REVIEW: “Demon in a Copper Case” by Damon L. Wakes

Review of Damon L. Wakes, “Demon in a Copper Case”, in Myths, Monsters, and Mutations, edited by Jessica Augustsson (JayHenge Publications, 2017): 135-137. — Purchase here. Reviewed by Sara L. Uckelman. (Read the review of the anthology.)

When times are hard, heresy no longer seems like such a bad idea. The people of Singstoat are suffering from a decline in industry, and many people are debt-ridden and struggling. In such a context, the temptation to call upon the demon in the copper case is too strong to resist…

This was a fun little story, quickly told but with plenty of detail and characters. It’s a classic plot line but there is something satisfying in reading a good retelling of an old tale.

REVIEW: “Everybody and His Mother” by Agrippina Domanski

Review of Agrippina Domanski, “Everybody and His Mother”, Luna Station Quarterly 32 (2017): Read online. Reviewed by Sara L. Uckelman.

I struggled with this one. I struggled with reading the story, to the point where I eventually gave up about half-way through, and then let it sit for another month before coming back to reread it. It’s not that it was poorly written, it’s not that it contained elements I found problematic, I just found it a difficult story to engage with. Part of it is that it seems quite atypical for Luna Station Quarterly‘s usual offerings; it very much felt like an ordinary story, of ordinary people doing ordinary things in ordinary places and that’s all it was for the first three-quarters of the story or so. In another venue, this wouldn’t have even been worth mentioning; but reading this story in a spec fic journal, I found myself waiting for more, wanting more. So I’m in the strange position of having to say that even if the story itself is good, the venue choice isn’t. It just didn’t work for me, and that ended up affecting my interaction with the story.

The story deals with the permeability of memory, and involves a lot of double-talk; I’m never quite sure what or whom to believe, never quite sure what the truth is. Part of this is because the narrator, Jemima, is not entirely reliable; part of it is simply because many useful pieces of information are omitted from where I would want to have them, or even omitted altogether. For example, both “Jack” and “the kid” play central roles both in the story and in Jemima’s life, but it was unclear for quite awhile what the relationship was between the kid and Jemima, or between the kid and Jack, or between Jack and Jemima. Clues and puzzle pieces were given, but I put them together in the wrong way, only to find a significant portion of the story later that I’d missed the mark. All of these things conspired to my finding this a difficult piece to read.

REVIEW: “A Taste of Freedom” by Thomas Webb

Review of Thomas Webb, “A Taste of Freedom”, in Myths, Monsters, and Mutations, edited by Jessica Augustsson (JayHenge Publications, 2017): 375-378. — Purchase here. Reviewed by Sara L. Uckelman. (Read the review of the anthology.)

Warning: Probably not the story you want to read if you’ve suffered from abuse.

This story is told in shadows and secrecy, the story of She and of what He did to her. We never know who either of them are; this is because She doesn’t have enough sense of who she is in order to tell us more than what she does.

It’s not a pleasant story, and, to be honest, not the sort of story that I enjoy at all. I tend to think one must have a very good reason before choosing to write a story of abuse — to have some sense of what will be gained from doing so, and that this gain will outweigh any harm done by perpetuating, almost normalising, such behavior. If there was a gain in telling this story, I’m not sure I was able to see what it was.

REVIEW: “Aliens and Old Gods” by Kimber Camacho

Review of Kimber Camacho, “Aliens and Old Gods”, in Myths, Monsters, and Mutations, edited by Jessica Augustsson (JayHenge Publications, 2017): 360-374. — Purchase here. Reviewed by Sara L. Uckelman. (Read the review of the anthology.)

I find I enjoy the longer stories in this anthology more than the shorter ones, in part because the length means there’s more meat to the story — and there’s plenty of meat in this one.

The story is constructed out of four different vignettes, of seemingly disparate events, happening in different places and different times to different people, with — at first — no clear connecting thread running through them. But by the time we finish the second one, it is clear that the titular aliens and old gods are the red thread that connects all the different events together.

A second thread that ties each of the scenes together is the narrative voice that tells them all, a voice that is clinical and almost journalistic. These scenes are told by someone who appears to be watching the events at arm’s length, almost always uninvolved and dispassionate (only sometimes turning passionate and interpretative), and who is someone who clearly knows a lot more than anyone experiencing the events. One of the aliens? One of the old gods? We won’t ever know…

REVIEW: “Passive Aggressive” by Narrelle M. Harris

Review of Narrelle M. Harris, “Passive Aggressive”, in Myths, Monsters, and Mutations, edited by Jessica Augustsson (JayHenge Publications, 2017): 270-274. — Purchase here. Reviewed by Sara L. Uckelman. (Read the review of the anthology.)

So much drama in fiction (and in reality, if we’re being honest here…) relies on people who say one thing but mean another, hidden, thing. In this story, Harris turns this technique on its head — people say one thing but what they mean is not hidden, it is known to everyone. As a result, there are always two layers of conversation going on, the what-is-said and the what-is-meant, and between this double layer is a layer of tension that continues to build and build until you know it must explode, and how it must explode, but not exactly how. Those exact details are a surprise that makes the story worth reading to the end.

REVIEW: “Skeletons in the Closet” by Susanne Hülsmann

Review of Susanne Hülsmann, “Skeletons in the Closet”, in Myths, Monsters, and Mutations, edited by Jessica Augustsson (JayHenge Publications, 2017): 312-314. — Purchase here. Reviewed by Sara L. Uckelman. (Read the review of the anthology.)

Probably everyone who reads this has one — a skeleton in the closet, that is — and they are far from being mere inert dead remains. Hülsmann’s story explores the power these skeletons have over us, the power that we give them by feeding them upon our secrets. And when they’ve eaten enough of our secrets to break free of the closets…what then?

This is a short, creepy tale, with an intensely personal voice that makes it feel as if you are sitting and chatting with the author. Thumbs up, would read again.

REVIEW: “Sometimes People are Monsters” by Kaleen Hird

Review of Kaleen Hird, “Sometimes People are Monsters”, in Myths, Monsters, and Mutations, edited by Jessica Augustsson (JayHenge Publications, 2017): 308-310. — Purchase here. Reviewed by Sara L. Uckelman. (Read the review of the anthology.)

Warning: If animal abuse is not your thing, then this is not the story for you.

This is a tight little story with a distinctive voice and distinctive worldbuilding — the sort that makes you want to read more. And my sympathy is on the side of Sima and Corin from the very start, because they are the ones who fight on behalf of the monsters against all the people who are monsters.

REVIEW: “Gorgon’s Deep” by Mike Adamson

Review of Mike Adamson, “Gorgon’s Deep”, in Myths, Monsters, and Mutations, edited by Jessica Augustsson (JayHenge Publications, 2017): 208-223 — Purchase here. Reviewed by Sara L. Uckelman. (Read the review of the anthology.)

What horrors lie within the deeps?

This is a story of gorgons, gorgons with tentacles and gorgons who paralyse their prey. But for all that, these gorgons are not the gorgons of Greek mythology. Adamson’s take on the classical mythological creature reinvents them as another type of monster, one which has quite a bit more currency in recent speculative fiction than the classical ones themselves. These gorgons are the true heirs of the sea god.

The story starts slowly, and the two main characters are introduced to us in such a way that holds them at arm’s length — two perfect, naked figures making love on a foggy beach. (All I can think of as I read this is “damn, that must be damp and uncomfortable.”) Once it gets going, though, it’s a pretty classic futuristic horror story, ratcheting up on the tension until the very end.

REVIEW: Nocturnall by Beth Bernobich

Review of Beth Bernobich, Nocturnall (2015) — Read online. Reviewed by Sara L. Uckelman.

One of my favorite authors had a birthday, and my first thought was that I should reread my favorite book by her to celebrate, but I couldn’t because that book was packed up to move house. Then I figured I could do something better — I could give her the gift of a review. So, happy birthday, Beth, even if it’s three months late due to the queue at SFFReviews!

The novella Nocturnall is set in Bernobich’s River of Souls world, and I read it after having read the three main River of Souls novels, Passion Play, Queen’s Hunt, and Allegiance. I note this for two reasons — one, so that you go out and read them too, because they are amazing; two, because my reading of Nocturnall was shaped by having read the other three books. As a result, POSSIBLE SPOILERS BELOW.

The very best of books tell a story that comes to completion and yet leaves the reader wailing “but I want more! I want to know what happens next!!” Not only the immediate future next, but the long down the lines future. What happens not only a year from now, two years from now, three, but what happens twenty years from now, thirty, forty? What happens when the war has been won and the king and queen have been crowned? What happens when the first fire of romance is over, and has been translated into burning coals of comfortable companionship, always able to be stoked again, but sometimes glowing more dimly than others.

Nocturnall is the answer to that “what happens next”. The central characters of PP, QH, and A, Ilse Zhalina and Raul Kosenmark, return in this story, more than thirty-five years after we first meet them. More than half a life time, a life that hasn’t been easy for them, but it has been kind. They have surrounded themselves with the richness of strong familial relationships across and within generations steeped in memory and their love has strengthened with the years even as their bodies have weakened. Theirs is the story of a life (lives) that has worked — even though it has also been work.

It’s hard to describe the quite visceral reaction that reading of Ilse and Raul elicits in me. The first time I read Nocturnall, I was worried that in such a short story the slow build-up that one gets in PP would be lost and that it wouldn’t have the same spark. And then Bernobich drops the bombshell right away on page 4, out of nowhere, taking my breath away and reassuring me that I needn’t have worried: All her power is just as finely wrought in novella as it is in novel form. The first time I read it, I read it in one sitting during a long airport layover, and, Reader, I cried. I cried when I reached the end and I didn’t care who saw. I’m crying again now, as I reread the story and write this review.

Why do stories like this matter? Because the power of a story lies in how we are able to put ourselves in the shoes of the character and see how our own lives might unfold. When I was young, I read of fantasy heroines and dreamed of being one one day. But then I grew up (or at least, older), and I reread those stories and found the heroines were still young, and I was not, and I could no longer see myself in those stories. I started looking for evidence that it wasn’t too late, that I, who’ve already found my prince charming, who has familial ties that preclude any great quest, could still be the heroine of my own story. I started not only looking for heroines like me now, but heroines that I can look forward to becoming in the future, and if I can be half as awesome as Ilse, I would take that as a life well lived! Stories like this matter because they are a gift of possibility to every reader who reads them. That’s a way better gift than any review I could ever gift in return.

REVIEW: “Gristle” by Jay Knioum

Review of Jay Knioum, “Gristle”, in Myths, Monsters, and Mutations, edited by Jessica Augustsson (JayHenge Publications, 2017): 258-259. — Purchase here. Reviewed by Sara L. Uckelman. (Read the review of the anthology.)

Warning: If you don’t want to read about mutilated children and/or cannibalism, then this is not the story for you.

Ordinarily, those two things would mean that this wouldn’t be the story for me, either, but the way Knioum takes an unusual perspective on a relatively usual horror genre was both intriguing and well done — and in this particular case, the quite short length of the story was a plus rather than a minus. At two pages, it was exactly the right length.