Egan’s handpicked collection of stories spanning 30 years of his writing career is nothing if not impressive. Over 700 pages of dense, engaging prose, depicting different worlds and scenarios but always coming to the same foundational questions – what is consciousness, what is identity, individuality, personality, free will? Each question is given its due attention, too – there is nothing flippant in Egan’s methodical and open approach, on the contrary – he seems to invite the readers to ponder these problems with him, and full agreement is not the end goal. Many of the stories have a feel of a mathematical proof, disciplined and focused on building an argument, but just as mathematical proofs they are also elegant, sparse, and not preachy (well, maybe one is, but more on that later ;)). Egan likes his mathematics, to be sure, so there is a lot of talk about algorithms, axioms, functions and so on, but you don’t need to follow the complex mathematical arguments with deep accuracy to get the gist.
As with any collection, the quality of stories included is not uniform. There are some that are absolutely fantastic, there are some that are clearly weaker than others – but none falls below a certain level, and that level is pretty high. The chronological progression gives an interesting perspective on Egan’s changing style and concerns, but it also offers a feeling of continuity – from the very first story to the last the focus rests unwaveringly on the elusive quality of being “me”. What is “me”? What can be deducted, or added, to what we perceive as unique and irreproducible? Can the elusive quality of “me” be reproduced faithfully, fully? Can it be fixed, improved, altered, and still stay “me” or will it become something else altogether?
Wow. I mean, this type of publication comes around once in a decade, perhaps - or maybe not even that. It is so cringingly, eye-poppingly bad it could serve as an extremely effective guide on how not to: write short stories, choose stories for publishing, edit anthologies, and put your own (badly written) story up front as the editor of said anthologies.
It started off bad and nosedived to worst with impressive speed; of the eighteen stories in this anthology only three got anything equal to 5 stars or above (out of 10); the rest received almost uniformly 1 and 2 star ratings, and a few beat even that “high” score and got a round 0. I thought of DNFing this collection, but two things stopped me: firstly, each story was written by a different author; I could not in good conscience just consign their work to the bin without reading it, since their stories’ placement in the anthology was not their fault. Secondly, the whole experience turned into one of morbid interest, something along the lines of watching a train wreck in slow motion: I could not believe how bad some of these stories could be, how the authors could think of publishing them. Because, you know, the list of names here is really quite impressive: Haldeman, Powell, Weber, Modesitt, Jr., Scalzi, McGuire, Czerneda, Lee… Many of those authors’ works have been reviewed quite favourably on this blog and others. What most of them decided to publish in this anthology, though… probably had been hiding in the deepest recesses of their drawers and should never have seen the light of day.
[...]
Detailed reviews and ratings of each story available on the blog.
TL;DR: Reading this collection turned into an unexpected effort, but one that was highly educational. The one thing that sustained me through some of these “jewels” was the thought of writing the above review. Consider it my service to you ;)
I received a copy of this book from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. My thanks....more
I disagree with Saunders on a few of the short stories interpretations, particularly on The Darling, and 9/10 stars
Impressive, subjective, inspiring.
I disagree with Saunders on a few of the short stories interpretations, particularly on The Darling, and a bit on Gooseberries, but it doesn't detract from the reading pleasure in the slightest - after all, it's a literary discussion, a conversation about craft, life, and everything in between. It's possible that this book telss more about Saunders himself and the agony and the extasy of translation than about the Russian authors and their stories, but nevertheless, reading it was a wonderful experience: informative, thought-provoking, and affirming. The detailed analysis of the stories, focusing on the choices of the author, the roads taken and not taken, and the relationship of the reader with the finished work, is thought-provoking and fosters creativity.
Harris’s book is a pretty (those Charles Vess illustrations, beautiful!), relatively short, decently written and entirely redundant retelling of a bunch of European myths and fairy tales (and no, I don’t want to enter into the discussion about the differences between the two, nor theories how the first devolves into the latter). It is pleasantly readable, and while it contains nothing new, surprising, or even remotely emotionally resonant, it isn’t bad. It just seems unnecessary.
This sounds rather harsh, I realise. But Honeycomb made me wonder what is the purpose of such books – beautiful, pampered and sadly superfluous works of love. Why would someone write this, and publish, and for whom? It has clearly been a long process, the stories accumulating over the years, the collaboration between the author and the illustrator something of a friendly, inspired dialogue. I wonder, deep inside, if this isn’t a book that Harris wrote for herself – she certainly knows how to write. Maybe it was just the author’s ambition to try to create her own spin on the old myths, or maybe she has been immersed in Norse, Celtic and Greek mythology and European fairy tales for too long to see how much they influenced her, how much they shaped her view and style. But the stories she tells in Honeycomb are just variations of the old, existing stories, the myths ranging from Pygmalion to Hel, from the divine mead of poets to the hidden realms of Aos Si – and Harris’s own ideas, few and far between, felt from time to time almost like unwanted intrusions. I liked the overarching theme of the insect world, clearly inspired by the Cottingley fairies photographs. I appreciated the cyclical nature of the storytelling in this collection, the stories seemingly unconnected but eventually converging and merging into a larger whole. The short nature of these stories, some of which no longer than a page or two, also made the reading more enjoyable: a story or two a day made for a pleasant diversion, and the illustrations depicted the subtle character of Harris’s narrative very well indeed. I guess having the actual, physical copy in my hands would have in this case made a difference: this book is a collaboration enriched by both parties so that the derivative nature of the stories becomes less noticeable among the lush illustrations.
[...]
In the end, Honeycomb is a collection of inconsequential bagatelles: light and entertaining, pleasing but of no consequence. Harris’s work is not bad, really – there is just no real point to the stories beyond exercising the author’s imagination and writing skills in the realm of old mythologies and tales. If you like retellings, this might be a good fit for you – and it doesn’t hurt that the finished collaboration between Harris and Vess is a real eye candy.
I received a copy of this book from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. My thanks....more
This one is only for To Sail Beyond the Botnet by Suzanne Palmer. Bot 9 has gained my attention thanks to carol.'s and Nataliya's reviews, a8/10 stars
This one is only for To Sail Beyond the Botnet by Suzanne Palmer. Bot 9 has gained my attention thanks to carol.'s and Nataliya's reviews, and I'm glad I heeded their recommendations. Entirely antropomorphised in that slightly a-scocial or on-the-spectrum way that makes all popular depictions of savants and benevolent AI so endearing, it nevertheless offers enjoyable entertainment. Cozy, somewhat in Murderbot style, and optimistic, it's a comfort read with cute and imaginative twists on the worn and tired tropes - which it also embraces with a kind of enthusiastic abandon. This novelette is clearly a work of love for Palmer, and her happy pleasure of inventing new adventures for her tiny bot is contagious. Don't expect originality, but rather deference toward the old Star Trek where guns were rarely used, and interspecies comprehension and trust readily achievable, with no prejudice or fear. ...more
I present to you Peter S. Beagle’s first volume of collected short stories, a book well worth a read even if you’re not a fan of the short form. If you are, however, it’s a required reading. The stories are varied, in length, themes, style, age, what have you – but Beagle’s skill shines in all of them (even the ones I didn’t like ;)). His prose is evocative, poetic, sometimes transcendent, and generally surprisingly gentle – but with a bite. You’ll never know what hit you with Beagle’s stories, but you’ll feel it anyway. Some of them will stay with you for a while, their mythopoetic quality making you look for the uncanny in the mundane around you.
Beagle’s storytelling techniques bring to my mind Isaac Bashevis Singer much more than any of the names listed in the blurb, but I guess Singer might not be as catchy a name these days as Tolkien or L’Engle. These stories might be set in modern New York, not a stetl from the past century, but nevertheless my other strongest association of Beagle’s prose is with the paintings of Marc Chagall. Yes, blue angels might have something to do with it ...more
A fabulous short story, evocative, poetic, and at the same time judiciously understated and brutally incisive.
Claire Keegan’s Foster is a f10/10 stars
A fabulous short story, evocative, poetic, and at the same time judiciously understated and brutally incisive.
Claire Keegan’s Foster is a fabulous short novella set in the 1980’s in rural Ireland, and it’s a real masterclass in writing. I don’t want to say too much for fear of spoiling the pleasure of reading it – so let me just say that it’s an intimate account of a memorable summer, where the young protagonist develops and matures in more ways than one.
It’s fascinating how much complexity – situational, emotional, even physical – can Keegan pack into such a short book. She is a master at showing, not telling, and the way we the readers build the full picture of the situation out of the subtly and sparsely given clues is half the pleasure of reading Foster; the other half is in the writing skill, the exceptional, memorable language depicting with such rich detail the developing mind of a young girl. The progression of the story stems from the progression of time and of the maturity of the protagonist – her developing sensitivity, emotional intelligence and growing awareness is reflected in the changes in her language and in the broadening and deepening of topics she addresses. I am truly impressed by how well Keegan thought this through, how well each part feeds into another, the structural and narrative choices enhanced by the subtly changing language and all inexorably crescending in an emotionally charged finale.
The short form is generally one of my favorites, because it shines unforgiving – yet exceedingly honest – light on all aspects of the author’s writing skill: from the very personal imagination and empathy to the control over the narrative flow and the mastery over the work’s structure to the precision and beauty of language. Keegan in this short work shows an impressive skill in all these aspects of the writing trade. It is a truly remarkable novella, but the most outstanding thing about it is its emotional heft: punching way above the weight, Foster delivers a knockout of an ending that will stay with you for a long time.
Eh. Lévi-Strauss in his old age had not only became facetious but also factitious. Gone are the days of truly groundbreaking ideas; instead,5/10 stars
Eh. Lévi-Strauss in his old age had not only became facetious but also factitious. Gone are the days of truly groundbreaking ideas; instead, far-flung extrapolations, some rather absurd in their fancifulness, seem to rule the day. Of course, there are exceptions: We Are All Cannibals and Presentation of a Book by Its Author are fascinating examples of the strength and ingenuity of Lévi-Strauss's thought. The famous Santa Claus essay, while not bad, had aged considerably: there are more facts about the origin of the institution now, and thus not all Lévi-Strauss had written there still holds up. Nevertheless, it's a good example of the author's broad horizons, skillful fluidity of writing, and truly enviable knowledge. All in all, there are way better books and essays by Lévi-Strauss - if you're interested in structural anthropology, rather try them. ...more
Enjoyable if strongly influenced by the recent D&D nostalgia trend started by Stranger Things and books like One Word Kill. Polansky gets th6/10 stars
Enjoyable if strongly influenced by the recent D&D nostalgia trend started by Stranger Things and books like One Word Kill. Polansky gets the disillusioned bitterness and regret across very well though....more
A good one. Classic, '60s SF had such a characteristic style: both science- and human-oriented. Reminded me of Lem. Possible inspiration for8/10 stars
A good one. Classic, '60s SF had such a characteristic style: both science- and human-oriented. Reminded me of Lem. Possible inspiration for Wilhelm? Anyway, Le Guin never disappoints. Short, powerful, humane. Worth a read! ...more
Solid. I liked it a lot, even if the ending seemed like a too easy way out. It was meaty and yet quite subtle, poetic and evocative in both 8/10 stars
Solid. I liked it a lot, even if the ending seemed like a too easy way out. It was meaty and yet quite subtle, poetic and evocative in both the delicately sketched scenes of intimacy and ruthless political intrigue. While remaining a thing entirely its own, with plenty of references to Chinese and Japanese culture and dynastic traditions, The Empress of Salt and Fortune reminded me a bit of Hobb's Realm of Elderlings in choosing an outsider, and seemingly a crude barbarian from the far, icy North, as a focal point in a power struggle and a dynastic conflict, and a seemingly irrelevant peasant child as the unwitting, at least at the beginning, kingmaker. I particularly like the flavor of oral history - this story is told in snippets, with frequent questions of "do you understand?" toward the reader's stand-in, the cleric. What's said is as important as what's left unsaid, and I liked the emotional balance of this story: subdued and slow, satisfied but not without lingering questions, sadness, or even regrets.
All in all, an enjoyable, thoughtful, and quite powerful short novella. The price of power is always the highest for those who have no power at all - they pay with their lives and fortunes for those who maintain control over them.
And lastly, thanks to carol. for the recommendation!...more
A collection of 16 short stories from the murky border of fantasy, horror and science fiction. Whiteley has a penchant for infusing the mundane with the strange and the uncanny, successfully punching holes in the surface of our perception of everyday life with her creepy little tales. She is a skillful writer, seemingly seamlessly combining lightness of style and a wide range of topics with socio-philosophical observation. As usual with collections of short stories, the quality is uneven – but I did find a few gems here, and I’m quite happy I gave this anthology a chance.
As usual, I will review and rate each story separately and in conclusion I will give a general rating which may, or may not, be a simple average of the stories’ scores.
Brushwork 8.5/10 stars
A cli-fi novella, almost 80 pages long, about a world roughly resembling that from Snowpiercer: the Gulf Stream stopped, the land started becoming colder and colder, the vegetation died off under heavy snow and frost, and only corporate farms offer a possibility of a secure live – for the price of freedom. There is a lot going on in this novella: reflections on aging and the division between young and old; meditation on living with one’s past regrets and difficult choices; inequality and terrorism, slavery and trust. It’s one of the strongest stories in the collection, and I enjoyed it quite a lot.
Many-eyed monsters 2/10
Meh. Didn’t care for this one at all. I had the impression that the author was trying too hard for the uncanny, which made the whole story feel forced and artificial. Also, it couldn’t seem to decide what it wanted to be: a satire, a horror, a critique of modern society and its propensity for artificially enhanced and groomed physical beauty, or something else altogether.
[...]
From the Neck Up 8/10
A sweet story of an early mid-life crisis and of finding meaning in life outside of the limits of the usual rat race. As the whole story starts off with a severed head, it’s at once gory and delightful, and highly imaginative. It’s a perfect example of Whiteley’s style, mixing uncanny with everyday: a severed head, talking and dirtying the duvet, becomes a source of a small epiphany after it sprouts leaves and roots.
The Tears of a Building Surveyor, and Other Stories 2/10
Eh meh. Didn’t care about this one. The main protagonist, Violet, struggles with an unprocessed trauma from the past, exacerbated by the ongoing trauma caused by the exhausting and painfully slow dying of her husband Tom. Her way of coping is to escape into her imagination, Walter Mitty-like, and experience grand adventures around the world. Neither her life nor her confabulations held any interest for me.
To the Farm 8/10
A popular theme in SF, the humanity of androids/AI. Lem, Asimov, Dick, all the greats have written about it at some point, and for a reason. Whether we ascribe humanity to sentient beings speaks more about us than about them. While Whiteley writes nothing new, I liked her melancholy little story, both for its careful optimism and its clean, precise structure. No word wasted.
The Spoils 7/10
An intriguing dragon story, with worldbuilding nicely tucked between the story threads and some skilled use of vignettes to create an immersive experience. Highly enjoyable, slightly nostalgic, evoking the cadence and rhythm of fairy tales.
All in all, I’m very pleased with Whiteley’s short story collection. She manages more often than not to hit that sweet spot between horror, fantasy and science fiction, keeping the genre trappings mostly elusive and symbolic, and concentrating on the psychology of the characters instead. Her stories are delightfully creepy and unusual, and while not every story in this collection worked for me, there are some gems that will stay with me for a long time.
I received a copy of this book from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. My thanks....more
Stanisław Lem is one of my absolutely favorite SF authors, as you probably already know from here and here. His brain really seems to have been wired differently, perceiving correlations and consequences and possible outcomes that not many others – or none – had seen. He’s also a very pessimistic writer, at least when it comes to humans and human cognitive and moral abilities – and reading Lem is a bit like gazing into a very unflattering mirror, one from Andersen’s tale The Snow Queen. In our times full of wilful denial and escapist pleasure, though, I contend that Lem’s passionate critique is something sorely needed.
This collection gathers stories from different periods of Lem’s life, from 1956 to 1996. Many of them have never been translated to English before. This anthology offers a great opportunity to acquaint oneself with the key themes and topics of Lem’s writing: artificial intelligence, first contact, human psychology and cognitive limitations, ethical problems inherent in human perception of the world. Even though some of these stories are nearing their seventieth year, apart from the odd outdated technological detail they seem as bold and fresh as written today by the greatest in the field. Lem was particularly preoccupied with the concept of Otherness – and this, maybe more than any other theme, makes his writing so enduring and important to his day.
As usual, I’ll present a short review of each story and offer a quick summary and rating of the collection at the conclusion of my post.
The Hunt 10/10
This is a very Lem story; and one so deeply rooted in his personal experiences that without the context might seem too pessimistic. Alas, for all its SF accoutrements it’s a WWII story about the meanings and definitions of “humanity.” The Hunt is one long exhalation, a violent gut punch, and its message is enhanced by a very visceral, visual and dynamic storytelling. It reminds me of Tales of Pirx the Pilot, both in terms of themes and execution, and I find it hard to believe this story is almost 70 years old – it feels so fresh and rabid and desperate. I knew what to expect, and yet I still hoped for a different ending.
A very strong opening to the collection.
Rat in the Labyrinth 7/10
A preparatory sketch to Solaris; interesting but not surprising, with Lem exploring various concepts that will later find their way into the novel. I appreciated the time loop twist, it was well done and lent the whole a suitably nightmarish feel, but the overarching metaphor was a bit too blunt.
Invasion from Aldebaran 7/10
Unfortunately, satire ages quickly; and here it wasn’t helped by the noticeably clunky translation. I must say that in general the translation of the stories in this collection is really good, so hats off to Antonia Lloyd-Jones – but here, she simply didn’t manage to catch the subtexts and contexts, and somehow lost the delicious irony of the tale. The premise and plot are funny, but their acerbic humor stems mainly from the utter believability of the situation – in fact, this story is a satire on Polish rural culture in the 50’s more than anything else. It avoided censorship because it was clad in an iridescent SF cloak, but really, it’s a viciously accurate reportage from Polish boondocks. It’s still spot on, actually.
The Friend 10/10
Wondrously creepy, twisty and dark, The Friend is one of the highlights of the collection. A feeling of constant oppression, infiltration, and fear permeates this tale that starts like a noir detective story, turns into a morality tale, and switches gears again to become a tour the force in empathy and imagination, with a finishing touch of body horror. Once again, this story seems as if it was written today, not in the 50’s. Perfect.
[...]
The Truth 10/10
Wonderfully imaginative, vividly descriptive – a fascinating account of unacceptable knowledge born from tragedy. It’s also absolutely, unapologetically crazy, in that rabbit hole way that hooks you in and drags you ever deeper. Mad scientists feature heavily in this collection; for a lot of reasons. Censorship, be it political or academical, is usually born out of fear and personal/institutional interest, and Lem was well acquainted with political censorship in 1950s and ‘60s in Poland. But he also points out to Kuhn’s concept of the structure of scientific revolutions, where new knowledge is usually rejected at first only to be accepted later on under the weight of new evidence and growing consensus.
One Hundred and Thirty Seven Seconds 10/10
All right, Lem did it again.Led me on a merry chase through physics, macro and quantum, the nature of time, the nature of consciousness, only to end with a gallows humor and a knowing wink to the audience. A lovely story, much in the style of The Saragossa Manuscript or Decameron, or other oral tales fit to be told by the campfire, it showcases the strengths of both Lem’s writing skill and his amazing capacity for applying knowledge.
An Enigma 8/10
A wonderfully ironic trifle, a perfect lightweight dessert at the end of a very filling eleven-course meal. It shows Lem’s other face, that of a wise jester, inviting us to laugh wholeheartedly with him at our own expense. Reminiscent of Cyberiad, this tiny story makes a perfect conclusion to the collection, imploring us to keep an open mind and be curious, always.
All in all, this was a real pleasure. Not all stories are equally wonderful, as usual with anthologies, but there’s an unusually high percentage of great stories in this collection. They are all thought-provoking, bold, unapologetic, and ruthless in their unrelenting seriousness with which Lem approached everything, and which KSR so aptly describes in his foreword. A word about the foreword: I think that it should rather be read as an afterword – Robinson not only shares his appreciation for Lem’s work in general and the influence it had on his own writing, but also discusses some of the stories from this collection.
I will be coming back to some of these stories. Their superb quality, their clinical poetry of structure and image, is haunting. While I obviously prefer the original Polish version of Lem’s works, I am surprised, really, to have enjoyed them so much in translation – which is a testament to both Lem’s enduring skill and breadth of vision, and to the faithful translation by Antonia Lloyd-Jones.
Very highly recommended.
I received a copy of this book from the publisher MIT Press through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. My thanks....more
I am partial to collections of short stories. I very much like the format, which for me works as a beginning of a conversation between the writer and the reader. A story comes into being as an idea: it may be not fully thought through, unpolished and raw, but it’s scintillating enough that cannot be left alone; it needs to be shown to the world and elicit a reaction. I read short stories to be intellectually challenged, however minutely or extensively. There are always some good or even great stories in collections and anthologies, but sadly, the opposite is also true: rarely a collection of disparate stories can hold up an exceptionally high quality level throughout. That said, it’s the gems I hunt for among the sand, and I’m always happy to find new favorites.
I confess I requested Nina Allan’s collection on a whim; I have never read anything by her and decided short stories are a good place to start. And indeed, The Art of Space Travel and Other Stories is as varied a collection as one could wish for. The stories, arranged chronologically, span about two decades and showcase both the continuity and evolution of thought, as well as a development of skill.
As usual, I’ll present a short review and rating for each of the stories, and give an overall summary at the end.
Amethyst 2/10 It shows moments of uneasy brilliance in creating an uncanny, uneasy mood in the most mundane of situations. But as a whole it just doesn’t work; it loses both the momentum and the emotional weight somewhere along the way and dies a quiet, undignified death before its end.
Heroes 4/10 Another story about a mystery that turns out to be thoroughly mundane and uninteresting; the past or present of the characters failed to kindle my curiosity. In the end, the only engaging thing is the pigeons. Utterly forgettable, unfortunately. More of a beginning of a novel or a novella than a complete short story.
A Thread of Truth 9/10 A delightful gothic tale involving spiders, arachnophobia, Kafka, and body horror, all in a quaint old English town. One of the best stories in the collection, and one of very few that actually has a well executed ending.
[...]
Neptune’s Trident 5/10 Initially quite interesting, with body horror elements and alien invasion. But quickly it reveals itself to be another one of the stories that seem like the beginning of something larger: it’s meandering, slow-paced, and without any leading thought, but worse than that – it has no solid ending. It’s like Allan just can’t help themself and ruin whatever she’d built with a few additional paragraphs that rob the story of meaning.
Four Abstracts 3/10 I was happy with A Thread of Truth; this story, returning to the characters and chronicling their lives in a somewhat obsessive-compulsive way, actually feels like diminishing A Thread of Truth’s impact. The narrator is incredibly bitchy, and the concept of believing/disbelieving something unbelievable had been tackled much better in The Science of Chance. Once again, it seems that Allan just can’t leave a good story alone.
The Common Tongue, The Present Tense, The Known 6/10 Another continuation, this time of Microcosmos. Despite some scientific flaws (sharks are coming nearer shores because their usual hunting grounds are emptying) it’s an engaging story about the dissolution of the world as we know it due to climate change. Kind of preachy and uneven, but interesting overall.
The Gift of Angels 7.5/10 A bit corny, and overflowing with words (I know, weird, that’s what stories are built with, so how can there be excess, but believe me, that’s what it is) but a really good little story of lifelong bereavement, curiosity, and being marked by loss. It’s another continuation – not so much of a story as of certain threads from The Art of Space Travel – it’s in effect a diary of the man whose mother left him to go to Mars. I really like Allan’s style here, subdued and self-aware, and still quite poetic.
A Princess of Mars 8.5/10 A very good story about a non-existent movie, Russian cinema, and the complexity of creating and receiving art. It reads less like a story and more like an essay, or interview, an expression on opinion, and it’s wonderfully open-ended, which is for me a proof of Allan’s growing skill.
All in all, I quite enjoyed this collection. It started out unpromising, but improved – and watching the process of the author’s growth was a pleasure in itself. It ends on a good note, too, leaving a better aftertaste ;). There’s something unusual about Allan’s style, her prose can be luminous and evocative, and meditative. There’s also a lot of repetition of themes and topics, and this collection offers an insight into her obsessions: bodily transformation, the workings of memory, the impact of loss.
I received a copy of this book from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. My thanks....more
Pavane has been hailed as a masterpiece by writers as different as Neil Gaiman and G.R.R. Martin. It certainly has all the markings of a writers’ book, for those inspired by Roberts’s work are various and many (and even Pratchett might be among them). While it’s usually classified as alternate history, I rather agree with my library’s categorization – it’s a science fiction book, though the telltale signs are very subtle and few in number, limited mostly to the epilogue, called Coda. In a way, Roberts’s work reminded me strongly of Wolfe, although obviously it’s the other way round: Wolfe’s The Book of the New Sun actually seems to have been guided to some extent by Pavane.
I will freely admit that it took me a while to get invested in this strange collection of linked stories [...]. The title seems very fitting. The language is flowery and yet somehow rigid; the descriptions take forever but they have an inhospitable feel of something matter-of-fact, set once and then deemed unimportant. The pace is ponderous and every step seems slow and laden with grave consideration. Little of note happens, and when it does, it does so quickly and flittingly, and then is gone, almost as if it hadn’t happened at all. The atmosphere created by Roberts is vaguely oppressive: the tone dark and brooding, the fates of characters inescapable and invariably ending in death, and a deep sense of futility pervades everything. His world is an unforgiving one; stilted and largely unhappy, forced to accept a status quo unchanged for centuries, where any unprecedented thought runs a risk of being labelled heresy. Accordingly, Roberts’s characters are equally unhappy: they strain against the set limitations but are unable to break free, and frustration, resignation, anger and misery are their constant companions. None of the stories have a happy ending, and, as a result, the Coda’s ostensibly happy ending strikes me as false.
And yet there is a magnetic quality to these stories, in all of their depressing glory: for all of the protagonists are strong-willed and resilient, and very human in both their triumphs and defeats, in their moments of joy, however fleeting, and moments of despair. A special emphasis must be put on the female characters: Roberts created all of them: Margaret, Margaret, Becky and Eleanor as believable, realistic, and flawed. They are wilful and incredibly stubborn, and powerful in their own way, and more progressive than most female characters of today’s genre novels: they are human, ambiguous, and not stereotypical (bar the odd remarks about breasts, which I guess were supposed to be an indication of the scarcity of lingerie more than anything else). They might be even more interesting than their male counterparts, mostly because the world is even less hospitable to their sex than to the men: after all, Pavane depicts a world without Reformation, suspended in time of distorted Baroque like a fly in amber.
The stories of Pavane are set in a world where the catholic Church rules unopposed over the entire Earth; while I found the main cause of this turn of events rather unbelievable, and the whole setup equally implausible, with bits and pieces of progress accepted or persecuted on completely arbitrary grounds by the Church, the final effect was intriguing – if flawed. For reasons unexplained nor even alluded to steam is okay, but oil isn’t; telegraphs are sanctioned, but electricity is heresy. Inquisition still tortures people and exorcisms are an everyday occurence, monarchy is the default and coexists with rich aristocracy and even richer merchant caste but there is no academia nor banks, for example. With the rigid, self-contained description the reader is expected to simply accept the strictures imposed by the author, but I found it increasingly difficult to just suspend my disbelief and roll with it. If I were to find a novel with a somewhat similar premise but completely different set of guiding principles, I would point to Miller Jr.’s A Canticle for Leibowitz (which, having been published nearly a decade earlier, might have been an inspiration for Pavane itself).
I’ve known Marjorie Liu as the author of Monstress, a dark fantasy graphic novel series with the wonderful art by Sana Takeda. I liked Monstress well enough to request Liu’s short stories collection from NG the moment I saw it there – just look at this cover! In hindsight, I might’ve been better served by gathering more intel on Liu’s work of fiction first. That’s not to say that the collection is irredeemably bad; most stories are inherently readable and subtly creepy in Liu’s trademark Monstress way, and there are a couple that are actually all right. As for the rest, however, ah – best see for yourself, below.
As usual, I offer here a short summary of each story, each scored separately, with an overall rating at the end.
Sympathy for the Bones 7/10
A nicely creepy voodoo (here called hoodoo) story, with dolls and gris-gris and the possession of one’s soul. The sewing aspect was what’s really drawn me to the story, and the spin on the usual witch-and-her-victim trope was interesting. In Liu’s stories men have no agency – and while in this one it made perfect sense, the issue of male agency clearly delineated in the conclusion in a wonderfully perverse way, the whole idea quickly turned into a tired, overused schtick in other stories.
The Briar and the Rose 4/10
A retelling of The Sleeping Beauty, with a completely unnecessary heaping of cringy. Here, men are actively stupid and spineless, the fabled prince is a masculine lesbian, and the princess’s body is inhabited and continuously sexually exploited and abused by an old powerful witch with some sort of sexual addiction. The Sleeping Beauty is creepy enough on its own, without such weird spins. The relationship here is quite sweet, actually, and I would enjoy it but for the plot. I know that those idealistic wishes of mine will never realize, but I just wish authors would have enough responsibility and presence of mind to read not only fairy tales but also their analyses – some really smart people already covered that ground, and better, and didn’t leave in their wake the lingering feeling of distaste.
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Summary
All in all, this collection boasts of strong feminist vibes, strong and well done LGBT+ representation, fairytale inspirations, and acres of haunted forests. All of it is very tame and mainstream, however, bordering on mushy, with just a tad of uncanny here and there to spice up the comfortable popcorn read. If you feel like this is something for you, you may quite enjoy it. For me, it was unfortunately a largely forgettable experience, the stories laying bare the deficiencies of Liu’s storytelling I was willing to overlook earlier in the Monstress comic books because of Takeda’s art.
I have received a copy of this book from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. My thanks....more
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