Eschewed Obfuscation

Ender's Game
by Orson Scott Card
324 pages (paperback)
Genre: Fiction/SF

Meet Ender Wiggins, child general-slash-genius. He's going to save the world, as long as his siblings Valentine (kind Val) and Peter (sociopathic schemer) don't destroy it first.

I liked this a lot. I definitely didn't love it. Why? Well, it's very male. Other than that, I can't quite say. I do like "school stories" a lot, and Ender's training takes up a good portion of the novel. I wished for more politics, especially more of Val/Demosthenes. The Val/Peter dynamic was fascinating. By the way: don't be fooled by the child protagonist. This really is not YA.

Recommended to SF readers of both genders, because this is a worthwhile classic. I would avoid researching the author, though, as his political views tend toward the akljfksjdfhdsf side.

* Via yhlee, musical stairs on YouTube!

* Also via yhlee, A Regency Romance in 2 Minutes.

* Michael M. Jones puts out an open call for submissions to his new anthology, Scheherazade's Facade: Fantastical Tales of Gender Bending, Cross-Dressing and Transformation.

* Recent Strange Horizons pieces that are excellent: poem "Thirteen Scifaiku for Blackbirds" by Joanne Merriam and story "Minghun: Unlikely Patron Saints, No. 5" by Amy Sisson.

* yhlee (Yoon Ha Lee) has an awesome story up at Beneath Ceaseless Skies called "The Pirate's Daughter," about words and poetry and music and awesomeness.

* Another enrapturing story of music from Beneath Ceaseless Skies: Michael Anthony Ashley's "To Kiss a Granite Choir," Part 1 and Part 2.

* Quite the depressing, and truthful, article about grad school in the humanities.

Interfictions: An Anthology of Interstitial Writing
by Delia Sherman and Theodora Goss (eds.)
291 pages (trade paperback)
Genre: Fiction/Literary/Fantasy/SF

After only managing to skim a few stories back in 2007 when I borrowed it from a friend, I finally bought this "alternative" and obscurely-acclaimed anthology and read it for my monthly Book Club. I only found 3 favorite and 4 hated tales out of 19 total, but--surprisingly--my overall impression is quite positive. Interfictions has earned a place on my long-term bookshelf.

If you aren't familiar with the concept of interstitiality, I would recommend reading Heinz Insu Fenkl's laborious introduction; otherwise, it is probably best left to the academically inclined. In contrast, definitely read Sherman and Goss's conversational "Afterword: The Spaces between" (although you still should read the stories themselves first, for necessary context).

So let me begin with the favorites, first. Jon Singer's "Willow Pattern" is probably the shortest story in the collection, and to me also one of the most interstitial. As Goss says, there isn't another story out there that combines science fiction and china patterns. After my first read-through, my only thoughts were, "Oh, that was pretty." Two years later, I began to "get" the SF aspects; I still don't entirely grasp the point simmering deep beneath the surface, but this flash piece epitomizes what I love best about genre--the extra layer of depth waiting to be plumbed, a depth unique to alienation and surreality.

For pure story pleasure, the title goes to Csilla Kleinheincz's lyrical and poignant tale about a man and a lake: "A Drop of Raspberry." Translated from the Hungarian by Noémi Szelényi, it is interstitial in its superrealistic treatment of surreal/fantastical events (yet tonally different from magic realism). Kleinheincz also happens to hail from the same country as Goss, and she is Hungarian-Vietnamese--too cool!

Finally, "Queen of the Butterfly Kingdom" by Holly Phillips (also coincidentally a Canadian author) is a cross between mainstream and fantasy that seduced me into caring despite a seeming lack of originality. The protagonist is a writer, even, which typically repulses me. But I suffered along with her as she waited for news of her beloved, and the last scene made me stop for a moment to smile.

Then we have the have-nots, those stories that flatly did not work for me. However, of the four I would only label one terrible per se; the rest are a matter of conflicting tastes. For instance, I found Karen Jordan Allen's "Alternate Anxieties" a pretentious deconstruction of Story using the trite writer's-notes conceit; but another reader might think it a brilliant piece of experimental fiction (the experimental classification does tend to draw such extreme opinions). Similarly, I was confused by the mythological underpinnings of Joy Marchard's "Pallas at Noon"--another "writer" story--and I thought that Chloe's (Allen's) poem, once revealed to the reader, was frankly incomprehensible.

In my review of Loghorrea, I have previously blasted Leslie What for her unthinking vilification of a chronic illness; her story here, "Post Hoc," thankfully commits no such sins, but I thought the story unoriginal, uninterstitial (save for the "liminal" post office conceit), and largely unengaging (the main character, anyway--I did like Joe the postman). It's not a bad story, though, just not a very good one. I would rank it above Rachel Pollack's "Burning Beard," an explicitly hip yet faithful retelling of the Biblical life of Joseph. Personally, I'm not a fan of Biblical allusions (even when written by a literary master like Milton); Pollack is considerably less skilled than Milton, and her retelling comes off as trite and silly rather than uniquely interstitial.

Some stories just did nothing for me. I don't understand Anna Tambour's story "The Shoes in SHOES' Window" at all--only that the world appears to be Communist-esque?--and unlike Singer's tale, it gave me no superficial pleasure. After praise heard through the grapevine about K. Tempest Bradford's "Black Feather," I was disappointed to read an unremarkable fairy-tale variant that didn't seem particularly interstitial. Veronica Schanoes's "Rats," a fictionalized biography -slash- Cinderella story about two depressed drug addicts destined for love, was too consciously grungy for me. Similarly, "Timothy" by Colin Greenland could be read as an eroticization of bestality if one were so inclined. And I was unconvinced by the m/m relationship in "A Map of the Everywhere" by Matthew Cheney, which is interstitial by virtue of sheer weirdness but failed as a tale first and foremost.

Some others, I enjoyed but did not love: I liked the collective narrator of "What We Know of the Lost Families of --- House" by Christopher Barzak, a horror tale that doesn't aim to scare. Mikal Trimm's "Climbing Redemption Mountain" wasn't as good as Kleinheincz's version of superrealistic surrealism, but it did emotionally satisfy. I likewise enjoyed reading Vandana Singh's "Hunger," especially the POC focus and all the foodie details, but found her sole fantastical element extraneous--the story is much better read as straight realism, which would not be interstitial. Two other translations also fail to live up to Kleinheincz: Léa Sihol's "Emblemata" from the French by Sarah Smith was interesting for its Buddhist philosophy but just missed the cut for favorites; Adrián Ferrero's "When It Rains, You'd Better Get out of Ulga" from the Spanish by Edo Mor had no plot and not enough theme or insight to make up for said lack. The anthology's closing piece, "A Dirge for Prester John," was typical of Catherynne M. Valente's style in its outlandish, monstrous imagery.

I applaud Sherman and Goss for their conscious shaping of geographic and cultural diversity, as well as their willingness to publish utterly unknown authors. I understand interstitiality a little more now, at least; I just wish that experimental fiction would constitute a smaller part of the (ironic) genre.

Extraordinary Engines: The Definitive Steampunk Anthology
by Nick Gevers (ed.)
441 pages (paperback)
Genre: Fiction/SF/Historical

I read the first two stories but never finished this anthology; I'm just not that interested in steampunk. The magic was cool, but the mechanical aspect bores me. Of the first two: "Steampunk" by James Lovegrove is about mechano-boxing and maintained a level of not-particularly-engaging throughout. "Elementals" by Ian R. MacLeod is about magic, of a sort; the concept is more original but execution still failed to compel my attention. All of this is likely my fault, not the authors'; the only conclusion to be drawn here is that people who don't like steampunk in general probably won't like this steampunk anthology. Y'know?

The Hunger Games
by Suzanne Collins
374 pages
Genre: Fiction/YA/SF

What authors seek, more than anything else, is word of mouth advertising. And for Suzanne Collins, the word of mouth campaign has succeeded spectacularly. Long before I read The Hunger Games, I had repeatedly read high-praise reviews of the novel on my flist. I am fond of dystopias--one of my favorite books is Margaret Atwood's Handmaid's Tale—but also suspicious of the young adult genre, particularly young adult science fiction as spearheaded by Scott Westerfeld, whose books I enjoy but do not really appreciate in-depth. So I approached The Hunger Games with a certain amount of trepidation. Katniss sounded like just your typical stubborn, free-spirited protagonist (supposedly a "strong female"), and the plot synopsis was interesting but not astoundingly original.

In the broken remains of North America, the glorious Capitol rules over 12 colonies, called Districts--there was once a 13th colony, but it rebelled and was utterly destroyed for such defiance. In continuing punishment, each year the Capitol stages the Hunger Games--one boy and one girl ("tributes") from each district, to fight to the death in a controlled arena, captured every second by cameras, as the ultimate reality television. Katniss Everdeen from the 12th and poorest district, a resourceful and hardened girl fighting every day to keep her family fed, finds herself one of the 74th Tributes when she volunteers in place of her younger sister Primrose. The rest, of course, is Collins's book.

By the end of the first page, I was smiling at Katniss's dear, frail little sister Prim. By the seventh page, I had fallen in love with Gale. And I couldn't stop reading; the characters' plight, set against the stark dystopic backdrop, had knotted clear fishing wire around my heart and would not stop reeling me in. I made internal excuses, of course--just one more page, one more chapter, oh, maybe two--but I did not, and still do not, possess the willpower to stop reading a truly good book.

And this is a good book. Certainly the best young adult science fiction tale I've read this year, perhaps ever, given the relative scarcity of that subgenre. Westerfeld, for all his popularity and fans, has never managed to evoke such a reaction from this reader. I connected with Katniss from the start, but Collins showed me Peeta's virtues and ultimately managed to balance the love triangle. As a writer myself, I understand the difficulty of such a balance. At first I thought that I could predict the plot easily enough, but Collins surprised me at several points, particularly the end. The love triangle is patently obvious early on, of course. Though I fall into the "young adult" age category, I usually prefer reading more complex adult literature; however, I am naïve enough to empathize fully with Katniss's confusion. I know exactly what it feels like to not be sure whether you like, rather than just like, someone--much less two people at once! I don't envy Katniss's dilemma but I understand it perfectly.

The cliffhanger ending left me wordless. I could only close the book, close my eyes, and exhale, "Oh, my." Katniss's indecision right up until the last page is absolute series setup. It's a gorgeous cliffhanger, enough closure to end a novel but not enough to end readers' emotional attachment. The plot may be superficially concluded, but the characters—the most important emotional threads—are still at the introduction.

Ironically, the cover (an elegant black affair in itself) proclaims Collins as an NYT bestselling author, but I have never heard of her. In this case, word of mouth has far prevailed. I've already enthusiastically endorsed the book to several friends, and consider this review high praise as well.

* Literary agent Jenny Rappaport on counting spoons, or living with a chronic illness.

* TIME magazine has an article on how McCain makes Obama conservative, in the small-c sense.

* Via Mir at Want Not, Lean Cuisine is selling limited-edition lunch bags with half of each purchase going to the Susan G. Komen Foundation. They are mainly pink, of course, but very pretty and for a good cause!

* Try Ruby (programming experience recommended)! Ruby is the prettiest programming language I've ever seen. This should be of interest to linguists, too, but a little coding background helps if you insist on understanding the entire tutorial, like me.

* Via Strange Horizons, a poem by C.S. MacCath entitled, "Upon the death of my host and waiting for uplink: by Event Horizon, formerly of the Oracle Duality Liselle Marie Michaud / Event Horizon." In a shape-poetry form that I can't remember the name of.

* Via yhlee, jenwrites on artistic works being too long for your skill level. Does that mean I shouldn't bother trying to write a novel (and failing, repeatedly)?

* Also via yhlee, a fascinating article on tone deafness and/or bad singing. I've never considered myself tone-deaf, but I have both a terrible ear for flat/sharp (although I do hear discordances if the correct form is engrained in my memory from repetition) and the inability to carry a tune. I can match pitches if you give me a few seconds, but I can't reproduce them. And nothing (in terms of music) gets stuck in my head. Not always a good thing, when you're a musician.

Fantasy & Science Fiction July '08
by Gordon Van Gelder (ed.)
160 pages (paperback)
Genre: Fiction/Fantasy/Science Fiction

This review should attest to exactly how far behind I am on reading--I was sent this copy of the magazine for free, as part of a blogger giveaway, in early May. And I'm reviewing the July issue in late August. Ah, well.

My verdict: highly disappointing, considering that F&SF is basically the tippy-top of the speculative short fiction market. Anthologies are hit-or-miss for me, but this issue of F&SF contained one story that I loved and one that I enjoyed out of 7 stories. The magazine leads off with "Fulbrim's Finding" by Matthew Hughes, a long and extremely boring SF story about a "discriminator," aka private investigator, who searches for a missing "seeker of substance" and in the process discovers the truth of reality. It doesn't live up to such weighty intentions, being presented with stiff, distracting prose and an unsympathetic, unethical protagonist. The world-building is unoriginal and too techy, leaving the reader bewildered like Fulbrim's poor wife Caddice. Ending parallels theme; both are thoroughly unsatisfying.

Thankfully, the next story lifted my spirits. "Reader's Guide" by Lisa Goldstein operates on a truly original conceit and goes on to support itself as a light (though not wholly humorous), enlightening tale. It is impossible to describe without spoilers, so I won't try, but Goldstein's contribution is the sole reason this will remain on my bookshelf. However, Michael Blumlein's novella "The Roberts" should not be discounted. It uses the extra length successfully. The world-building isn't standout but the characters are interesting, major and minor both--I especially liked Stanovič's accent. Plot builds evenly to a strong conclusion and a new understanding of the (apt) title.

After which, I had to endure four stories of varying ennui. Paul DiFilippo's "Plumage from Pegasus" begins with an intriguing concept but has no meaning or substance. I seriously can't tell if it's fiction or nonfiction. This is not a good thing. "Enfant Terrible" by Scott Dalrymple follows; weird (in the imitation-punk fashion) is the best descriptor, and the second-person narration feels like an unnecessary gimmick. I skimmed Albert E. Cowdrey's "Poison Victory" one-sentence-per-page at one point--a new low of boredom, I believe--and on top of that, the story is semi-incomprehensible due to random German phrases. "The Dinosaur Train," by James L. Cambias, ends the issue on a slightly stronger note, but only in comparison. I found the plotline suspenseful but the ending lackluster and predictable. Some characters approach caricature and others are realistic--too realistic, as I wasn't invested in their fates.

I will probably still buy another copy of F&SF in the future, when yhlee's story comes out (the elemental-music one, I believe?), but that will be in spite of rather than because of this complimentary copy. My regrets.

Ragamuffin
by Tobias Buckell (tobias_buckell)
316 pages (hardcover)
Genre: Fiction/SF

I've owned a signed paperback of Crystal Rain, Buckell's debut novel, since Alpha last July, but I somehow never got around to it; and I regretted not buying Ragamuffin instead, for the simple reason that female heroines attract me a lot more than the male equivalent. Nashara drew me into the world, and now I'm interested enough to go back and read about John and Pepper (oh, especially Pepper). Buckell writes fast-paced space opera (real space opera, unlike Grimspace) that focuses mostly on action/adventure. The romantic element is present, but I was unconvinced by it. This was, though, a very fast and fun read. Dare I say that Toby in person is just as cool as his books, or is that too cheesy?

In my opinion, the strongest aspect of Ragamuffin is the plot. Storyline is interwoven and tight, avoiding the all too common episodic feel. Characters are not always fully fleshed out, but Nashara (the protagonist, though not the only POV character) is a classic amazing superfighter and I adore her. I especially liked how Nashara is powerful, but not invincible--she can be tricked, and this fallibility makes her human. The duplication was also very cool, an original SF technology twist. Worldbuilding is strong as well, and original; I loved the integration of Asian and Caribbean elements in the Hongguo and Raga, respectively.

A lovely and classic, different space opera novel; I'm looking forward to reading both Crystal Rain and Sly Mongoose (forthcoming). Unfortunately--or fortunately--I don't have enough experience with SF to offer meaningful criticism on the tropes, but I really enjoyed this book and would recommend it to fans of space opera (or of speculative politics, if you happen to have my weird taste).

Grimspace
by Ann Aguirre
312 pages (galley proof)
Genre: Fiction/SF/Romance
Publication Date: February 26, 2008

I won this ARC in a contest on Dear Author a while ago; when it finally arrived in my mailbox, I read the first few pages and ended up finishing the novel by that night. While it's not a novel I'll reread to savor, it serves well as a breezy SF romance that follows some well-worn tropes--admittedly without a lot of creativity.

How to describe the plot? Episodic, in a word (but not mine). The opening bears a certain resemblance to Firefly: Serenity, and I hear from a reliable source that other SF influences are unmistakable. Sirantha Jax, an unusually long-lived "jumper," is the sole survivor of a spaceship crash that killed several crucial dignitaries and her own pilot-lover. She wakes up in the tender care of the Corps, which is more interested in seeing Sirantha safely locked in the madhouse than her safe recovery. March comes to her rescue one day, breaks her out, and introduces her to his ragtag crew. The adventure proceeds from there in the usual space opera fashion, though I would characterize Grimspace as more "baby space opera"--the plot, while tangled and interesting, never quite achieves the tight unity of true space opera. Side characters are introduced, developed, and then tossed carelessly aside as soon as the gang moves on. The ending was surprising and satisfying--10 pages from the end, I had no idea how Sirantha and March were going to get their HEA--but it still felt like a To Be Continued.

The narration is in first-person present tense, an unusual choice for romance that lent suspenseful immediacy and was aided by Sirantha's crisp voice. I strongly believed in the romance, though I can also see how the love triangle could throw people off. As a not-veteran SF reader, I didn't predict much of the plot and the climax in particular was wonderful. Prose is tight, appropriate for this type of novel--no unnecessary description or flowery phrasing. There was perhaps a bit too much exposition, considering that this really is soft SF with "fuzzy" science/technology, not always gracefully meshed. Loras is annoyingly sacrificial, almost a throwaway plot character; the shinai bond disappointed me by taking the easy, cliche route of development. I also missed Keri, who essentially disappears for the latter half of the book, and too bad 245 didn't play a larger role after all the references to her intelligence. In regards to social commentary, a lot of admirable issues were tackled but not pursued to the fullest: slavery, alien-human racial conflict, sexual orientation, the dangers of monopoly.

Ultimately, Grimspace was a solid--not stunning--but nevertheless worthwhile read. I've talked a lot about its flaws, so I feel obligated to add that I did like the book. It's due to be published in a little over a week, but at least one person has already found it on bookstore shelves. Recommended to fans of Catherine Asaro and the SF-romance genre, who don't mind or haven't yet been overexposed to bordering-on-formulaic tropes.

The Ruby Dice
by Catherine Asaro
392 pages (hardcover)
Genre: Fiction/SF/Romance

I started reading this on the way back from the library. When I got home, I really really needed to study for midterms. Guess what I did instead? Finished reading The Ruby Dice, of course.

Asaro's Skolian Empire series is huge by now, but she always thoughtfully includes a glossary reference and in-text catchups for new readers. The catchups read as basically infodumps, but I remember how much they helped me the first time and they weren't too hard to skip over. This novel deals with Kelric and Jaibriol III after they become Imperator and Emperor of Eube respectively, nine years after an initial peace attempt--the Paris Accord--fell through. I love F/SF politics, and Asaro is one of the best at mixing complex SF politics with equally complex characters and families (the Valdoria/Skolia/Ruby Dynasty family tree is quite intimidating). Jai and Tarquine have a lovely, laugh-out-loud relationship; I wish Asaro would do another book on just Eube, and I absolutely can't wait for her next one to continue the overall plot arc. This book ends on essentially the climax, which is rare these days; but it leaves you trying to catch your breath, coming down from immersion high, and that feeling is totally worth the lost studying time.

The two trademarks of Asaro's stories are strong characters and excellent worldbuilding--here, she doesn't disappoint on either account. I enjoyed the examples of realistic, slowly growing love (Jai/Tarquine, Kelric/Jeejon) rather than romance's usual love-at-first-sight trope. Most of the characters weren't new to me, other than a gap of several months, but I connected with all of them (oh, Hidaka, I love you so). And I absolutely adore the dynamic and convoluted web of relations (familial, political, etc.). I think The Ruby Dice is Asaro's most dramatic work to date--the plot rushes along, smooth as a a river's torrents (i.e. not very but in a good way). At the very end especially, I almost couldn't handle the suspense. I knew what I logically could expect to happen, but I also knew that the author was daring enough to flip that expectation.

Now for the negatives: Asaro isn't going to win any awards for poetic prose. At times the style is downright pedestrian, though always useful and concise--much like ISC, the Skolian military. I'm not sure how much a new reader will get out of this, simply because I'm coming with knowledge of so much backstory--I've read all of her Skolia novels except one (The Radiant Seas, unavailable at the library and I've never gotten around to purchasing it). As I said before, though, her early exposition passages help greatly with comprehension. Also, don't be put off by the cover, which is ugly as hell--the huge hand looks like radioactive putty and the Quis dice like plastic toys. I guess the publisher is trying to appeal to the romance side of her audience, though the background is also very techy.

This is a wholehearted rec to all SF and romance fans; Asaro writes hard SF romances, and she mixes the genres with quite a lot of experience. The character arc continued by this novel begins with The Last Hawk, then Ascendant Sun and The Moon's Shadow (the last of which is about Jai's ascension to the Carnelian Throne and his marriage to Tarquine). My reviews of most of Asaro's novels are also accessible through tags; be warned that her fantasy romance series for the Luna line is very, very different.