Review of I AM MALALA

TITLE: I Am Malala: The Girl Who Stood Up For Education and Was Shot By the Taliban

AUTHOR: Malala Yousafzai with Christina Lamb

330 pages, Little Brown, ISBN  9780316322423 (paperback)

DESCRIPTION: (From the back cover): When the Taliban took control of the Swat Valley in Pakistan, one girl spoke out. Malala Yousafzai refused to be silenced and fought for her right to an education. In October 2012, when she was fifteen, Malala almost paid the ultimate price. She was shot in the head while riding the bus home from school, and few expected her to survive. Instead, Malala’s heroic recovery has taken her on an extraordinary journey from a remote valley in northern Pakistan to the halls of the United Nations in New York. At sixteen, she emerged as a global symbol of peaceful protest. A year later she became the youngest recipient ever of the Nobel Peace Prize.

MY RATING: 4 out of 5 stars

MY THOUGHTS: I’ll admit, I have a hard time writing in-depth reviews of memoirs. Who am I to judge the authenticity of an author’s recounting of their own life? But as Malala’s memoir is one of the books I chose for this year’s To Be Read Challenge, and as that challenge requires me to post a review of each book, I’m going to make the attempt.

The first thing to note is that while this is a memoir, Malala tells more than just her own story. I’ve seen some complaints in other reviews that she effectively turns herself into a subplot for most of the book, spending so many pages on Pakistan history in general, the history of the Swat Valley in particular, and her family’s history in specific. My take-away, as someone who really was not familiar with Pakistan’s history or geography, is that it was vital for Malala to help people like me understand why her world was as it was – things like what happened to Malala do not happen in a vacuum. Understanding the culture surrounding the event, and especially the upheaval that culture has been experiencing not just politically but geologically (earthquakes, flooding, mudslides), made it easier to understand the event itself and its aftermath. No, this is not a textbook on Pakistan history, but Malala gave me enough detail that I wasn’t completely lost as to the socio-political attitudes around her.

Not surprisingly, Malala is at her most passionate when she’s writing about the cause that matters to her above all else: education for all. When she’s talking about the Taliban shut-down of schools, or her first sighting of illiterate children scouring garbage heaps for something to sell just to be able to eat, or even her mother’s struggles with learning to read and write, her voice is clear and her call for change is compelling. The portions of the book that do deal with Malala’s day-to-day life and schooling prior to the shooting are perhaps the least interesting to read: she talks about friendships and her relationships with her brothers a bit more dispassionately, almost as if someone (co-author Christina Lamb, perhaps) told her the book needed more slice-of-life to make her seem like a “real” kid and she included them grudgingly. I find myself wishing that she’d been able to directly include the reports about life under the Taliban that she wrote under the pen name Gul Makai; those might have lent a different view to the everyday-life sections of the book. Even Malala’s descriptions of what happened after the shooting are a bit clinical, which makes sense given how little of it she actually remembers.

The final chapters, about her new life in England and how she wishes to return to Pakistan, bring the passion back to Malala’s voice. She renews her call for education for all, for an end to the Taliban’s bombings of schools and other terrorist acts, and in these final pages it’s easy to see the effect all of this has had on her. I cannot imagine, at sixteen or sixty, being told you can never return to a place you loved, and that the immediate family you have with you are likely the only people from your childhood you will ever see again.

My preferred method of “reading” memoirs lately is in audiobook form, when narrated by the author. So I also have to wonder if I’d feel differently about the levels of passion/interest if I’d been able to hear Malala read her own words.

This is the second book I’ve read this year for the To Be Read Challenge.

Review of WE HAVE ALWAYS LIVED IN THE CASTLE

TITLE: We Have Always Lived in the Castle

AUTHOR: Shirley Jackson

214 pages, Penguin Books, ISBN 9780140071078 (paperback)

DESCRIPTION: (from the back cover) All is peaceful at the Blackwood Estate – until a murderer strikes.  Merricat Blackwood lives on the family estate with her sister Constance and her Uncle Julian. Not long ago there were seven Blackwoods – until a fatal dose of arsenic found its way into the sugar bowl one terrible night. Acquitted of the murder, Constance has returned home, where Merricat protects her from the curiosity and hostility of the villagers. Their days pass in happy isolation until cousin Charles appears. Only Merricat can see the danger, and she must act swiftly to keep Constance from his grasp.

MY RATING: 4 out of 5 stars

MY THOUGHTS: Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” has always been one of my favorite short stories (up there with Susan Glaspell’s “A Jury of Her Peers”), and her novel The Haunting of Hill House is wonderful, so you would think with all the American Literature classes I’ve taken and reading I’ve done on my own that I would have long-since read more of Jackson’s work. And yet, I’ve only just read We Have Always Lived in the Castle for the first time. I suspect it will be joining the list of books I reread more often than not.

I came into Castle with no more awareness of what it was about than the back cover described plus the book’s reputation as a classic. It’s great to be able to approach a book that’s been analyzed for decades with fresh eyes and no real preconceptions. I’m not sure how any of what I’m about to say maps onto published literary criticism of the work. Maybe I’ll go looking at reviews after I post this. Or maybe I’ll continue in my own world, as the book’s main character does. That would perhaps be appropriate.

The first thing that struck me, slowly over the opening chapters, is the development of Merricat’s voice, the slow revelation that she is both divorced from every-day reality and hyper-aware of it. I tend to really enjoy unreliable narrators, but it’s not obvious at the outset just how unreliable Merricat will be. Early indications are that she lives in a bit of a dream-world and has some coping mechanisms that help her get through situations that give her social anxiety, but that she’s otherwise a normal teenager stuck in an abnormal living situation as one of only three survivors of a family tragedy; how all-pervasive her dream-world is, how little of what she says is just creative turns-of-phrase by a lonely, awkward teenager, only becomes apparent as the novel progresses. The change in how Merricat expresses herself – the increasingly dream-like quality of her language – is brilliantly crafted and paced.

Chapter One’s description of the town and the Blackwood family’s disconnect from it feel naturalistic. We get glimpses of the locals, and meet a few through whom we start to see how socially awkward Merricat is. We get a sense of the layout of the town in relation to the Blackwood estate, and the first hints that there’s more darkness in this family’s history than just the recent murders. Even that nastiest interaction with locals in chapter one, and there are several, feels light in comparison to what comes later. This could be the lead-off scene of any novel about small-town life in these United States.

But from the very first pages of chapter two, the book veers from slice-of-life to American Gothic and never swings back. We learn, in little bits of detail strung in among Merricat’s less-lucid moments, the Blackwood history: willingly removed from town life, from their richer friends and even from direct family, they’d become a small, insular group of seven, replete with power struggles and mis-communications that festered. Most of this is revealed through the ramblings of Uncle Julian, the regrets of Constance, and the neediness of cousin Charles, as filtered through Merricat’s unique world-view. Insular family cut off from local social life; a dark old estate; family history skeletons hinted at but never fully revealed; the intimation of romantic flirtation between first cousins Constance and Charles … if these aren’t the tropes of a Gothic suspense novel, nothing is.

Perhaps it’s because of her skewed world-view that Merricat is the only one to see the danger that both the villagers and cousin Charles pose. And it’s not that she’s wrong about the danger – she is clearly correct in worrying that Charles’ arrival portends a drastic change in her daily life. But I also can’t say that Charles, as self-serving as he is, is completely wrong when he points out how Constance’s social anxiety after her acquittal have removed Julian and Merricat from the medical/psychiatric help they both so obviously need. But Charles’ selfishness and greed supersede any good he may have accomplished.

The book is also current in a way Jackson could not possibly have predicted. Gossip, the “social media” of the era, creates an expectation of the surviving Blackwoods that is at the very least inaccurate and more dangerous: the angrier the townspeople get about how distant and disturbing the Blackwoods have always been, the more desperate they get to know what really goes on in the Blackwood house, the less civilized they act. Polite veneer falls away even before the tragic arc of the book hits its peak, and a finer description of mindless mob mentality I have never read. I had to put the book down for a while after reading that brutal, raw scene.

If the book starts with a very concrete, naturalistic feel, it ends with a tone that is ephemeral and fantastic. How much time actually passes in the final chapter is a question I’m not sure Jackson herself wanted to answer. To Merricat, it seems like only weeks, but there are hints (the house in now vine-covered; the legend of “the ladies” grows more morbid) that years, if not a decade or more, have passed. Which I think is a brilliant way to end a book so deeply mired in the dream-world Merricat lives in.

The truth behind the murders is almost the least important plot point to be resolved, even though it’s the point the townsfolk are most stridently obsessed with. It’s obvious to the reader, I think, long before the characters actually discuss it – the hints are certainly all there. When it is revealed, it’s done so subtly that I almost didn’t realize what was being said.

Obviously, I highly recommend We Have Always Lived in the Castle to any fans of Gothic suspense. It really is a fast read at a little over two hundred pages, but gives you a lot to absorb and think about. This is also the first book I’ve read this year towards my 2019 To Be Read Challenge.

SUNDAY SHORTS: Seanan McGuire Destroys Air Travel

The “Sunday Shorts” feature is dedicated to reviewing short stories and novellas, two forms I absolutely love.

My full-time job requires me to travel fairly frequently (anywhere from one to three weeks, depending on the month) and much of that travel is by air across the continental United States. I’m pretty comfortable with the process at this point (airport security and airplane seating being what they are), although I find that I’m likely to get motion sick if I try to read or watch anything during takeoff, landing or even slight turbulence. I’ve been in one (admittedly minor) emergency landing and experienced plenty of rough air and less-than-pleasant customer service on the ground. But I’m not afraid of any aspect of flying.

Even so, two recent short stories by Seanan McGuire, both posted on her Patreon, made me squirm uncomfortably. “Carry On” was first published last year (and is reprinted in this month’s Nightmare magazine) while “Emergency Landing” is this month’s Patreon story. Each turns a different aspect of air travel in an opportunity for emotional/psychological horror.

In our present day, airlines are charging more and more for “incidentals” (in-flight snacks and entertainment, extra leg-room, checked and carry-on luggage). “Carry On” is a brutal look at a possible future where the price of fuel justifies airlines charging passengers not just for the combined weight of their carry-on luggage, but also for the weight of the passenger and their clothing. Step on a scale with your bags, and be judged before entering security. Mary, the focal-point character, has saved for ages to be able to fly cross-country to see her sister and meet her new niece; but getting past the weigh-in without having to pay, in money and embarrassment, is not easy. McGuire really captures the indignities heaped, even now, upon travelers who are overweight. The tension of the wait, the bad weigh-in, the events that follow, the recognizable emotions Mary feels at the end, are all so real. Mary feels isolated even in a large terminal with hundreds of other people experience the same trauma she is. This is the second time I’ve read the story, and it once again made me cry for the main character.

“Emergency Landing” takes place almost entirely on a plane already in the air. The narrator describes her dash to make her connecting flight out of Atlanta, her initial impressions of her seat-mates, and then the plane takes off – just before the narrator sees missiles streak towards the airport they’ve just departed. The rest of the story is a tense game of “how much do we tell the passengers about what’s happening on the ground” and “what do we do about landing since our fuel can’t last forever.” The emotional stakes are just as high as in “Carry On,” but from a different direction. While Mary feels invisible among her fellow travelers, Caitlin feels too seen because of what they think she knows. The story moves fast as Caitlin’s fellow passengers move from anguish to fear to false bravado and Caitlin must decide whether sharing her knowledge will make things better or worse. It’s not often I describe stories or books as leaving me breathless, but this one did.  I also think that had this appeared in an anthology (it would have been perfect for Stephen King and Bev Vincent’s recent Flight or Fright), it would appear under Seanan’s Mira Grant name, given that the main character is an epidemiologist.

Review of AT HOME IN THE DARK

TITLE: At Home in the Dark

EDITOR: Lawrence Block

259 pages, Subterranean Press, ISBN 971596069176 (Hardcover) or ebook from LB Productions

Disclaimer: Although I bought the Subterranean Press edition, the editor also sent me a free e-ARC in exchange for a fair review.

DESCRIPTION: (from the Introduction): The crime fiction canopy's a broad one, with room to give shelter to writing of all sorts, as editor Lawrence Block shows with At Home in the Dark: “Some of these stories have one or both feet planted in another genre. James Reasoner's story is a period western, Joe Lansdale's is bleakly dystopian, and Joe Hill's novelette slithers through a little doorway into another world. “And now that I've singled out those three, I suppose I should go ahead and list the rest of the gang: N. J. Ayres, Laura Benedict, Jill D. Block, Richard Chizmar, Hilary Davidson, Jim Fusilli, Elaine Kagan, Warren Moore, Joyce Carol Oates, Ed Park, Nancy Pickard, Thomas Pluck, Wallace Stroby, and Duane Swierczynski. “If you're looking for a common denominator, two come to mind. They're all dark stories, with nothing cozy or comforting about them. And every last one of them packs a punch. “Which is to say that they're all very much At Home in the Dark—and we can thank O. Henry, master of the surprise ending, for our title. 'Turn up the lights,' he said on his deathbed. 'I don't want to go home in the dark.'”

MY RATING: 4 stars out of 5

MY THOUGHTS: Man, do I love short stories and novellas that take dark turns or explore the darker end of morally grey situations. Not that such stories are all I read – I like a nice balance of hope and despair in my reading over the course of a month and enjoy a good upbeat ending as much as anyone – but especially when it comes to short fiction I seem drawn to the dark. Which is maybe why Larry Block keeps sending me ARCs of anthologies like this one. I’m practically the ideal audience.

Of course, even the ideal audience can be disappointed occasionally. While I enjoyed most of the seventeen stories Block has curated here, and in fact outright loved more than a couple, not every single story worked for me. I struggled with Joyce Carol Oates’ “The Flagellant.” Despite some beautiful prose, despite the fact that I normally enjoy Oates’ short fiction and am intrigued by unreliable narrators, I could not fold myself into the dense, unhinged mind of the main character. Your mileage may vary.

The stories I enjoyed the most were, interestingly, for the most part the genres other than crime. I’m not a widely-read Western fan, but James Reasoner’s “Night Rounds” engrossed me from first word to last. If it were filmed in the heyday of the genre I’m sure Jimmy Stewart would have played Sheriff Dave Blake; now I picture Jake Gyllenhall in the role. Reasoner works a small frontier town’s night-time silence and moonlit streets into a frenzy of revenge that builds tension perfectly throughout. Joe R. Lansdale’s “The Senior Girls Bayonet Drill Team” manages some impressive dystopian world-building in a short first-person narrative, along with high character tension and plenty of remembered bloodshed. “Faun,” Joe Hill’s novella, combines portal fantasy with “the most dangerous game” in a way that had me guessing and then second-guessing what would happen – and unexpectedly cheering in a public place when a certain character gets what’s coming to him. And Laura Benedict’s “This Strange Bargain” is a fairy-tale retelling with a conflicted lead character and some creative twists. I will be greatly surprised if the Lansdale, Hill, and Benedict stories do not each appear in at least one “year’s best” SF, fantasy, and horror anthology.

Among the crime stories, almost every sub-genre is represented. Thomas Pluck’s “The Cucuzza Curse” is an interesting blend of mob story, cozy mystery, and generational conflict that tweaks not only the characters’ expectations of each other but the readers’ expectations of who these characters should be, and I’m grateful to Block for including a story that touches on issues of perceived masculinity and living in the closet as sub-plots. Jim Fusilli’s “The Eve of Infamy” is a classic con-man narrative that culminates on a particularly infamous day in United States history. Duane Swierczynki’s “Giant’s Despair” is a neat bit of Appalachian family drama with drugs, murder and cover-ups at the core, along with a main character who is hampered in his actions by carpal tunnel syndrome gone too long untreated – too real a situation with the current American health insurance climate. “Nightbound,” by Wallace Stroby, is a straight-up robbery-gone-wrong gun and car battle across Brooklyn (I picture Michelle Rodriguez in the lead for the inevitable adaptation of this one.) And Hilary Davidson’s “Cold Comfort” is perhaps the quietest of the crime stories in tone, centering on a dead pregnant woman, her accused ex-husband, and the family priest. Jill D. Block’s “O, Swear Not By the Moon” plays with the current “guilty until proven innocent” social media mentality while Ed Park’s “The Things I’d Do” is deep psychological horror.

The stories in this collection may all be dark, but they’re not all grim. There are some happy endings (for certain values of “happy”), but the road to them is not particularly easy.  And several are even funny. The ending of “Rough Mix” by Warren Moore will probably not surprise anyone, but the narrator’s voice will feel familiar to anyone who’s ever played in a garage band. “If Only You Would Leave Me” would probably be far less funny in less capable hands, but Nancy Pickard wrings all the morbid humor she can out of the machinations of a husband and wife who each want a divorce without being the one who asks for it. And Richard Chizmar’s short, punchy “Whistling in the Dark” features so much awkward humor I couldn’t help but laugh.

If I have any complaint about the anthology, it’s that Block didn’t write a story of his own this time out, as he has for most of the recent anthologies he’s edited. Hopefully, he’ll contribute to the follow-up anthology he’s already planning.

The Subterranean Press hardcover edition is sold-out but Amazon is still mistakenly taking orders. If you didn’t order the hardcover direct from the publisher, you should be able to pre-order Block’s e-book and paperback editions by the time this review posts.

Review of SAL & GABI BREAK THE UNIVERSE

TITLE: Sal & Gabi Break The Universe

AUTHOR: Carlos Hernandez

382 pages, Disney Hyperion, ISBN 9781368022828 (Hardcover)

DESCRIPTION: (from the cover flap): How did a raw chicken get inside Yasmany's locker? When Sal Vidon meets Gabi Real for the first time, it isn't under the best of circumstances. Sal is in the principal's office for the third time in three days, and it's still the first week of school. Gabi, student council president and editor of the school paper, is there to support her friend Yasmany, who just picked a fight with Sal. She is determined to prove that somehow, Sal planted a raw chicken in Yasmany's locker, even though nobody saw him do it and the bloody poultry has since mysteriously disappeared. Sal prides himself on being an excellent magician, but for this sleight of hand, he relied on a talent no one would guess . . . except maybe Gabi, whose sharp eyes never miss a trick. When Gabi learns that he's capable of conjuring things much bigger than a chicken--including his dead mother--and she takes it all in stride, Sal knows that she is someone he can work with. There's only one slight problem: their manipulation of time and space could put the entire universe at risk. A sassy entropy sweeper, a documentary about wedgies, a principal who wears a Venetian bauta mask, and heaping platefuls of Cuban food are just some of the delights that await in this mind-blowing novel gift-wrapped in love and laughter.

MY THOUGHTS: I don’t think it’s hyperbolic to call Carlos Hernandez’ Sal & Gabi Break the Universe a mold-breaker. Any expectations you bring to the book based on the publishing line it’s a part of, the genre it falls into, or the age reader it’s aimed at, are likely to be mistaken. The main characters also don’t fall into expected roles from similar stories.

Rick Riordan’s various series have been mythology-based, and most of the initial titles in the Rick Riordan Presents line have stayed in that mold while lifting up the voices of marginalized peoples to tell stories from their own cultures. In Sal & Gabi, Hernandez makes full use of his heritage, but there’s almost no mention of mythology or gods. Instead, the author immerses us in modern Cuban-American language and cuisine, and … sleight-of-hand magic? Yep. Sal’s goal is to be a different kind of hero: a magician who brings joy to sick kids stuck in hospital just like the magician who did it for him. There’s no demi-god lineage, no monsters waiting to attack. The little bit of the past that impacts Sal’s present is not a mythological past but rather his own.

In fact, there are no fantasy/magic elements at all other than Sal’s sleight-of-hand. The book is, I think, the first under the RRP umbrella to be science fiction. But rather than the far-future we often see in MG and YA books, this is a near future that is recognizably our own world with some hints of advanced (if not openly available) technology. And rather than dystopia, we get loving families, helpful adults, and a sense of community and hope. Even at the book’s darkest moments, and there are a couple, I didn’t feel despondent or mired down.

Hernandez also manages to avoid one of the problems I struggle with in the few middle-grade books I’ve read, including the early Percy Jackson books (as much as I loved them): his characters act and sound like thirteen-year-olds. So many MG characters either read much younger than their supposed age, or much older. Reading the banter between Sal, Gabi, and their classmates, I felt like I was listening to my own nieces and nephews.

At first, the characters seem like they’re going to fall into traditional roles: Sal as the titular chosen one, Gabi as the too-smart-for-her-peers outcast, Yasmany as the bully and “big bad.” But here again Hernandez subverts expectations. Yes, Sal can do something remarkable (rip holes between universes and pulls things – and people – into his own), but he’s not a Chosen One. Nobody is spouting prophecies about what he can and will do, and even the most scientifically-adept characters in the book don’t know why Sal can do what he can do, or what effect it will have on the fabric of the multiverse. Gabi is smart and sassy and a little bit feared, but also well-liked by her peers. Yasmany starts out as the bully, but he’s neither a snob nor a jerk, and his character shows immediate depth that characters like Draco Malfoy only wish they could have exhibited in the first book of a series. Not only is Yasmany not the “big bad,” the book doesn’t have a “big bad” at all! It’s so refreshing to read a MG/YA book where the conflict is situational rather than staged, and where the tension comes from wondering what new situation is going to complicate things rather than wondering when the hero is going to punch the villain. Other than the initial Sal-Yasmany encounter, which never gets as violent as it threatens to, I’m not sure there’s a single fight scene in the entire book.

Sal, Gabi, Yasmany, and their classmates enjoy school, are creative without being falsely eccentric, and are polite even when they’re arguing. Sal’s and Gabi’s parents are involved in their kids’ lives rather than absent, curious and supportive without being pushovers. The other authority figures (principal, custodian, teachers, nurses) are likeable and engaged rather than stern and unyielding roadblocks. Again, there’s that sense of family and community, with good (but not untroubled) relationships almost all around. And people actually apologize when they make mistakes or false assumptions.

Anyone who has heard Carlos read any portion of this book at various conventions and reading programs over the past year or two will not be surprised at the amount of humor the book holds. Everything from slapstick to fart jokes to more intricate wordplay is present, but the characters never engage in humor that is denigrating, embarrassing or vulgar. Even the snark and sarcasm teens are known for is delivered gently.

Finally, I have to acknowledge how empowering it has to be for Cuban-American kids to read this book and “hear” their own language, the beats and rhythms and slang. There were even bits of dialogue completely in Spanish with no direct translation into English. I don’t read or speak Spanish but was able to pick up context clues and go back later to look up translations, but I was happy those moments exist in the text, because they will reach the intended audience and make those young readers smile and feel represented.

Also: the sequel has been announced, and I cannot wait to find out how Sal & Gabi Fix the Universe and what happens before they do.

READING ROUND-UP: February 2019

Continuing the monthly summaries of what I’ve been reading and listening to:

BOOKS

To keep my numbers consistent with what I have listed on Goodreads, I count completed magazine issues and stand-alone short stories in ebook format as “books.” I read or listened to 18 books in February: 12 in print, 4 in ebook format, and 2 in audio. They were:

1.       Lightspeed Magazine #105 (February 2019 issue), edited by John Joseph Adams. The usual fine assortment of sf and fantasy short stories and novellas. This month’s favorites for me were Carrie Vaughn’s “Marlowe and Harry and the Disinclined Laboratory,” Ashok K. Banker’s “Oath of a God,” KT Bryski’s “Ti-Jean’s Last Adventure, as told to Raccoon,” and Kat Howard’s “Hath No Fury.”

2.       The Thing: Liberty Legion, by Roy Thomas, John Buscema, Sal Buscema, Frank Robbins, Don Heck, and others.  This hardcover collects stories from Marvel Premiere, The Invaders, Fantastic Four and Marvel Two-In-One to tell a time-hopping story involving some of my favorite tertiary-level Marvel characters. The art style varies greatly between the four main artists and that might be a turn-off for some folks (I personally miss both Frank Robbins and Don Heck’s work.) I still own all of the original monthly issues these stories appeared in, as well.

3.       The Terrifics Vol 1: Meet The Terrifics, by Ivan Reis, “Doc” Shaner, Jeff LeMire, and others. DC brings four unlikely characters together as a team: the long-existing Mr. Terrific, Plastic Man and Metamorpho and a new version of Phantom Girl, in a loving pastiche of that other fantastic foursome published by Marvel. The characterizations are solid and make me want to pick up the second volume when it comes out, but there’s a feeling towards the end of the volume like the story has taken a jump that never really gets explained.

4.       Check, Please! Year Three, by Ngozi Ukazu.  Bitty’s junior year on the Samwell hockey team is full of secrets, revelations, supportive friends and more than a little drama. I’ve enjoyed the three volumes of this so far, and might just have to catch up on Year Four on the webcomic rather than waiting for the next Kickstarter.  And I am way out of practice reading regularly-updated webcomics.

5.       Scrum by P.D. Singer. Picked this very short novella up because I’ve suddenly grown an interest in reading gay sport romances (see Check, Please! Above), it popped up as a free Kindle read and I’m not really familiar with the sport of rugby so a story told from the POV of a guy who also has no familiarity with the sport should have been an easy sell. I left the story feeling like I knew a little bit more about rugby, but the romance angle didn’t work for me. Too much “creepy-stalk the hot sports star” for me.

6.       Brothers Keepers by Donald E. Westlake.  Another of Westlake’s more fun crime thrillers, this one involving the impending shut-down of a monastery in the middle of Manhattan thanks to a real-estate deal / land-grab that involves a theft from the monastery, family secrets, and one Brother going way outside his comfort zone to save the day. A fast, fun read.

7.       The Spark by David Drake. The first in a new “Arthurian SF saga,” recommended by a friend. The first half doesn’t feel particularly Arthurian but sets the stage and main characters well enough so that when the familiar Arthurian tropes do appear, it becomes obvious you’ve been reading about a futuristic Sir Percival/Parzival the whole time. (His name is Pal, so yes, that should have been a give-away right off….)  Really enjoyable read, but lots of hand-waving to explain the future tech and this world’s versions of the Mortal World, Faerie, and the spaces in-between.

8.       The City Beyond Play by Philip Jose Farmer and Danny Adams. A really wonderful SF novella about a small city-state that cuts itself off from modern times and lives “as the medieval times should have been lived.” There’s a bit of romance, a lot of derring-do and a ton of interesting world-building. You can find a longer review of this book if you page back through my blog to HERE.

9.       Isola, Chapter One, by Brendan Fletcher, Karl Kerschl and others.  A powerful queen has been cursed to live as a tiger, and her bodyguard must find a way to reverse the curse and get to the truth of what’s behind it all. Very solid world-building and character-building in this first trade collection. The art is a mix of manga and Chinese influences, I think, that give it a particular kind of beauty.

10.   Bedfellow, by Jeremy C. Shipp.  Shipp’s second novella from Tor.com is as eerie as his first (“The Atrocities”). A mix of physical and psychological horror that works on all levels and doesn’t necessarily provide easy answers.

11.   The Voyage of Argo, by Apollonius of Rhodes, translation by E.V. Reiu.  I’m almost ashamed that I never realized there was an actual epic poem that served as the basis for the Jason and the Argonauts movies and stories I loved so much, until I tripped across this. The classic 60s movie took a lot of liberties with the sequence of events from this original and was the more exciting for it. Reiu’s translation is interesting as source material, but kinda lifeless in many ways.

12.   Legion Vs. Phalanx: The Epic Struggle for Infantry Supremacy in the Ancient World, by Myke Cole. My first non-fiction read (as opposed to listen) of the year was way outside my wheel-house. I’m not a student of the military or military history, and most of what I remember about the Greeks, Romans, and associated empires is thanks to mythology. But Cole’s intent with this book was to make the discussion understandable to people like me, and he did a great job. I still can’t quote times and names to you, but I could probably give you a decent idea of the differences between a legion, a phalanx, and who Cole thinks the clear winner is.

13.   The Man Who Corrupted Hadleyburg, by Mark Twain.  Another classic I don’t think I’d ever read before but have thanks to my subscription to Melville House’s series “The Art of the Novella.” And I loved it, as I love so much of Twain’s work. There’s snarky humor, of course, but also social commentary that is as pertinent today as it was when the novella was written. And I love the fact that we never really find out who the aggrieved man is who manages to corrupt and incorruptible town.

14.   Scratchman (A Doctor Who novel), by Tom Baker. What a fun, nostalgic read. Apparently this is adapted from a movie script Baker co-wrote. The first half feels absolutely like ClassicWho; the second half feels very meta and drops a few comments about the Doctor’s “future” (for him, anyway). I think there was even a little Clara Oswald cameo (tying to her “Impossible Girl” status from NewWho). And listening to Baker read it was an extra treat. He’s a great storyteller.

15.   Diaries: The Python Years 1969-1979, by Michael Palin. Interesting to hear Palin read, unexpurgated and emotionally raw, his diary entries from Python’s heyday. A very different feel from the Idle and Cleese memoirs I read late last year.

16.   Section Zero Volume 0, by Karl Kesel, Tom Grummett, and others.  It’s no secret that I’m a huge fan of 50s-60s-era “adventure team” comics: give me the Time Masters, the Sea Devils, the Challengers of the Unknown, Cave Carson’s crew, the original Secret Six, and I’m all in. Kesel and Grummett hooked me from page one with this mysterious “group-of-usually-four” that ages in real time and has a lot of backstory to be revealed. Grummett is also one of my favorite comic artists. I love his clean, open, expressive style.

17.   The Problem of Susan and Other Stories, by Neil Gaiman, P. Craig Russell, Scott Hampton, Paul Chadwick, Lovern Kindzierski and others. Dark Horse Comics continues to publish Russell’s adaptations of Gaiman stories and books, although this time the artist has some help. The title story, drawn by Russell, is Gaiman’s rumination on what happened to Susan after the Narnia books and it’s quite good, but I was also happy to see how well “October in the Chair” converts to graphic form.

18.   At Home in the Dark, edited by Lawrence Block. A great anthology of very dark short stories – mostly crime but a few sf/fantasy/western to keep the reader on their toes. A longer review will be forthcoming in about a week or so on this site, but for now the individual stories are listed below, and I can easily call out the Joe Hill, Joe R. Lansdale, Elaine Kagan and James Reasoner stories as favorites.

So eighteen books in February, which Goodreads told me was a few ahead of goal for the month/year.

STORIES

I have a goal of reading 365 short stories (1 per day, essentially, although it doesn’t always work out that way) each year. Here’s what I did read and where you can find them if you’re interested in reading them too (with some short notes for stories that really stood out to me). If no source is noted, the story is from the same magazine or book as the story(ies) that precede(s) it:

1.       “Life Sentence” by Matthew Baker, from Lightspeed Magazine #105 (February 2019 issue), edited by John Joseph Adams.

2.       “Okay, Glory” by Elizabeth Bear

3.       “The Incursus By Asimov-NN#71” by Gord Sellar

4.       “Marlowe and Harry and the Disinclined Laboratory” by Carrie Vaughn

5.       “The Perpetual Day” by Crystal Koo

6.       “Ti-Jean’s Last Adventure, As Told To Raccoon” by KT Bryski

7.       “Oath of a God” by Ashok K. Banker

8.       “Healing Benjamin” by Dennis Danvers

9.       “Hath No Fury” by Kat Howard

10.   “On The Side” by Seanan McGuire, on the author’s Patreon page.

11.   “Hot Pants” by Elaine Kagan, from the anthology At Home in the Dark, edited by Lawrence Block

12.   “The Eve of Infamy” by Jim Fusili

13.   “Night Rounds” by James Reasoner

14.   “The Flagellant” by Joyce Carol Oates

15.   “The Things I’d Do” by Ed Park

16.   “Favored to Death” by N.J. Ayres

17.   “Rough Mix” by Warren Moore

18.   “This Strange Bargain” by Laura Benedict

19.   “The Senior Girls Bayonet Team” by Joe R. Lansdale

20.   “If Only You Would Leave Me” by Nancy Pickard

21.   “Giant’s Despair” by Duane Swierczynski

22.   “Whistling in the Dark” by Richard Chizmar

23.   “O, Swear Not by the Moon” by Jill D. Block

24.   “Nightbound” by Wallace Stroby

25.   “The Cucuzza Curse” by Thomas Pluck

26.   “Cold Comfort” by Hilary Davidson

27.   “Faun” by Joe Hill

So that’s 27 short stories in February, leaving me still slightly behind for the year so far. (February 28th was the 59th day of 2019.)

Summary of Reading Challenges:

“To Be Read” Challenge: This month: 0 read; YTD: 0 of 14 read.

365 Short Stories Challenge: This month:  27 read; YTD: 52 of 365 read.

Graphic Novels Challenge:  This month: 6 read; TYD: 10 of 52 read.

Goodreads Challenge: This month: 18 read; YTD: 29 of 125 read.

Non-Fiction Challenge: This month: 02; YTD: 02 of 24 read.

Read the Book / Watch the Movie Challenge: This month: 0; YTD: 0 of 10 read/watched.

Complete the Series Challenge: This month: 0 books read; YTD: 0 of 16 read.

                                                                Series fully completed: 0 of 3 planned

SUNDAY SHORTS: A Time to Scatter Stones

The “Sunday Shorts” feature is dedicated to reviewing short stories and novellas, two forms I absolutely love.

TITLE: A Time to Scatter Stones (A Matthew Scudder novella)

AUTHOR: Lawrence Block

153 pages, Subterranean Press, ISBN 971596068933 (Hardcover)

Disclaimer: Although I bought the Subterranean Press edition, the author also sent me a free e-ARC in exchange for a fair review.

DESCRIPTION: (from the cover flap): More than 40 years after his debut and nearly a decade since his last appearance, one of the most renowned characters in all of crime fiction is back on the case in this new novella by Mystery Writers of America Grand Master Lawrence Block.  Well past retirement age and feeling his years – but still staying sober one day at a time – Matthew Scudder learns that alcoholics aren’t the only ones who count the days since their last slip. Matt’s longtime partner, Elaine, tells him of a group of former sex workers who do something similar, helping each other stay out of the life. Burt when one young woman describes an abusive client who’s refusing to let her quit, Elaine encourages her to get help of a different sort. The sort only Scudder can deliver.

MY RATING: 4 stars out of 5

MY THOUGHTS: It is not usually a good idea to too closely conflate a series character with the author who created them. But I’m going to do it: Lawrence Block and Matthew Scudder are both, in my opinion, living proof that getting old doesn’t necessarily have to suck. Block’s regular Facebook posts and newsletters about jaunts around his beloved New York City and new international publishing endeavors give me hope that maybe I’ll be as physically mobile and mentally sharp at that age. And based on this novella, his possibly most-famous character, Matthew Scudder, has aged just as well alongside him.

Scudder is Block’s only series character to age in real-time, since debuting in The Sins of the Fathers in 1976. He’s grown older, he’s grown wiser … and he’s grown more sedate. He’s happily ensconced (and at this point, probably common-law-married) to his longtime companion Elaine in a nice NYC apartment. They have dinner visits with friends, take slow walks around the neighborhood, enjoy local restaurants, don’t grudge each other time apart pursing their own hobbies and twelve-step-group participation, and banter like an old married couple. Oh, do they banter. One of the things I love about Block’s writing is his ear for conversational dialogue that sounds authentic without being quite as awkward as real life, including the tangents we all go off on where we kind of lose track of what our original point was. Only Block’s characters’ conversational tangents are almost always more pertinent to the plot than they at first seem.

The plot is as straight-forward as it sounds: happily retired PI comes out of mothballs to help a friend of his friend. The difficulty comes in how little the endangered woman knows about the man stalking her; Scudder’s rusty (by his own admission), not sure that his investigative skills are still up to the task of finding a man whose name he doesn’t know and face he’s never seen. Of course, he’s back to Classic Scudder by the end of the book, because how could it be otherwise and have the story feel satisfactory – but he’s also feeling the physical toll in a way we haven’t seen him feel it before. Getting older doesn’t have to suck, but it’s still not easy to accept that we can’t do all the things we used to do with the same ease.

I would say the book is only half about this latest case, and half about how easily we lose track of people as we get older. There’s a very nostalgia-heavy tone to this novella; conversationally, Scudder and Elaine bring up just about every major supporting character in the 40-ish year history of the 18-book series. Some of those characters actually appear in the flesh, but most are mentioned in passing. I enjoyed the tone of these reminiscences because it mirrored conversations I’m having even now, in my early 50s, with the people who have been in my life since elementary school about the people who haven’t stayed in our lives.  But don’t let this scare you out of picking the book up: I haven’t read most of the Scudder books (when it comes to Block’s series output, I’m more of a Bernie Rhondenbarr man than a Scudder or Keller man), and I never felt like these conversations about old friends threw me out of the story. Rather, they made me interested in reading the rest of the series to find out more about the characters I didn’t already know.

The hardcover edition from Subterranean Press might be close to sold out at this writing, but Block has self-published it in ebook, audio, and paperback formats.

Review of Crossed Genres' RESIST FASCISM

TITLE: Resist Fascism

EDITORS: Bart R. Leib and Kay T. Holt

95 pages, Crossed Genres, paperback and e-book formats, ISBN 9780991392148

DESCRIPTION: (from Amazon page): RESIST. ANY WAY YOU CAN. The world is in turmoil. The world is always in turmoil, but in recent years, people have seen violence and hatred become proud instead of ashamed. What meager rights we've fought for are being deliberately eroded. And the vulnerable have any help stripped away. All of this is happening openly and without fear of reprisal. And the worst perpetrators are some of the largest governments of the world. Resisting the spread of fascism is as important now as it was 75 years ago. And there are many effective ways to resist. RESIST FASCISM is a micro-anthology of science fiction and fantasy tales that explore the many and varied ways people can fight back. From helping promote low-income housing, to fighting fascists hand-to-hand, to burning it all down. Best of all, RESIST FASCISM shows that you don't have to be a hero to advance change.

MY RATING: 5 out of 5 stars

MY THOUGHTS: Resist Fascism, the first of hopefully many themed “micro-anthologies” from Crossed Genres, takes on the fight against oppression in all its varied forms, from small personal sacrifices to large public actions. Some of the nine stories collected by editors Bart Leib and Kay Holt easily fit into a single genre while others blend them seamlessly, but all touch on personal responsibility and being the change one wants to see in the world.

In Rivqa Rafael’s “To Rain Upon One City,” an immigrant girl in an urban ghetto cares for a mother addicted to painkillers after an unspecified accident and the seeming refusal of health care from the dominant native religious population. She does what she can to blend in, staying away from known danger zones and thus out of the path of authority figures who don’t treat her kind fairly, until she follows a mysterious martial arts teacher to his dojo and meets people from other oppressed populations. Can she overcome prejudices of her own to join with them? The author subtly speaks to the in-fighting between different (and differently) marginalized people in modern American society. Each group may make advances, but how much more could be accomplished and faster if the minor differences were overlooked in favor of the greater benefit? The SFnal setting makes it a little bit easier to ask these questions than it is in our social-media-driven, gate-keeping world.

By now, anyone who travels by air is familiar with the “3.4 oz” carry-on rule for liquids. R.K. Kalaw brilliantly tweaks the concept in her story of the same name. A marginalized woman from the Pacific Islands on a work visa to the US finds herself constantly subject to extra searches, until her sister teaches her how to quite literally bottle up, in the requisite sizes, the emotions that border security agents use as an excuse to mistrust. But what happens when her grief is too great to contain in such small bottles? The magic in this story has logical rules that are made clear more through the characters’ actions than exposition, with potentially devastating results for the bottler if mis-handled, and it’s pretty clear the magic was developed as a way to cope with, and safely subvert, unfairly targeted Customs practices. Society changing the magic might not be, but sometimes the only way to resist is to perform self-care.

“In The Background” by Barbara Krasnoff also features a less subtle, but also more dangerous, act of rebellion: spreading information through codes and physical signals, right under the nose of an oppressive regime. The main character is a minority background extra on a government-approved propaganda-laden television series, in danger of losing her child due to new “purity” (not the word the government uses, of course) laws. Some of her fellow background extras use their physical bits of business to send a call to action to viewers who know what to look for when the episodes air. The question is, should she take part in the subterfuge or for the sake of her child remain “oblivious” of the rebellion that surrounds her? This is a neat bit of alternate 1920s-ish history that I wouldn’t mind seeing Krasnoff revisit in other stories.

The setting of Marie Vibbert’s “The Seventh Street Matriarchy” is so near-future it’s almost indistinguishable from our present day. A new caseworker arrives for one of the still-remaining public housing developments and immediately senses something is wrong: the development only seems to house women who are divorced or widowed or single parents. Applications for residence by married couples or single fathers or bright young men without spouses or children seem to be denied at every turn. But is that the fault of the caseworker’s entrenched and angry boss, or of someone in the development. There are multiple levels of rebellion at work here, from the main character’s distrust of the structure in which she works to the passive but effective resistance to change on the part of the development’s close-knit community. Again, questions of ally-ship and cooperation rear up alongside questions of trust to create a complex story.

JL George’s “We Speak In Tongues of Flame” is one of the few stories in the collection to show the more violent side of rebellion. A young indigenous girl survives by ignoring her heritage and drawing street art about pleasant subjects for the dominant, invasive population. After witnessing the treatment of a political prisoner who is also indigenous, her art takes a turn along with her interest in currying favor from her conquerors. The results are ultimately catastrophic and all-encompassing for the people of the village she’s been living in. The story’s fantasy setting mirrors the European conquest and decimation of American indigenous peoples, and also speaks to the ways the dominant culture justifies treatment of the conquered. Several of the villagers treat the artist well enough when she’s being inoffensive and kow-towing, surely proud of this proof that they’re not racist at all—until her art becomes more political and she starts speaking in the native tongue they don’t understand.

Robocop and Judge Dredd come to mind as the pop-culture background for the dystopian society of “Meet Me at the State Sponsored Movie Night” by Tiffany E. Wilson. In a city patrolled by “Freedom Enforcers” and in which the population has little freedom of thought or movement, two teenage girls attempt to subvert the government-approved movie night. The tension of the story is over whether they and their accomplice will get caught, the question of whether they will be identified as the culprits by someone who seems to be on their side but may in fact be working for the regime. The nature of the regime, their exact actions and how they came to power, are never explicated, which just increases the darkness of the story.

The nature of the regime, how they came to power and exactly what they plan to do to quash rebellion is very much at the forefront of M. Michelle Bardon’s “Ask Me About My Book Club,” in which a small coven of witches use codes messages in artfully arranged photos and social media posts to call their fellow to arms against the ruling, illegally-elected, dragon government. So many of my favorite stories and plays use humor to counterpoint pain, and Bardon works that dynamic masterfully in this story. There are a number of almost laugh-out-loud lines of narration and dialogue before things take a turn to the serious and deadly.

“Pelecanimimus and the Battle for Mosquito Ridge” by Izzy Wasserstein is another great bit of alternate history, taking real events of the Spanish Civil War and positing how they may have turned out differently if maybe dinosaurs had been involved. It’s another humorous concept, yes, but that humor doesn’t bleed into the story (unless, like me, whenever a human trains a dinosaur you can’t help but picture Chris Pratt and velociraptors), which features more up-close and personal real bloodshed than any other story in the anthology. War is a bloody business and Wasserstein doesn’t shy away from it. It’s the only story in the anthology told in epistolary style, via letters from a closeted gay man to the love he left behind to fight the good fight against the Fascists.

The anthology closes with Santiago Belluco’s “Meg’s Last Bout of Genetic Smuggling,” a thriller-SF hybrid that focuses on a young Martian woman traveling to Earth to visit her pen-pal. On her first trip, the smuggling in of forbidden literature via genetic embedding is exciting and a lark, but Meg becomes more committed to spreading contraband the more the Earth and Martian governments tell her to stop. By necessity, her methods become more extreme and the stakes life-threatening with not one but two restrictive governments putting her in the crosshairs. It’s interesting that the final story in the book is one of clear personal sacrifice for a greater good, but also one in which the hero is fighting against two different governments that each have their own reasons to restrict the flow and sharing of information between planets. What at first seems like a simple “Earth is Dystopian, Mars is Utopian” dynamic becomes more complicated as the story progresses.

And I think that’s a great summary of the anthology as a whole: the gray areas in resistance: between like-minded groups with different methods, between personal needs and group goals, between dynamic and passive actions. But what’s not gray, in these stories or in real life, is that resistance/revolution/change/progress (call it what you will) starts with one person making a decision.

2019 Reading Challenges

In January, I posted my list of planned reads for RoofbeamReader’s 2019 “TBR Challenge.” But I always set myself more than one reading challenge per year. Some carry over from year to year, and some are new. Some are broad and some are themed. And in many cases, books read will help me meet more than one challenge.

365 SHORT STORIES CHALLENGE

Every year, I challenge myself to read one short story per day. Some years I keep the pace pretty well, and some years I fall behind and then scramble to catch up (and some years, I catch up and fall behind again). I used to post thoughts on each individual story over on my now-largely-defunct Livejournal; this year I plan to review a story or two in-depth each Sunday and then do a monthly “round-up” of all stories read that month. I’m defining “short story” as anything from flash fiction to novella-length. If a story/novella is published as a stand-alone book (ebook or otherwise), that story will also count towards my annual Goodreads “Books Read” Challenge.

GOODREADS CHALLENGE

Goodreads allows members to set a challenge. In 2018 I set a 125-book challenge. I blew past that in mid-fall and decided to increase it to 150 and managed more than that. For 2019, I’m going to start out planning on 125 books again and see where we go. Goodreads also counts magazines and individually-published short stories as “books,” so I count them for this challenge as well. Of course, any book read for the TBR Challenge, or the challenges mentioned in this post count towards this one.

GRAPHIC NOVEL CHALLENGE

I own far more graphic novels and trade paperback collections of classic comics than I’ve read. In 2017 I started trying to turn that around, and I’m again setting a goal in 2019 of reading one graphic novel per week. I may start a separate post tracking these, or I may just continue to include them in the monthly Reading Round-Up Posts.

NON-FICTION CHALLENGE

As with graphic novels, I tend to get intrigued by and purchase far more non-fiction books than I actually end up reading. In an effort to clear some shelf-space, justify the money spent, and increase my knowledge a bit, I’m setting myself a new challenge this year to read two (2) non-fiction books per month, or 24 for the year. I may start a separate post tracking these as well, but it’s more likely I’ll just continue to include them in the monthly Reading Round-Up Posts.

READ THE BOOK / WATCH THE MOVIE CHALLENGE

I have so many books in my collection that are the basis for classic (and sometimes not-so-classic) movies that I thought it might be time to read some of them and then see how the movies compare. I actually unofficially started this last year, when I read Grace Zaring Stone’s The Bitter Tea of General Yen and then watched the movie adaptation directed by Frank Capra and starring Barbary Stanwyck. So this year, I’m committing myself to at least reading/watching the rest of the Vantage Movie Classics (listed below) and possibly more.

COMPLETE THE SERIES CHALLENGE

In previous years I’ve challenged myself to come “up to date” on series I’d started but fallen behind on. Last year, I challenged myself to also read one series that I own but have not read. Titles that I have read in each series are indicated with (read). Last year, I blew this almost completely, so I’m setting fewer “complete the series” challenges for 2019.  I plan to come back to this post and add “date completed” for each book individually and for each series as a whole. I’ll give links to reviews where appropriate.

THE VELVETEEN SERIES by Seanan McGuire

1.       Velveteen Vs. The Junior Super-Patriots

2.       Velveteen Vs. The Multiverse

3.       Velveteen Vs. The Seasons

VANTAGE BOOKS MOVIE CLASSICS (Themed Set by PenguinRandomHouse, 2014-2015)

1.       Showboat by Edna Ferber (read in 2017)

2.       Cimarron by Edna Ferber

3.       Back Street by Fannie Hurst

4.       Alice Adams by Booth Tarkington

5.       The Ghost and Mrs. Muir by R.A. Dick

6.       The Bad Seed by William March

7.       Drums Along the Mohawk by Walter D. Edmonds

8.       The Bitter Tea of General Yen by Grace Zaring Stone (read in 2018)

9.       Logan’s Run by William F. Nolan and George Clayton Johnson

10.   The Night of the Hunter by David Grubb

THE AFRICA TRILOGY BY CHINA ACHEBE

1.       Things Fall Apart (read in 2018)

2.       Arrow of God

3. No Longer At Ease

SUNDAY SHORTS: The City Beyond Play

The “Sunday Shorts” feature is dedicated to reviewing short stories and novellas, two forms I absolutely love.

TITLE: The City Beyond Play

AUTHOR: Phillip Jose Farmer and Danny Adams

112 pages, PS Publishing, ISBN 978905834242 (Hardcover)

DESCRIPTION: (from the cover flap): When Wilson Gore arrives in the Barony of Scadia, all he really knows is that the place is an enclave devoted to the recreation of the Middle Ages as they should have been – a refuge for hardcore individualists and historical costume enthusiasts, whom the crowded utopia of the twenty-second century is glad to see the back of. Soon dubbed “Will Son of Gore,” Gore finds himself at odds with arrogant knights, a Wicked Duke, mad forest outlaws, persnickety Byzantine bureaucrats, a witch, cybernetic dragons, enigmatic women of the court and wilds, and a social system in which anyone can rise to the top – or, just as likely, leave his bones mouldering by the roadside. All is not well in the land of Scadia, as Gore discovers after fixing his lustful gaze on the beautiful Lady Melisounde – competing for her hand, he ends up fighting the best and most treacherous warriors in the land, one of whom, the Knight of the Red Gauntlet, is far more, and far less, that he seems….

MY RATING: 5 stars out of 5

MY THOUGHTS:  First let me say, this is one of those Philip Jose Farmer books I had no idea existed until I tripped across a signed and numbered jacketed hardcover at a library book sale. There are apparently only about 626 copies (if you count the various numbered, lettered and unsigned editions) out there, so it’s not a surprise this is not one of Farmer’s better-known late-life collaborations. It deserves a wider audience, in my opinion.

Farmer and Adams give us a lean 112 pages that capture the feel of epic, and episodic, medieval stories. There’s pageantry to the proceedings without all the verbose pomp-and-circumstance of, say, Mallory (not that verbosity in itself is a bad thing). The world-building is revealed in how each aspect affects Wilson Gore rather than in the stage-setting lush descriptions of period writers, giving us just enough sense of Scadia and the technological utopia that surrounds it without bogging the story down.

The authors concentrate less on explaining the tech and more on examining the social structures involved in a whole small country living “off the grid” as much as possible and blatantly ignoring the tech that makes it possible to do so. So many of the non-human challenges Wilson Gore encounters are tech-driven, enabling the citizens to have their fantasy (dragons, etc.) within their fantasy (the “absence” of technology, except where it makes life more comfortable than real medieval life would be, such as indoor plumbing). None of the citizens of Scadia seem able to fix the tech that makes their fantasies real, so what happens when that tech breaks down? The question gets answered but without great detail because the answer doesn’t really affect Wilson Gore’s life.

There’s also the social hierarchy of Scadia to consider. Philip Jose Farmer was fascinated with social constructs as much as he was with literary constructs, so it’s no surprise that a lot of this book’s action is built off of Wilson Gore’s initial lack of understanding of social upward mobility (sure, anyone can rise to the highest ranks – but how, and who gate-keeps?) and just what is considered “too far outside the pale,” so to speak. It’s obvious that to keep life interesting for the citizens of Scadia, there must be a Wicked Duke, a Witch, and a Green Baron (think Robin Hood) who represent evil to be vanquished – but how “evil” are they really allowed to be? And are the supposed “heroes” of the society any better?

Wilson Gore certainly isn’t. Like so many Farmerian main characters, he is flawed and conflicted. We know from the beginning of the book that he’s entered Scadia on the run from murder charges in the “real world.” Whether those charges are true or not, he’s now removed from everything he’s accustomed to, which makes him quick to anger and easily insulted. And, not unusual for a Farmerian MC, he’s quite lustful, which aspect drives as much of the action as his anger and distinct lack of knowledge of how Scadian society actually works. When he behaves himself, it’s to avoid getting booted from Scadia into the arms of the police, and when he misbehaves it’s because the societal rules of Scadia allow him to in a way the “real world” wouldn’t. His arc is a twist on the classic Campbellian hero’s journey: he does learn some lessons along the way, he is remorseful when warranted, but ultimately he’s less a Hero than he is an everyman just making it up as he goes along unless he finds redemption or death.

I haven’t even touched on the archetypal supporting characters: the boorish drunken Lord Wilson Gore comes to serve; the Lord’s beautiful wife and trusted sidekick; the aforementioned Wicked Duke, Witch and robber Baron; and of course the bard/jester who isn’t what he seems (and who just happens to hail from Peoria and be a student of anthropology … hmmmmm.). Farmer and Adams also give us some incidental characters of Byzantine and Moorish “background” (in quotes since everyone in Scadia is play-acting), a teasing wink over readers’ tendency, when they think “medieval” to think “England/Ireland/Scotland” rather than Europe as a whole (never mind whatever the rest of the world was up to during those years).

I praised Farmer and Adams’ lean storytelling, but I have to admit I’d love to see a sequel to this. I think there’s a lot more for Will, Son of Gore to experience in Scadia considering where the book leaves him, and there’s certainly plenty more of the world’s mechanics to be explored and explicated. Farmer is sadly no longer with us, but his great-nephew Adams is still writing, so one can hope.