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mary_soon_lee's review
This issue contains a dozen stories. Spoilers ahead.
Oddly enough, my three favorite stories, all of which I liked very much, shared a musical theme. Tina Connolly's short-short with its disproportionately lengthy title is a light, sweet, fun tale featuring an alien and a saxophone. Margaret Killjoy's "The Free Orcs of Cascadia" is a darker, poignant tale, very well told, with the strongest ending in the issue (at least for me). Jerome Stueart's novelette "Postlude to the Afternoon of a Faun" is a lovely story that begins in loneliness and moves toward hope.
I also particularly liked--though not quite as much as the musical trio--Gregor Hartmann's detective SF story, "The Unbearable Lightness of Bullets," and Matthew Hughes's new Baldemar fantasy story, "The Plot Against Fantucco's Armor" (indeed I'd like to read a book-length work about Baldemar).
As usual, I recommend this issue.
Spoiler
A few of these were well done, yet unpleasant or upsetting, so that I cannot say that I enjoyed them per se. Diana Peterfreund's second-person piece "Playscape" is powerful and thought-provoking, but cut too close to my parenting worries to be a pleasant read; S. Qiouyi Lu's "At Your Dream's Edge,” also told in second-person, holds a point worth making, but is graphically horrific; R. S. Benedict's "All of Me" is striking and original, but I found the protagonist unlikable and the premise rather implausible.Oddly enough, my three favorite stories, all of which I liked very much, shared a musical theme. Tina Connolly's short-short with its disproportionately lengthy title is a light, sweet, fun tale featuring an alien and a saxophone. Margaret Killjoy's "The Free Orcs of Cascadia" is a darker, poignant tale, very well told, with the strongest ending in the issue (at least for me). Jerome Stueart's novelette "Postlude to the Afternoon of a Faun" is a lovely story that begins in loneliness and moves toward hope.
I also particularly liked--though not quite as much as the musical trio--Gregor Hartmann's detective SF story, "The Unbearable Lightness of Bullets," and Matthew Hughes's new Baldemar fantasy story, "The Plot Against Fantucco's Armor" (indeed I'd like to read a book-length work about Baldemar).
As usual, I recommend this issue.
standback's review against another edition
5.0
Wow; there is a lot going on in this issue. Some of the stories are superb, and all of them are thought-provoking.
The absolute standout of the issue is All of Me, by the incomparable R.S. Benedict.
"All of Me" starts with a premise that's pure gonzo, then walks us through layer after layer of pain, depth, and gravity.
Isabel del Mar came out of the sea to become a Hollywood superstar. A mermaid plucked out of the water (by a man who was no prince...), she has many unusual talents -- captivating beauty, a hypnotizing singing voice, and, oh yes, asexual reproduction -- when Isabel cuts off a piece of her own body, it grows into a full double.
This has happened many times; far too many times -- sometimes for reasons that are horribly trivial, others simply horrible.
It's a story about the different paths like can take you. About comparing yourself to someone else who's *almost* just like you, but not quite. About how a person has different sides to them, which each come to the fore in different situations.
It's also a story about how Hollywood, wealth and glamour are all deeply fucked up, and ruthlessly mercenary.
Everybody wants a piece of Isabel del Mar.
Benedict, as usual, delivers a fantastic and powerful story -- and what's even more impressive is that she never seems to do the same thing twice.
Other favorites:
"Postlude to the Afternoon of a Faun," by Jerome Stueart. A music-as-magic story. Mr. Dance's magic instrument was long-lost, now recovered -- but it doesn't thrill to him anymore. It's changed, and he's changed. A great story of loss and restoration; the closing lines are a fantastic conclusion.
"Playscape," by Diana Peterfreund, is one of the stories that absolute nightmare fuel for parents. I don't love gratuitous child-endangerment stories, but this is much more *about* omnipresent parental fears, than just simply playing upon them.
"At Your Dream's Edge," by S. Qiouyi Lu. Really liked this. Vivid, compelling idea -- a "nightmare app", a protagonist who WANTS a nightmare. As we learn how and why, everything slots into place. Horror used as inspiration.
"The Plot Against Fantucco's Armor,” by Matthew Hughes. Baldemar is caught up in political in-fighting, and needs to figure out who’s behind the latest maneuvering. This is one of two light mystery stories that the issue opens with. The other one being William Ledbetter’s "The Unbearable Lightness of Bullets", which is well and good and fun and colorful -- but, put in direct contrast, you can see how good and how carefully constructed “Fantucco’s Armor” really is. “Lightness” is a fun romp, whose protagonist runs around trying random theories and eventually goes for the good old “use self as bait” gambit -- while “Fantucco’s Armor” builds up, one question leading to the next, and advances Baldemar's story besides.
---
“The Free Orcs of Cascadia,” by Margaret Killjoy, is a story I found very difficult. Not the reading of it; it’s absolutely compelling; an investigation into groups of music fans who have taken to living as “free orcs,” who rose to infamy when one of them beheaded another during a live concert. No; my issue is in its naked call for armed anarchy and vigilantism.
The story opens with the intriguing hook of why this particular orc, Golfimbul, killed his rival musician on-stage. He offers us this, which I found very promising indeed:
And the promise is made good: we eventually learn thatwithin this idiosyncratic subculture, the rival musician had crowned himself an honest-to-goodness fascist monarch, and that absolutely could not be allowed to stand.
Having uncovered this hidden struggle, framed explicitly as fascists vs. anarchists, all that’s left is what to do about it. And this is the true thrust the story arrives at: that the orcs who wish to stay free, had damn well better start gathering guns:
Don’t want to use guns? Well, that’s understandable, as long as you’re fine with getting other people to bring guns:
The other thing you need to gather, says the story, is recruits. People who think you’re cool and awesome, because of your great music and elaborate costumes, and therefore they’ll be willing to go to war for you. Or maybe, I’m just thinking out loud here, writing a vivid short story about how great it would be to have armed combat against a hypothetical army of fascists would also have a similar effect?
Almost every story uses some sleight of hand to push us in certain directions. Here, though, the reader is being unceremoniously shoved. The story does very nice work getting us onboard with Golfimbul’s onstage murder -- “there are circumstances under which it’s okay to kill someone”. But it tries to leap from there over to “you should arm yourselves against an entire enemy population, with no distinction between civilians and combatants”. And, with little subtlety, its signal to us readers is that we should start getting comfy about the idea of violence against “fascists,” and with nary a thought about which circumstances make killing okay, beyond “will we win.”
Last year I criticized an F&SF story where civic resistance against totalitarianism Just Works Out; now I’m criticizing one where arming ourselves against fascism is meant to Just Works Out. These are, by all means, crucial topics for the current reader, and I am very pleased that F&SF regularly engages with them. But, these stories are also overtly prescriptive political texts, which makes it all the more important to pay attention to what precisely they’re prescribing. Some stories manage to include real-life nuance; others create compelling situations where nuance is unnecessary, but leave room for nuance when returning to real life. “The Free Orcs of Cascadia” does neither, leaving things at a disturbingly uncomplicated “armed anarchy == good.”
---
All in all, a very strong issue. Even the stories I have less to remark about were enjoyable, unusual, interesting -- or all of the above.
The absolute standout of the issue is All of Me, by the incomparable R.S. Benedict.
"All of Me" starts with a premise that's pure gonzo, then walks us through layer after layer of pain, depth, and gravity.
Isabel del Mar came out of the sea to become a Hollywood superstar. A mermaid plucked out of the water (by a man who was no prince...), she has many unusual talents -- captivating beauty, a hypnotizing singing voice, and, oh yes, asexual reproduction -- when Isabel cuts off a piece of her own body, it grows into a full double.
This has happened many times; far too many times -- sometimes for reasons that are horribly trivial, others simply horrible.
It's a story about the different paths like can take you. About comparing yourself to someone else who's *almost* just like you, but not quite. About how a person has different sides to them, which each come to the fore in different situations.
It's also a story about how Hollywood, wealth and glamour are all deeply fucked up, and ruthlessly mercenary.
Everybody wants a piece of Isabel del Mar.
Benedict, as usual, delivers a fantastic and powerful story -- and what's even more impressive is that she never seems to do the same thing twice.
Other favorites:
"Postlude to the Afternoon of a Faun," by Jerome Stueart. A music-as-magic story. Mr. Dance's magic instrument was long-lost, now recovered -- but it doesn't thrill to him anymore. It's changed, and he's changed. A great story of loss and restoration; the closing lines are a fantastic conclusion.
"Playscape," by Diana Peterfreund, is one of the stories that absolute nightmare fuel for parents. I don't love gratuitous child-endangerment stories, but this is much more *about* omnipresent parental fears, than just simply playing upon them.
"At Your Dream's Edge," by S. Qiouyi Lu. Really liked this. Vivid, compelling idea -- a "nightmare app", a protagonist who WANTS a nightmare. As we learn how and why, everything slots into place. Horror used as inspiration.
"The Plot Against Fantucco's Armor,” by Matthew Hughes. Baldemar is caught up in political in-fighting, and needs to figure out who’s behind the latest maneuvering. This is one of two light mystery stories that the issue opens with. The other one being William Ledbetter’s "The Unbearable Lightness of Bullets", which is well and good and fun and colorful -- but, put in direct contrast, you can see how good and how carefully constructed “Fantucco’s Armor” really is. “Lightness” is a fun romp, whose protagonist runs around trying random theories and eventually goes for the good old “use self as bait” gambit -- while “Fantucco’s Armor” builds up, one question leading to the next, and advances Baldemar's story besides.
---
“The Free Orcs of Cascadia,” by Margaret Killjoy, is a story I found very difficult. Not the reading of it; it’s absolutely compelling; an investigation into groups of music fans who have taken to living as “free orcs,” who rose to infamy when one of them beheaded another during a live concert. No; my issue is in its naked call for armed anarchy and vigilantism.
The story opens with the intriguing hook of why this particular orc, Golfimbul, killed his rival musician on-stage. He offers us this, which I found very promising indeed:
My status as a person who has ended the life of another person carries no implications about by personal ethics other than that I clearly believe there are circumstances under which it’s okay to kill someone.
And the promise is made good: we eventually learn that
Having uncovered this hidden struggle, framed explicitly as fascists vs. anarchists, all that’s left is what to do about it. And this is the true thrust the story arrives at: that the orcs who wish to stay free, had damn well better start gathering guns:
The world isn’t a goddammed better place if you let your subculture (...) be taken over by fucking Nazis. And I respect that you’re going to fight them for it, that’s cool. But have you considered buying some guns?
Make it so that when you fight the fash, in your epic spears-and-swords Viking death match, you win.
Don’t want to use guns? Well, that’s understandable, as long as you’re fine with getting other people to bring guns:
Guns would break the spell. And the spell that you’re casting here? It’s powerful. It’s good. So no guns. Other people have guns, though. Let those people stand guard. Or make their armed presence known.
The other thing you need to gather, says the story, is recruits. People who think you’re cool and awesome, because of your great music and elaborate costumes, and therefore they’ll be willing to go to war for you. Or maybe, I’m just thinking out loud here, writing a vivid short story about how great it would be to have armed combat against a hypothetical army of fascists would also have a similar effect?
Almost every story uses some sleight of hand to push us in certain directions. Here, though, the reader is being unceremoniously shoved. The story does very nice work getting us onboard with Golfimbul’s onstage murder -- “there are circumstances under which it’s okay to kill someone”. But it tries to leap from there over to “you should arm yourselves against an entire enemy population, with no distinction between civilians and combatants”. And, with little subtlety, its signal to us readers is that we should start getting comfy about the idea of violence against “fascists,” and with nary a thought about which circumstances make killing okay, beyond “will we win.”
Last year I criticized an F&SF story where civic resistance against totalitarianism Just Works Out; now I’m criticizing one where arming ourselves against fascism is meant to Just Works Out. These are, by all means, crucial topics for the current reader, and I am very pleased that F&SF regularly engages with them. But, these stories are also overtly prescriptive political texts, which makes it all the more important to pay attention to what precisely they’re prescribing. Some stories manage to include real-life nuance; others create compelling situations where nuance is unnecessary, but leave room for nuance when returning to real life. “The Free Orcs of Cascadia” does neither, leaving things at a disturbingly uncomplicated “armed anarchy == good.”
---
All in all, a very strong issue. Even the stories I have less to remark about were enjoyable, unusual, interesting -- or all of the above.
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