Log in

So! I'm on the Norton jury this year, which is the jury that's responsible for reading widely for the award (which is given to young adult and middle grade science fiction and fantasy novels). After SFWA voters wisely nominate their own slate, the jury has the option of adding 1-3 worthy books which voters may not have come across in their travels. (The assumption is that most SFWA voters are primarily writing and reading fiction for adults.)

To that end, I've read (or at least read part of) about 75-80 books. The process for acquiring these was less difficult than it can be for me in other categories because the books came to my mailbox. So many books. Droves and droves of books. For a while, we've had books sprawling across many of our surfaces. Thank you to all the authors and publishers who trusted us with their work.

I did add books to my reading that didn't come straight to my door. I gathered these via recommendations, although that wasn't a big part of my process this year. I also tried to follow books by authors who I've previously enjoyed, which is why I bought A. S. King's novel, for instance (although her publisher did also generously send us the book a while later). Finally, I was really surprised to see the Locus Recommendation list for young adult sf/f as there were a number of pieces I didn't have my hands on. I don't know why there was such a disparity in what we were seeing and what the Locus reviewers were seeing. The Locus list alerted me to Emmi Intarata's MEMORY OF WATER, for instance.

Being on the jury, I was able to participate in a collaborative process of figuring out what to read. For instance, if a book got negative reactions from another of other jurors, I generally didn't pick it up.

I have a couple of books on my kindle that I didn't get to because I ran out of the time I'd allotted for this. There's also a small pile of hard copy books. I was also frustrated by the fact that, because I had to go through so many books, I ended up abandoning several books 1/3-1/2 of the way through which I would have liked to finish. If I'm reading at full speed (and not doing ANYTHING else) I can do about two and a half full young adult/middle grade books per day. In the end, I just didn't have enough time. I could have only read Norton books and ignored the other categories, but this late in the game, my doing more Norton reading doesn't really help--there's not enough time for me to recommend books to the other jurors and reasonably expect them to be able to read them.

Since I read so many books, I also find that I have a LOT to say about them. I don't think I can adequately do so in a recommendation post. Firstly, because I don't have the time to write out reviews of everything I recommend or enjoyed. Secondly, because it would take up way too much space, and be confusing. So, for some of the books, I'm going to resort to short sentences. I can always go back and do fuller reviews in separate posts, I tell myself (although I will probably get distracted by other things because I tend to).

I'm trying not to just default-link to Amazon, so there will be a lot of links to people's websites and other places where you can find multiple retail options. But I'll probably also include some Amazon links.


Glory O’Brien’s History of the Future, A. S. King (young adult) - I'm a big fan of A. S. King and her direct, forceful writing. She's kind of like Chuck Pahlaniuk for kids, but with a Dorothy Allison vehemence and emotionality. That makes her work sound darker than it is--to be fair, sometimes it's quite dark, but generally her young adult protagonists begin to find their way as they grow up. This story is about a girl and her friend who decide to drink the powdered corpse of a mummified bat, and find that it endows them with visions about other people and their pasts, presents, and futures. The main character pieces together her own future life by watching visions stimulated by other people. It's not clear if the future she sees is fixed (I sort of imagine it's not). The characters and clarity of this book are excellent, as is characteristic of King's work. It's a very strong novel, beginning to end.

Greenglass House, Kate Milford (middle grade) - I'm also a big fan of Kate Milford, though her writing morphs more from book to book than King's does. This middle grade is a charming, fun tale about an adopted boy who lives with his parents at an isolated, east coast inn frequented by smugglers. Several mysterious guests arrive just before a major snowfall that traps everyone together. The main character and his accomplice, a young girl, scramble to find the heart of the mystery before the smugglers do. It's extremely well-executed with the whimsy supported by a strong framework of character detail and emotional development. It's a compulsive read, weaving the mystery skillfully and demanding attention. It also does some really cool things about considering the main character's interracial adoption, and his sense of isolation and curiosity about his family, and how those things make him feel intensely guilty. There's a sense of real love and well-being between him and his adoptive parents, and it's lovely to see how that can be drawn in the story while still leaving room for the main character to feel unresolved about his identity. The novel is beautifully shaped as a whole.


Ambassador, William Alexander (middle grade) - This novel is a departure for Will Alexander, a contemporary and fanciful science fiction novel about a young American boy with Mexican parents who is chosen by a strange alien creature to become the ambassador for the earth. The science fiction bits are just a lot of free-wheeling, engaging fun. As the ambassador, the main character is immediately thrown into a situation where he has to investigate and resolve an interstellar conflict while trying to avoid the attention of a nearby genocidal alien race. Simultaneously, his real life is thrown into chaos when his father is pulled over at a stop sign and discovered to be an illegal immigrant. The story has really smart threads about immigration and cooperation. I particularly liked that the main character's super power is that he's extremely perceptive about people, and kind and empathetic as he tries to make sure the people around him are safe and happy. It's wonderful to see someone writing a well-developed young boy with those traits because they're pretty awesome and boys can have them, too. (It reminds me of the debate I've had online about Dr. Who, wherein the arguer says that Dr. Who is a rare beast because he's a male character who solves things with intelligence and diplomacy while actively avoiding violence.) The ending of the novel was weird; I think I know what Will Alexander was doing, and I suspect it'll all be resolved in a satisfactory way in the sequel, but I felt the last couple paragraphs were a misstep when presented without follow-up.

Girl on a Wire, Gwenda Bond (young adult) - Two rival circus families with a complicated Past end up traveling together; the main character, Julieta, who does a high wire act, falls for a son of the rival family, Remy, also known as Romeo. The thing that worked for me least here was the Romeo and Julieta naming convention; the parallels to Romeo and Juliet are clear enough in the set-up, but the story goes its own way plotwise (which was good), and I wasn't persuaded that it was a good idea to tie it so closely to Shakespeare. It does prepare the reader for the death of one of the teenage characters, though, and I wondered whether that was the point. This is a fairly straightforward young adult romance with magical underpinnings, but I thought it was particularly well-executed, with memorable events and a memorable character. The romance employed several tropes that usually bug me a lot, but that only irked me slightly in places here, perhaps because while the main characters are star-crossed in their fates to love despite their families, they never go into much of a will-we-or-won't-we oh-but-you're-my-enemy tailspin, and instead all in love and move on from there. I also really liked the secondary characters, Julieta's cousin and nana, and Remy's sister. The circus imagery really distinguishes it, especially the main character's passion for the high wire, and her love of past high wire peformer, Bird Millman, who did walks between skyscrapers while holding a parasol.

Salvage, Alexandra Duncan (young adult) - People I've spoken to have really polarized reactions to this book which I find interesting as I thought it was straight-up good. It's traditional science fiction with a lot at stake and an interesting slant on character. It seems to me that some of the divide over the book had to do with whether or not people resonated with the voice. I did. I thought this novel moved in the same space as Alaya Dawn Johnson's SUMMER PRINCE, in terms of putting real, well-done YA in unusual science fiction settings. In this story, the main character is born as part of a fundamentalist cult that lives in space. The cult appears to be based on fundamentalist Mormon cults, involving non-consensual plural marriage of minors, and abandonment of young boys. (This could describe other cultural situations as well, but the material trappings of the cult seemed to indicate a fundamentalist LDS inspiration.) I should emphasize here that I don't think the word Mormon is ever used, and even if it were, the novel would not be a reflection on mainstream Mormon practice. Inhumane fundamentalist cults don't represent whole religions, and it is a pet peeve of mine when people conflate the two out of ignorance. The novel is depicting a problematic cult. Anyway, when her father announces that she's going to be married, the main character thinks she's going to be the first wife of the son of the visiting ship captain; the son thinks so as well. They meet tenderly and in private to discuss how pleased they are, but are discovered, and it's revealed that she was actually meant to marry the ship's captain himself. She's declared dead for having sullied herself and exiled to Earth where she learns to navigate the strange-to-her cultures. She also tries to help other people who have been ill-served by the cult, including boys who have been exiled from their families in order to sustain the polygynous system. While the structure is a bit lumpy in parts, I thought this was a well-done and unusual novel and I recommend it strongly.

Otherbound, Corinne Duyvis (young adult) - This was the right novel for me at the right moment; I descended upon it and devoured it from first to last page, totally compelled by the storyline. There are two main characters (who don't romance each other!). One is a boy who lives in our world but suffers from visions wherein he is fully immersed in a painful and jarring fantasy world, a situation that no one in our world knows how to explain, and so they call a variety of epilepsy which he goes along with so as not to be considered psychotic. (For people who have a sensitivity to the trope, that does mean that the novel falls into the "magical disability" category; I felt it navigated the issue well enough, but others may disagree.) The other is the girl whose mind he drops into when he has those "seizures" -- an enslaved magic-wielder who has been violently dealt with by her owners, who have cut out her tongue, regularly beat her, and do things like burn her hands (she has healing powers so they can cause her extreme pain without risking her life). She is bound to protect a captive princess who tries to mitigate the excesses of her treatment but has very little power to do so. They're on the run from a curse. I found the girl's storyline completely, viscerally engaging, and I thought there was sharp character development, and really well done rendering of trauma, especially given that it was leavened by opportunities for action and escape. I gave my copy of this book to my niece (who was a couple months shy of eleven); my brother looked up reviews which were very upset about how violent it is. I was worried, but my brother shrugged, and said if she didn't want to read it, she'd stop (that's how I was raised, too, but I don't assume all parents give their kids free range). Instead, she started it on Christmas day and read it with such constant attention that we often had to break her out of it to get her to participate in family activities. As soon as there was a lull, she was back in the book.

The Glass Sentence, S. E. Grove (middle grade) -- I fell in love with the beginning of this strange and beautiful novel about a girl who lives in a world where time has cracked, causing different parts of the world to tumble into different eras, past and future. She's from nineteenth century Boston and crosses into strange territories looking for her uncle, a kidnapped explorer. The novel has this beautiful imagery about maps, and the types of maps, and how they function. I was utterly enchanted by the voice and world building, and some of the story was quite haunting. When I started, I expected the story to be about the main character's journey with her uncle; when he was removed from the picture and replaced with a romantic interest, I was less enchanted. The adventure part of the book got bogged down, I thought, and was less interesting than a quieter story against this stunning background might have been. But that's quite possibly my idiosyncratic reaction; I often want more subdued stories and get bored by world-saving. Despite that, it's quite a good book, and definitely notable for its odd loveliness.

Egg and Spoon, Gregory Maguire (middle grade) -- In this sweeping epic, Maguire takes on Russian mythologies, particularly that of Baba Yaga, in a Tzarist setting of both poverty and grandeur. He takes two pre-adolescent protagonists -- one, a starving member of the proletariat, the other an aristocrat -- and forces them together in what looks initially like it will be a Prince and the Pauper mix-up but eventually becomes more sophisticated. As always with Maguire, the descriptions are very beautiful (especially of manmade objects), and there's a sort of breathtaking grace in the sweep of his world-building. Another reader wondered if this cribbed too much from the Russian epics; I can't really speak to that because I haven't read most of them. Baba Yaga is a time traveler, constantly throwing out anachronisms, which is often something that bugs me, but for some reason, worked for me here. I also liked that the aristocratic girl's aunt had foibles but also generosity, as did her governess and butler. The novel works smoothly up to the halfway point; after that, I thought it got bogged down with itself and some of its detail and started to move slowly. But it's really gorgeous and striking and I expect I'll remember it for a long time. I also expect it would reward rereading.

Dirty Wings, Sarah McCarry (young adult) - An adopted piano prodigy feels stifled in her regimented life with her perfectionistic mother. She meets a homeless teenage runaway with psychic powers and they decide to run away from the city together. The story of their travels is interwoven with the story of their meeting and pasts, as well as mysterious encounters with a figure who is heavily implied to be the devil. The speculative thread of this (the devil figure) is never particularly developed or resolved, which didn't bother me as much as it did other readers I talked to, but did actually seem like a drawback. I wanted something more from the ending than what it gave me, and further development of the devil figure seems like the easiest way for it to have achieved that, although there are other methods, too. (Looking at the amazon page for the book, it looks like this may be part of a longer sequence of novels, which might be why it's not particularly resolved.) The character development, language, and detail are sharply and astonishingly developed. There's a lot of non-moralistic depiction of heavy drug use in the book which makes it unusual for YA, but also makes it feel very honest. As a gift-giver, I'd probably skew toward giving the book to people near the top of the young adult age range--probably sixteen or over--but younger teens may well be fine with it. I'd just want that to be something they negotiate for themselves/with their parents. I certainly read pretty honest and dark stuff as a teen.


Witch’s Boy, Kelly Barnhill (young adult) - Trademark Kelly Barnhill whimsy with omnipotent, distinct storyteller voice. A witch's son and the daughter of a bandit use the last of the world's magic to stop a war. Also trademark: Barnhill is surprisingly good at creating folk tale imagery and threads that have the same feel as the folk tale lexicon, but are in fact her own, new creations. Not as unique as IRON-HEARTED VIOLET, but perhaps better structured.

Death Sworn, Leah Cypess (young adult) - I find Cypess easy and engaging to read, as in this story of a sorceress sent to teach magic to a cloister of assassins. Liked the magic system, liked the main character, liked the read. Felt the ending flattened out a little, and it didn't seem as distinct from other YA as some of her work has been. Good, enjoyable read.

Chasing Power, Sarah Beth Durst (young adult) - Durst is always an enjoyable read for me, and is here, too. A girl with the power to move very small objects with her mind finds her life upset when a boy reveals that he's discovered her secret and blackmails her into embarking on a risky endeavor to rescue his kidnapped mother. Really liked the main character lots and got really attached to her. Also liked the clear love for archaeology in the text. Didn't feel as unique to me as Durst's work can be, and felt that it got bogged down in the last third.

Memory of Water, Emmi Itaranta (young adult) - Debut science fiction novel. World after environmental crises have caused global warming, severe droughts, and loss of many advanced technologies. A young girl who inherits her father's role as a tea master guards her family's secret, a hidden spring, which has to be concealed from a military obsessed with controlling all access to water. Absolutely exquisitely written, with many beautiful contemplative passages, and gorgeously evocative sensory details. Loved the development of the secondary characters, especially the main character's best friend. This was another one that got bogged down for me toward the last third with what felt like a lot of repetition of the same kind of emotional moments. Also, it was coy with giving information, which is a minor peeve. Let me reemphasize its beauty, though.

Love Is the Drug, Alaya Dawn Johnson (young adult) - I generally adore Alaya Dawn Johnson's work, but for some reason this one never really grabbed me, narratively. I felt like there was a tension between the personal plot, which was about the main character's assertion of her sense of identity against her parents, and the action plot, which was about secret agents and plagues and drugs and terrorism. The two intertwine structurally, but somehow seemed to resist each other in my reading. I liked the personal plot more. The writing is really sharp, the characters are well done, and the scenes between the main character and her paramour Coffee are often intriguing and unexpected.

Evil Librarian, Michelle Knudsen (young adult) - This wasn't particularly unique, but it was surprisingly fun. Like a really good and satisfying episode of Buffy. (Not like it was copying Buffy, just it had that sense of "let's go and have fun, and be teens going through emotional stuff, and face ridiculous supernatural threats"). High school student faces down demon librarian. Plus Sondheim!

Mortal Heart, Robin LaFevers (young adult) - The third book in the HIS FAIR ASSASSINS trilogy which is about a convent of nuns who are the daughters of the God of Death and who train as assassins to act as his hands in the world. In this final book, the main character, suspicious of the abbess's motives, runs away from the convent, risking the anger of her god and his hell-riders. What really impresses me is that it's so unusual for a third book: it's as good or better than the earlier books, and I think it would even stand alone. That's some talent, right there.

Black Dog, Rachel Neumeier (young adult) - Three children, one of whom is a werewolf, flee north after their parents are murdered to find the pack that their father had abandoned and beg to be taken in. As they try to adapt to the new pack's hierarchy, they also have to fight off hostile their parents' murderers who have followed them northward and are trying to kill their new pack, too. This story dealt with a lot of themes I like and that are common to Octavia Butler's work, including characters struggling to negotiate biological imperatives that force them into hierarchical social orders. Because of that, I kept sort of reading a shadow Octavia Butler book as I was reading this one, and wishing that the characters had been drawn with just a touch more of Butler's sharpness and ambiguity. This probably didn't serve the book well. On the one hand, it meant I was really into it; on the other, I was preoccupied with considering other ways it could have been written. I felt it suffered a bit from bluntness, but was still quite striking.


Drift, M. K. Hutchins (young adult) - Some of the most unique worldbuilding I've seen in young adult novels. May be particularly interesting to those with an interest in anthropology.

The Story of Owen: Dragonslayer of Trondheim, E. K. Johnston (young adult) - Does not include a romance!

Lockstep, Karl Schroeder (middle grade) - Got my hands on it late & had to abandon mid-book for time reasons once I realized it wasn't a top spot contender for me. Will go back to it when I can. Old-fashioned gosh-wow adventure with lots of hard SF cookies.

The Cure for Dreaming, Cat Winters (young adult) - Interesting take on women's suffrage movement.
Every year, I try to binge read short fiction and make recommendations on it. I am not able to do a very comprehensive job this year. First, because I'm on the jury for the Norton Award (given to science fiction and fantasy young adult and middle grade speculative fiction) which ate a lot of my reading time. Secondly, my health has been poor.

Novellas are the one reading category which I didn't have to significantly abridge. I admit that's because I never read too many of them. This year, I looked at eighteen, although if I had another day or two, I'd expand that to at least twenty. I gathered these novellas by:

1) Requesting recommendations directly from other writers, and looking at their posts recommending stories. This year, I did a lot of reading from lists by Ken Liu and Aliette de Bodard.

2) Reading the year's run of Asimov's, which is a regular novella publisher.

3) Picking up the most commonly recommended novellas on the SFWA message boards. Also, I went through the (relatively short) list of novellas which had been placed in the forums, and downloaded several.

4) Asking individual authors to send me things they were particularly proud of.

I tried to put priority on looking at the newer, less established authors that my process turned up, though I also picked up very highly rated works by authors like Nancy Kress. (It's why I put low priority on Scalzi's novella, though, which I didn't get to... sorry, John.) I also admit to having given priority to novellas I could easily get my hands on, with the exception of the Valentine novella, which I had to go buy. (The horrors! It was completely worth it.)


"A Necessary Being" by Octavia Butler (in her collection, Unexpected Stories)

I didn't think I'd ever get to read another new piece of writing by Octavia Butler and I am astonishingly grateful for being able to do so.

This novella deals with many of Octavia Butler's accustomed themes. She often wrote about communities formed and maintained by biological necessity. This appears here, also, as the aliens*, who are vaguely reminiscent of insects, have biologically determined castes, including rare individuals born to be rulers. Ruler-class infants are born so rarely that cities vie to make sure they have one; if none are born in a generation, they'll kidnap and mutilate one in order to force it to stay.

Another of Butler's common themes--in her more optimistic stories, particularly--is finding ways to navigate biological necessity in order to create better, more peaceful outcomes. Rather than simply breaking the rules, characters have to find a way to get what they want within them. In the SF tradition, iconoclastic rule-breaking is probably more common, but in real life, people are almost always constrained by biology and culture. I value Butler's attempts to ask: if we have limits, how can we negotiate them anyway? Since I invariably read these as, on a distant level, parables about the biological tendencies toward hierarchy, conflict and xenophobia that appear in human societies, I find her writing very delicate and hopeful. Despite a realistic, bleak view of the terrible things those qualities can force, Butler often writes her way out of the biological traps she poses, imagining strange, often ambiguous, ways through.

This is one of the more unabashedly optomistic stories. I'm not going to say it's one of her best -- it lacks the fast, emotional gut punch of "Bloodchild," for instance -- but it's still strong. The science fictional elements are interesting; the narrative is intriguing; and her ever-insightful eye is present here, and a wonder to see again.

"Hath No Fury" by Kat Howard (Subterranean Online)

In this urban fantasy version of New York, wherein magical and mythical creatures coexist in a surreal way with mundane ones, Medea and her furies continue their work from the Greek tragedies. The main character is a woman who was murdered by her abusive boyfriend, and now -- as a fury -- avenges other women murdered by their intimate partners. (I appreciate that Howard explicitly includes trans women.) When omens indicate that something is very wrong, she works with Medea, the fates, Odin, and others to chase down the monster at the heart of the labyrinth.

I have a low tolerance for urban fantasy settings wherein mundane things exist alongside mythical ones, which I have no particular excuse for. It's just a thing I don't usually like, perhaps because it often seems glib or cute. Kat Howard's mythical New York City works for me--I think I like that the story takes the presence of the mythical figures as accepted fact, and moves from there. It doesn't try to reconcile the two views of the city, or make the process make logical sense (a lot of urban fantasy loses me when it tries to make logical sense out of something inherently illogical). It's surreal; that's it; the reader is now invited to move on with the story.

Some of Kat Howard's descriptions of the city and its surreality are lovely, for instance, when the main character describes a section of the city which is perpetually stuck in Tuesday mornings. I also found a number of stand out lines like this one: "The hidden meaning of vengeance is too late" which I feel perfectly encapsulates both the temptation of vengeance and the howling, despairing uselessness of it. This is particularly resonant for me in the context of uncovering some terrible things that were done to a loved one. I furiously want to attack it, avenge it somehow, while knowing it would be fruitless; it wouldn't change things for my loved one or protect them. The time when I could have interfered to stop the damage is decades past.

I also thought she did a really good job of describing the dynamics of abuse. In particular, I liked the main character's attempts to reconcile herself as the strong, avenging fury she is in the present with the person who had been thoroughly isolated and wrecked by her boyfriend.

Then I saw myself. My self as I had been, before I became a Fury, before I gave myself a new name. Hollow-eyed and hunched, and walking like I was waiting for a blow to fall.

Near the end of things, I thought, but I couldn’t be sure—I hadn’t recognized how bad things were when I had been living them. I tell myself now that if I had, I would have asked for help, but that’s probably a lie. I see that girl now, and I am embarrassed to have been her, shamed, that I let someone else turn me into that shadow of a thing. We’re supposed to be strong, and it feels like failure to realize you’re not.

"Yesterday's Kin" by Nancy Kress (published solo by Tachyon)

In this novella, a scientist who has recently discovered a new subgroup of mitochondrial DNA, is summoned by the government to participate in meetings with the aliens who have established an embassy in New York. The aliens, it turns out, are humans, transplanted 150,000 years ago to a new world. They are also members of that mitochondrial subgroup and want to identify their relatives, who turn out to include the scientist's adopted son.

The aliens also reveal that earth is in the path of a catastrophic event, wherein a cloud of "spores" (like those theorized by panspermia) will infect humans with a fatal disease. Many human scientists go to live in the embassy where they can collaborate with the aliens to research a vaccine. The main character's adopted son also goes to live there, where he can learn more about the alien's culture, and decide whether or not to join them.

This was a fairly typical Kress novella for me (that's not a bad thing)--if you like them, you'll probably like this. If not, I have no idea (since it depends on why you dislike them). It's grounded in classic science fictional speculation, merging a number of ideas and theories to generate a plot. However, the characters and details are sharply grounded enough that the stories don't feel dry; there's emotional resonance, too. There are also a lot of genuinely surprising plot turns, and those that I can anticipate are well-executed. I also appreciate the ways that she creates difficult, upsetting situations, but always leaves a note of benevolence. Characters--and species--are often good faith actors, even if they don't always seem to be, and even if bad outcomes result from their good intentions. As some writers say, she demonstrates generosity to her characters.

As in many Kress stories, there are a few moments that make me eyeroll a tad--mostly, amid her interesting science fictional speculations, she often includes one or two that I consider ungrounded enough to break the illusion that the story is hard science fiction. I don't have a problem with stories that aren't hard science fiction, but when all the signals in the story are saying "this is!" then I get a little frustrated with things being included that are seriously unlikely because they end up being wrapped up in this veneer of truthiness. In this novella, my eyeroll moment was that one of the characters was somehow sensitive enough to people's physiology to be able to pick up other people's mitochondrial groupings; he immediately, viscerally feels a loving connection with those who share his mitochondrial DNA. This is eyerolly for me because it's extremely improbable, and it also plays into some weirdness about the inherent importance of "real" families that I expect would aggravate some of my friends who have strong, nonbiological family ties. (I don't mind the portrayal of a difficult adoption in this at all, but the implication that it would have automatically been better if the people were more closely related irks me somewhat.) I have some friends who are very sensitive to this theme; they might not enjoy the novella. But I did, a couple eye rolls aside.

I'm not doing much of a thematic analysis here, but it's a strong work, and very successful at being the kind of story it sets out to be (not an easy task). I enjoy its complex plot and all the intellectual bells and whistles that keep my science fictional brain happy.

"The Mothers of Voorhisville" by Mary Rickert (Tor.com)

I have often had trouble immersing in Rickert's work, although I admit that I was usually trying in high school so my reading taste was suspect. I acknowledge this as entirely my issue, given the number of people with really good taste who adore her writing. But that's why it was especially nice to sit down to this story and find it absorbing.

It tells the story of a number of women -- the mothers of Voorhisville -- who were all seduced and impregnated by the same man. They all gave birth to pretty baby boys with metal wings. They tried to hide this, fearing societal reactions, aided by the fact that the babies could retract their wings. Once they got old enough to start flying, though, the women were no longer able to hide the secret. They form a frightening, creepy collective to try to protect the increasingly sinister babies.

The story is told in a sort of consensus format, with the idea being that one of the women is transcribing events, flipping points of view frequently. There are periodic interjections from the group as a whole, speaking in second person. Occasionally, someone else writes a section. There are a large number of characters to keep track of, and I sometimes failed, but several of the stories are interesting and distinctive. (I expect that which ones resonate with which people will differ.)

Rickert does a masterful job of weaving in disturbing details so that the reader is overwhelmed by an increasing sense of doom. This is where I confess I'm a bad horror reader; in the moment when I'm reading it, I am very engaged by all that disturbing stuff. But once I'm done, when I think back on the story, I remember that oh-so-successfully evoked sense of anxiety, and that makes me not want to think about the story. It's like I get the emotional impact of disliking it, even though what I disliked wasn't the story, but the emotion which it was supposed to (and did) evoke. I have that problem a little bit with the Valentine below, too. Rickert was just too successful. ;)

I think I would have preferred the story to be pruned by one or two threads, as it would have helped my tracking, and I think the story got weighted down by so much detail at points-- the number of characters meant that the pacing of less interesting parts of the story (to me, at least) still had to be quite slow. But that was a minor feeling, and mostly (again, for me) concerned the middle. The beginning was intriguing and pulled me in, even while it spun a mood of trepidation; the ending was fast and visceral and horrifying.

I'm not sure I would read this again (because: disturbed), but it was an interesting read, and is definitely an extremely well-crafted piece that I admire for its skill.

"Dream Houses" by Genevieve Valentine (list of where to buy on her website)

The main character is a trucker whose impatience with staying still has eventually driven her to becoming auxiliary crew on a cargo ship that transports goods to an outlying colony. When the crew's hibernation pods are sabotaged, only the main character survives, leaving her both awake (because she cannot return to the sabotaged pod) and alone. She calculates the time she'll have to stay awake during the trip -- six years -- and prepares for a grueling journey of isolation and deprivation, alone with the ship's AI, Capella, who appears to have been sabotaged itself so that it can't (or won't) tell her what the cargo is that apparently inspired someone to murder the crew.

The novella weaves the present timeline of the main character's journey with revelations about her past. There's a theme about choral music as well, which made me wonder if Valentine might be writing in response to Leckie's ANCILLARY JUSTICE, although it could also be a coincidence. I found some of the relationships in the flashbacks hard to sort at first in a way that didn't feel like it necessarily served the story, and I also question the placement of the first one -- which is about choral music -- as I found myself unpleasantly disoriented for a bit in terms of big questions of setting and timeframes which I didn't want to be thinking about. So personally, I had to push a little bit before I got into the story, but that may well be an idiosyncratic reaction.

This is a deeply disturbing novella with lots of visceral, painful moments. There's a lot to like here, including Valentine's impeccable skill with craft and language, but I think the thing I most appreciated was the main character. She had a very strong, distinct presence, which was informed by her traumatic past without being overwhelmed by it. I also loved the touches of surreality where the main character started to get confused--for instance, when she begins to believe that one of the dead crew members is alive -- they are presented with utter frankness. The main character believes this impossible thing; she also understands the limitations of reality (like, that the crewmember can't respond to her); she can't reconcile these things and doesn't even try, they're just part of her life. It felt like a refreshing and realistic way of talking about breaks with reality.

I keep going back and forth on which of these novellas is my favorite, but this one may be it. It's very distinctive and worth chasing down even though it's harder to access than many of the others on this list.


"The Regular" by Ken Liu (list of where to buy the anthology Upgraded on Clarkesworld's website) - There seem to be at least one or two science fiction mysteries every year in my novella reading. This year, there were two--Liu's and Murphy's--and I've listed them both. Science fiction mysteries are a harder sell for me than many other forms, as I think the two genres can mix in a glib fashion that I find predictable, and/or the science fiction conventions can actively get in the way of the murder mystery conventions. I prefer a mystery in which I can track the clues and, on reread, see how the author has cleverly left a trail that would have lead me to the correct conclusion. In science fiction, the turning point is often on clues that the reader would have no way of deciphering, because they depend on advanced technology (or, worse, unpredictable fantasy rules); this can work if the writer does enough foreshadowing, but sometimes they don't.

Liu manages the combination deftly here, producing a good story that is very satisfying in both genres. There's an emotional arc of character development here, too, which distinguishes the story. It's much more action-oriented than most Liu and an engaging, fast-paced read. For some reason, it seemed like it would adapt very well into a graphic novel.

My favorites of Ken Liu's work are distinctly him -- they're stories which just couldn't have been written by anyone else. For me, this wasn't one of those stories; it's not unique. But it's a deftly done, satisfying science fiction mystery, and I definitely recommend it for people who like those and want a good, entertaining read.

"Claudius Rex" by John Murphy (list of where to buy on his website) - This is a good complement for the Liu. The Ken Liu mystery is more emotionally resonant; the Murphy mystery is more funny and just plain *fun.* It's a really energetic and compulsive read with a hellaciously obnoxious AI whose voice I really liked. There were a couple places where I felt like it got bogged down in details and back-and-forth, particularly in the ending sequences, but it was just really fun to read. And when it got a bit dry for me, or there was a trope that felt a little too baldly inserted, all I had to do was wait a bit--there were always more treats coming.

"The Things We Do For Love" by K. J. Parker (Subterranean Online) - A few of the Parker stories I've read have been about diffident, talented-but-rebellious young men. This one is, too--a Duke's son, turned thief, meets a witch who loves him with disturbing obsessiveness and won't let him age, leave or die. The thief is therefore sentenced to a sort of monotonous, unending ordeal of carrying off heists that he doesn't want to do, and that they don't need to do, because the witch thinks that's the way to make him happy. I liked this; the voice is engaging; it had lots of interesting moments. I felt that the ending dragged (my guess is that's because he had two timelines going at once, and one ended a lot earlier than the other), and I found myself less willing to suspend my disbelief about the witch character as the story went on; once she was given a(n interesting) history, I had trouble believing in her vapid, unchanging obsession with the thief. But definitely fun, and strongly in Parker's ouvre (assuming what I've read is representative).

"Boar and Apples" by Ursula Vernon (in her collection Toad Words) - This is a pretty straightforward Snow White retelling, leavened with humor and practicality. There are substantial changes to the ways the characters interact, and the dwarfs have transformed into delightful, magical boars. This isn't a deep thematic intervention like many of the more serious fairy tale retellings, so people shouldn't go in with that in mind; it's not trying to be Valente's "Six Gun Snow White." It's quite successful at its aims: it's a charming, fun read, enriched by Vernon's witty dialogue and turns of phrase.


*It's possible there's some backstory that makes these genetically modified humans or something, since someone told me this novella connects to one of Butler's novel-length works. But, at least in the story, they seem like aliens.
At some point, I'd like to put together a recommendation list of awesome stuff (science fiction and fantasy, probably only short fiction because that's where I feel like I really have a specialty) by conservative or right wing authors.

Unfortunately, I don't have the time to do it in the next couple months. :( But I hope it is a project I can get to sometime.

I don't know everyone's politics, so I wouldn't know who to include. Are you a conservative or right-wing author who would like me to look at your work? Please let me know. Or do you have someone to recommend?

Of course, since it would be a recc list I'm assembling, it would reflect my taste. But I think it would be fun, interesting, and worthwhile to have a list of works by conservative or right-wing authors that do suit the taste of this particular bleeding-heart liberal.

I would like to do this in a spirit of celebration of our common love of science fiction and fantasy. We have our differences, and they can be major. But, I hope, there's lots to appreciate from each other, too.

Rachel Swirsky's Award Reading, 2013

Most years, I try to read as widely as possible before award nominations. I like to be an informed nominator, but more than that, I like being an informed reader of the genre; I like knowing what's going on. I love discovering writers who are new to me which I almost always do, and I love being able to recommend and talk about fiction.

This year, I'm on the Norton jury. Being on the Norton jury is awesome. For instance, books come straight to your doorstep from publishers, gleaming in their hardcovers, invitingly saying, "Read me!" And then more books are on your doorstep, and more books, and you've piled books on every surface, and you're kicking books out of the way when you get in the door. The books still say, "Read me!" but now they have taken on a sinister, warning tone. Then your spouse comes into the kitchen, wincing, a heavy package in his arms, and there are sixteen more books stacked snugly side by side, shining upward. "Read me! Read me! Read me!"

So, er, yes, I'm behind on reading. I am going to have to eventually admit that I am not going to get to all of the beautiful books on the shelf (which is why we have many Norton jurors, for redundancy). At that point, I will declare that project as complete as I can make it, and then try to blitz-read at least a bit of short fiction. But it won't be as much, and it won't be drawn from as widely, and I'm sorry for that.

However, if you have a piece of fiction that you think I should read, or that you'd like me to read, please link me, or (for attachments) contact me so that we can set it up by email. Recommend me your fiction, or someone else's. I can't guarantee what I'll be able to read, but I'll try. (This offer is meant to cover fiction published in 2013 that's eligible for the Nebulas or the Hugos, but I'm always happy to read other good fiction, too. Just please note if you're recommending ineligible stuff so I know I'm not on a deadline to read it.)

I will do a normal recommendation post for the Norton awards. I'll probably do that soon, although I am not completely finished with the reading. Then, if I turn up some stuff that would have gone on my list, I'll write about it separately.

Rachel Swirsky's Fiction, 2013

I wasn't very prolific this year, but I did publish a few things.

"Grand Jete" (or "The Great Leap") came out in the last issue of Subterranean Online. I am honored to have been part of the magazine and saddened to lose it. "Grand Jete" is one of my favorite things I've ever written, and among the longest, at novella length. I started it during the first February when I was living in Iowa, when it felt like the snow had been there forever, and would always be there, and that didn't feel so much oppressive as just... like stasis.

I wanted to write about the ways that love can cause pain. It became a story about the ballet Coppelia, Judaism, and Winter. "Grand Jete" is being reprinted in year's best anthologies from Jonathan Strahan and Gardner Dozois.

"Endless" came out in the British anthology SOLARIS RISING 3. The extremely patient editor Ian Whates was more than generous in dealing with my (seemingly also endless) writer's block. I wrote a short draft of this story several years ago with the vague aim of selling it to Nature's Futures, but it didn't really work at that length; it was just a dry sort of letter thing without any background or character. The published version is five times the length of the original, and I think it really needed the extra word count. It's about a post-singularity world and the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire.

"Tender" came out in Neil Clarke's anthology UPGRADED which is about the physical merging of humans with robotic technology. For months, I was working on a story for this about a kidnapped battle robot, but I was just never able to make anything happen. Then, one morning when I couldn't sleep, I wrote this piece more or less entire (I did revise, later, but the whole structure was there). I love it when that happens; I wish it could happen more. The story is told from the perspective of a mad scientist's wife whose husband is deploying increasingly desperate mechanical interventions to keep her alive.

If anyone would like to get access to one of these stories, please let me know, and I'll send you a copy. (This offer is intended for Hugo and Nebula voters, but if someone else who isn't either wants a copy anyway, do ping--within reason, I'll try to accommodate.)
A couple of brief updates:

I. Mind Meld in the Tardis

Even though I was late turning it in (due to finding a four-day-old kitten in our backyard and trying to figure out how to take care of it!), Mind Meld has kindly published my entry on Where I Would Take the Tardis.

I want to go on a between-TV-episodes trip. I want to go on a boring trip.

II. Dark Matter Interview

I was also recently interviewed by Dark Matter zine about my participation as the reprint editor for the Women Destroy Science Fiction issue of Lightspeed magazzine. The interview was a lot of fun and included other people who'd been working on the issue, Galen Dara and Wendy N. Wagner.

I said I'd put together a list of reference materials for the interview, and I still will, although it's of course massively late now. ;)

III. Little Reprinted Faces

Earlier this year, Strange Horizons asked me to choose a story for their quarterly reprint slot. I picked Vonda McIntyre's completely awesome "Little Faces."

I wrote an intro about it, which couldn't do the story justice:

Vonda N. McIntyre is a sophisticated feminist science fiction writer and “Little Faces” is a sophisticated feminist science fiction story, operating on many levels, including attention-grabbing science, an interesting plot, and political and social critique that blends into the character’s emotional arc.

The story does more than treat readers to flashy visuals and awesome far-future stuff. For instance, it analyzes serious issues, like female-on-female violence and the meaning of consent. It plays with the audience’s expectations by defaulting female instead of male.

If I were a better person, I might write about that.

Instead, I’m going to write about alien sex.

And I'm very pleased that the story is now online (again, since it was originally published online) for people to enjoy:

The blood woke Yalnis. It ran between her thighs, warm and slick, cooling, sticky. She pushed back from the stain on the silk, bleary with sleep and love, rousing to shock and stabbing pain.

She flung off the covers and scrambled out of bed. She cried out as the web of nerves tore apart. Her companions shrieked a chaotic chorus.

It's also in audio.

Annie Oakley, Historical Cranky Lady

When I originally wrote this, the crowd-funding campaign for funding this book was still ongoing. It's over now---but yay, it succeeded! Here's what I wrote about it.

Cranky Ladies of History: Annie Oakley

Several months ago, Tehani Wessely and Tansy Rayner Roberts contacted me and asked if I would consider writing a story for their anthology, Cranky Ladies of History. “That sounds awesome,” I said, and also, “I so don’t have time.” But I agreed to do it anyway, partially because I (and all SFWAns, but especially me) owe Tansy Rayner Roberts a huge debt for her work on the interim issue of the Bulletin, which she co-edited brilliantly and in a ridiculously short amount of time. But also because this was an easy favor to grant—because come on, Cranky Ladies of History, how cool is that?

Cranky Ladies of History had met its crowd funding goal. They also had a blog tour where the anthology’s writers blogged about the cranky ladies they chose to crank about.

I spent some time in IM talking to Tansy about which Cranky Lady I should pick. Tzu Shi? Agrippina? Mary Anning? Ada Lovelace? Eventually, we decided on Annie Oakley.

You Can’t Get a Man with a Gun

If you don’t know who she is, Annie Oakley was a sharpshooter with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. She grew up in poverty which necessitated that she learn to shoot so that she could help feed the family. After joining the Wild West Show, Annie became a hugely successful performer, especially groundbreaking as a woman.

She had a complicated relationship with feminism: she taught women to shoot, and she advocated for women to be allowed in the army. On other important women’s rights issues of the day, she wasn’t in synch with the feminist position. For instance, she opposed women’s suffrage.

Although the musical that was made about her life story, Annie Get Your Gun, includes the song, “You Can’t Get a Man with a Gun,” she sort of did. She married Frank Butler after beating him in a shooting competition.

I Can Do Anything You Can Do Better

With her gun, Annie Oakley could:

Shoot distant targets by sighting through a mirror

Shoot holes in thrown playing cards before they landed

Snuff a candle

Shoot a cigarette out of a man’s mouth

Shoot the cork off of a bottle

There’s No Business Like Show Business

Annie Oakley was an extremely highly paid performer, and she’s been called America’s first female superstar. One interesting aspect of her show biz persona was her conservative dress style. Pictures show a stiff, strong-featured woman with long brown hair, wearing loose blouses and calf-length skirts with boots. She often wears fringe, bolo ties, and a wide-brimmed cowboy hat.

In the photographs that don’t look posed, she stands in a masculine style, displaying no submissiveness or apology.

Doin’ What Comes Nat’rally

I first learned about Annie Oakley as a kid from the musical, Annie Get Your Gun, which is a fictionalized version of her life. I wonder whether the real Annie Oakley might be annoyed by the way it’s shaped around her relationship with a man. The plot begins when she meets Frank Butler and ends when they go to the altar.

The music is by Irving Berlin and the book is by Dorothy and Herbert Fields. It’s an old-fashioned musical with racist moments such as the song “I An Injun, Too.” Songs like “Doin’ What Comes Nat’rally” also romanticize the poverty she grew up in while maintaining a condescending attitude toward the rural poor.

The musical also features a lot of hits, including “There’s No Business Like Show Business.”

My father had an abbreviated medley of songs from Annie Get Your Gun on a piano roll for his 88-key upright player piano. While he pumped, I used to sit on the rug behind the piano bench, and sing along.

In college, I saw the show on Broadway with Bernadette Peters as the lead. I have a soft spot in my heart for “Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better.”

The greatest woman rifle shot the world has ever produced

There’s a lot of research ahead of me as I decide what to write about Annie, her gun, and all those shot up playing cards. I don’t yet know what story I have to tell about her, but I look forward to the books and documentaries that will help me find it.
I am so excited that Ellen Klages is going to be the Toastmaster for this year’s Nebula Award weekend!

The announcement went up on SFWA’s website a bit ago, but I just wanted to repeat it for people who missed it. And also because it’s so awesome.

I’m a big fan of Ellen Klages’s writing. One of my favorites young adult fantasy story “The House of the Seven Librarians” which first appeared in Firebirds Rising and which I got to narrate for PodCastle, and which you can get a kindle single version of, too. But by no means is this the only wonderful thing Ellen has written: you’ve got to check out her collection, Portable Childhoods. I mean that. Check it out. It’s got a number of really smart stories, including her first ever published story, “Time Gypsy,” which I love for its description of a particular moment in lesbian history (and its invocation of early women scientists). I also really like the titular story, “Portable Childhoods,” which isn’t genre at all, but instead an interesting set of vignettes which together create an emotionally affecting arc about mother and daughter.

There are also fantastic stories by Ellen that don’t appear in her collection. Probably my favorite of those is “The Education of a Witch” which first appeared in Under My Hat, edited by Jonathan Strahan. It’s about a young girl who identifies with the evil queen character in Snow White instead of the princess.

I say “probably my favorite” because it’s hard to decide between that and “Wakulla Springs”, which you can find on Tor.com. She cowrote this novella with Andy Duncan who is also brilliant, and it’s on this year’s Nebula ballot.

Ellen is a keen observer of setting and dialogue, but particularly skilled at creating realistic, non-sentimental writing about children and the experience of childhood. More than almost any other writer, she captures the details and disjunctions of childhood in a way that is both strongly tied to time and place (she often writes about the fifties) but also emotionally recognizable to me as a child of the eighties. She doesn’t get bogged down in adult ideas of what “childhood is like,” but looks at it with a sharp, clear eye.

Ellen is also very funny. She’s been working the Tiptree auction at Wiscon for many years where she stirs the audience with improvisation. She’s an animated delight in conversation. Annually at FogCon, she appears on the Liar’s Panel, which as you might imagine involves lying wildly. She told me that last year, she accidentally told a bunch of true stories, and no one noticed because they were so funny and strange. Just talking to her is like that: she has a well of funny, true anecdotes and observations. I’m excited to see that energy and storytelling ability translate to the Nebula podium.

There aren’t very many women toastmasters on the convention circuit. Connie Willis does her amusing duty from time to time, which is awesome, but I’d love to see more ladies taking the stage. In addition to Ellen Klages, I hope conventions will consider Charlie Jane Anders, Mary Robinette Kowal, and other talented women performers for future ceremonies.

This is going to be a great Nebulas. With Ellen Klages there as toastmaster, and Samuel Delany coming in as our new Grandmaster (squee!)… I’m really excited to get to be there and to hear such talented people speak.

This year’s Nebula Awards Weekend is May 15th to 18th, 2014, at the Marriott in San Jose. There are more details on the SFWA website.
There are two weeks left until the end of the Hugo nomination period, and I wanted to blog about some of the awesome writers I’ve found this year or last year who are eligible for the Campbell Award.

For those who don't know, the Campbell Award is given to notable new writers of science fiction and fantasy. Whether or not you’re nominating for the Campbell, you should check these writers out because they’re repositories of new, exciting energy and ideas.

At the end of the post, I’ll also include a few brief lines about some of the other Campbell candidates I’m considering nominating, who are also worth checking out.

As always, I’m sure there are many, many very fine authors that I’m missing out on. I focus on short stories instead of novels (and I feel justified in doing that because so many people do the opposite) so I am automatically biased that way. But more than that, I just don’t get to all the stories I should! And there are also the problems of memory.

The metric I’m using for pulling people out is that they either have to have had one work that I found overwhelmingly wonderful, or else a body of work that includes quite strong stories. If people have only come out with one thing that I consider quite strong (but not “OMG so great I can’t even handle it!”) then I’m leaving them off this particular list.

I note that I’m also trying to correct for bias toward people I know well, such as Emily Jiang and Chris Reynaga. They both published things I respected last year, but I can’t report the experience of coming to the work cold, and neither has a substantial enough published body of work for me to feel like I can double check myself.

For a partial list of people who are eligible for the Campbell, you can check here. Not everyone who is eligible knows to put in their name, but it’s a place to start.

I’ll also note here that I have reservations about the Campbell Award. Not the concept of it (yay new writers!), so much as the fact that it’s very, very hard for an award with such tight restrictions to be comprehensively judged by popular vote. By the nature of the thing, many new writers, no matter how exciting, don’t have the time to build a significant public profile while they’re eligible, even if they are producing exciting work. That’s not to say that the nominees and winners aren’t often awesome, but it’s hard for the award to be really comprehensive. So, you can take this as my attempt to get a few more names out there for the award, or just as an attempt to get some awesome new writers read independently of the Campbell. Either way.

In alphabetical order:

Brooke Bolander
Brooke Bolander is in her second year of eligibility.

Work you should read immediately: Tornado’ s Siren” on Strange Horizons

Brooke Bolander has published a number of short stories, the bulk of them in Lightspeed. The first story of hers that I read was “Her Words Like Hunting Vixens Spring.” Also notable is “Sun Dogs,” a story about Laika, the first dog sent into space.

Brooke has an unusual voice that takes advantage of disjunctive leaps of imagery to create a series of dense and surreal impressions. Sometimes they are whimsical; sometimes dark. I find her writing very grounded in the body—hot, cold, lonely—she evokes physical sensations in me.

I like the charming whimsy of “Tornado’s Siren,” but in many ways it’s a less ambitious story than the more complex and unresolved concepts of “Her Words Like Hunting Vixens Spring” and “Sun Dogs;” I consider those stories to not have totally realized their potential, but in a wonderful, interesting way, full of unusual and striking material.

I find it hard to think of a writer to compare her work to. There may be a touch of Aimee Bender in the texture of the unusual imagery that she uses to evoke emotion.

Carmen Maria Machado

Carmen Maria Machado is in her first year of eligibility.

Work you should read immediately: “Inventory” on Strange Horizons

Carmen and I both went to the Iowa Writers Workshop but for some reason we failed to intersect through that channel. I missed her story “Inventory” when it came out in Strange Horizons due to my rushed reading this year, but luckily, Carmen submitted it as a potential reprint to Women Destroy Science Fiction. It didn’t work out for that purpose, but it’s a strong story that put Carmen on my radar, and which may nudge its way onto my Hugo ballot.

Carmen has also published a number of other short stories appearing in a wide scatter of venues, some of which are familiar to speculative fiction readers (like Lightspeed and Shimmer) and some of which aren’t. In particular, I’m looking forward to reading her story from issue #2 of Unstuck (it's out of print, but you can still get electronic editions), a journal which publishes work that lies on the boundary of speculative and literary fiction. It’s a neat journal and more people should check it out.

About “Inventory,” I wrote in a recent blog post, “Exquisite telling detail transforms this list story (a format that I have a weakness for) into something emotional and poignant. Machado has experience writing in the lit world and brings those chops to the development of this sad, post-apocalyptic tale, told on a very personal level. By detailing moments of togetherness, Machado creates in the reader the sensation of loneliness that her character feels, isolation that persists despite touch and intimacy. Read for character, language, and emotion.

Sofia Samatar
Sofia Samatar is in her second year of eligibility.

Work you should read immediately: A STRANGER IN OLONDRIA (Small Beer Press)

Sofia Samatar’s novel is on the Nebula ballot this year, as is her Strange Horizons short story, “Selkie Stories are for Losers.”

I particularly loved her short story in Glitter and Mayhem, “Bess, the Landlord’s Daughter, Goes to Drinks with the Green Girl.” It’s an amazing story. I wrote about it in my short story recommendations for 2013: “This surreal story is about two ghost girls who are known by their ghost stories, and how they navigate their unlives in the wake of that endless, unavoidable trauma. I thought it discussed living with violence really intelligently as well as being beautifully written.”

Sofia’s prose and imagery are really beautiful, and her observation of character and detail sharp. Her body of work thus far is impressive, and it’s clear she’s a major talent.

Benjanun Sriduangkaew
Benjanun Sriduangkaew is in her first year of eligibility.

Work you should read immediately: “Silent Bridge, Pale Cascade” (Clarkesworld)

I first read Benjanun Sriduangkaew’s work last year in Giganotosaurus. In the novella,”

She also writes short stories based in a space operatic world. Two from this year include “Silent Bridge, Pale Cascade” (linked above) and “Annex,” both in Clarkesworld. Her space opera world is an intricate weave of interesting technology and eye-kicks, dealing explicitly with the territories of colonialism, gender, and identity. In this year’s short story recommendations, I wrote about her space opera world: “Like much far future work, [the world] loops away from the comfortable details of the present into very strange imagery, wrapping around toward the oddness of surrealism or high fantasy.”

Benjanun’s work is really interesting with a distinct, strong point of view. Her space opera overlaps thematically with Ann Leckie’s novel, Ancillary Justice, but style-wise, she’s on her own. Her ability to write epic storylines over the course of short stories is particularly impressive and unusual. I look forward to seeing what she does with a novel if she’s writing one; her stories suggest she’d be a natural at it, but they are also wonderful in themselves and shouldn’t be underestimated on account of their form.

Some other folks I’d like to chat about:

Henry Lien
Henry Lien is in his first year of eligibility.

His first ever published piece, the novelette “Pearl Rehabilitative Colony for Ungrateful Daughters,” which appeared in Asimovs Magazine, is on this year’s Nebula ballot. Although many people clearly loved this novelette, I’m lukewarm about it. The basic concepts are neat (it’s about young girls practicing a martial art based on something similar to ice skating), but I found the voice of the teenage main character unconvincing—to me, it seemed like a stereotype drawn from adult ideas of what teenage girls are like, rather than drawing from actual teenage girls.

If I were looking at this story alone, I’d think he was an interesting writer with some space to grow. Which, as a new writer, he is. However, I’m also in a writing group with him, and I’ve had the privilege of reading some of his unpublished work, especially the beginning of his young adult novel. From that, I know that he’s a powerhouse.

I probably won’t nominate him for the Campbell because I don’t feel comfortable doing so on the basis of what I’ve read privately, but I know that I’m really excited to see what he keeps producing, and I do recommend him as a name to look out for.

Also, check out his website to see the beautiful, surreal work by the artists he works with. He has amazing taste in art.

Joy Kennedy O’Neill
Joy Kennedy O’Neill is in her second year of eligibility.

Aftermath” from Strange Horizons (link goes to the first of two parts) was one of my favorite novelettes from last year.

I wrote about it, “This is one of the few zombie stories that I’ve really liked. It’s about the process of reconciliation that occurs after the zombies recover and how they reintegrate into society. The novelette intelligently references and builds on real-world situations like the post-apartheid recovery in South Africa. Mending the sociological rifts left by genocide and other atrocities requires a sort of willful social blindness, a denial of what’s happened. In the novelette’s case, the zombies did not have control over their actions, so the story necessarily removes the question of responsibility for the atrocities, which does make the reconciliation process less intense than it is in real life. Nevertheless, I think O’Neill intelligently explores the ways in which people act to protect themselves psychologically: denying what has happened, denying what they did, the ways in which the socially mandated silence creaks and cracks.”

This really smart and well-developed story makes me excited to see what else Joy Kennedy O’Neill will do in the future.
I knew I was missing some great short stories in my rush to read as much as I could (and failing to get to anywhere near what I wanted). I have since found two more gorgeous pieces that I wish I'd seen sooner and that you should absolutely read.

The first is "Happy Hour at the Tooth and Claw" by Shira Lipkin.

The Vampire
Agony Jones is less than five feet tall. She compensates with screaming red hair cut short and choppy, tall boots, and an aggressive stomp. She cases the joint as she walks in; she notes all of the exits. She’s freshly fed and looks nearly human, if a bit out of date. She claims a table in the corner and watches the crowd; she winces when the beginning of karaoke night is announced.

The Werewolf
Mary Magdalene Kendall, all worn denim and soft black tee and long black hair, goes by Maggie or Mags. Too many Marys in her family. She walks in with a few women from her pack, laughing; she nods at Jack when she passes him, and he nods back. Mags and her pack aren’t trouble. Or, well, they are, but they keep the trouble outside. Here they are model citizens whose only crime is that they hog the pool table sometimes.

A witch who can bend reality flits through different dimensions--magical, science fictional--tweaking the lives of the people she meets and sometimes loves.

This story is written in an experimental format which some will see as gimmicky, but I suggest you give it a moment to adjust. It starts to read smoothly, and the structure has a significant purpose that makes it inherent to the story rather than just being an add-on. Shira Lipkin is a poet and you can see that in the way that the writing, though usually simple, provides little, intriguing hooks that work with the story and also outside it. I liked the way that the splashiness of the setting and conceits contrasted with development of emotion.

I could have wished for slightly better development of one of the plot lines, and the title is terrible for the piece as it sets altogether a different (and lesser) mood and expectation, but overall this was unusual and interesting, and the strange texture of the writing and format created that mood.

The second is "Inventory" by Carmen Maria Machado.

One girl. We lay down next to each other on the musty rug in her basement. Her parents were upstairs; we told them we were watching Jurassic Park. "I'm the dad, and you're the mom," she said. I pulled up my shirt, she pulled up hers, and we just stared at each other. My heart fluttered below my belly button, but I worried about daddy longlegs and her parents finding us. I still have never seen Jurassic Park. I suppose I never will.

Exquisite telling detail transforms this list story (a format that I have a weakness for) into something emotional and poignant. Machado has experience writing in the lit world and brings those chops to the development of this sad, post-apocalyptic tale, told on a very personal level. By detailing moments of togetherness, Machado creates in the reader the sensation of loneliness that her character feels, isolation that persists despite touch and intimacy. Read for character, language, and emotion.