In a series of letters from a different timeline, Etinaye beseeches her father to save her from being murdered by her sister.
It says in the author’s bio that this is one story in a series and it certainly reads like that. While there are enough tantalizing hints about multiple timelines and “threadkeepers” to give us a sufficient glimpse of the setting, which looks very interesting, the characters themselves definitely get the short shrift. I just couldn’t bring myself to care about any of them which left me with just some magical mumbo jumbo and a standard plot twist.
Amber became a giant to free the fallen angels stuck in the Wall and nurse them back to health. Being a giant is painful, as Amber aches with every step she takes and constantly has to tighten the joints between her fragile, long bones with magical ribbons. But she loves being close to the angels. Then one day, one of the angels actually talks to her.
This story is an interesting meditation on having faith and holding on to that faith. It’s presented with some great, arresting imagery. The fragile nature of the patchwork giants hits just the right tone between pity and wonder. Good stuff.
After Ytine’s husband, Irris, has been gone for more than a year, her neighbour becomes intent on marrying her to take hold of their fishing rights. Armed with a couple of frogs, Voud, Irris’ kid sister, does her best to convince the village’s gods to intervene after she overheard their neighbour talking about his succesful murder plot against her brother. But then Irris returns. Who is he really?
Ann Leckie manages to pack a lot of plot in a short story without losing track of her characters or setting. Voud’s matter-of-fact acceptance of what happened to her brother feels at once fresh and reminiscent of old folk tales. I had to reread the ending a few times to figure out what had exactly happened but otherwise it’s a well-told tale in an interesting setting and I’ll definitely seek out the other stories Leckie has written about this world.
When the paranormal fraud Edward Kelley finds a mysterious black stone, he starts hearing the voices of angels. They implore him to seek out and warn scientist/magician John Dee. An alien invasion is about to hit 16th century England, if the country doesn’t tear itself apart before then.
While Stableford’s other two Plurality stories had clear references to the works of Jules Verne and H. G. Wells, I couldn’t pinpoint any obvious literary inspiration for this one (but that might just be my own ignorance). However, it’s uncanny how closely it matches up to real history. Meanwhile, the alien metastory is coming more and more to forefront, which is a good thing if you’re keeping up with it but I doubt that anyone unfamiliar with it got much enjoyment out of this story. But not to worry, it’ll all make for a great novel someday.
(Asimov’s, July 2008)
Aimee’s big trick is that she makes twenty-six monkeys vanish onstage. Well, it’s not really her trick as the monkeys do all the work. Aimee has no idea how they do it. But with the eldest monkey slowly dying, will the trick survive him?
Kij Johnson does a great job at evoking a feeling most of us have probably had at one time or other. Aimee finds herself lost in her own life, without any goals, surrounded by a random constellation of artefacts and people. It’s just that in her case there are also monkeys who disappear in a bathtub, contrasting Aimee’s feelings with a playful dose of whimsy. Add to that a truly wonderful ending and you get one of my favourite stories of the year so far.
(Asimov’s, July 2008)
One evening, Ms. K— is escorted to the Wrong-Way Used-Adult Orphanage, an involuntary home for parents who’ve lost their children to the War on Worldwide Wickedness. It’s a place full of metaphors, where the only rule is that you may never leave.
Michael Bishop recently lost a son and it’s obvious he’s speaking from experience here. The story is filled with painful, evocative imagery of loss. However, it was just too metaphorical for me. I think this story will reverberate with a lot of people but unfortunately I wasn’t one of them.
(Asimov’s, July 2008)
With all his savings stuck in a negative equity apartment, Henry is still mourning the loss of his wife, who died when a starship tore through his city’s hull. When he falls for one of the city’s chars, Red Cross wards who are tolerated because they perform menial jobs, he has either found a salve for his heartache or he is about to get his heart broken a lot more.
Though the story lacks some of Bukowski’s raw authenticity, the characters feel like they’ve walked straight out of one of his stories (deliberately perhaps, with a main character called Henry). The science fiction elements seem rather superfluous, but what’s left is still a well-told tale of broken people using and loving each other.
(Asimov’s, July 2008)
After a time travel transport goes wrong, an electormagnetic echo of Phyllis Lewis wakes up in an abandoned facility, glowing with radiation and able to melt solid rock. With all of Phyllis’ memories, is she human or not? Is she even real?
I haven’t been keeping up with Utley’s Silurian tales, so I don’t know how this fits in, or if Phyllis Lewis is a recurring character. The story explores an interesting idea and gives a brief glimpse of Phyllis’ life, but in the end, without any context, it’s just a nice vignette, too short to make much of an impact.
(Asimov’s, July 2008)
New York, 1948, the local jazz scene is bustling with great grooves but for musicians who want to earn big money, there are jobs waiting on interstellar cruises, organized by the mysterious, alien Frogs. As long as you don’t play any Monk. Robbie Coolidge wants to take his chance but sometimes, muscians lose part of theirself in outer space.
Gord Sellar obviously knows and loves his jazz. I know a whole lot less but he does an excellent job of filling in the gaps for us newbies. The narrator’s voice, based on that of Miles Davis, adds enough authenticity to the tale to make up for the somehwat haphazard introduction of aliens into New York’s past. And it has to be said, they make an excellent metaphor for soulless music executives.
(Asimov’s, July 2008)
When he torches her wedding dress at the altar, Bridget calls it quits with Helios, the Greek sun god. As Eilethyia, godess of childbirth, takes Bridget out to dinner to comfort her, Helios goes to a bar with Apollo to seek solace in wine and women.
The story’s subject and tone is similar to that of last month’s On the Finding of Photographs of My Former Loves by Peter M. Ball, also published in Fantasy Magazine. But while that story’s mythical romances served as a metaphor for our own troubles, Marrying the Sun looks at what a relationship between gods and mortals might really look like. As a result, it packs less of an emotional punch but nonetheless Swirsky offers up some interesting characterisations of the gods.
