and consequence is a hard thing. What I hadn’t realised and should have is that, as with so many groups (thank you, Joanna Russ and How To Suppress Women’s Writing, for always making me think about this), modern Filipino authors may not necessarily know all of the history of speculative fiction in their country, for one reason or another.
So the historian and SFF fan in me is both fascinated and thankful for the editors and authors of this book: the first half, “Reading Philippine Speculative Fiction,” is literally tracing some of the histories and places where it has developed and thrived. Two chapters in this section are in Tagalog, so I can’t speak to what they’re about; but the others were really fascinating, especially that on Komiks and the way Filipino authors have used external and local influences to create stories.
I will admit that I only flicked through the second half of the book: I don’t write fiction, so “Writing Philippine Speculative Fiction” is not for me. I do love that Emil Francis M. Flores wrote on “First World Dreams, Third World Realities: Technology and Science Fiction in the Philippines,” since this conjunction is one that I think has enormous potential for authors to explore.
This is a great book. Props to the University of the Philippines for publishing it.
Doomsday Dance Party, Nikki Alfar
A friend in the Phillipines sent me a copy of this, thinking I would like it. They were, of course, correct; you can get it from the publisher.
I’m not sure if I’ve come across Alfar’s work before – possibly in anthologies? – so it was intriguing to see the variety of short stories she presents here. Some are realist fiction; more are science fiction or fantastical. Most have clear Filipino connections – set in the ‘real’ Philippines or an alternative version – with a couple of exceptions, most notably “The Riddle of the Great Khan’s Great-Great-Granddaughter,” which I loved and is not connected to the Philippines at all. As well, many have elements of Filipino mythology, like the tikbalang and ‘fey folk’ (in English) at the wedding in “Destination: Wedding,” which was absolutely one of my favourite stories. Sometimes, as with that one, it’s because the story is specifically about an experience in the Philippines; other times the Philippines is the setting because it’s the setting, not because Alfar is making a specifically Filipino point (I hope that makes sense). Styles changes across the stories, from relatively straightforward to the more lyrical styling of stories like “El Legado de Lana (Lana’s Legacy)”.
It’s a compact collection, at 155 pages of story. I’m glad it exists and that I got to read it: the stories are a delight and I hope Alfar gets ever more notice, both at home and abroad.
The Ministry of Time
What is there to say that hasn’t already? I read this because it’s on the Hugo shortlist this year, so that was already (likely to be) a good sign.
- Time travel done quite cleverly – excellent.
- Super slow-burn romance that basically makes sense – very nice.
- Politics that develop and get more and more tricksy as the novel progresses, in ways that I actually didn’t expect and was deeply impressed by as the book went on – magnificent.
- Pointed, thoughtful, and clever commentary about race, ethnicity, passing, immigration, assimilation – very, very nicely done.
This was another book that I had deliberately not read anything about before going in – the name told me all I needed to know, especially once it got on the Hugos list and friends started raving about having enjoyed it. So I went in with no expectations. (If you want to be like me, just stop reading now!)
I really didn’t expect that the idea was that people were being brought into the 21st century. I think the initial explanation of that is perhaps the weakest part of the story: why do this? I don’t think the “for science!” explanation is pushed enough to be convincing. And yes maybe that’s part of the point, but… on reflection, I do think that’s the one bit that’s too vague.
I really, really didn’t expect the whole explorers-lost-in-the-frozen-wilds chapters. They make a lot of sense in terms of elaborating Graham’s character. And it’s only in hindsight that I can see that they’re also doing some interesting work in terms of showing two groups, coming into contact, who find one another unintelligible.
One of the twists I picked up early – I think at the point where the author was starting to really flag it, so I won’t take any credit for being particularly clever. I did not pick up one of the other twists until it was presented to me, which was a highly enjoyable experience.
This is a debut, so I am left with “I hope Bradley has a lot more ideas left in her head.”
Bean there, Done that: The Island (2005)
I might have seen this twice? Maybe I saw it at the cinema? I have no clear recollection. Unlike Ronin, though, I know I have seem it.
- It has such a spectacular opening: the idyllic boat ride, the terrifying maybe-drowning, waking up in the whiteness of the bed… also, Ewan and Scarlett. SO hot in 2005… and also in 2025.
- I had forgotten this was a Michael Bay! Lots of blue already.
- Michael Clarke Duncan!
- And THERE’S Bean: Dr Merrick. Maybe a psych? Certainly a top person. And Lincoln knows that needing to see him means there’s something wrong…
- I adore his office. The art, the architecture, the desk-as-screen.
- His glasses are amazing – so early 21st century: frameless, rectangular.
- Slicked back hair, short of course.
- McGregor’s accent is very confused.
- (Steve Buscemi!)
- A pod with “Merrick something” on it, with a human inside… so Dr Merrick is the person in charge then. And thus we discover that the facility is making humans, and the whole “surviving a catastrophe” thing is a lie.
- The xbox boxing arena is terrifying.
- Bean sitting in his room, alone, to watch the Lottery: fireplace, high ceilings, very different from the rest of the place.
- McGregor gets to the area he’s not meant to be in… and then Bean sees him on the security footage and loses his nut.
- Bean does coldly furious very nicely.
- Finally realised who Jones Three Echo is: Neelix, from Star Trek: Voyager.
- Bean selling his product to rich people: the ability to grow a body that will provide organs, and promising that all bodies are vegetative, rather than aware.
- But apparently without living, the organs fail. Which… seems unlikely, but it’s a good story.
- (Djimon Hounsou! Oh. Except he’s a bit evil. Well, a security consultant anyway.)
- Hearing the original Tom Lincoln with Ewan M’s actual accent is wild.
- Bean announces that because of the defect – developing curiosity – four product lines are going to be… eliminated.
- And then he shows that he has a god complex, and that he has convinced himself his ‘products’ have no souls.
- (Dijon Hounsou comes good!)
- Bean actually gets his hands dirty, going after Lincoln with a gun! Fisticuffs ensue.
- Also his hair gets mussed.
- And then he dies because their fight means he ends up hanged.
- Everyone gets out, and now there’s going to be a terrible problem with famous people having clones hanging around, plus they all need to be taught how to live in the world… but that’s not the problem of this film.
- Thing I just realised: I know it’s a completely different situation, but there’s definitely a similarity between this and Severance. Innies and outies.
Verdict: Corporate villain. Even the starting point of his journey – wanting to provide organs for rich people so they can live longer – is grotesque: there’s no suggestion that he starts from a particularly altruistic position. And then willingly keeping conscious humans in prison for his own greed? Evil.
Movies: 5. Beans dead: 4.
Esperance, by Adam Oyebanji
Read courtesy of NetGalley and the publisher. It’s out in May.
Starts as a police procedural, which is fine by me – I love them: Chicago cops turn up to investigate a death, the cause of death is very weird, and how it was managed is baffling. Cops hear about a similar murder a long way across the country…
Meanwhile, someone has just arrived in England – we don’t know where from – and talks like someone from a bad 1930s film. She meets a grifter, they fall into some trouble together, and of course their paths eventually cross the paths of the American cops. And I can’t tell you why or how without going into some of the key revelations, the discovery which was a massive part of why I enjoyed this novel so much.
I spent a lot of this novel not really sure who the traveller was, where they were from, and what their purpose would turn out to be. Sometimes this sort of suspense is really annoying, but not here: although their overall intention was mysterious, Oyebanji still managed to create a character who was fascinating and appealing enough that I wanted to keep hanging out with them. He also does some very clever things with the American cops, I think, although as a white Australian I’m really not in a position to fully comment on that.
The book is fantastic. There’s wonderful characters, excellent interactions between them, and an intriguing and compelling mystery. It covers racism, mammoth questions like what justice really is or looks like – and is a standalone story. Highly recommended.
City of Dancing Gargoyles
I read this because Ian Mond told me to. I mean, not personally or directly, but he definitely recommended it within my hearing, and I took that to heart. I am very, very glad that I did.
This is not a linear narrative. As I was reading, I was trying to figure out what it reminded me of, and I finally realised: it’s Christopher Priest’s The Islanders. It’s not identical, but there’s a similarity in the way it tells a story through vignettes and moments. It’s got a bit more traditional story-telling thrown in there than the Priest, I’ll admit, but the comparison is still valid. Especially since I loved both.
The book is set at some point in the future – not too far future, there are no galactic empires; but also not quite tomorrow (sometime early in the 2100s-ish). Something… odd… has happened in the USA (insert joke here and then move on); something alchemical, perhaps. Previously inert things have been affected – built things, and natural things. The title gives you a suggestion of one way things have been changed. There are also towns where trees shoot guns, and a city where chocolates glare at you, where books fret, where blankets cringe and candles sob. Why? Absolutely no idea. Part of the story is told in communications between Meena Gupta and Joseph Evans to their boss, Manfred Himmelblau, as they go exploring and reporting on these places. Part of it is the experience of M and E – two gargoyles searching for their place in this new world. And part of it is about Dolores and her mother Rose, who are likewise looking for safety and community.
It’s a beautiful book. It’s about identity, and dealing with change and opposition and the weird, and finding community. It’s somehow also about the things that are already remarkable in our world by imagining how things might go really (really weird). An utter delight.
You can get it from the publisher.
The Mercy of Gods
Read courtesy of NetGalley and the publisher. I will admit to a little trepidation when I saw this was coming. I’m a major fan of The Expanse series; there’s always that mix of excitement for new work from a favourite author (combo, in this case), and worry that new work will not compare to the old. What if the first stuff was a result of thinking and planning for their whole life, and now they are doing stuff with less preparation?
Happily, my fears were completely and utterly unfounded. This book is wildly imaginative, the characters are flawed and complex and compelling, and I am already psyched for the next one. Which is probably in at least a year, so that’s going to be so very frustrating.
Humans live on Anjiin. They haven’t always been there, but they have no history to explain how or why or even really when they arrived. But they’re doing very well in terms of arts and sciences and general life standards. They have a highly structured society, which isn’t great for everyone, but people deal with it as people always do. Dafyd works in a team that has recently made a major breakthrough: they have figured out a key step in integrating the two sets of biology on Anjiin. Because this is the clue as to humanity not being indigenous to Anjiin: there is the biology that seems related to humanity, and there is… everything else. And ne’er the twain shall meet. Until now.
At this point, it seems like the story will be about science and scientific rivalry. Which is all well and good. But then something is spotted on the edge of the heliosphere, and it turns out to be aliens, who do dreadful things to Anjiin and then collect a bunch of humans and take them… somewhere else. At which point the story becomes something else entirely. There are a whole range of aliens under the dominance of the Carryx, and humans are now one of them; they have to figure out what that means, on a personal and collective level. There are (unsurprisingly) a range of responses – and it’s in this that Corey shows a deep and compassionate understanding of humanity. I don’t agree with all of the ways various characters respond – and I’m not meant to – but I do understand why they act like they do.
It’s a first book in a series, so the ending is in no way a finale. It’s absolutely a prologue to what’s to come – indeed, the opening of the book, written by a Carryx, already says that Carryx interaction with humanity is going to have unexpected and catastrophic consequences. Exactly how will that happen? No idea! Need the rest of the series to figure that out!
Troy, by Simon Brown
I bought this, I think, at one of my first Swancons – I know I bought it direct from Russell, and Ticonderoga. I don’t know if Simon Brown was there, but for some reason I think Sean Williams was? I did discover that I have a a page with signatures from all of the contributors – also including Garth Nix, who wrote the delightfully whimsical introduction – so that’s pretty cool.
All but one of these stories have direct or indirect connections to the Trojan cycle; the exception is an interesting enough story, but one that I do rather wish wasn’t included, because it feels quite jarring to come across (and it’s about troubling Catholic priests, which is not exactly an enjoyable topic). Some of the stories use the issues of war and trauma; others confront the sheer length of time involved with the cycle.
My favourite story is “The Masque of Agamemnon,” for a lot of reasons. First, the title is clearly brilliant. Second, it combines SF elements – AI and space ships – with the Trojan story in delightfully clever ways. Third, it manages to get into some of the key issues and relationships of both the original stories and the ways in which it’s been dealt with since. Also the final line is hilarious.
I have no idea whether this can still be bought anywhere, but I hope so.
Randomly Yours, Alex 