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Cover of Strange New Worlds Toward the Night, featuring a large image of Captain Pike and smaller images of (from left) Spock, Nyota Uhura, Number One, and Erica Ortegas, in front of a planet and atop a cityscape, with a red star or nova and a nebula behind them.
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Book Reviews: STAR TREK: STRANGE NEW WORLDS: ASYLUM by Una McCormack & TOWARD THE NIGHT by James Swallow

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The third season of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds is just days away, but it’s only the last month that I’ve started watching the series, up to half-way through the second season as of now. And it feels great to be watching something that feels like Star Trek again. I was mostly disappointed with Picard, and Discovery felt disjointed, with low points and high points but never scratching the Star Trek itch. I’d mention to friends how I wasn’t a fan of the season arcs and a focus on just a few characters that left most of the bridge crew in obscurity. They’d agree, and then quickly say how great Strange New Worlds was and that I’d probably like it much more. They were correct. For some reason I don’t have the first of the three Strange New Worlds novels published to date, but I’ve read the two I do have as I started watching the show. These two novels were just as thrilling and fun to read as watching the best of the show. Even if you haven’t seen Strange New Worlds before, or have just been a casual Star Trek fan, the two novels are each worth checking out for unique reasons. I’m assuming that most people who read this are generally familiar with Strange New Worlds, but quickly for anyone who may not: The series is set on the USS Enterprise during a five-year mission under the command of Captain Christopher Pike, before Captain James T. Kirk takes command as featured for in the original series outside its pilot episode. Asylum, by Una McCormack, alternates between a ‘present’ time period corresponding to the series’ first season and a ‘past’ set at Starfleet Academy where future Enterprise first officer (Number One) Commander Una Chin-Riley attends as a cadet and meets a young Ensign Pike who has returned for a hearing and an opportunity to lecture cadets about his fresh ‘real-world’ experiences serving on a starship. With its focus squarely on the relationship between Pike and Chin-Riley, Asylum understandably neglects the other regular characters of the show. I’m usually more excited about seeing some attention paid beyond the top of command, and can be wary of origin stories such as this. But McCormack does a fantastic job with it, also being helped with the fact that they’re both compelling characters whose growth over time becomes evident, both as individuals and as a partnership. The big strength to Asylum, however, comes from its plot and themes. Cadet Chin-Riley’s academic and professional future becomes threatened as she allows her emotions and time to become embroiled in alien socio-politics. Through her roommate she meets an Euxhana family, a cultural minority of the Chionian people seeking asylum in Federation space. Twenty-five years later in the ‘present,’ Starfleet assigns the USS Enterprise to help settle a Chionian trade agreement, which becomes threatened by a pro-Euxhana saboteur. Beyond being entertaining and casting light on Chin-Riley and Pike, Asylum delves into complicated and relevant topics of cultural identity, suppression, freedom, responsibility, and the possibility and limits of activism and engagement. It’s a tremendous story that doesn’t simply cast the players into roles of good versus evil, but displays nuances on all sides to show how best choices can be made, even if making missteps before that can be acknowledged and learned from. The way that these themes impact Chin-Riley’s growth bear import for events both in the first season of Strange New Worlds, as well as the second. Toward the Night by James Swallow is an equally strong and fun novel to Asylum, while being completely different in its emphasis. It features significantly more of a range of characters from the show and features an action-packed plot that feels like an exciting episode with the soul of the original series. It doesn’t deal as much with moral gray areas or complexities, but gives a hopeful tale of discovery among the stars, of finding family and friends. Patrolling the Federation/Klingon Empire border, the USS Enterprise discovers a planet, in orbit of a volatile star, with evidence of a ruined civilization, remains of giant insects, starship-grade metals and Federation technology. They have stumbled upon the old mystery of the USS Baldwin, a starship lost close to a century ago. Among the Baldwin’s crew was Maria Santiago Ortegas, helmswoman Erica Ortegas’ great-grandaunt, a woman whose legend inspired Erica to follow into Starfleet. Finding a strange alien device onboard the Baldwin, an Enterprise away team inadvertently triggers it, causing Pike, Security Chief La’An Noonien-Singh, Nurse Christine Chapel, and Ortegas to be transported into the past soon after the stranding of the Baldwin’s crew on the planet below, and leaving the Enterprise behind in spacetime with Commander Chin-Riley in command to deal with the arrival of conflict-craving Klingons. As Dr. Joseph M’Benga lends his expertise in Klingon warfare to deal with an escalating situation, Spock and Nyota Uhura work to find a way to contact and rescue the vanished away team. Though all the main characters are featured, the novel puts particular emphasis on Ortegas, someone popular with fans who hasn’t had as much backstory expansion as other characters have. The plot of the novel allows Swallow to follow many of the expected tropes of Star Trek, such as orders not to reveal too much to people in the past — but then that all falling apart and needing to divulge everything. This allows Erica Ortegas to form a connection with Maria Ortegas that goes differently than she might have expected based on her hero worship, but that ends up leading to growth and familial bonds for each of the women. Amid all the action, threats, and death that the novel features there is also a good dose of heartwarming elements, such as the Ortegas’ relationship and the aliens of this planet, the reason for their disappearance, and the novel’s epilogue (which I won’t spoil of course). Though there might not be huge surprises in the mysteries that underlie this

Cover of Sometime Lofty Towers by David C. Smith; cover image by Saša Đurđević, featuring a dark-haired, bearded warrior in tunic, breastplate, pants, and boots, wielding a notched and bloody sword, at the top of stairs on which a dead armored body lies, in front of an archway, with mist or fog.
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Book Review: Sometime Lofty Towers by David C. Smith

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Sword-and-sorcery is a subgenre of fantasy with broad shoulders, covering a lot of territory. It has to have action, but the protagonists can range from big dumb heroes to sneak thieves to philosophers — at least the types of philosophers who can wield weapons. Hanlin, the main character of Sometime Lofty Towers by David C. Smith, is a military veteran who is angry at the world and broods a lot, but he’s far from the only deep thinker around. His former fellow soldier Thorem talks about how he feels most free when he’s fighting, Mother Grunda talks about the ills of civilization, servant Wilm talks about the nature of memories and the past, and the kirangee westlings base their culture on connection with nature and the world. The book isn’t all talk, of course. It opens with Thorem trying to recruit Hanlin into a new campaign that the “civilized” cityfolk are planning, to push the frontier farther into the territory held by the indigenous “westlings” who had been partially defeated in the last war. Hanlin isn’t interested, and in fact has been planning to move back to the northern wilds whence he came. Furthermore, after that previous war, he had spent time with the westlings (or rather, as they call themselves, kirangee), and come to respect them and their ways. However, a message about an old personal antagonist lures him into meeting with the noblewoman who’s organizing this new drive, and that propels him into the events that make up most of this book. Former watchtowers built in the frontier territory by the “civilized” invaders do come into play during the clash between them and the inhabitants. However, the book’s front matter says the phrase “sometime lofty towers” (meaning once or formerly high towers, not towers whose height varies up and down) from the title is taken from Shakespeare’s sonnet 64, which is about inevitable losses to time and decay, which certainly fits with some of the themes here. In some ways, this book reminds me of the great story by Robert E. Howard, “Beyond the Black River.” That starts off from the viewpoint of Balthus, an Aquilonian settler on the frontier, where Picts are trying to reclaim their former land (by taking a fort and slaughtering the settlers), with the aid of sorcery that calls on an old god. It ends with Conan, a Cimmerian from the north temporarily working with/for the Aquilonians, who muses, “Barbarism is the natural state of mankind. Civilization is unnatural; it is a whim of circumstance… And barbarism must always ultimately triumph!” In Smith’s book, it’s the wealthy city people who act barbarically, taking land by force of arms from people whom they call “animals” — the city folk say the westling’s speech makes no sense to “human beings” (which reminds me of Ann Leckie’s Radch civilization). The city folk abuse the surviving westlings, killing them on whims and even using their skins as leather, with hints in the text of even worse happenings. The kirangee think that the city people are bringing curses upon themselves by the sick nature of their society that has broken with nature. The kirangee build communities, not great cities, and respect is given to women and elders; they try to live in harmony with nature, but when that harmony is broken, they use nature magic which includes a form of necromancy to fight back. Rest assured, there is some vivid (if brief) fighting even near the beginning of this book, and there are physical and verbal conflicts throughout, but it builds toward a climax of sustained action, usually striking, even graphic, but occasionally dreamy or nightmarish as magic comes into play, and as current happenings revive memories of old battles. Hanlin has some flashbacks as events proceed, but he also keeps thinking of various things people have said to him as he mulls his course of action. Some readers may find this slightly repetitive, but it totally makes sense for Hanlin, broody and on certain topics (such as revenge) even obsessive. Smith’s prose and dialogue are certainly interesting enough to make it worth the occasional revisit, with some really great lines now and then that made me grin. I also like the various language usages that make it clear we’re in a slightly different culture without making things confusing – “thentime,” swords being worn “byside” or “overshoulder,” “meal” as a verb, etc. Additionally, various passages use some eerie and impactful metaphors. I was slightly jarred by a minor inconsistency in the eARC about where an offscreen event had taken place that was highly impactful to one of Hanlin’s companions; it pulled me out of the narrative as I went back and forth to try to figure out the actual site. However, although it matters to that character’s backstory, it doesn’t really affect the plot, and maybe it’ll be fixed by the time the book is published. Some of the side characters have interesting arcs of their own, in addition to Hanlin’s arc as he searches for internal peace. There’s Thorem, who is happy making money by serving the invaders at first but who is forced by events to think about what he’s doing; there’s a female fighter whose circumstances lead her to think about who deserves her efforts; and there’s a very aggressive young kirangee warrior who ends up learning a lot about trust and goals. I can’t say that they surprised me a lot, but I enjoyed watching how they were developed. Overall, I quite enjoyed Sometime Lofty Towers. The protagonist and other characters are interesting (although not so much for the antagonists), the writing is good, the action is vivid, and the philosophical explorations of the nature of civilization, time, memories, and connections are enjoyable. I look forward to seeing more from Smith. A final note: Readers, don’t skip the Interview at the end, which centers for a time on the death of the author’s father. Rarely have I felt such strong sympathetic rage due

Cover of Saint Death's Herald by C.S.E. Cooney, featuring a woman's face (silhouetted, black) dwarfed by her large coiffure that contains plants, animals, bones, crystals, and more, against a yellow background.
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Book Review: Saint Death’s Herald by C.S.E. Cooney

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Those who haven’t yet read the 2023 World Fantasy Award winning novel Saint Death’s Daughter by C.S.E. Cooney should correct their omission as soon as feasible. It’s a story that took me by surprise, equally startling and delightful. The novel starts out with all the hallmarks of a coming-of-age dark fantasy with a complex, gothic world-building that invokes vibes of Tamsyn Muir’s Locked Tombs series. Its plot and its young protagonist Miscellaneous (Lanie) Stones could suggest a YA novel emphasis and expectations, but the writing proceeds to reveal an intermingling of classification and styles to create a voice that is just captivating. There are serious moments of violence and raw emotion alongside lighter moments of playful wit alongside academic footnote asides. The trajectory of the novel also shifts multiple times, in multiple ways expertly guiding readers from expectations and transcending Saint Death’s Daughter beyond a typical coming-of-age fantasy. Cooney accomplishes this so well through both the rich world-building and characterization. It’s therefore an understatement to say that the novel’s sequel was highly anticipated by fans, including myself. Out now, Saint Death’s Herald may not surprise or pull readers through turns like the first novel did, but it should still delight readers as a compelling continuation of Lanie’s story that expands the folkloric elements of this universe and widens readers’ insight into characters. Saint Death’s Herald begins just following the conclusion of the first novel, with Lanie in pursuit of Irradiant Stones (Grandpa Rad), whose ghost has taken over the body of Cracchen Skrathmandan and is headed toward the icy realm of Skakhmat to continue his search for power that led to his death there ages ago. Along with her St. Death-blessed magic, Lanie has the loyal were-falcon Duantri (as well as Stripes the reanimated tiger-rug) at her side to stop Grandpa Rad from enacting the further genocide necessary to achieve his goals. From page one Cooney sets up Saint Death’s Herald as similar, but quite distinct from the first novel. The compelling voice mixing light- and heavy-hearted moments remains, but Cooney replaces the slowly building coming-of-age framework with a quick-moving Hero’s Quest structure that doesn’t let up until a brief mid-way point of more relaxed planning that then directly leads to the novel’s denouement and climax. This second novel thus follows a far more linear and expected path than its predecessor, removing a lot of thrill that could come from unpredictability. That isn’t to say that this linear journey isn’t also delightful and fulfilling. First off (or last off, depending on the reference point here), Cooney nails the novel’s ending with positive affirmations of the series’ themes of love, kith, and kin. Secondly, she features a fascinating shape shifter culture at the core of the journey to really enhance the world building of this series beyond merely rehashing the cultures she already delved into in book one. Thirdly, Cooney switches things up from Saint Death’s Daughter by focusing on other characters in Saint Death’s Herald. After becoming enraptured with Mak and Datu in the first book, some readers may be disappointed to find them in the background here. At first, that included this reader, but I slowly began to appreciate what Cooney was doing with this novel and began to enjoy and appreciate the new perspectives and character focus. Lanie remains at the heart of things, but getting other points of view does make the novel and world feel grander. I personally don’t care for Duantri (she seems to lack emotional and moral complexity that others may have so far) , so sections through her eyes were least enjoyed. However, I found Cracchen fantastic. After the ghost of Grandpa Rad vacates his body and some Sky Wizards collectively take his place, Cracchen becomes a fascinating character that opens the novel up to explore its key themes. I assume there will be a third book to this series, if not more novels. Saint Death’s Herald reads like a middle novel, starting fully engaged without any recap or introduction to get settled. (I had to reread my and other reviews of the first book after starting this because I had forgotten so many details and secondary characters.) Though great, it does lack a certain magic of discovery and surprise that makes it feel a little less than the original. It switches things up to keep fresh while retaining the core elements that positively define the series. Yet, unlike other ‘middle episodes’ it ends resolutely without relying on a cliff-hanger while still promising more revelations of Lanie Stone’s journey alongside Death in this vivid universe where even darkness is colorful and radiant.

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Skiffy and Fanty Open Call: Join the Crew!

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We’re looking to develop and expand, and to do that, we want to find new folks to join our handy little crew of geeks. Joining us comes with a few perks: you might get a free book or two here or there, you’ll definitely have some fun, and you probably will make some new friends! Right now, we are looking for folks to join the show and blog in two categories: contributors to the show/blog and contributors to the management of the show. You can join in both categories if you like; several of our current co-hosts also support the show by managing emails, editing the blog, etc. We are also especially interested in hearing from LGBTQIA+ and BIPOC folks. We want to continue being a show for all voices and continue our mission to give space to those voices in what we cover! Here’s a rundown of all the volunteers we’re looking for:

Cover of Silk & Sinew: A Collection of Folk Horror from the Asian Diaspora, featuring a red, brown, and yellow female form, face obscured by plants, wearing a kimono-style top and a wide skirt, with roots rising up and weaving around her, against a black background.
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Book review: Silk & Sinew anthology, edited by  Kristy Park Kulski

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“Being in Thailand reminded her of an identity she’d lost in relocation, and probably why she always preferred haunted places and to be among ghosts. They existed somewhere in between, like her.”— “Mindfulness” by Rena Mason, in Silk & Sinew Silk & Sinew: A Collection of Folk Horror from the Asian Diaspora, edited by Kristy Park Kulski, contains some really interesting stories, poems, and reflections, many of which transmit lovely feelings, and/or deep unease, and/or gut punches. Sometimes all at once! It came out in May, but I wasn’t in the right headspace to read a horror collection then. The main part of the book is divided into sections of Soil, Estuary, Bedrock, Roots, and Air. Each section starts with a poem (one in prose) and continues with several short stories more or less related to the theme. The front matter contains an Editor’s Note, a poem, and a Foreword by Monika Kim. The book ends with “Glimpses into the Historical Context” — providing short summaries of Colonialism in Taiwan, Enriching Far Away Worlds (about British colonialism breaking Indian economics), and An Ancient Land (about Armenia) — plus another poem, Acknowledgements, Content & Trigger Warnings, and sections about the authors, the editor, and the artist. I want to highlight the Content & Trigger Warnings section a little, because it’s in the back of the book, which may be a little late for people who just begin at the beginning and read straight through. But it makes sense to put it there, because the warnings are story-specific and thus contain spoilers for some things that will happen or be referenced in each story. A front-of-book warning would necessarily be either so generalized as to be useless, or a long list of specific harms that might put people off the book who could have just skipped stories that might have traumatized them in particular. In addition to possibly skipping to the back for the warnings in case you want to avoid, or at least brace yourself against, specific themes, I also recommend reading the Foreword by Monika Kim, which helps add to these stories and poems a context for our era. Like Silk & Sinew’s editor, Kristy Park Kulski (according to Kim), and like Kylie Lee Baker, whose Bat Eater and Other Names for Cora Zeng I reviewed in April, and doubtlessly like many others, she expresses dismay over the upsurge in anti-Asian sentiments, harassment, and violence following the COVID-19 pandemic; however, she also talks about finding some comfort and catharsis in reading and writing about experiences that may not always be shared, exactly, but that do resonate with common themes. There are seven poems and more than 20 stories in the anthology. All of the poems were evocative and included lovely, lyrical language, with emotions ranging from wistful and nostalgic, to harsh and angry, to fatalistic about oncoming doom, to wondering and hopeful, and more. The opening poem, “Treachery for the Forlorn” by Saba Syed Razvi, describes heartfelt memories and numinous figures, contrasting comfort with unease, inviting the reader to contemplate and speculate:“On this the night of a thousand echoes,…Which voice would you invoke into the walls of your heart, if the wayward would listen?” Many of the stories also contain lovely passages, or harrowing ones. All the writers here are extremely skilled at their craft. There are a lot that I don’t want to quote here because the most amazing sentences give away something important, but here’s one section: For the first time since I answered the phone—what seems like a lifetime ago—my vision blurs, turning the rippling grasses into a kaleidoscope of gold and green. I open myself up to my grief, letting the tears fall from my face into the river below, swirling into the current.I let the water taste me. I let them know I’m here.— “Fed by Earth, Slaked by Salt” by Jess Cho Many of the stories include elements of sacrifices that relatives are expected to make for each other, sometimes matter-of-factly like in “Mother’s Mother’s Daughter” by Audrey Zhou, sometimes resentfully, and sometimes even unknowingly. Sometimes the sacrifices are mutual, and sometimes they benefit entire communities. On the other hand, people can make sacrifices that only end up benefiting outsiders, via trickery and extractive economics, and some of these nominally horrific stories’ plots act as wish fulfillment for the vengeful. Numerous stories are about people adjusting to life in new lands, occasionally finding unexpected allies, or still coping with being treated as outsiders generations afterward. Several of the stories are about members of the diaspora visiting the lands their parents or ancestors came from; sometimes this leads to revelations and deeper understandings (e.g. “The Squatters” by Shawna Yang Ryan), sometimes to transformations, sometimes to potential gain for the inhabitants if not the visitors, and sometimes simply to fear, horror, and death. Sometimes the horror happens to the protagonists, and sometimes they perpetrate horrors upon others. Often the horror depends on the perspective the reader brings to the stories. I certainly don’t always agree with the actions or inactions of the protagonists, and I’m sure many stories contain nuances that I missed; however, I find most of them to be relatable in some manner. Each poem is moving in its own way, as are most of the stories, and everything in the anthology is interesting, often in very surprising ways. Silk & Sinew: A Collection of Folk Horror from the Asian Diaspora, was published by Bad Hand Books but can also be ordered via other retailers.Authors: Kristy Park Kulski (editor, editor’s note, afterword, and acknowledgements); Monika Kim (foreword); Saba Syed Razvi, Geneve Flynn, Angela Yuriko Smith, Christina Sng, Rena Mason, Lee Murray, and Bryan Thao Worra (poems); and Audrey Zhou, Shawna Yang Ryan, Geneve Flynn, Ayida Shonibar, Kanishk Tantia, Jess Cho, Yi Izzy Yu, Angela Yuriko Smith, J.A.W. McCarthy, Nadia Bulkin, Robert Nazar Arjoyan, Rowan Cardosa, Seoung Kim, Saheli Khastagir, Gabriela Lee, Rena Mason, Ai Jiang, Christopher Hann, Priya Sridhar, and Lee Murray (stories). Three

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