This month I have five stories to recommend, and each story is pure and simple fun. First, I loved “The House on the Moon” by William Alexander, which appears in Uncanny Magazine‘s recent Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction special issue. In this story, Ana, a disabled girl living on the moon, goes on a field trip to a Welsh castle that’s been moved onto the moon. Ana is a delightful, witty narrator who has a lot to say about the politics and constructedness of (dis)ability. Second, I recommend “Jump” by Cadwell Turnbull, which appears in Lightspeed Magazine Issue 100. In “Jump,” a couple accidentally teleports home one day, but they are unable to recreate the experience. Turnbull’s story starts with a fun science fictional “what if” and then explores its repercussions in a fascinating way. Third, do you enjoy Victorian era lost world adventure stories, but want one that deftly avoids the problematic tropes that often underlie those stories? If so, then don’t miss Carrie Vaughn’s “Harry and Marlowe and the Secret of Ahomana,” which also appears in Lightspeed Magazine Issue 100. Next, we have “Nation Building and Baptism” by Octavia Cade, which appears in Capricious Issue 10. It’s a moving tale about rebuilding and welcoming refugees after the catastrophes of climate change. If the news has you feeling down, you really should read this warm and gentle story. Lastly, if you love stories about magical books and bookstores, then you simply must check out “The Secret History of the Clockwork King” by Heather Morris, which also appears in Capricious Issue 10.
“The House on the Moon” by William Alexander
Eight hundred years after Castle Jordan was first constructed in Wales, John Jay Jordan paid to have the castle transported and reconstructed, brick by brick, on the moon. He had been injured fighting in the Eugenic War, so lunar gravity was easier for him to take. Ironically, he became injured while fighting for the Eugenicists. Now, after Jordan’s death, Ana and her classmates are taking a tour of his castle, which evinces gaudy, anachronistic Eurocentrism at every turn. For example, in one room, a gramophone plays a song that’s “four hundred years younger than the castle, and four hundred years older than the very first gramophone.” Another room boasts a golden statue (commissioned by Jordan) of Jordan himself dressed as Galileo.
The best part of the story is that it’s told in first person from Ana’s POV. As a disabled person from a largely Portuguese community, Ana has an entertaining degree of removal from Jordan’s ableist Eurocentrism. She’s a charming, witty narrator, and I loved her reactions to the castle’s anachronisms and prejudices.
It’s vital that this story takes place on the moon, for it illustrates the constructedness of (dis)ability and underlines the absurdity of Jordan’s Eurocentric chauvinism and eugenic worldview. For example, Ana uses sign language to communicate with her classmate, not because either of them is deaf, but rather because sign language is commonplace on the moon since it allows people to communicate across the vacuum of space. Moreover, there is a positively delightful scene involving stairs that really deserves to be quoted for you, so here it is:
The passageway leads to a spiraling staircase. Back on Earth I wouldn’t be able to climb anything so steep. But ability is contextual. Whatever we’re able to do—and whatever meaning we make of that—changes from one environment to another. We make all of our own environments now. To design a place that others can’t possibly move through or inhabit is the same as raising up a drawbridge, dropping down a toothy portcullis, or punching a row of murder holes through a ceiling. It writes down a clear, solid message in the language of architecture: You are not welcome here. You don’t even have the right to exist here. Please cease to exist as soon as possible.
That’s what the stairs would have said to me, back on Earth. But we aren’t on Earth. I bound up that staircase, which cannot object.
I feel that this passage succinctly makes a brilliant case for why disability needs to play a larger role in speculative fiction and why this Uncanny special issue is so welcome and important.
Lastly, Alexander brilliantly balances the delightful joy of Ana as narrator with a serious awareness of the fact that discrimination and hatred of disabled people exist and are all too often deadly. So be aware, while joy and pride are the pillars of this story, “The House on the Moon” also contains a serious examination of discrimination and eugenics.
“Jump” by Cadwell Turnbull
After spending a few hours walking around the park, Mike and Jessie decide it’s time to go home. They’re too tired to walk home, however, so Mike suggests they teleport. You know, like people do. Jessie laughs and plays along. The thing is, it works. They close their eyes, jump, and—somehow—they’re back home. However, no matter how many times they try (and Mike makes sure they try a lot), they can’t do it again. It remains an inexplicable, one-time event.
This story rocks for two main reasons. First, the premise is delightful. You say you’re going to teleport, close your eyes, jump, and … it actually works? I confess: maybe I just love this premise because that is something I’ve honestly tried before, but I’m willing to bet that (if you’re reading this SF/F review on this SF/F blog) there’s a decent chance that you may have tried as well! Second, after the wild opening, Turnbull takes the premise further than I anticipated, carefully playing out two radically different reactions to the event. Mike obsessively tries to recreate their jump, while Jessie fondly looks back at the wonderful mystery they shared together. This left me pondering how exactly I would react to an inexplicable, isolated magical event.
Just go read it already. It’s wonderful and it’s not even 3,000 words.
“Harry and Marlowe and the Secret of Ahomana” by Carrie Vaughn
Harry and Marlowe are flying across the Pacific Ocean in their airship when a storm suddenly appears and knocks them down. They wash up on an unknown island, and Marlowe has incurred a dangerous head injury. It turns out the island is already inhabited, and conflict ensues as first, Harry learns to trust the locals, and second, Harry and Marlowe are told that they are not allowed to leave.
In form, this is a steampunk “lost world” story—a pulpy Victorian-era adventure—which is a fun genre to play in, but one that’s admittedly a bit of a minefield when it comes to colonialism and feminism. And that’s why this story is so awesome—it evokes the fun of the genre while carefully avoiding those problematic tropes. For example, the locals aren’t dumb or primitive people. Ahomana is an advanced, intentionally secluded island nation that may call to mind Wakanda from Black Panther or the Enyi Zinariya people in Nnedi Okorafor’s Binti series. The locals aren’t villains or antagonists either. In fact, the most dangerous things in the story—besides the crash landing of course—are Harry’s own nationalist and colonialist tendencies.
To my mind, Carrie Vaughn’s prose is damn near perfect: it’s simple, powerful, colorful, and effective. And while I love this story mostly for the pulpy genre fun of it, I should also note that the story’s character work is compelling and moving.
This story is part of a series that Carrie Vaughn has been writing for Lightspeed Magazine. I actually haven’t read any of the other stories in the series, so I can attest that it stands on its own just fine. (Although it does have me itching to go and read the others!)
“Nation Building and Baptism” by Octavia Cade
At some point in the future after climate disasters have wrecked the oceans and much of the rest of the world, Aotearoa (that’s the Māori name for New Zealand) has become a nation dedicated to conservation and protection, protection of both the environment and the world’s most vulnerable people. “Nation Building and Baptism” is a beautiful tale about welcoming refugees into a nation where citizenship and conservation are fundamentally intertwined. This story is warm and hopeful, and both optimistic and realistic. I’m reminded of Carrie Vaughn’s excellent novel Bannerless, another post-apocalyptic tale that, to me, feels more like a utopia rather than a dystopia. It’s just so heartening to read post-apocalyptic stories concerned with community, sustainability, and trying to living compassionately in a fallen world. If you are in need of hope, especially if you need some help envisioning a more peaceful future, read this.
“The Secret History of the Clockwork King” by Heather Morris
When a local used bookstore is offering a special sale—buy one book, and you’ll get a second mystery book for free—Annie bites. She’s expecting to get some book that was overstocked, but instead she is handed a book that can’t possibly exist. And since this story is somewhat of a mystery, I’ll end my summary there.
Do you like books? Do you like stories about magical books? Do you like nonbinary wizards? Do you like stories that make you feel warm, cozy, happy, sad, and curious all at the same time? Wonderful! Go read this!
