Book Review: The Improvisers, by Nicole Glover
Glover’s prose doesn’t often soar to poetic heights, but it’s direct and practical and a breeze to read. There’s a lot going on in this 443-page book, but it doesn’t feel nearly that long; Glover keeps it all racing along together and lands the ending with a very satisfying touchdown.
Book Review: The Woodsmoke Women’s Book of Spells by Rachel Greenlaw
It’s primarily a semi-supernatural romance, blended with mystery, home renovations, inheritances, and homecoming.
Short Fiction Review: March – April 2024
My favorite short stories from March and April are all quite different from each other, which means you will probably enjoy at least one of them. “Fragments of a Symbiotic Life” by Will McMahon (published in Lightspeed Magazine Issue 166) is a humorous piece of flash fiction that’s likely to leave you with something more serious to think about after. “A Magical Correspondence, to the Tune of Heartstrings” by Valerie Valdes (published in Uncanny Magazine Issue 57) is a relatable romance about a busy woman trying to fit in just one more thing — in this case, a correspondence course in witchcraft. “Threshold” by Audrey Zhou (published in Strange Horizons) is for those of you who enjoy more unsettling reads, exploring what happens after death, or cool magic systems. “Fragments of a Symbiotic Life” by Will McMahon This story won over my attention and affection from its first sentence: I was born normal enough, except that I was four days late, which isn’t so much, and slightly jaundiced, which isn’t unusual, and had a raccoon for an arm, which is admittedly strange. This is flash fiction, recollections from the narrator who was born with a raccoon for an arm. This story is written in a clear, accessible manner and with a certain dry humor that many readers are likely to enjoy. A raccoon for an arm is a ludicrous concept, but the narrator’s serious, reflective tone makes it feel both plausible and hilarious. The humor is well executed and makes for a fun read, but there’s more going on here than just a playful gag. When the narrator was four years old, his parents “decided to amputate” the raccoon arm and replace it with a prosthetic. The narrator understands their decision but portrays it as just that: “their decision,” not his own. The narrator’s sadness and unease over their decision shifts the story into a more critical mode. The narrator writes that when he tells people about the raccoon, “They’re usually sympathetic. Kind. But they only see me—one broken human. Never him [the raccoon]. Never the other.” The narrator openly examines how easily we undervalue and marginalize non-human life, and it makes for a striking conclusion to the story, but there are other, less explicit, critiques that I can’t help but read into the story. The story makes me think of people with disabilities and how they can be challenged to conform to society’s norms, rather than society adapting to welcome all people. And it makes me think of people who undergo surgeries that are not medically necessary in order to better conform to society’s norms or ideals. This includes both people who make that choice for themselves (such as with certain cosmetic surgeries) and people who have that choice made for them (such as intersex children who undergo surgery to more closely align with one gender or another). In these cases, the perceived need to conform to society’s norms and ideals can ostracize, marginalize, or harm individuals. Yes, that’s serious and heavy, especially for a story that started with a raccoon for an arm — and that’s exactly what I love about this story: it’s a fun, wild gag, yet there’s also weighty stuff to dig into here if you are willing to sit with the story for a little bit longer. “A Magical Correspondence, to the Tune of Heartstrings” by Valerie Valdes Lissa is busy. Her family makes violins and harps, and they just received an unexpected order with a tight deadline. She also has her house chores, of course, and she’s on the committee organizing the Summernight dance for her village. Beyond that all — which is really more than enough — Lissa is taking a correspondence course in basic witchcraft, in which she must learn elemental cantrips, brew a potion, and create an enchantment. The course is challenging under the best of circumstances, and Lissa’s hectic schedule and chaotic, distracting family don’t help, but she is committed to persevere and see her course through to completion. The story is set in a secondary fantasy world that reminds me of Ursula K. Le Guin’s Earthsea series, but thematically, this story feels refreshingly relatable. It’s about a busy woman trying to cram one more thing in her schedule, but this is the one rare thing that’s simply just for her and for the sake of trying something new and interesting. In Lissa’s world, witchcraft isn’t considered a practical skill, nor does she hope to turn it into a new career. It’s just something different that Lissa wanted to try out. In our world, it is too easy to spend all your energy on work, life admin, and hobbies that are really side hustles (that is, hobbies that are themselves a form of work). It can be challenging to devote the time and energy to a hobby that’s legitimately just a hobby, something you find interesting and want to do just for the sake of it. And when you do devote yourself to such a hobby, struggle through it, and persevere, it feels great! That is what’s great about this story: watching Lissa choose to do something just for herself and persevere through the challenges. It’s relatable, inspiring, and a little cozy as well. Speaking of cozy, there’s also a cute romance here. (Yet another thing Lissa is trying to fit in!) I was more drawn in by Lissa’s magical correspondence course, but the romance is quite enjoyable as well. If you like romance, cozy fantasy stories, or want to watch Lissa persevere through her correspondence course, I easily recommend this story. “Threshold” by Audrey Zhou When Li’s close friend Huyuan dies unexpectedly after her twenty-third birthday, Li has an option most of us don’t: Li can capture Huyuan’s spirit and build a new body for her to live in out of metal, wood, clay, and other materials. When Huyuan dies, it isn’t really a question for Li whether or not to do this; this is what Li
Book Review: Archangels of Funk, by Andrea Hairston
I loved Redwood and Wildfire when I found it in the New Books section of the library a few years ago, so I was excited to have the opportunity to read a new book set in that world, Archangels of Funk, which was published on May 7. This is a fantastic near-future book that combines magic and hopepunk with vibrant, joyful optimism, where a diverse community works together to survive and thrive as an independent cooperative amid an increasingly corpocratic world. Redwood and Wildfire was set in the American South of the 1890s, with magic, and told how Black teen Redwood Phipps and her eventual love, Aidan Wildfire Cooper, moved through time and became part of the early days of the film industry. Somehow I had missed the middle book in the series, Will Do Magic for Small Change, about their granddaughter, Cinnamon Jones, but I’m happy to say that I didn’t have any problem moving from the first book to the third; I’m sure to have missed some nuances and callbacks, but I didn’t experience any puzzlement or feel that there were any missing pieces. In fact, I’d say that a new reader could probably start with this book (although Redwood and Wildfire, at least, is great and worth finding); there are certainly references to the characters and events of Redwood and Wildfire, but they are explained well enough that there isn’t any significant missing context. Archangels of Funk is told (in third person past tense) following several points of view, including a Border Collie, another dog who’s a cyberghost, some Circus-Bots, and a friend, but the main protagonist is Cinnamon Jones. She’s a tech wizard who’s a leader in her community of farmers and Water Wars refugees but who tries to avoid being noticed by the wider world. An older woman, she’s had her share of past glories and heartbreaks. Her focus now is on helping others while honoring her ancestors and the spirits of her heritage; she doesn’t think she can change the world, but she fights to keep her corner of it viable and unique. There is a LOT going on in this book. It starts two days before the community’s annual Next World Festival, which Cinnamon runs, as she searches for one of her missing Circus-Bots. These are theatrical junk-sculptures that she had built and animated with computer code and hidden hoodoo. She finds a Circus-Bot sheltering a little girl who’d fled from child-snatchers. The Festival is an ongoing tight-time focus throughout most of the book, but there are also echoes from Cinnamon’s past that come to confront her, including former lovers and betrayers, and people who try to lure her to sell her secrets and sell out. Other subplots include various theft/con attempts, a couple of security guards who are basically just trying to get by at the start, but whom Cinnamon and the community try to influence to actually do good and be good people, an ancestral spirit who helps Cinnamon and the community but who is fading, and several budding or recurring romances. Redwood and Wildfire is bright and dark and jangly and eventually soothing. It’s a hard world, but when has it not been? It can be overwhelming, but Hairston passionately demonstrates in her writing that community ties of love and hope, and occasionally offering second chances to people, can make hearts soar. There are oppressive systems and a lot of exploitative individuals, but it is very much worth continuing to fight for a better world in small ways that add up to big things. I adore this book and the people in it. This is one of my favorite books so far this year. Please give it a try. Content Warnings: Deaths, threats, betrayals Disclaimer: I received a free review copy of this ebook from the publisher.
Book Review: Silver Nitrate, by Silvia Moreno-Garcia
Moreno does a great job with the execution of this concept, with the slow build, the worldbuilding and atmosphere, the revelations, and most of all for me, the imperfect yet compelling characters. I loved it!
Book Review: Even Though I Knew the End, by C.L. Polk
I adored C.L. Polk’s Even Though I Knew the End, a sapphic noir novella set in an urban fantasy version of 1941 Chicago. It opens strongly, unwraps the mystery as a relationship drama unfolds, and includes some breathtaking prose along the way.
