Stu is patient with Ezra’s fears and flaws (such as smoking), and he turns out to be an incredible source of strength when Ezra finds out it’s not just his own life he’s fighting to save. There are some really lovely moments in their romance.
Far from discovering that her books have been visited by the suck fairy in the intervening decades since she wrote, I have been excited to realize Jo Clayton’s novels are even deeper, richer, and more rewarding now than I had realized at the time.
So when I received a review copy of a new anthology of gay male romance comics that, per the publicist, “…hearkens back to the days when romance comics topped the sales charts and it enlivens romance novel collections with a fun genre mix, all while joyfully celebrating Pride with its unambiguous focus on cis- and trans men in love by creators who know exactly how it feels.”
Well, I was sold.
I certainly didn’t mean to, not consciously. “Cozy fantasy” wasn’t a thing when I set out to write A Turn of Light, my first fantasy novel, but as the term’s used today? In hindsight, what a perfect fit! A bit of backstory, if I may. I kept my intention to write fantasy secret for decades. For a couple of reasons. Most importantly, I was already, and happily, writing science fiction for Sheila E. Gilbert at DAW Books, with several novels under contract, as well as editing my own anthologies. Not the best time to put forth such a, well, off-track notion. And, I confess, I was hesitant. Could I write the type of fantasy I wanted? Lyrical, filled with wonder, immersive—to write it, to do it justice, I’d have to find my fantasy voice, distinct from my science fiction one. To develop a living landscape in terms that wouldn’t feel like my customary science-based planet-building, even to me. I like challenges but those seemed daunting. (Note to amuse you later: I was also firmly convinced I could and must do all that in under 90K.) The easy part was knowing what kind of fantasy I’d write if I had the chance. It had to be joyous. No victims. No violence. No wars. I craved wonder and wild magic. More than that, I wanted a story with community. People who were kind to one another, coming together as needed to work to a common goal. You know, ordinary folks living ordinary lives, just surrounded by wild—as in natural—unpredictable magic, under no one’s control. Lacking the term “cozy,” I thought of it back then as my “cup of cocoa and a blanket on a chilly damp afternoon” story. To write, one day.
Our last podcast featured Shaun and guest host Kendra interviewing Dutch author Johanna van Veen about her new novel Blood on Her Tongue. If you haven’t had a chance to listen to that conversation yet about bog people and shifting cultural perspectives on death, madness, identity, and gender, then be sure to tune in along with reading this review and checking out van Veen’s rich, gothic treat. Blood on Her Tongue ticks off most all of a reader’s expectations from the gothic literature genre: familial secrets, supernatural beings, madness, gender challenges, emotional intensity, isolation, curses, doubles, and above all that yearning for what isn’t good. With the pages of the book inked to appear like blood dripping out from within it, and the darkly decadent cover art, this title from Poisoned Pen Press simply screams Gothic.
Welcome to Psychotronic Perspectives, a new blog feature brought to you by Daniel & David, which delves into discussion of some of the weird and obscure genre movies that we happen to see! We’re diving to find film trash gold, and will share our thoughts on what we find, strange and glorious. Our first pick isn’t one randomly discovered, but inspired from last month’s Torture Cinema feature on the theme “Trouble at Lakes”: Joy N. Houck’s 1976 Creature from Black Lake. We both enjoyed this decidedly non-torturous picture enough to go back and watch Houck’s 1969 debut Night of Bloody Horror.
