Invisible Planets edited and translated by Ken Liu

With his smashingly successful translation of Liu Cixin’s The ThreeBody Problem, Ken Liu introduced modern Chinese science fiction to a large English-speaking audience. The reception of the rest of Three-Body‘s trilogy, one translated by Joel Martinsen and the other by Ken Liu, showed that it was not a one-book phenomenon, and that English-speaking science fiction readers were ready, eager, for more of the genre from China.

Invisible Planets, edited by Ken Liu

Invisible Planets provides 13 short stories and three essays, plus an introduction and short notes about each author by Liu, that offer a wide-ranging sampling of science fiction from China published in Chinese between 2005 and 2014. The stories are from seven different authors, three of whom also contribute the essays.

In his introduction and his editorial choices, Liu emphasizes the diversity of science fiction from China, reflecting the vast scale and wide variety found in its country of origin. “Even within the limited selection of this anthology, you’ll encounter the ‘science fiction realism’ of Chen Qiufan, the ‘porridge SF’ of Xia Jia, the overt, wry political metaphors of Ma Boyong, the surreal imagery and metaphor-driven logic of Tang Fei, the dense, rich language-pictures painted by Cheng Jingbo, the fabulism and sociological speculation of Hao Jingfang, and the grand, hard-science-fictional imagination of Liu Cixin. … Faced with such variety, I think it is far more useful and interesting to study the authors as individuals and to treat their works on their own terms rather than to try to impose a preconceived set of expectations on them because they happen to be Chinese.” (p. 14)

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We Hunt the Flame (Sands of Arawiya #1) by Hafsah Faizal

I was so chuffed to learn about this Arabian-inspired fantasy YA novel by an American niqabi, which had been getting so many rave reviews! I had to keep putting off reading it for one reason or another, but was so pleased to finally have time to settle in with it over the weekend. I was further excited to hear that it doesn’t actually have any Muslim representation, as Hafsah Faizal wants to point out that the people and myths of the Arabian peninsula are not a monolith: a very laudable aim.

So I was really perturbed to find myself already sludging through the prose from the first chapter onwards. It can take me some time to adjust to an author’s writing style so I was happy to keep persevering, but it soon got to the point where I felt that editors just gave up trying to form this mess into something readable. The prose reads as if it was written in another language before being translated back, and rather indifferently, to (mostly) standard English. The grammar was sloppy and the attempts at poetic fillips incredibly sophomoric. If I had to read the word “exhale” used as a noun one more time, I was going to hug a Ted Chiang collection to death (Exhalation is on my To-Read list, btw!) In short, this was some of the most ghastly professionally-edited English-language writing that I’ve ever read.

But more importantly, how was the story? In a word, ugh. In a phrase: both tropetastic and dull.

Zafira is a huntress who masquerades as a boy in her sexist caliphate in order to feed her people. She must travel through the madness-inducing mystical forest known as the Arz in order to find game, a forest that’s claimed the minds and lives of hundreds, including her own beloved father. When the Silver Witch appears, tasking her with a quest to retrieve a mysterious artifact that could help bring magic back to her devastated land, Katniss, I mean Zafira, has little choice but to accept.

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Swords Against Death by Fritz Leiber

The stories in Swords Against Death are among the first published adventures of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, making them more than 70 years old at this writing. The bulk of them were published as stand-alone stories in pulp magazines in the 1940s and 1950s; nearly all of them predate The Lord of the Rings, some by a decade and a half. If they seem simple, or sometimes clichéd, that’s likely because Leiber wrote them when the genre was new, its conventions still being worked out. Indeed, the stories in Swords Against Death may be the source of the traditions that contemporary readers are familiar with.

Swords Against Death

That’s especially true for stories, such as “The Jewels in the Forest,” “Thieves’ House,” or “The Seven Black Priests” that read like adventures from a Dungeons & Dragons campaign. Gary Gygax and the other early creators of D&D acknowledged their debt to Leiber. In particular, Leiber is the first modern author to write about a Thieves’ Guild, in which criminals are as organized as any other collection of artisans in a medieval city.

So how do they hold up, after all these years? First off, they are fast, atmospheric adventure stories, often with a twist. What is really going on in the tower in “The Jewels in the Forest”? Will Fafhrd arrive in “Thieves’ House” before midnight? Ok, there’s less suspense about that one, given that it’s not the last story featuring in the pair, but it’s not written as if everyone’s survival is assured, and that made a difference to me. Second, in contrast to a lot of modern fantasy, the world that Fafhrd and the Mouser operate in was not much thought out in advance. Nehwon sort of slowly accretes around them, from the stories. Leiber implies many different gods, guilds vying for supremacy in Lankhmar, histories behind the city’s street names, but there’s no sense that he’s worked it out in advance. Things appear as they are needed for individual stories. Curiously, I didn’t mind; I found that it lent a mythical atmosphere in stories such as “The Bleak Shore” or “The Howling Tower.”

Leiber shows his heroes as fallible to folly or to curses; at various times each rescues the other. They are each also at times too proud to show weakness in front of the other, which then gets them deeper into trouble. They get out, of course, but not completely unscathed.

I think a movie adaptation of “The Seven Black Priests” would be a terrific straightforward adventure film, although to make one in the 21st century some of the racial stereotyping would have to be changed. Swords Against Death, like its predecessor, is probably a total Bechdel fail. There may be female characters in “The Jewels in the Forest” who talk to each other, but they are appendages to the plot and of no further interest to the author.

And then there are things like “Bazaar of the Bizarre,” published in 1963. It’s not just a lush and hallucinogenic journey for Fafhrd and the Mouser, it’s as direct an anti-capitalist story as I have seen in fantasy. Here is what Ningauble, one of the pair’s sorcerous patrons, says about the Devourers, the story’s antagonists:

The Devourers are the most accomplished merchants in all the many universes — so accomplished, indeed, that they sell only trash. There is a deep necessity in this, for the Devourers must occupy all their cunning in perfecting their methods of selling and so have not an instant to spare in considering the worth of what they sell. Indeed, they dare not concern themselves with such matters for a moment, for fear of losing their golden touch — and yet such are their skills that their wares are utterly irresistible, indeed the finest wares in all the many universes — if you follow me? (p. 376)

And further:

The Devourers want not only the patronage of all beings in all universes, but — doubtless because they are afraid someone will some day raise the ever-unpleasant question of the true worth of things — they want all their customers reduced to a state of slavish and submissive suggestibility, so that they are fit for nothing whatever but to gawk at and buy the trash the Devourers offer for sale. This means of course that eventually the Devourers’ customers will have nothing wherewith to pay the Devourers for their trash, but the Devourers do not seem to be concerned with this eventuality. Perhaps they feel that there is always a new universe to exploit. (p. 377)

Pulpy and overwrought, to be sure, but also trenchant.

One of the first stories in this volume was originally published as “Two Sought Adventure.” Sought, found. And still fun for readers all these years later.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2020/11/01/swords-against-death-by-fritz-leiber/

A(nother) Night in the Lonesome October by Roger Zelazny

Just in time for the full moon falling on Halloween (the celestial alignment that drives the book’s plot), I re-read A Night in the Lonesome October. Everything I wrote about it last time holds true: it’s a romp, a hoot, a love letter to classics of Halloween and suspense, a master storyteller having fun with many different tales with no higher purpose than the joy of telling a very tall one.

A Night in the Lonesome October

It’s less a shaggy-dog story than a dog-and-cat story; Zelazny takes the watchdog Snuff as his narrator, and Snuff strikes up an unlikely friendship with Graymalk, a witch’s cat. Snuff and his master Jack, whose ripping appellation is never stated but implied throughout, are players in a Game of very high stakes. If their opponents succeed, the Elder Gods of Lovecraft’s pantheon will return to the earth and remake the world to their liking. Part of the challenge is that until the end of the Game none of the players can be sure of who is on which side, or indeed of who is playing at all.

When such a Game is afoot near London in the late 19th century, can the Great Detective be far behind? Indeed he is not, and while he seeks to unravel the secrets around him, he is hiding at least one of his own. There are probably more minor characters that I should have recognized from elsewhere, though this time through I think I spotted an American werewolf in London that I hadn’t noted before. I also enjoyed the interplay among the players’ familiars more this time than last, although Snuff showing Graymalk the Things in the Mirrors is probably still my favorite laugh-out-loud moment.

I had forgotten some of the twists and some of the puns, and was glad to be reminded of both. Zelazny’s descriptions of the Count’s doings make me sorry he didn’t write a full-length vampire novel. Terry Pratchett did better with the Igors, but Zelazny’s version is pretty good, and his depiction of the Good Doctor’s monster is sympathetic and note-perfect from a dog’s point of view.

In short, it’s a terrific book to revisit and even better to read for the first time. And if such a Game is happening tonight, you’ve probably still got enough time to get through it before things come to a head.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2020/10/31/another-night-in-the-lonesome-october-by-roger-zelazny/

Rowley Jefferson’s Awesome Friendly Adventure (Diary of an Awesome Friendly Kid #2) by Jeff Kinney

My 9 year-old pressed this book on me immediately after he finished reading it last night, because he really wanted to discuss it with me. I read it over dinner, and was honestly relieved to find that the narrative voice was quite different from in its parent series, The Diary Of A Wimpy Kid. Granted, I haven’t read every book of that latter series yet — to Jms’ chagrin — but after Rodrick Rules, I was pretty unenthusiastic at the prospect of jumping back in to Greg Heffley’s occasionally cynical and unnecessarily mean world so soon.

Fortunately, the protagonist of the Awesome Friendly Kid series is the awesomer, friendlier Rowley Jefferson, Greg’s much put-upon best friend. I bought Jms both books in this spin-off series as part of his latest Scholastic box shipment (books are considered an any time gift in my household — we’re so lucky we can do this, I know) and while he’s already crushed both novels, he was especially insistent I read this one. As with the Wimpy Kid series, you can absolutely read these books out of order, tho you’ll likely still miss a teeny bit of nuance doing so. That said, I feel like this is probably the most standalone of the books I’ve read so far, as it basically narrates a fantasy story Rowley is writing and illustrating.

Rowley’s story revolves around a young adventurer named Roland, whose parents keep him safe from a dangerous world by having him concentrate on his schoolwork and flute practice. But when his mother is kidnapped one day by the Winter Wizard while his father is traveling far from their village, he’ll have to embark on an epic quest to rescue her, with the help of his sidekick Garg. It’s a surprisingly twisty fairy tale with all manner of pop cultural references that had me laughing aloud almost as much as the interstitial episodes where Rowley discusses the book and its progress with Greg. From Rowley’s mild-mannered, often naive, point of view, it’s easy to see exactly how obnoxious Greg is without the latter’s self-forgiving attitude getting in the way. It’s honestly so funny, with just the right amount of ironic self-references both to the parent series and to fantasy writing in general, and just so much fun.

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The Tech by Mark Ravine

One of my greatest joys as a book critic is finding little known indie/self-published debut novels and championing them for the world to read (see: James RobertsPardon Me, or anything by Unsung Stories but particularly Rym Kechacha’s Dark River.) As such, I’m always open to queries and will rarely turn anything down, schedule permitting. So when this small press thriller came into my inbox, in my favorite genre no less, I was excited to get started.

The Tech is ostensibly the story of FBI Supervisory Special Agent Alexandra Cassidy, a unit leader whose specialty is whipping rogue and misfit teams into shape, partially due to her penchant for rule-breaking herself. She’s sent to Arizona to take charge of yet another ragtag crew but finds herself hip deep in a bank robbery investigation almost as soon as she walks into the office. The case is wrapped up within 24 hours, and then the team is sent to investigate the kidnapping of three teenaged girls, leading to a multi-state bust in record time. Alexandra is a little disconcerted at the high success rate she’s clocking, but her concerns are quickly swept aside by the growing suspicion that these and other cases that are filtering into the office are related, and may have been masterminded by a sinister cabal that will soon turn its sights on her. But somebody else is already pulling her strings: an attractive, if mild-mannered FBI tech named Mike Patterson who’s hiding any number of secrets from Alexandra and her team.

The first problem with this FBI thriller is that none of this is how the American judicial system works. Witnesses are Mirandized but assured they’re not under arrest, and warrants are handed out almost willy-nilly. Don’t even get me started on the complete illegality of everything Mike does and how the half-assed attempts to turn his evidence into stuff that’ll hold up in court is doubtful at best. It’s pretty clear that this book was written by someone without much experience with America, never mind the local law enforcement: in just the most memorable example, no New Yorker in their right mind would pronounce the Texan city the same way they’d pronounce Houston St, if they pronounced that last correctly. The dialog overall is heavily British-inflected which, alas, is only the least of the things that strain credulity to its breaking point in this novel.

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Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2020/10/28/the-tech-by-mark-ravine/

Rodrick Rules (Diary of a Wimpy Kid #2) by Jeff Kinney

I have definitely been consuming this series out of order, reading each as the whims of my 9 year-old sees fit, but I asked for this volume specifically because Jms had been talking about the Dungeons & Dragons analog played in these pages. As I’m a big old roleplaying nerd, I had to see how Jeff Kinney handles the topic, especially since our Wimpy Kid’s mom apparently gets in on the action too (obvi, I also came looking for tips at getting my kid to want to RP with me.)

I was actually super stoked with how our hero Greg Heffley enjoys playing Magick And Monsters, even as his mom interferes in the cutest way possible. Unfortunately, that’s a small, if the best, scene in the book. I was less enthused by most of the rest of this volume, as Greg is a lot meaner than I remember, as are Rodrick and Dad. Since Jms and I were reading this together, with me on the narrative bits and him voicing the illustration dialog bubbles, I kept pausing in our reading to say, “Oh, that’s mean! Greg is being mean. Jms, you shouldn’t ever do that.” This was most egregious with Greg bullying poor Chirag Gupta and then, worse, trying to deflect responsibility on to his mom for it. I’m really glad I read the later books first, as I might not have bothered if the tone of this book set the standard for later installments. Granted, I haven’t even read the first one yet, so perhaps that would have been good enough to overcome my reservations regarding its sequel.

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Above All Else by Dana Alison Levy

When I was younger, I loved a good climb. Mostly of trees and free-standing structures, tho if I’d had a shot at a climbing wall, I’d have totally been up for that, too. So when my college roommates invited me to join the hiking club, you’d think I’d be all in. Unfortunately, club hiking required club camping, and an adolescence of indifferent living conditions in the pursuit of boarding-school-mandated “character building” had already made me deeply suspicious of any endeavour that eschews climate control and indoor plumbing for more than 8 hours at a stretch.

Thus it is no surprise that mountaineering is not high on my list of fun activities. The entire anathema idea of “roughing it” aside, I literally have no idea why anyone would throw themselves at a mountain side given the high risk of injury or worse. This may also be my bad knee talking: the first time I blew out my knee after a weekend of waitressing and paintball, I cried with fury at being immobile for several days, which is one reason I’ve given up hiking in favor of biking whenever possible, to preserve my mobility.

Which is all to say that entertainment about risky mountaineering activities is not something I would choose on my own. I remember watching the trailer for Everest and thinking, “Disaster porn, ugh, hard pass.” So when Dana Alison Levy’s Above All Else crossed my desk, I was skeptical as to how much I’d enjoy a tale of two teenagers facing the challenge of summiting Mount Everest.

I was immediately drawn in by the two narrative voices tho, of our heroes, Rose Keller and Tate Russo, teenage climbing prodigies who are about to ascend Everest. Rose is the half-Puerto-Rican, half-white overachiever who is absolutely gutted when her climber mother is diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, ending Maya’s climbing career. She wants to summit Everest to honor her mom, even as a gnawing Dread at all the unknown variables of her future dogs her every step.

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Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2020/10/26/above-all-else-by-dana-alison-levy/

Of Salt And Shore by Annet Schaap

This is like The Secret Garden but with mermaids and pirates instead, and with characters that I, at least, liked from start to finish (as a pragmatic child, I found it hard to care for any of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s insipid and annoying creations.) Billed as a sequel to The Little Mermaid, Of Salt And Shore tells the tale of Lampie, a lighthouse keeper’s daughter. Tasked with far too many responsibilities at a young age, she fails to light the great lamp one stormy night, resulting in the breaking of an important ship on the rocks off port. Her father is locked up in the lighthouse as punishment, while she is whisked off to be a servant at The Black House, where a monster supposedly lurks in the tower.

Shy, illiterate Lampie arrives to a household in turmoil, and tries her best to be of help to the overwhelmed housekeeper Martha, as well as to Martha’s silent, hulking son Lenny and to eccentric Nick who hides out in the garden. But what she really wants is to climb up the tower and look out to sea, to make sure that her father is alright and that the lighthouse beacon still glows when it should. She doesn’t believe that there’s a monster hiding up there, despite Martha’s tight-lipped admonitions… until she sneaks into the tower to look out the windows one night and discovers that something vicious is indeed hiding in the shadows.

But Lampie isn’t the kind of girl to let a little feral temper get in the way of making friends. With Lenny’s help, she coaxes out the monster and sets about trying to solve his problems as well as her own. But the return of the Admiral to whom The Black House belongs may have unintended, even life-shattering consequences for all of its inhabitants and the people they love.

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Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2020/10/23/of-salt-and-shore-by-annet-schaap/

Shadows Of The Short Days by Alexander Dan Vilhjálmsson

Imagine Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus crossed with Doris Lessing’s The Good Terrorist, filtered through a China Mieville sensibility of industrial magic set firmly in the history and myths of Iceland. That’s what you’re getting in Shadows Of The Short Days, Alexander Dan Vilhjálmsson’s wildly inventive, deeply thoughtful debut novel, which he translated himself from its original Icelandic. Set in an alternate universe Reykjavik rife with sorcery, the country of Hrimland is still under the control of the Kalmar crown, who use the natural, mostly magical resources of the area to enrich themselves, their chosen representatives and favored human Hrimlanders, while oppressing other races and disappearing dissidents into a prison known colloquially as the Nine.

Half-human, half huldufolk Garun has always felt like an outsider. Whether growing up in her small huldufolk town or struggling to survive as an adult in Reykjavik, she’s always been treated as an outcast for not being fully one race or another. It’s no surprise then that she gravitates towards a political movement that fights for civil liberties and justice for all, even if she finds her radical viewpoints increasingly at odds with the rest of her fellow protestors’.

Her ex-boyfriend Saemundur has his own set of problems. A gifted magician, he’s grown increasingly frustrated by what he views as the suffocatingly conservative doctrine of the local college of magic. After his professors finally kick him out, his burning desire to prove his former teachers wrong sets in motion a deadly chain of magical events. When Garun comes looking for his help in fomenting revolution, their blind desires to achieve their goals, no matter the cost, could have unthinkable consequences, not only for them but for Hrimland itself.

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