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Archive for category Short Fiction

A Brooding of Vampire Books That Aren’t Sparkly

Jul 20

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fantasy, Historical, Short Fiction, Urban Fantasy, Vampires | No Comments

Shards, by Bruce Baugh (White Wolf, 2002)
Shadows, by Bruce Baugh (White Wolf, 2002)
Sacrifices, by Bruce Baugh, (White Wolf, 2002)
The Madness of Priests, by Philippe Boulle (White Wolf, 2003)
Agyar, by Steven Brust (Tor, 1993)
Darkest Heart, by Nancy A. Collins (White Wolf, 2002)
Lady Crymsyn, P.N. Elrod (Ace, 2000)
Cold Streets, by P.N. Elrod (Ace, 2003)
Dhampir, by Barb and J.C. Hendee, (Roc, 2003)
The Ultimate Dracula, edited by Byron Priess (iBooks, 2003)
The Best of Dreams of Decadence, edited by Angela Kessler (Roc, 2003)

As I write this, it’s late April, and in the U.S., Tax Season has once again passed. And perhaps coincidentally, that got me to thinking about a different, more classical, sort of bloodsucker. Looking around my desk, I realized that somehow, a few vampire books had piled up. I swear, they probably bite other books and turn them into vampires when I’m not looking. I can see it now. In the dead of night, when I’m upstairs sleeping the sleep of the innocent and dreaming of those halcyon days when I read without reviewing, as a simple shaft of moonlight arcs over my desk, the books … come to life. They sprout fangs and bat wings, and take to the ceiling. There, they confer in the sound of rustling pages. Finally, without warning, one of Laurell K. Hamilton’s books dives down, seizing some poor misshelved Tolkein ripoff, and drinking deep of its ink. In the morning, the book is gone, but in its place sits another vampire novel, freshly reborn….

Pardon me. I got carried away. The fact remains, I found, without even trying, no less than eleven vampire novels of assorted inspirations and lineages, and thought it might be prudent to “deal” with them all at once, before they could convert any more hapless romances or reference books to their evil cause. And believe me, they do come from a variety of sources. Almost half of the list were published by White Wolf, which made its name for itself as a gaming studio with the popular Vampire: The Masquerade. Of these, three books are inspired by the main line, and another by its spinoff, Victorian Age Vampire. Another two books come from P.N. Elrod’s long-running Vampire Files series, about 1930′s-era private investigator-turned-vampire-turned-nightclub owner Jack Fleming. To round the list out, there’s one not-so-traditional fantasy, and a pair of anthologies. All in all, it’s a nice roundup. And on with the blood-sucking show.

In Lady Crymsyn, the eighth book in P.N. Elrod’s Vampire Files series, the year is 1937, and Chicago’s a dangerous place to live. If you don’t believe it, ask Jack Fleming, vampire private investigator. Thanks to some “business” in previous books, he’s come into enough money to finally open up that nightclub he’s always dreamed of. Unfortunately, things don’t go as planned, when, during the remodeling of the speakeasy he’s acquired, a body is discovered in the basement. A body in a distinctive red dress, handcuffed and walled up. Whoever this woman was, whatever happened to bring her to this place, she clearly died horribly. And Jack Fleming, P.I., vampire, and knight in tarnished armor, dedicates himself to solving the mystery of the woman. Who she was, who killed her, and why. It’ll take all of his powers and wits to solve a mystery that’s been closed (or walled away) for years, especially in a city like Chicago, which already has its fair share of skeletons in the closet. Good thing Jack’s got friends. He’ll need them. Toss in a pesky ghost, trouble with the mobs (as usual) and even a vampire may find himself in danger.

In Cold Streets, Jack’s back and business is booming at his nightclub. Thanks to some influential friends in the mob business, and his own vampiric powers of persuasion, he’s turned it into a place to be proud of, where everyone’s happy and the drinks are flowing. Unfortunately, that white knight streak of his is about to get him in trouble. When he helps to foil a kidnapping, he becomes the target of a nasty blackmail attempt, by someone willing to expose his secret to the world. Meanwhile, a new player from New York’s in town to take over for Jack’s friend, Gordy, who runs the local mob. “Hog” Bristow has no respect for the niceties of negotiation, or for the supposed neutrality of Lady Crymsyn. Between blackmail and gunfire, Jack and his partner, Escott, will be working overtime. But will Jack lose his grip on humanity once and for all, when things turn ugly?

Elrod certainly has an interesting thing going here. I’m reminded a bit of Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files, in that the main character is a supernaturally-empowered P.I. with too much honor and not enough common sense for his own good. The books are atmospheric, and she really makes the time period and setting of late ’30s Chicago come alive, playing up the culture and historical backdrop. However, while the main character might be a vampire, it doesn’t really give off that vampire vibe. Jack wholeheartedly uses his powers to vanish, and to hypnotize, and even play around with strength and speed, but he has too much of a grip on his human self. There are times when he feels more like a mortal with special powers, than a romantic, bloodsucking figure of the night. I’m not so sure that the juxtaposition really works with him. He does hardboiled detective wonderfully, Jack does, but he doesn’t make the most intriguing of vampires.

It’s a shame I’m dissatisfied with that aspect of the series, because the two books I’ve read were compelling and complex, and quite enjoyable. They’re about 95% accessible to readers who haven’t seen the first seven or so in the series, which is good since it’s not easy to find the earlier books in the stores I’ve checked. Admittedly, there are interpersonal relationships, and events early on that influence how things unfold now, but the astute reader will catch up in no time. So all in all, Lady Crymsyn and Cold Streets are both wonderfully-written, dark (even noir) novels that are worth checking out if you like the supernatural P.I. subgenre (like I do), but as vampire novels, they come off a little weak in comparison to some of the others on my list.

Where the Jack Fleming books come off as a bit too familiar in terms of the vampire main character, Nancy Collin’s Darkest Heart, the newest Sonja Blue novel, treasts the vampire as something truly alien and monstrous. Sonja Blue is an unwilling vampire, possessed by a creature she calls “The Other”, a bloodthirsty beast that tears apart its prey, and does horrible things in the name of existence. Sonja exists in a world of restraint and self-loathing, slaying her fellow vampires and denying The Other its urges as best she can. Her world is a darkly supernatural funhouse, with demons and werewolves and much, much worse dwelling in the shadows.

For the sake of love and her humanity, Sonja is willing to die. But she’s not that lucky. Her attempt to chain The Other once and for all is, ultimately, a failure, and Sonja is forced to walk once more. There’s another vampire hunter out there, and his path is set to cross hers. Together, they’ll take on an ancient vampire and his assorted dark minions, unholy abominations and things that shouldn’t exist. They’ll challenge the boundaries of life and death, and Sonja will risk everything to atone for her mistakes.

Nancy Collins has the atmosphere down pat, and she captures the horrifying, addictively sensual, violent, ugly, Goth-romantic aspect of the vampire mythos with sadistic glee, tormenting the characters until they beg for mercy. Darkest Heart is morbidly fascinating, like an auto accident, or a gunshot wound on the news. I couldn’t put it down. This is hardcore vampire with all the blood and guts and nastiness you could ever want.

How long can you go with a vampiric protagonist without actually saying as much? How about an entire book? That’s what Steven Brust as much as does in Agyar, a skillfully-woven tale of passion, obsession, and desire that makes me wish I hadn’t already used my quota of the word “dark”. Agyar (he goes by a number of names, but this is his most common) is a drifter, a wanderer, a mysterious stranger who takes up residence in a haunted house in an Ohio college town. His story unfolds slowly, blossoming like some midnight flower, and we see firsthand the events that cause his well-ordered life to spiral into chaos. All for the sake of a woman, one might say. When he takes the wrong woman as a lover and a vessel from which to drink, he soon discovers that he’s brought new enemies into his life. What will Agyar do to protect himself, and to protect the girl he cares for? Ah, but that would be telling. The plot is deceptively simple, the writing evocative and sharp, and the characters fascinating. Agyar is almost the perfect “unvampire” novel, avoiding the term as much as it does, and conjuring up enough images to let the reader draw their own conclusions. This is definitely one of Brust’s best works, a rare departure from the more traditional fantasy (can anyone call the Taltos series traditional?) into the realm of horror. It’s hard to go into more detail without spoiling something vital. However, he manages to obtain a splendid blend of mystery and horror and romance, playing on the allure of the unknown and the magic of the concept. Try this one on the people who claim they don’t like vampires, and see what they say afterwards.

Shadows, Shards, and Sacrifices make up the Clan Lasombra trilogy, based on White Wolf’s flagship game, Vampire: The Masquerade. To give you some backstory, the first murderer (Caine) was also the first vampire, cursed by God. All vampires can trace themselves back to him, though they divide themselves into Clans, each one having shared strengths and weaknesses, all but a few exceptions tracing their lineage back to the so-called Third Generation. The older the vampire, the more powerful and more inhuman they’ve become. Furthermore, the majority are associated with one of two societies: the Camarilla (who advocate humanity’s ignorance) and the Sabbat (who advocate humanity’s enslavement). Admittedly, those viewpoints are rather simplified. As it stands, Vampire tried to balance the political mechinations of the older vampires, with the struggle to retain the humanity of the younger ones.

A few years back, White Wolf released their Clan Novels series, a thirteen book series that brought upheaval to their setting. Spinning out of this is Clan Trilogy: Lasombra, which features one of the pivotal characters from the first series, Lucita, a thousand-year-old member of Clan Lasombra, whose members control and have an affinity for shadows, and who act as a mainstay of the Sabbat. At long last, Lucita is free of her powerful sire, the inhuman vampire known as Moncada. For her, it’s a blessed release. For the rest of her Clan, it’s trouble waiting to happen. They’ll do anything to find and eliminate the threat they percieve her as. But other, darker, deadlier plans are afoot in the Lasombra, including an attempt to resurrect their long-dead founder and namesake, a creature of unimaginable power and appetite which could destroy them all before turning them into dinner.

The Clan Lasombra trilogy has some good things, and some bad things, going for it. On the positive side, Bruce Baugh really does capture the inhumanity and the complex plotting of these immortal creatures. He also has the setting down pat, able to produce a multi-layered, intriguing tale set in the World of Darkness. This series, and the setting, really do play up the bizarre nature and stranger powers of the vampires, as well as the detachment they begin to feel as their affinity for humanity slips away over centuries or millenia, and their slow evolution into something far more terrifying. As well, we see what sort of mechinations and plots can come about when one has eternity to plan and the patience to outlive his enemies. On the down side, I felt that this series wasn’t the best one for newcomers to the setting to start with. Not only does the trilogy spin out of another series, but it seems to assume at least a passing familiarity with the source material. I hadn’t read the Clan Novel: Lasombra, and so felt a little behind the times for this, despite the promising premise and Baugh’s obvious skills. The Clan Lasombra trilogy is moody and complex, and a great series for those already well-versed with the World of Darkness, but it’s not one I’d choose to initiate non-fans with.

On the other hand, there’s the second book in the Victorian Age Vampire trilogy, The Madness of Priests by Philippe Boulle. Continuing the bizarre adventures of Regina Blake as she attempts to save her mother from a dangerous society of vampiric blood sorcerers, this book sees Regina and her mentor, Victoria Ash, descend further into a world of hidden sins and private damnations. Vampires are real, and they mimic the surface world with a mock court, paying homage to a Prince of their very own, tugging the strings of mortal society with an eye towards preserving their own existence, and making it more comfortable. Secret societies abound in this last years of the 19th Century, not all of them run by humans. Caught up in all of this are Regina’s father, and her fiancee, who may already have been lost to the seductive schemes of one such group. Little does Regina know the true purpose her mother, once thought dead, now known to be entrapped by the vampires known as the Order of Tremere, has been groomed for. When Regina stumbles across a vampiric religious fanatic, the charismatic Father Anatole, her quest could end prematurely.

Even someone not familiar with the World of Darkness setting can pick up on the material in no time, here. Even though we’re treated to a much more in-depth study of vampiric society, it’s generally done with one of a few outsiders, including Regina, as the point of view characters. Through her eyes, it’s all a little stranger and more exotic, secrets of the Victorian age hidden behind a half-drawn curtain. It helps to start with the first in the trilogy, A Morbid Initiation, but even so, this is a nicely accessible book. It invokes a number of Victorian themes, including repressed eroticism, the fascination with the occult, the fascination with farflung lands like Egypt or India, and of course, that day/night dichotomy. Anyone who likes their vampires “classic” will probably get a kick out of this series.

Another recent find, Dhampir by Barb and J.C. Hendee, is interesting for a rather different take on the vampire mythos, as well as for translating them over to a pure fantasy setting. For some reason, vampires work best when posed against the modern world, so it’s always disconcerting to see them in a fantasy or even science fiction world. In this case, it seems to work.

Magiere and her partner, the half-elf Leesil, wander the land, acting as vampire slayers for hire, taking whatever the grateful villagers can afford to pay her in exchange for ridding them of the nocturnal horrors that stalk them. However, what no one realizes is that for all the flash and show and effort, Magiere and Leesil are really, quite simply, running a con game. There are no vampires. There’s only Magiere, Leesil, and their canine companion, Chap. But after years of the game, Magiere’s ready to settle down, buy a tavern, and live an honest life for once. Leesil, less thrifty, is none too pleased by this, but would rather stay with his only friend than leave her. So it’s off to the city of Miiska, and to that honest life.

Small problem. Miiska is home to a pack of powerful vampires, and they’re definitely unhappy to have a vampire slayer moving into town. Magiere will have to live up to the reputation she falsely created, master abilities she never knew she possessed, and tap into her heritage to destroy the monsters of Miiska. Luckily, she has Leesil, whose own history is shadowed and more dangerous then he ever let on, and Chap, who’s more than a mere dog, to back her up. As well, there’s a stranger who knows more about Magiere than she herself does, and he has his own agenda for vampires and slayer alike.

Dhampir is a clever and well-told tale that has more than a few twists, the least of which is the one spoiled above. Set up to allow sequels, it’s still a great stand-alone that finds a fairly new way to approach vampires in a believable fantasy world that oozes with atmosphere and begs for more exploration. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I’m hoping we’ll see more from the Hendees soon.

If there was a championship title bout among vampires, then the undisputed champion through sheer popularity, staying power, number of interpretations, and cultural recognition would clearly be Dracula. That’s why it’s hardly surprising to see The Ultimate Dracula, an anthology released by iBooks and originally published in 1991. In this collection, Dracula and his legend are retold and reinterpreted by nineteen masters of the genre. Notables include Anne Rice, Philip Jose Farmer, Dan Simmons, Ed Gorman, Lawrence Watt-Evans, Mike Resnick, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, and John Gregory Betancourt. Leonard Wolf’s insightful and information introduction, and a selected filmography detailing some of the best or more noteworthy versions of Dracula to hit the silver screen, are added bonuses for the anthology. Though every anthology is naturally touch and go, hit and miss, according to individual tastes, this particular collection has a rather nice number of standout talents, and enough variety among authors and stories to appeal to almost any fan of the vampire genre. Noteworthy stories, in my mind, include Edward Hoch’s chillingly historic “Dracula 1944″, which has the Lord of the Vampires visiting a Nazi work camp during the later part of World War II, and Heather Graham’s fang-in-cheek “The Vampire In His Closet”, where a writer goes looking for inspiration. These stories represent the opposite ends of the thematic and mood spectrum one’ll find in The Ultimate Dracula.

Last, but certainly not least, in this parade of the damned, is The Best of Dreams of Decadence. Dreams of Decadence is a vampire-only poetry and fiction magazine that’s been around for the better part opf a decade, acting as one of the flagship titles for DNA Publications, which also owns Weird Tales. Over the years, it’s changed size and format, always getting larger and better, and for a while it routinely sold out through the Hot Topics chain of ‘trend’ stores, until Hot Topics themselves started moving away from the Gothic focus. Collected here are some of the very best of a consistently quality vampire magazine, which is, if not one of a kind, at least one of the more persistent and notable of its kind. Authors represented include Sarah A. Hoyt, Sharon Lee, Wendy Rathbone, Laura Anne Gilman, Tippi N. Blevins, Tanith Lee, Lawrence Watt-Evans, Josepha Sherman, Brian Stableford, and DNA Publications publisher Warren Lapine. All in all, several dozen stories and poems are presented, in most cases reprinted for the very first time, and they really do represent the vast potential of the vampire genre. If you like vampires, and you like variety, this collection may be right up your alley. It’s got something for everyone, and it proves there’s still way too much life left in an undead field.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I hear my books calling. They demand … fresh victims.

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Once Upon a Time When the Princess Rescued the Prince, by Rosemary Lake (Dragon Tree Press, 2002)

Jul 20

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fairy Tales, Folklore & Mythology, Fantasy, Non-Fiction & Reference, Short Fiction, Young Adult | No Comments

I’m of mixed opinions where Once Upon a Time… is concerned. On the one hand, I really, really, really wanted to like this. I am a sucker for retold fairy tales; nothing draws me to a book quicker than the claim that it’s based on a fairy tale, especially the ones that haven’t been done to death by Disney. I also like fairy tales with a twist, where the heroine is just as clever and persistent and resourceful and capable of success as the hero. So the thought of a collection of fairy tales with “new, smart, strong heroines” tickled my fancy. Unfortunately, I was left feeling kind of, well, eh, after reading this one.

Don’t get me wrong. Rosemary Lake knows what she’s doing in terms of research and source material; the resource notes after every tale and the bibliography show that she’s drawn inspiration from a wide variety of sources, and her ability to tailor stories to a fourth grade reading level is quite respectable. Her retellings of “The Glass Mountain,” “The Boy Who Cried Wolf,” “Little Red Riding Hood,” “The Boy Who Could Not Shudder” and others really is inspired. Sometimes she retells a story fairly close to the original, sometimes she adds new elements and makes the main character female, sometimes she cobbles together multiple stories, and sometimes she diverges significantly. I took a peek at her Web site and was impressed by the sheer number and variety of stories available, the resource links, the notations linking each story to specific character traits or special purposes, and the overall usefulness of the site for educators and parents.

So what’s my problem? I think the stories are too easy. Too quick, too light, too much like the original material in terms of slaphazard character motivation and lack of depth, and well… they just lack the things I’ve come to look for in retold fairy tales. I’m worried that Lake may be aiming too low in terms of reader abilities; after all, these are the same kids reading Harry Potter. Certainly it’s not expecting too much of them to add a little more complexity to the stories. I think the kids can take the challenge.

So the bottom line is that as useful, interesting, and downright neat as Once Upon a Time… may be, it just didn’t do much for me. As a researcher and folklorist, Lake is clearly quite good. As a storyteller, she needs to challenge her audience a little more. But that’s just my opinion. If I can find an average fourth grader to use as a test subject, I may be back with more. Ultimately, I’m going to recommend this, with reservations. I think Lake is on the right track, but I also think that the stories could be told in a stronger way.

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30th Anniversary DAW: Fantasy, edited by Elizabeth R. Wollheim and Sheila E. Gilbert, (DAW, 2002)

Jul 20

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fantasy, Short Fiction, Urban Fantasy | No Comments

For over thirty years, DAW Books have been releasing some of the best science fiction and fantasy books in the field, a tradition of consistency and excellence that has given them a well-deserved reputation. To celebrate their thirty years in business, and to honor the memory of their founder, Donald A. Wollheim (DAW, get it?), DAW decided to release a pair of anthologies containing new stories by some of the best and most prominent authors to work with the company over the years.

For the longest time, I was torn on how exactly to look at this book. I could talk about the history of DAW, but there’s a very nice essay in the beginning of both collections which goes into the full story: How Donald Wollheim, long-time editor for Ace Books back in the ’50s and ’60s decided to risk his career and his savings to start a publishing company of his own, aided by his wife Elsie and daughter Betsy, and how they managed to keep the dream alive long enough for it to become a full-blown realization. How DAW survived the losses of Elsie and Donald, and managed to keep plugging away nonetheless, thanks to Betsy, and Shiela Gilbert (who joined in 1985), and how even today, it remains a tight family-run company, twenlve hundred books and thirty years later. No, the personal recollections of Betsy and Shiela tell the story far better than I can, and even provide some nice insight into the publishing world as it was, and as it is.

So what, then? Do I approach this like I would any other anthology? That hardly seems fair, given that this is something special, a birthday party and anniversary celebration rolled into one. You don’t treat your parents’ thirtieth anniversary like some weekend party thrown by a buddy, and you don’t treat a bunch of old friends the same way you might talk to a group of relative strangers. Most anthologies are either invite-only (which means a small, select group known to the editor) or come out of open submissions (which is roughly equivalent to casting a play or movie: for everyone you know, there’s a few strangers or newcomers). The DAW anthologies are more like family reunions, because every single contributing author is part of the farflung DAW family.

Okay, so what we have is a family reunion/anniversary/birthday get-together. That much is settled. There are no real overarcing themes to connect the stories; rather, every author was left to their own devices to turn in what they thought would best represent not only their own work, but also DAW Books in general. The eighteen fantasy authors are presented in chronological order according to when they first signed with DAW. Fittingly, the first story is by Grandmaster Andre Norton, whose Spell of the Witch World was the first book ever published by DAW.

The list of authors who’ve followed that beginning is like a Who’s Who of the field: Michael Shae, Tanith Lee, Christopher Stasheff, Jennifer Roberson, Mercedes Lackey, Mickey Zucker Reichart, Tanya Huff, Melanie Rawn, Deborah J. Ross, Larry Dixon, Irene Radford, Marjorie B. Kellogg, Jane Fancher, Michelle West, Fiona Patton, Kristen Brittain, and Lynn Abbey. Not too shabby. Go to any bookstore, look in the SF/Fantasy section, and you’ll see a fair amount by these authors. Jennifer Roberson’s Chronicles of the Cheysuli and Sword Dancer series are popular and long-running. Mercedes Lackey takes up most of a shelf all by herself with the Valdemar books and assorted spin-offs and separate series. Mickey Zucker Reichart tends to put out fat volumes of her Renshai series every few years, while Tanya Huff has produced fantasy, science fiction, and urban fantasy/horror with equal skill. I could go on, but for the most part, these authors’ careers speak for themselves. DAW is in the business of producing quality, and they’ve certainly discovered or encouraged their fair share of standouts in the field.

I didn’t read every story in the 30th Anniversary collection. Honestly, I’m not sure who could. Eighteen stories, in 420 pages, written by eighteen different authors? Rather, let’s accept that there’s something for everyone, representing a wide variety of tastes and styles. Some of these authors don’t appeal to me anymore, some never did, and some are only now growing on me. But there are a few for whom I’ll always be there.

Of the stories, I’d have to say that Mercedes Lackey’s After Midnight is the most whimsical and tongue-in-cheek. Rather than give us a serious short story, she turns in a hilarious, self-aware tale of The Author Tormented By Her Characters. Let’s just say it’s payback for the horrible fates, crushed feet, immolated heroes, lovelorn lasses, angsting anti-heroes, bad accents, reincarnated rogues, and unselfishly sacrificed lives. For those who’ve read Lackey’s Valdemar books in specific, they’ll understand where the characters might have … issues. So what’s an author to do, especially having written herself into the story? That, my friends, would be telling.

Mickey Zucker Reichart’s claim to fame: Her parents were rocket scientists, and she -has- performed brain surgery. She’s also written numerous novels. For her contribution to this collection, she revisits the infamous rogue Nightfall (from the standalone Legend of Nightfall) in “Nightfall’s Promise”. In a world where rare people are blessed (or cursed) with natal talents (anything from controlling mass and density to creating fire to telepathy and so on), there’s both danger and promise in using said talents. There’s also a nasty trend for people to kill said talented and ritually steal their talents. And when Nightfall is forced to pay back a favor, he’s drawn into a deadly mystery involving a young boy whose talent could spell end the for Nightfall’s career … and life.

Larry Dixon, Mercedes Lackey’s husband and writing partner, turns in a story of his own, “A Perfect Day In Valdemar”. It’s notable that this is one of his very few solo efforts; most of his writing has been in collaborating with Mercedes, and he’s better known as an illustrator in many circles. But with this story, he proves that he can stand on his own, as he tells the story of sacrifice and bonding on the battlefront. A man and a gryphon have both been grievously wounded in battle, and as they recover in the Healer’s tent, they learn a lot about each other. When they’re called on to make a profound sacrifice, who will be up for the challenge? This is a tale that rings on a personal level, its strength resting on the characterization and depth of the protagonists. And, in some ways, it’s assured me that Larry really can hold up his end of the writing, something that I admit I doubted once upon a time. Now I’m looking forward to the day when he write a solo novel, just to see what he can do.

Tanya Huff is another author I’ve followed for quite some time. I’ve not yet decided what field she works in best: Her urban fantasy novels have always had a distinctive flair to them, especially her Keeper series, but her fantasy books (such as the Quarters series) and science fiction (Valor’s Choice, for instance) are equally entertaining. She has a talent for short stories, and for humor, as seen with “We Two May Meet.” When the world’s foremost wizard is magically split in two, each half containing all the powers but gravitating towards an opposite extreme of personality, the two will have to work together if they want to protect the world. But are they protecting it from outside forces … or each other? Never before has psychoanalysis been so vital, or a sub-basement portal to Hell been so dangerous. This is a genuinely enjoyable story, and a standout even for this book.

There’s a lot more. Jennifer Roberson’s “Ending and Beginning” offers a tantalizing look at her next big series, Karavans. Andre Norton’s “Sow’s Ear – Silk Purse” shows that she’s still a writer to be reckoned with. And Lynn Abbey’s “It’s About Squirrels” is a humorous look at South Florida, pallbearer squirrels, surge protectors, serial suicide, and brownies (of the faerie and stupid variety).

So what’s the verdict? This is one family reunion that you shouldn’t miss. There really is something for everyone in here, with so many authors representing such a wide spectrum of the fantasy world. It -is- interesting, as a sidenote, that of the eighteen authors, only three are male. Does this mean women make better fantasy authors, or that DAW is more opening to female authories, or that they’re just more successful? Who knows, but it’s an interesting little thing to consider.

I highly recommend the DAW 30th Anniversary collection. It and its Science Fiction brother look great on the shelf, and you get quite a lot for your money. Special credit goes to the lovely, yet simplistic cover design (by G-Force Design) which captures the eclectic essence of both volumes without being distracting.

Dreaming Down-Under, edited by Jack Dann and Janeen Webb (Tor, 2002)

Jul 20

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fantasy, Science Fiction, Short Fiction, Urban Fantasy | No Comments

Originally released in 1998, Dreaming Down-Under is one of those ambitious volumes which attempts to not just expand the limits and boundaries of the speculative fiction range of genres, but to shatter them altogether, much like Dangerous Visions did in 1967, and Redshift attempted to in 2001. The unifying theme of this particular anthology is that all of the authors collected within are Australian, and the suggestion is that just as the United States and England produced the groundbreaking “New Wave” movement of the late ’60s, Australian speculative fiction (fantasy, science fiction, horror, and all blends thereof) is blazing new trails today. Several dozen authors. 200,000 words of original fiction, and 20,000 more of commentary and notes. The limit? Imagination itself.

This is a mixed bag, in all honesty. With such an open-ended theme, and no real set guidelines, the authors were free to go where the winds took them, each one turning out whatever he or she felt best exemplified their work, and best represented the massive quantum shift of Australian speculative fiction potential. I don’t think anyone could read every single story and enjoy them. Rather, each story is a different gem, sparkling and shining and glittering. Some catch the eye, others don’t. Some look good when held up to the light, others require a different sort of appreciation.

That said, I can admit that there are some extremely powerful stories presented, the sort to return to over and over, and to contemplate while waiting to fall asleep late at night. David J. Lake’s powerful pastiche/homage to Wells’ “The Time Machine,” entitled “The Truth About Weena,” addresses the pesky problem of parallel timelines, the dangers of time travel, and the philosophical ramifications of attempting to change history, both present and future.

Rowena Cory Lindquist gives us a gripping tale of family, love, loyalty, and growing up, in “Prelude To A Nocturne.” What happens when we’re able to control and prevent the onset of puberty and all its distractions, and how could it affect society and the way we relate to people? This story drives the sociologist in me nuts with the potential, and Lindquist really brings out the depths of her characters and the profound way the creation of a new kind of minority affects the status quo.

Jane Routley’s “Avalon” is a short but sweet tale of magic in the English countryside, where everything is up for speculation, and only the sheep know what secrets the Glastonbury Tor might hold.

Aaron Sterns gives us a feverish story of the subways, a disturbing, secretive world under our own, where things are decidedly not as they appear, in “The Third Rail.”

Sean McMullen’s “Queen of Soulmates” melds mathematical precision with magical destruction, showing what happens when an apocalyptic weapon is activated by a man too proud to accept the consequences. But in the midst of the end of the world (or what might be such), will human nature prevail, or capitulate?

Ian Nichols brings back sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll for a one night stand in “The Last Dance.” It’s hot, sweaty, dizzy, and magical, with scenes reminiscent of Emma Bull’s musical sequences in War For The Oaks.

In “Descent,” Cecily Scutt gives us a short but profound look at Hell as a nursing home (or is that a nursing home as Hell), blending the real and unreal with such deft precision that the seams are impossible to define.

“A Walk-On Part In The War”, by Stephen Dedman, reinterprets the role of Odysseus and the Trojan Horse in the ancient Greek sagas, adding a twist that very few will see coming … especially not the Trojans.

And in “Wired Dreaming,” Paul Collins gives us a gritty cybernoir tale of murder and justice, centered around a hard-boiled cop with a secret past and a reason to see certain people get what they deserve.

There’s a lot more. I’ve barely touched the surface of what Dreaming Down-Under has to offer in pointing out these particular stories. Whether your tastes run to fantasy or science fiction, to grim and gritty, or dark and disturbing, or magical and mirthful, there’s a little something for everyone. These are the inventive, imaginative, trailblazing, wallshattering tastes of speculative fiction on the edge. This isn’t safe, predictable, or familiar. I promise that the stories in Dreaming Down-Under will make you think, make you challenge preconceptions, and even make you seek out something different next time you’re in the store.

For its unique role in offering a wide variety of work that goes against the grain and is bound to expose the readers to something new, I recommend Dreaming Down-Under. Maybe you won’t like it all, but it’s worth checking out nonetheless, before you go back to the safe and comfortable.

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The Bordertown Series (1986-1998)

Jul 20

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Elves & Fairies, Short Fiction, Urban Fantasy, Young Adult | No Comments

Borderland, edited by Terri Windling and Mark Alan Arnold (Tor, 1986)
Bordertown, edited by Terri Windling and Mark Alan Arnold (Tor, 1986)
Life On The Border, edited by Terri Windling (Tor, 1991)
Finder, by Emma Bull (Tor, 1994)
Elsewhere, by Will Shetterly (Tor, 1991)
Nevernever, by Will Shetterly (Tor, 1993)
The Essential Bordertown, edited by Terri Windling and Dalia Sherman (Tor, 1998)

“Where Magic Meets Rock & Roll”

Once upon a time, in a far off land much like our own, there was magic. Then, one day, it was gone, and the world was a much drearier place for it. But we coped.

Then the magic returned, and the world was changed forever. Once again, the lands of Faerie bordered the lands of Man, and in the middle, there arose Bordertown, from the ashes of an unnamed mortal city. It was a place of magic, music, excitement, hope, dreams, energy, death, despair, hopelessness, nightmares, heroes and villains, men and monsters, and above all, people. A living, thriving town full of unpredictable wonders and untamable shadows. The bastard child of Haight-Ashbury and SoHo and Hollywood, the black sheep cousin of Underhill and Arcadia and Tir Na’Nog, the seductive and disreputable and scandalous older cousin your parents always told you to stay away from.

In short, the perfect place for runaways from both sides of the Curtain to run to. The only real place where humans and the Fae (the Trueblood) could interact on something resembling remote terms, Bordertown attracted all sorts of people. The starstruck, the dreamers, the hopeless and helpless, the runaways, those obsessed with the Fae, the predators. And that’s where it all begins … in Bordertown.

Back in the mid-80s, New American Library wanted a fantasy anthology series comparable to the then-popular Thieves World. They contracted editors Terri Windling and Mark Alan Arnold for the job, and didn’t realize until too late that they’d created a monster. They wanted Thieves World. They got the Summer of Love mixed with Thomas the Rhymer and some serious social issues for flavor.

Windling and Arnold brought in some of the best in the urban fantasy field to help them flesh out their new world. Ellen Kushner, Charles de Lint, Emma Bull, Will Shetterly, Midori Synder, Craig Shaw Gardner and more all contributed. Bellamy Bach, an author who contributed to several of the anthologies, was actually a pseudonym shared by a number of New York-based creative talents, and it has since been revealed that the true author of all Bordertown-related Bach stories (and only the Bordertown stories!) was Terri Windling herself. Later, with the third book,Life on the Border, the series moved from NAL to Tor, where they’ve been ever since. And while authors have come and gone, the true inspiration behind the series, Terri Windling, has remained a constant as editor and occasional author.

There are seven books in all: four anthologies, one solo book by Emma Bull, and two solo books by Will Shetterly. Together, they comprise the down-and-dirty, nitty-gritty, flight-of-fancy grunge-rock-punk ballad known as Bordertown. How can I describe it? It’s a stylized vision of New York in the ’80s, leather-and-lace big-hair bands, and the Wild West, all rolled into one. Youth gangs, runaways, flamboyant rock-and-roll bands, Elven court politics, people seeking their dreams … it was all there. You could find your heart, lose your soul, find your dreams, lose your way, and always come back to the beginning, in Bordertown.

Terri Windling’s essay on the creation and history of Bordertown goes into much more detail, so I’ll let her tell that story through the link below. Let’s get on to the books themselves.

Borderland was the first, the introduction to a world where elves and humans shared an uneasy peace in a city teeming with music, magic, and unpredictability. We soon realize that just because they live together, they don’t always like one another. Because of the nature of the city, magic and technology work equally poorly, often fizzling with dangerous results. For every hero, there’s someone to play the predator. And still, hope perseveres.

Stephen Boyett turns in “Prodigy,” a symbolic and literal introduction to the world of Bordertown. Six years after the Change, a mortal city remains chaotic, transformed and devastated by forces beyond mortal comprehension. Scooter, a musician and wanderer, provides a symbol of hope to those people who make their home in the city, giving them music and the magic of music.

Terri Windling, as Bellamy Bach, gives us a story of a more “modern-day” Bordertown, “many years after” the previous story. Evocative and dangerous, “Grey” is a mystery that starts with blood under the fingernails, and ends with a song and a farewell. In between, there’s excitement, personal growth, and a curse. What more can you ask for?

Charles de Lint gives us “Stick,” about a ferret-owning, Harley-riding enigmatic hero of few words, a John Wayne hermit-warrior who rescues a girl from a pack of Truebloods, and winds up with trouble of his own.

Finally, Ellen Kushner tells the story of “Charis,” a mortal girl fascinated by elves, who gets involved in a little romance and a lot of political intrigue.

Bordertown continues the saga. Emma Bull and Will Shetterly join the team in “Danceland,” introducing us to characters such as Tick-Tick, Orient, Wolfboy, and Caramel. Excitement, danger, and murder abound in the club called Danceland. Note these characters, as they’ll appear again in Shetterly and Bull’s solo novels.

Midori Snyder’s contribution is “Demon,” which fleshes out Dragontown, and a whole new host of dangers and thrills. Then you have “Exile,” by Bellamy Bach, and “Mockery,” by Bach and Ellen Kushner. Both are excellent tales as we’ve come to expect from such accomplished authors.

Life on the Border turns the volume to 11, cranking up the energy and enthusiasm as the authors really hit their groove. It’s like the song right before intermission, when the music’s clearly gotten into the blood, and everyone’s dancing.

Ellen Kushner contributes “Lost in the Mail I-IX,” a story split into nine parts, scattered between the rest of the stories in the collection, and written in the form of a series of letters sent home by a young runaway, who experiences the glory and despair that best represents Bordertown.

Will Shetterly gives us “Nevernever,” a story of the popular Wolfboy, Bordertown’s only full-time half-man half-wolf. Charles de Lint recounts the story of “Berlin,” while Midori Snyder tells “Alison Gross,” a spooky little story half-based on the ballad of the same name. Witj Kara Dalkey, Bellamy Bach, Emma Bull, Craig Shaw Gardner and Michael Korolenko all throwing in their own dreams and nightmares as well, this volume is one of the best of an outstanding series.

Elsewhere is the first full-length Bordertown book. Starring Ron, aka Wolfboy, it’s the story about how a confused teen ran away from the World (mortal, that is), braved the dangers of the Nevernever, and came to Bordertown. Before he’s done finding himself, he’ll find love and hate, love and death, sanctuary and oppression, and one of the best bookstores in existence, Elsewhere. Oh, and he’ll get a little curse slapped on him, making him Wolfboy, one of a kind in a city that thrives on the unique. From the residents of Castle Pup, to the hallucinatory and obsessed Wharf Rats (who drink the Mad River and are all a little nuts for it), Ron will meet a host of fascinating characters.

Nevernever is the sequel to Elsewhere, continuing Ron’s story and throwing him muzzle-first into more danger and excitement than you can shake a guitar at. Secrets revealed, mysteries explained, and oh, of course, music and dancing and energy in the air.

Finder is Emma Bull’s solo novel, and it picks up on her characters of Tick-Tick (an elf) and Orient (a human with the ability to find anyone, or anything … hence the name). When a cop named Sunny Rico hires Orient to find a killer, it draws them all into a web of drugs, conspiracy, and desperate survival. A plague that affects only Elvish-blooded people threatens the life of Tick-Tick, and it’s a race against time to pull the threads together and save the day. But not everyone will walk away in the end…. This is right up there withWar For The Oaks in terms of quality and ambition, using the urban-fantastical landscape of Bordertown to tell a story of love, hate, dreams, and obsession. Hard-boiled and heartbreaking, it’s worth the cover charge and more.

Finally, we come to The Essential Bordertown: A Traveller’s Guide to the Edge of Faerie, the last of the anthologies in the series, and definitely the show-stopping finale to the whole shebang. Some old friends are back for the final number, such as Charles de Lint, Ellen Kushner, and Midori Snyder. And look, they brought new friends, like Elizabeth Kushner, Steven Brust, Felicity Savage, Patricia McKillip, and more. With new co-editor Delia Sherman, Windling delivers something satisfying and invigorating. With faux guidebook articles about Bordertown interspersed between the stories, on subjects such as Elven Etiquette, The Music Scene, What To Eat, and How To Get There, it’s better than Fodor’s and more intriguing than Lonely Planet.

So what’s the appeal of Bordertown? It has many. It is by far one of the best shared universe collections out there. It’s a superb example of the potential held by urban fantasy. It contains work by some of the genre’s best writers. And it touches upon universal subjects such as the desire to find one’s real self, the need to stretch and explore and grow, the love of music … it resonates. Fifteen years after worlds collided and magic first met rock and roll, Bordertown is still going strong, having captured itself a place in our subconscious and never letting go.

In short, it’s damned good stuff. The only way to truly experience it is to go out there, and actually pick up a copy. While most of the books are hard to find,The Essential Bordertown is recent enough that you should be able to find a copy. The others may take work, but are definitely worth the effort. The settings and characters are rich and filled with complex depths; they are evocative, and just plain -neat-. Who wouldn’t want to visit Bordertown? It’s like Oz, except a lot grungier, much more dangerous, and with much better music.

Just watch yourself, and remember, it’s never as easy as it seems.

Wizards, edited by Jennifer Schwamm Willis (Thunder’s Mouth Press, 2001)

Jul 20

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fantasy, Short Fiction, Urban Fantasy | No Comments

I’m of two minds regarding this interesting anthology. The first thought is that it really is quite lovely, and the editor does a splendid job of collecting the old and unusual for the lineup of “stories of mischief, magic, and mayhem.” The second thought is that it’s like eating an entire meal, but only half of each course. It’s enjoyable and delightful, but ultimately unfulfilling. Why’s that, you ask? It’s because, unlike most collections of this sort, Wizards primarily contains excerpts from older works. Not full stories, but a chapter here and a selection there. Of nineteen offerings, all of six have the beginning, middle, and end of a real story. The rest were taken from longer works.

The selections, as well, are somewhat on the esoteric side. The oldest of these are taken from the epic poems of Beowulf (translated by Seamus Heaney) and The Odyssey (translated by Allen Mandelbaum), with the former detailing Beowulf’s conversation with the dragon, and the latter telling of Odysseus versus the witch Circe. Already we’re off to an interesting start, pulling from such old sources.

Two selections from E. Nesbit, respectively from Five Children and It and The Book of Beasts, bring us closer to the modern day, drawing from what many might consider one of the best and classic writers for young adults in the Victorian era. The first describes how the five children in question disturbed a sand fairy, a Psammead, and gained a wish a day as a result, the first wish coming with unexpected consequences. The second story is one of the few complete tales in this anthology, and shows what happens when a disobedient boy becomes king and opens a book he really should not have, and does so several times. As Jennifer Willis states, Nesbit “wrote some of the world’s best stories about bored children looking for something to do and finding it.”

Certainly, the themes are unmissable, and they carry over to some of the other authors represented in the book, for instance, the selection from C. S. Lewis’ The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, in which the irrepressibly curious Lucy explores a curious old wardrobe and finds a magical land wreathed in eternal winter, ruled over by the dangerous White Queen. There’s a part from Philippa Pearce’s Tom’s Midnight Garden, where a young boy recovering from measles but suffering from insomnia discovers a world of ghosts, existing only in the hour when the clock strikes an impossible thirteen, late at night. And there’s a portion from George MacDonald’s At The Back of the North Wind, where young Diamond shares bizarre nocturnal adventures with the whimsical, capricious, shapeshifting North Wind herself. Willis even includes the beginning of Edward Eager’s Half Magic, a tale pointedly inspired by E. Nesbit, in which four children run afoul of a coin which can apparently grant wishes, but not entirely as one would expect.

Lewis Carroll is represented, with Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, reprinting the sequence in which poor Alice attends a surreal tea party, and comes away none the wiser and a whole lot more confused. Margery Williams’ charming story of The Velveteen Rabbit is included in full, telling the tale of a stuffed rabbit who, like Pinnochio, seeks to one day become Real.

Fairy tales get their due, with the entirety of The Snow Queen, as told by Hans Christian Anderson and adapted by Amy Ehrlich. It’s the story of two friends, and the lengths to which one is forced to go when the dreaded Snow Queen kidnaps the other, who’s been blinded in the eyes and heart by shards of the Devil’s mirror.

T. H. White has not one but two contributions. The first is a full story, “The Troll,” and the second recounts Wart’s first meeting with Merlyn in The Once and Future King. Meanwhile, Russian author Nicholai Gogol’s bizarre story of “The Nose” appears in full, but shoots itself in the foot by not only pointing out all the logical gaps, but going so far as to handwave them away as though they don’t matter. Why call attention to such things, if only to dismiss them?

Mark Helprin’s “A Jew of Persia” rounds out the selections from more mainstream authors, while the beginning pages of Roald Dahl’s The Witches, and the opening of Jane Yolen’s Wizard’s Hall finish off offerings from books aimed more at young readers. While there are similarities to be noticed between Wizard’s Hall (written in 1991) and Harry Potter, it would be impossible to mistake one for the other after more than a minute’s reading.

A selection from A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. LeGuin finishes off the straight fantasy selections.

What we have, then, is a diverse collection of excerpts and short stories, all featuring magic (although the piece from Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden is clearly figurative magic, not literal) and young protagonists (except for the few stories featuring adults instead). Therein lies the problem: this collection doesn’t seem to know what it wants to be. Is it all about young adults and children as protagonists? Not entirely. Is it all about real magic and fantasy? Not exactly. Is it representative of a specific time period? The Victorian era, more than any, but with ancient epic poetry and stories written within the past fifteen years, it’s not that either.

Frankly, I really did enjoy this anthology, but at the same time, an inability to label it frustrated me, and the fact that I’ll have to go hunting down another dozen books to find out how many of these stories continue and end also makes it more of a tease than a satisfying book should be. It’s a sampler, and a good one at that, but as a stand-alone it really didn’t hold up well. It’s great for pointing readers towards many other deserving books, but be warned that it doesn’t quite finish what it starts, in terms of what it offers. Decide for yourself whether this one is what you want, or whether you’re better off just seeking out the works of E. Nesbit, T. H. White, Philippa Pierce, Edward Eager, and all the rest on their own.

Dreams of the Compass Rose, by Vera Nazarian (Wildside Press, 2002)

Jul 19

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fantasy, Short Fiction | No Comments

In the shifting sands and tempestuous oceans of the lands of the Compass Rose, all the secrets of the world are hidden. They twist and turn and intertwine in a complex, delicate dance throughout the ages, coming full circle time and again. The dreams of gods and the lives of mortals overlap, and the death of a culture is the birth of something entirely new.

This is a world of desert empires, bold bandits, prideful princesses, faithful-unto-death followers, age-old oaths, immortal ships, and magic. Vera Nazarian has captured a rare and special kind of beauty in the tales that make up the entirety of Dreams of the Compass Rose. Fourteen stories in all detail key moments and players in the long and intricate history of the Compass Rose and all its many realms, from the mysterious island of Amarantea which floats at the edge of the world, to Livais, the city of blasphemers which is transformed into pure gold; from the slain realm of Risei which births a goddess, to the Kingdom of the Middle which holds ancient secrets; from the insanely shifting city of No-Sleep where the dreams of its ruler determine its very nature from day to day, to the End of the World, which is both nearer and further away than anyone could ever guess.

We’re introduced to an ever-changing cast of characters whose paths crisscross through the ages, transforming from man to god to legend to myth and finally into mystery. Ris the Trickster, who is both goddess and mortal, messiah and trickster; Nadir, whose faith in intangible things leads him into a lifetime of servitude under and beside a cruel dark princess; Lero, insane captain of the Eye of Sun, who bargains with gods for her ship’s invulnerability; Belta Digh, who forces a negotiation between brash mortals, and Death herself; Annaelit, the Teller of Tales, who discovers the true price for mocking the gods; Yaro, who risks madness during Carnival when she confronts the Lord of Illusions; Prince Lirheas, who makes a decidedly odd choice for marriage and thus buries the seed for what will one day be called Amarantea; the mighty _tagavor_ who conquers the known world, slays an entire race, and begins an age-old cycle of mystery and treachery; the brilliant woman called ‘you with the knowing eyes’ who in truth discovers the secret about the extent of the world’s reach. These people and more are interwoven together through the centuries, from the earliest days of a desert empire, to the far-flung days when all that remains is an ocean and legends.

Each story is a gem in itself, a self-contained modern myth with a certain unique flavor. It’s as though the lands of the Thousand and One Nights had collided with the worlds of L. Frank Baum, producing a story cycle with an Ozian undertone and an Arabian accent. Take one story at a time, and savor the rich language, the images, and the archetypical characters which populate it. Read them all, and trace the patterns of man vs god, truth vs illusion, reality vs legend, appearing over and over in different guises.

Vera Nazarian’s choice of words is exact and haunting, from the “ocean of steel and mauve sun-glitter upon cool waters” to the “pungent flavor and fable” and all points in-between. Most importantly, she’s crafted the sort of stories to which you can return over and over, discovering new nuances every time, stories which remain in the forefront of the conscious mind long after you’ve closed the book. This is not an easy or quick read, but rather something to be savored and enjoyed, taken a little at a time so that each new portion dissolves on the tongue.

It took me several readings of some of the stories before I truly got it, but once I opened myself up, I understood the artistically decadent way Dreams of the Compass Rose was crafted, and after that, I couldn’t get enough. It possesses the same mixture of subtlety and blatant imagery as any dream, and can be as kind or cruel as the gods of old. If these aren’t stories taken from actual myth, then they surely detail a history of the world we lost along the way. This is a book well worth the price.

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Mythic, edited by Mike Allen (Mythic Delirium Books, 2006)

Jul 17

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fantasy, Short Fiction | No Comments

Mike Allen may be best known at present time for his work editing the SF poetry magazine Mythic Delirium, but every so often he turns his attention to the fiction side of things, both as a writer and an editor. In Mythic, the first volume of a new anthology series, he brings several aspects of the SF/fantasy field together, creating something that’s neither fish nor fowl, but an enjoyable blend of both, kind of like a literary platypus: rich, strange, comical, confusing, thought-provoking and definitely memorable. In Mythic, over a dozen talented writers bring unique visions of fiction and poetry to life.

As far as fiction goes, my favorite tale was the haunting story of love and revenge amidst the coal fields in 30s West Virginia, “Cemetery Seven,” by Charles Saplak. In it, a young man, the son of the town doctor, discovers just how far some people are willing to go to exact justice, when a member of the most powerful family in the area victimizes a vulnerable girl. This is a campfire story, best told after dark with a superstitious audience, and the mood it conjures up just feels right. Were I to choose a story to best represent Mythic, this would likely be it.

Not all of the fiction is straightforward, though. Ian Watson’s “Saint Louisa of the Wild Children” is described as an “annotated hagiography,” following a straightforward incident as it passes from reality, into legend, into myth, the details getting as confused as the source over the centuries. It’s an intriguing piece, especially how it blends truth and fiction and flings it into the far future. What will the future make of us? Read this, and get a vague notion. Watson draws from all sorts of sources to suggest how time may erase a great many distinctions we take for granted in today’s popular culture.

Erzebet YellowBoy turns several popular fairy tales upside-down and inside out with “Misha and the Months” which discards all the most recognizable elements and keeps the core themes. You have a good child, a bad child, a wicked stepmother, some mysterious figures out in the woods, and a bizarre system of reward/punishment that leaves all the right people happy, but not always in the right ways. It’s clever, thoughtful, and manages to feel just like a classic fairy tale even though it’s brand-new. Or is it?

Richard Park’s “The Last Romantic” looks at things from the viewpoint of a dragon as he guards a princess and waits for his inevitable end. It’s rare that you’ll see the dragon as the tragic, vulnerable one, but Parks does just that, weaving elements of Native American mythology, classic fantasy, and modern life together.

Bud Webster turns in a truly unusual story, in “Of The Driving Away of a Certain Water Monster by the Virtue of the Prayers of the Holy Man, or What Really Happened at Loch Ness in the Summer of 565 A.D.” In short, it’s all about how the newly discovered diaries of the mythical Wandering Jew shed new light upon historical events. In specific, this story addresses how an abbot once chased away the Loch Ness Monster through prayers… and shows us how it really went down. I suspect that were there really immortals keeping diaries, they’d poke the air out of the balloons of history in exactly this fashion. Frankly, I hope so; Webster’s account is amusing, wry, and worthy of being read aloud for effect.

I will admit here that honestly, I don’t have much experience with poetry. At least, I haven’t had much experience with poetry since college, so in general, I don’t consider myself nearly as qualified to talk about it. But a good half of this collection is comprised of poetry, so let me try anyway.

First off, Larry Hammer’s “Pgymalion’s Marriage” is my favorite piece of poetry in Mythic. It follows the well-known story of Pygmalion, the sculptor whose statue of a beautiful woman came to life one day. Here, though, we see how Pygmalion and his creation differed, one a mortal man with mortal limits, the other a divinely-inspired statue made for love. It’s certainly a take on the story I never would have expected, and a wonderful use of classic myth.

Joe Haldeman’s “god is dead short life god” addresses humanity’s tendency to outlive its own gods, to replace them with increasing frequency over the centuries. Indeed, he asks how long the current crop of gods will last until replaced, and how short a reign their replacement(s) might have. Insightful and even provocative, it’s a memorable piece.

Lawrence Schimel’s “Kristallnacht” blends fairy tale (Cinderella) and history (suggested to be 40s Germany) in a beautiful, terrible manner, with layers of meaning there for the interpretation.

Hamlet’s doomed lover has her say in “Dissecting Ophelia” by JoSelle Vanderhooft. An ancient creation myth is blended with a tale of family in Cathrynne M. Valente’s “The Eight Legs of Grandmother Spider.” Theodora Goss evokes Christina Rossetti in “Goblin Song.”

All in all, I found quite a lot to enjoy and admire in Mythic. It’s not your average everyday collection, and I’m sure the balanced mixture of fiction and poetry is enough to confuse some people and turn away others, but it possesses a lot of appeal. There’s something for everyone, and who knows? Maybe you’ll find something you weren’t expecting. This is a strong start to a new anthology series, and hopefully we’ll see a lot more down the road.

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Mardi Gras Madness, edited by Martin H Greenberg and Russell Davis (Cumberland House, 2000)

Jul 17

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Short Fiction, Urban Fantasy | No Comments

Not all masks hide innocent revelers. Not all floats belong to harmless partygoers. Not all Krewes are as they seem. In fact, during Mardi Gras, nothing and no one is as they appear.

After all, don’t we wear masks for a reason? To shuck inhibitions, to cast aside normal morality and subscribe to a deeper, more primal Bacchanalian mentality?

It’s a time to party, to run wild, to give in to all those urges, to become a voyeur and exhibitionist all in one, and to explore the deeply-hidden aspects of our personas. Eat, drink, and make merry, for tomorrow we fast. Isn’t that what Mardi Gras used to be for, that time of excess before the period of Lent?

I have news for you, friend. It’s a lot more than that. A whole lot more goes on in the shadows. Not everything that wears a mask is human; it’s a chance for them to walk among us, in the open, and we’d never realize a thing. It’s a time of older rituals, ones meant to appease ancient gods. It’s a time when certain aspects of the spirit world are closer to this world than ever before.

Mardi Gras is more than you think, and in Mardi Gras Madness, eleven authors take you on a terrifying, intriguing tour of what really happens when the lights are dim and the parades pass through the streets.

Michelle West tackles the themes of life, love, and loss, in “Faces Made of Clay.” It’s a haunting, regretful journey for one woman as she struggles to place the past, and her dead son, behind her at last. Will she be able to let go through the mysterious intervention of a group at Mardi Gras? Or will she cling to her strictly routinized life? It’s not as easy a choice as one might think.

Bruce Holland Rogers brings out the excess side of Mardi Gras with “King Corpus.” Andy’s just a nice, normal guy, who comes to Mardi Gras for the “biggest party of his life, one last blowout between college and the working-stiff tedium he was sure would follow for the rest of his life.” But when he’s made the King of the Krewe of Corpus, he finds that it’s easy to be given all you’ve ever desired, and still be hungry for more. His last blowout may be more then he ever imagined. But why is the Krewe of Corpus giving him so much, and why is the old fortune-teller warning him to leave before it’s too late?

“Masking Indian” is Charles de Lint’s contribution to the story. Unlike the rest, this one takes place in Newford, and guest-stars everyone’s favorite, Jilly Coppercorn, as well as Wendy (who has a Tree of Stories.) We’re introduced to a new character, Marley, who works as an art director’s assistant, and has a haunted Mardi Gras costume — haunted by memories of a happier time, and of a deceased friend. It’s an odd story, in de Lint’s typical style. The unknown isn’t necessarily something to fear, but it does deserve healthy respect. It’s all about coping, growing, and moving on, as well as about secrets, ghosts, and magic.

“Sacrifice,” by Jane Lindskold, is another story about ancient deals and old gods. In this case, the titular sacrifice refers to the young woman who, every year, is given to the river god to perpetuate the pact between New Orleans and the river. Since the city’s built so close to water, one angry god could mean one drowned city. Mirabelle is just one of many potential brides for the river god, and no one knows who it’ll be until the end of the ceremony. It’s a compelling story of the prices we pay to uphold our end of the bargain. For these people, Mardi Gras is more than just a party. It’s a celebration, and a time to mourn.

“May Oysters Have Legs,” by David Bischoff, is a truly unusual tale of zombies, hitmen, Mardi Gras, vengeance, and loyalty. All I can say about this one is that it’s not what you expect.

Then you get “Fat Tuesday,” by R. Davis. How much fun -can- a vampire have in a city full of drunken revelers?

Perhaps my favorite of the lot comes from Elizabeth Ann Scarborough, in the form of “The Invisible Woman’s Clever Disguise.” Quite simply, Vanessa, the invisible woman, is a sad victim of society and perception, rendered invisible because she isn’t young and pretty anymore, and no one cares to look at her in that manner. Invisible, she finds more out of life than she ever did before. Unafraid, uninhibited, she can go anywhere, stay anywhere she likes, take whatever she wants. But she can’t interact with normal people. So when she’s invited to a Mardi Gras ball, she accepts, intrigued. Little does she realize that the Krewe of Melusine is not what it appears to be. It is, in fact, the home for others of society’s rejects and mysteries. It’s a tale of perception, acceptance, and possibly, just possibly, love. It’s clever, and plays on pop culture and literature in a new way, and positively begs for more stories in that same vein.

Gary A. Braumbeck gives us “Down In Darkest Dixie Where The Dead Don’t Dance,” (phew, what a title!) which is quite simply a ghost story with several twists. Based partially in fantasy, partially in everyday science, it blends the various elements together to give us the tale of a just-dead cop investigating the murder of a Goth girl. It’s got revenge, mystery, ghosts, love, regret, and of course, the chaotic surreality of Mardi Gras, a time when spirits are able to again touch the earth.

To round it out, there are also stories from John Helfers (“Farewell To The Flesh”) and Peter Crowther (“Songs of Leaving”), as well as Nancy Holder (“Skeleton Krewe”).

While at first, from the description of the book, and the authors involved, one might be tempted to pigeonhole this in horror, it’s more of a dark fantasy anthology, one that thoroughly explores some of the many storytelling possibilities inherent in the Mardi Gras atmosphere. I recommend this book, especially if you happen to be a fan of any of the participating authors. Because it’s not from one of the standard publishing houses, you may need to look around for it. Good luck, though. It’s worth it. There’s bound to be something for everyone, so even if the stories don’t all resonate, at least some should. And with an anthology, it’s always hit or miss anyway. So say farewell to some coinage, and enjoy a feast of stories while you still can.

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Chronicle – The Lost YA Reviews (2002)

Jul 16

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fantasy, Science Fiction, Short Fiction, Young Adult | No Comments

This post is just here for the sake of completion. The following reviews ran in Chronicle issue 232, dated January 2003, and unfortunately, I no longer have any records of them beyond the actual magazine they appeared in. Someday, I’ll get around to either transcribing or summarizing them.

Tithe, by Holly Black (Simon and Schuster, 2002)
Growing Wings, by Laurel Winters (Firebird, 2002)
Echo, by Francesca Lia Block (Harper Collins, 2002)
Companions of the Night, by Vivian Vande Velde (Magic Carpet Books, 2002)
The Green Man, edited by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling (Viking, 2002)
Falling Sideways, by Tom Holt (Orbit, 2002)
Nothing but Blue Skies, by Tom Holt (Orbit, 2002)
Little People, by Tom Holt (Orbit, 2002)
Valhalla, by Tom Holt (Orbit, 2002)
Hexwood, by Diana Wynne Jones (Greenwillow, 2002)
Witches Business, by Diana Wynne Jones (Greenwillow, 2002)
The Time of the Ghost, by Diana Wynne Jones (Greenwillow, 2002)


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