Book Review: SOMEONE IN TIME

TITLE: Someone in Time: Tales of Time-Crossed Romance

EDITOR: Jonathan Strahan

330 pages, Rebellion Publishing, ISBN 9781786185099 (softcover, also available in audiobook, e-book)

DESCRIPTION: (from inside front cover): Even time travel can’t unravel love.

Time-travel is a way for writers to play with history and imagine different futures – for better, or worse.

When romance is thrown into the mix, time-travel becomes a passionate tool, or heart-breaking weapon. A time agent in the 22nd century puts their whole mission at risk when they fall in love with the wrong person. No matter which part of history a man visits, he cannot escape his ex. A woman is desperately in love with the time-space continuum, but it doesn’t love her back. As time passes and falls apart, a time-traveler must say goodbye to their soulmate.

With stories from best-selling and award-winning authors such as Seanan McGuire, Alix E. Harrow and Nina Allan, this anthology gives a taste for the rich treasure trove of stories we can imagine with love, loss and reunion across time and space. 

MY RATING: 5 out of 5 stars

MY THOUGHTS: In lesser hands, an anthology of romantic time-travel stories could have been very one-note and predictable. Thankfully, editor Jonathan Strahan is not “lesser hands.” Someone In Time: Tales of Time-Crossed Romance fully embraces diversity: not just in the types of romantic couples featured but also in the types of time-travel, points of view, and genres.

Eight of the sixteen stories feature LGBTQIA+ characters in a variety of relationship configurations (possibly 9; in one story I’m unsure of the narrator’s gender identity which is probably me not noticing context clues). Some of these queer protagonists are just discovering their sexual orientation, some have been out for years; some of the relationships are new and fraught with “will they or won’t they” tension while some are long-term relationships facing new challenges. Of course, the same is true for the eight stories in the anthology that focus on straight characters, but I still find it noteworthy when stories featuring LGBTQIA+ protagonists in anthologies like this aren’t focused on the trauma of being queer but rather on the ups-and-downs of all romantic relationships. Not that these stories ignore the very real consequences of being queer in certain times and places; they just don’t make that the sole focus of the stories.

Time-travel is thought of as an SFnal sub-genre, usually involving a specific and iconic (or iconic-looking) device: a tricked-out car, a TARDIS, a time-bubble or -machine. And a number of these stories fit that description, with varying degrees of detail as to what the device looks like and the science behind it. But several of these stories move time-travel into the realm of fantasy: the time-travel is an inherent ability, or something accomplished through magic. Part of the fun of starting each new story was wondering how the time-travel itself would be expressed, and the variety helped keep things interesting.

The anthology starts strong right out of the gate with the one-two-three punch of Alix E. Harrow’s “Roadside Attraction,” Zen Cho’s “The Past Life Reconstruction Service,” and Seanan McGuire’s “First Aid.” All three feature LGBTQIA protagonists (one who only relaxes into his identity as the story progresses, one mourning a broken relationship, and one who is out) who meet their romantic partners through different methods of time-travel (a roadside attraction that no one seems to really understand, a mental stimulation device, and a time-bubble that malfunctions).

Sarah Gailey’s “I Remember Satellites” gives us time-travel as a method of making sure history stays on track, and the sacrifices some time-travelers must make to be sure it does. It felt of a piece with Theodora Goss’s “A Letter to Merlin,” in which time-travelers inhabit already-existing historical figures, essentially taking them over to be sure they do what they’re supposed to.

The fantasy side of time-travel is explored in Rowan Coleman’s sweet “Romance: Historical” (who can resist a romance across the decades set in a mysterious bookshop?) and Carrie Vaughn’s “Dead Poets” (which involves an ancient drinking vessel and two quite different historical poets).

Smack in the middle of the anthology, but thankfully not one right after the other, are a couple of truly heart-breaking stories that play with the nature of time-travel: Elizabeth Hand’s “Chronia,” in which the narrator explains to a lover how many times they have and have not met as chronal fluxes mess with their interpersonal timeline, and “Unabashed, or, Jackson, Whose Cowardice Tore a Hole in the Chronoverse” by Sam J. Miller, in which the narrator recounts all the ways in which he might have saved his new boyfriend from being killed had he not been so afraid of the question “walk me home?”.

Leave it to Catherynne M. Valente to craft a story around the ever-changing, gender-fluid, age-fluid personification of the Space-Time Continuum in “The Difference Between Love and Time,” which is both sweet and heart-breaking.

The exploitation of past resources by travelers from the future infuse Lavanya Lakshminarayan’s “Bergamot and Vetiver” and Ellen Klages’ “Time Gypsy” with an extra layer of late-stage capitalism topicality that enhances rather than overwhelms the romance at the heart of each story.

The anthology also includes stories by Jeffrey Ford (“The Golden Hour”), Nina Allen (“The Lichens”), Margo Lanagan (“The Place of All Souls”), and Sameem Siddiqui (“Timed Obsolescence”) that are equally as good as the stories I’ve already mentioned. In fact, I don’t think there’s a weak story in the bunch.

Someone in Time: Tales of Time-Crossed Romance will appeal to romance readers and speculative fiction readers alike.

I received an advance reading copy of this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review. Because of how delayed I am in posting this, Someone in Time is already available in print, e-book, and audio formats.

Review of Carrie Vaughn's THE WILD DEAD

TITLE: The Wild Dead (Bannerless, Book 2)

AUTHOR: Carrie Vaughn

264 pages, John Joseph Adams Books, ISBN 9780544947313 (paperback, audio and e-book)

DESCRIPTION: A century after environmental and economic collapse, the people of the Coast Road have rebuilt their own sort of civilization, striving not to make the mistakes their ancestors did. They strictly ration and manage resources, including the ability to have children. Enid of Haven is an investigator, who with her new partner, Teeg, is called on to mediate a dispute over an old building in a far-flung settlement at the edge of Coast Road territory. The investigators’ decision seems straightforward – and then the body of a young woman turns up in the nearby marshland. Almost more shocking that that, she’s not from the Coast Road but from one of the outsider camps belonging to the nomads and wild folk who live outside the Coast Road communities. Now one of them is dead, and Enid wants to find out who killed her even as Teeg argues that the murder isn’t their problem. In a dystopian future of isolated communities, can our moral sense survive the worst hard times?

MY RATING: 5 stars out of 5

MY THOUGHTS:

(Disclaimer: although this review is very late in being posted, I did receive a print Advanced Reading Copy from John Joseph Adams Books in return for an honest review)

The second book in Carrie Vaughn’s post-apocalyptic murder mystery series builds on the promise of the first without being a static retread. Like the first book, this one is about as “cozy” of a mystery as you can get set in a world where electricity, and thus forensic crime labs, stopped working decades ago. But Vaughn builds more on the world itself, on how disparate communities are tied together by commerce and law more than mutual respect. On the one hand, everyone on the Coast Road knows they really can’t survive without working and trading with others. On the other hand, they still have fierce independent (and sometimes selfish) personal drives that typify 21st century Americans. In both Bannerless and The Wild Dead, Vaughn explores the rubbing up of rugged individualism against communal necessity.

This struggle, and several others, are represented most obviously by the community disagreement Enid and Teeg are sent to resolve: whether a remote community’s households should be required to pool resources to help one household repair and retain a pre-apocalypse structure. The community has worked together for the greater good before, but personality conflicts and varying interpretations of what is necessary for the whole versus selfish nostalgia threaten to overwhelm everyone. The point is made all the more clear when an outsider is discovered dead – is it worth Enid and Teeg’s time, is it worth the community’s resources, to investigate the death of a nameless girl from beyond the Coast Road, from a nomadic society the Coast Roaders don’t trust or see as equal/deserving? Enid, perhaps because of her past, feels it is worth the costs; her partner, not so much. The cozy mystery becomes part of a deeper personality/societal conflict which Vaughn explores through dialogue and nuanced description of the two communities Enid must navigate to find her answers.

The “Us vs. Them” mentality, the distrust of those who are different, is also prevalent. Is the Coast Road’s settle small community crops-and-barter system really any better at preserving civilization than the Wild Land’s nomadic scavenge-and-hunt structure? Vaughn doesn’t choose one over the other, and leaves her main protagonist undecided while other characters’ opinions are obvious.

No-one in the book ever actually utters the idiom “don’t look back, you’re not going that way,” but the conflict between nostalgia and moving forward is there from the battle over a failing structure to a 15-year-old community conflict that potentially affects current events. How long do we hold onto the past regardless of its usefulness? How long do we hold onto things we should have let go of for our own mental health? What does institutional memory look like when technology has failed and how do we learn from a past we can no longer access?

The murder mystery that brings all these interpersonal conflicts to light is a fair-play one. All the hints needed to put together what happened and why are laid out for the reader – some obviously, some so subtly you don’t realize what you read until much later. Vaughn’s ability to structure and spool out the details, including a fair number of red herrings, is so good I would gladly read any non-SF/F mystery she might choose to write in the future.

There’s so much more I’d love to comment on in the book: Teeg’s impatience, so trope-ily “millennial;” the sly winks at long running “amateur sleuth” series; Enid’s continued growth as an individual and as a member of a family unit; how easy it would be for a new reader to start with this book and still understand the characters and their world. But I’ve rambled on quite a bit already.

Vaughn really does a wonderful job of mashing the “apocalyptic SF” and “cozy mystery” genres, drawing on the strengths of each and occasionally conflating or subverting the tropes. If you know mystery fans who want to dip their toes into the SF genre, or vice versa, Vaughn’s Bannerless Saga books are the place to start them off.

BANNERLESS - Book Review

TITLE: Bannerless

AUTHOR: Carrie Vaughn

352 pages, John Joseph Adams books, ISBN 9780544947306

Publication Date: July 11, 2017 (I received an uncorrected proof ARC in exchange for an honest review)

DESCRIPTION: (from the back cover): A mysterious murder in a dystopian future leads a novice investigator to question what she’s learned about the foundation of her population-controlled society.

Decades after economic and environmental collapse destroys much of civilization in the United States, the Coast Road region isn’t just surviving but thriving by some accounts, building something new on the ruins of what came before. A culture of population control has developed in which people, organized into households, must earn the children they bear by proving they can take care of them and are awarded symbolic banners to demonstrate this privilege. In the meantime, birth control is mandatory.  Enid of Haven is an Investigator, called on to mediate disputes and examine transgressions against the community. She’s young for the job and hasn’t yet handled a serious case. Now, though, a suspicious death requires her attention. The victim was an outcast, but might someone have taken dislike a step further and murdered him?  In a world defined by the disasters that happened a century before, the past is always present. But this investigation may reveal the cracks in Enid’s world and make her question what she really stands for.

MY RATING: FIVE out of FIVE STARS

MY THOUGHTS: I first encountered the post-apocalyptic world Carrie Vaughn reveals to us in such great detail in her new novel Bannerless in a short story of the same title back in 2015. That story, which introduced not only the world of the Coast Road communities but also lead character Enid, appeared in the anthology The End Has Come, part of John Joseph Adams and Hugh Howey’s Apocalypse Triptych. Readers interested in seeing an older, more experienced Enid should seek out that anthology, or head over to Wired.com to read the story for free. You don’t need to have read the original story to understand Enid or the world she lives in. This novel shows us a younger Enid, discovering who she is and how she’s going to survive as an Investigator.

Let’s talk about the world-building first.

In this not-too-terribly-distant future, civilization as we know now it has collapsed due not to a single Extinction Level Event but a combination of “smaller” catastrophic events that build on each other the way a solid combination punch does in professional boxing: climate change combined with disease combined with overpopulation stagger humanity’s ability to cope and recover. But humanity never goes completely down for the count, and a generation or so later we have the Coast Road society: tied to the earth, supremely aware of how susceptible they are to drastic weather, depletion of natural resources, and the possibility of over-population. As a whole, at least in this particular region, humanity is hanging in there and still fighting. But as we see multiple times in this novel: those who don’t learn the lessons of the past are doomed to repeat them. Life in this near future is not easy, despite the content home lives of most of the characters. Fishing, hunting, harvesting, trading … all come with the threat of injury or death attached, and the world no longer has the medical-pharmaceutical-surgical capabilities it once did. Vaughn drives this home repeatedly: the world post-apocalypse will be lacking much of currently keeps people alive. The only difference between the world of Bannerless and, say, the medieval or Renaissance world is whether people know what they don’t have – and the characters in Bannerless are painfully aware (and frequently reminded) of what’s been lost.  That’s part of what I loved about the short story and the novel: this world is not so far in the future that our own “modern” world has been relegated to myth, but there are clear indications it is headed into that territory. This is important to the way resources, including the ability to have children, are allocated.  This future society’s approach to population control – enforced birth control until a household earns a banner and thus the right to conceive and raise a child – is likely to be the subject of many reviews of the book. Is the system Vaughn posits a fair one? Probably not, but then again many of our current laws aren’t either. Does it make sense in the context of the world Vaughn has built? Absolutely. I can easily imagine that fear of a return to overpopulation and the depletion of natural resources and increased diseases caused by it would lead to some extremes. But the author also makes it clear: birth control is being used to control population growth rather than some Puritanical “abstention from sex except when trying to procreate” rules. Sex in the world of Bannerless is natural and expected and exists in all its wide varieties and combinations of partners. No one is shamed or cast out because of it.

We explore this fascinating world and the selfless and selfish characters who inhabit it, through the eyes of Enid. Vaughn has structured the book so that alternating chapters show us Enid in her present, as a beginning Investigator encountering her first big complicated case, as well as Enid in her past, as a curious young woman experiencing Coast Road society outside of her home town. Of course, the past is prologue to the present; flashback details bleed over into the present the way they should when handled in a format like this. We the readers are essentially experiencing two mysteries at once: the possible murder of a loner in the present, and the question of how Enid became an investigator in the past.

In the past, Enid falls heavily in love with a traveling musician named Dak and decides to leave Haven to experience the world with him. This Enid is a bit more head-strong, a bit less likely to take stock of a situation, a bit more likely to let her emotions lead her actions. And Dak enables this behavior with his charm and wit. These chapters are full of details that reveal not all Coast Road towns or homesteads are the same, showing Enid that not everyone is as comfortable (if that word can be used in this world) as her town of Haven is. Vaughn also drops hints as to what lies beyond the Coast Road, and it is my fervent hope that these distances will be explored more deeply in future installments because the small views we got were tantalizing. In these chapters, the characters Enid encounters (such as Petula house-head Fisher, her son Stev, and their town-mate Xander) help expand, or expound upon, the world-building.

In the present, Enid journeys with fellow Investigator, and childhood friend, Tomas, to the town of Pasadan. They’re answering a summons to investigate a mysterious death, but it quickly becomes obvious that internal town politics and failure to learn the lessons of the past are going to complicate what should be a fairly straightforward case. In these chapters, the world-building becomes less centered and more subtle as the author introduces the characters involved in, and spools out the details of, a fair-play, multi-suspect murder mystery. And it is very “fair play,” the kind of mystery, sans post-apocalyptic setting, I can imagine Sherlock Holmes or Hamish Macbeth solving. If the “possible suspects” are bit more archetypal (the battling town council members Philos and Ariana; the possible young lovers Miran and Kirk; even the disliked outcast victim Sero) and a bit less nuanced than the characters of the flashbacks, it can be accepted as part of the genre Vaughn is importing. They each do their job in providing clues and red herrings for the mystery as well as propelling Enid’s character arc. By the end of the novel, we can see shades of the older Enid of the short story.

What ties the alternating chapters together is the consistencies in Enid’s character. At both ages, she is willful and head-strong, apt to let emotions lead her. If the older Enid is more able to tamp anger down in service to the greater good, the younger Enid’s impetuousness serves that greater good almost as effectively. And at any age, Enid is a great listener and avid learner, which draws the reader into the world around her. She’s a character I’m interested in spending a lot more time with.