The Steampunk Trilogy by Paul Di Filippo is a reprint collection from Open Road Media, 2014. It was originally published in 1995 by Four Walls Eight Windows, and contains three novellas: “Victoria” (1991), “Hottentots” (1995) shortlisted for the 1996 Locus Award for Best Novella, and “Walt and Emily” (1993) published in two parts by Interzone and shortlisted for the 1994 Locus Award for Best Novella. Ignore the title: recognise that these novellas are not about great airships and mechanical inventiveness on a large scale. Rather this is steampunk as a state of mind. As emotionally repressed people, the Victorians feared they would lose control if their inner passions were allowed free rein. Think Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde with a beast lurking inside the sack of skin, just waiting for the chance to take over and cause mayhem. Although it may make us feel more comfortable to restrict this historical trait to sexual behaviour and the threat of men being overtaken by their lust, the reality was a more general exuberance of greed and selfishness, cruelty and ambition — build an empire before tea, exploit it to the maximum possible, and then lose it all as night falls and the downtrodden refuse to accept the continuing abuse.
We start off in the same style as The Importance of Being a Nest by Wilde Birds with The Importance of Being a Newt. Yes, this is the story of Cosmo Cowperthwait who, having expunged Letchworth from the map (those of you interested in this phenomenon should read the excellent Queen Victoria’s Bomb by Ronald W Clark), turned his attention to genetic engineering, hoping to satisfy his scientific curiosity by scaling up a newt to human size. Coincidentally, because books like this thrive on the comic effect generated by coincidences, he names his life-sized newt Victoria so, when the Queen of the same name goes walkabout, who else should the prime minister think of putting on the throne as a temporary replacement but the newt? As you will gather from these few sentences, this novella begins with a certain level of absurdity and then elevates the absurdity to previously undreamed of levels. It’s a masterpiece as our heroic inventor and genetic manipulatist ransacks London in search of the missing queen, fighting off temptation from an early suffragette whose self-appointed task is to relieve the suffering of women at the hands of men, only to end up where he started out albeit on a more private basis. Di Filippo’s take on the half-human, half-newt is as a sex toy for the rich that may, in the long term, prove to have a mind of her own. It’s simply an ironic commentary on the science that the combination of the animal and the human produces a more naturally sexual “animal” save that the human Queen Victoria is also discovering the diversity of sexual experience in an upmarket brothel. It seems newt genes and leadership pressures make sexual champions of us all. Although some of the humour is a little “obvious”, this remains great fun to read.
“Hottentots” is high quality satire that begins by skewering some of the prejudices that would have been prevalent in Victorian times. Fortunately, in our current post-racial times, we could not possibly hold such bigoted views or, if we did, we would carefully avoid expressing them in public. From our position of enlightenment, it gives us a chance to consider the basis of the beliefs that produced ideas of Übermensch, racial supremacism, eugenics, and so on. Our hero, Louis Agassiz, for want of a better way of describing the man, is a Swiss national working to establish a scientific centre in America. Apart from the intellectually elite to be found in places of learning such as Harvard, he considers America a dire melting pot in which miscegenation has run riot, irrecoverably polluting the gene pool and producing a potentially subhuman underclass of simple-minded people. You can therefore imagine his horror when his calm progress through life is disturbed by the arrival of a white man and his Hottentot bride who are intent upon recovering a lost fetish. There’s much tooing and froing as Agassiz attempts to reconcile his desire for a rational view of the world with the somewhat irrational occurrences around him. All this would have been more successful if the character of the man had been more likeable. But, from the outset, we’re shown how ghastly he is (by modern standards) and so have no sympathy for him at all.
“Walt and Emily” is about Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson who are involved in that most Victorian of pastimes: the pursuit of the supernatural through the séance and other mechanisms for interacting with the spirit world. Emily’s brother, Austin, seeks a way to communicate with his two aborted children. He hopes the Spiritualist Madam Hrose Selavy is the real deal and engages Walt and Emily to investigate the medium’s claims not only to communicate with the dead, but also transport the living into the spirit world. This involves us trying to reconcile science and the supernatural as the medium discharges ideoplasm from her breasts and transports our poets to an encounter with Allen Ginsberg, Sylvia Plath and Ezra Pound. There’s a general sense of fun as literary sensibilities are explored across the ages but, as with the other stories, this may not be everyone’s cup of tea. As in the other novellas, there’s also a sexual component to the story.
Although there are monsters on display, some more Lovecraftian than others, and there are some beautifully rendered mechanical ideas to satisfy those who want their steampunk to be about machines rather than ideas, full enjoyment of these three stories is somewhat dependent on being familiar with the more general Victorian writing styles and the particular literary flourishes of the poets in the last novella. This is not to say the modern reader will not enjoy these stories, but they will deliver more enjoyment if you have some background in the history and literature of Victorian times. With that caveat, I recommend The Steampunk Trilogy as producing a nicely balanced and occasionally humorous set of alternate histories for us to explore.
For a review of another work by Paul Di Filippo, see Cosmocopia.
A copy of this book was sent to me for review.
Her Husband’s Hands and Other Stories by Adam-Troy Castro (Prime Books, 2014) is a top class collection from one of the best prose stylists around. “Arvies” starts the ball rolling with a story presented as though it was an article in a periodical of some kind. The text is divided into sections with headings to act as signposts. It predicates a world in which money, power and control has been seized by the unborn foetuses. They are the living. If anyone has the misfortune to be born, they are considered dead and worth nothing unless a foetus buys the body. They see the dead as nothing more than convenient containers in which they can reside. But the foetus who is the protagonist of this story decides to do something wholly perverse. She decides to engineer the pregnancy of her current body so she can experience giving birth. Such notoriety! Such extraordinary abuse of convention! And then, of course, there’s the problem of what to do with the dead bodies. “Her Husband’s Hands” deals with a future in which we still fight wars and the technology has advanced to the point where, no matter how little survives of the body, it can be kept alive and wedded to the backed-up personality. Now all the spouses have to do is adjust to their new lives with the various body parts shipped back from the front (a confusing image, but you get what I mean). “Of a Sweet Slow Dance in the Wake of Temporary Dogs” is a nicely allegorical piece that offers an alternative to the dry tedium of modern life. At its best, fulfilling the routine produces the money necessary to support the lifestyle we’ve come to prefer. At its worst, the comforts of life disappear in moments of horrific madness. Perhaps it’s a single homicide or society rebels against the pacific boredom by engaging in acts of terrorism or a war. But suppose you could take a “place” and structure it so the inhabitants could enjoy nine days of abandon with the tenth giving the experience of mayhem and death. Would people opt for nine days of Paradise for the price of one day in Hell?
“Our Human” sees us back in the same universe inhabited by the redoubtable Andrea Cort with a story of a group of four outlaws who set off into the jungle on a nameless world to track down a human monster for whom there is a big reward. It elegantly forces the reader to consider what constitutes such a severe social sin to justify expulsion from their own race, and what might tempt other races to accept this criminal into their midst. For example, what might be rape to one race, might be normal biological activity to another. So is it easier for one race to overlook a sin because both the being and its behaviour is alien to them, or is there something more essentially forgiving about some races that they are prepared to see good even in the worst of beings and to offer the prospect of redemption? “Cherub” continues to challenge the reader by asking us to consider what a world would be like if every baby was born with a visual representation of their character riding on their backs. At first glance, the parents could see which sins their child would embrace. In a way, child and rider become a form of self-fulfilling prophesy, i.e. the rapist rapes, the murderer kills, and so on. This family produces a son with a cherub on his back. This proves to be something of an affront to the village which relentlessly takes advantage of what they see as weakness. Yet, over time, his constant turning of the other cheek wears down the hatred. When he marries, the village rallies round him and feels good about the moment. There’s just one potential fly in the ointment. What we take to be childhood innocence can be lost as the adult gains experience of the world. In the case of such a young man, that would indeed be a tragic loss.
“The Shallow End of the Pool” is also about the nature of relationships and the mechanisms we humans create to resolve our differences. If we’re lucky, we settle things without involving others, but there are times when we fight vicariously, finding and training champions to enter the lists on our behalf to joust unto the death. This story takes one of the champions as the POV and wonders what would happen if the other champion was a brother and those “fighting” were their parents. Don’t you just wish those parents could just kiss and make up? “Pieces of Ethan” is, quite simply, wonderful. It’s not just the precise meaning of the title which only becomes apparent about two-thirds of the way through. It’s the final pages in which the source of the affliction is revealed that has the biggest impact. By any standards, this is a remarkable story. And finally, “The Boy and the Box” invites us to consider what would go on in the mind of a boy who suddenly discovered how to put the world in a box. He could, of course, take individuals or things out of the box to play with whenever he wanted. But, after a time, that would all get rather boring. So what would he do then? The answer is rather fascinating, but not completely satisfying. Put all this together and Her Husband’s Hands and Other Stories is the best collection so far this year.
Worship the Night by Jeffrey Thomas (Dark Renaissance Books, 2013) sees yet another example of the prose that makes this author so readable. All the stories in this collection have the trademark crisp clarity and directness, with efficient plots that deliver the goods with the least effort. As an aside since this is a personal rather than a general observation, I lashed out and bought the limited edition. It proves to be a handsome production. Although I find the internal illustrations by Erin Wells not quite to my taste, I applaud the principle of publishing illustrations to illuminate and enhance the written word. I wish more publishers would follow this example.
The first two stories see us back in Hades and Punktown respectively. When an author has great high concepts on the run, it’s as well to plunge back periodically to renew interest. “The Lost Family” sees us with the “fallen” angel making her way out of what’s left of Hell. We met her and her bone gun in The Fall of Hades, and this free-standing story fits into the story of her climb through the Construct in the hope of reaching Freetown. While trying to work her way around rather larger demons, she finds the titular family and there’s a bonding moment as smaller demons try to crash the party. “Counterclockwise” has a simple and elegant story about a man who finds the Church, if that’s what it is, operating opposite his apartment block deeply annoying. When the local police show a complete lack of interest in dealing with prickly interspecies disputes, it’s left to our “hero” to decide what to do. “The Holy Bowl” takes us into the realm of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, that most revered symbol of rationalism as it floats through the air, meatballs as eyes, balls, and anything else designed to be round. “Do you believe?” I exhort. Well, if not, this could be the fate awaiting you. “In Limbo” asks a different question. When everything’s going to shit around you, what’re you gonna do? Naturally, you hunker down for a few moments. Then you might cautiously explore the hallway only to run back into your apartment when the darkness seems to be closing in. The important thing is not to panic, or at least not to panic too much.
“About the Author” is nicely metafictional as we read the product description of the first book in a new zombie series followed by a few well-chosen words giving the author’s biography. Naturally, the scathing review by Jeffrey Thomas is only to be expected. Such books are usually a crapfest and, as in this case, their authors should be housed in the nearest loony bins, if only for their own safety — the rest can all go to Hell. “The Strange Case of Crazy Joe Gallo” sees us firmly in Lovecraftian territory with a story of a gangster who thinks the Necronomicon can be a useful weapon in the right hands. With ambitions to become a senior figure in the ranks of the Mafia, he sets about killing a few of the smaller fish (human variety). But, like all good things, there must come an ending. “Children of the Dragon” sees us in Vietnam for a little research into cryptozoology except, at least in the early stages, this is more like the usual sex tourism trip. Then there comes that rather awkward moment when the precise nature of the word becomes important. “Is that Dragon or Dagon?” You never know. That r could be significant.
“The Sea of Flesh” is novella length and a rather beautiful, tender story in which a couple seeking escape from loveless marriages find each other and negotiate whether they might be able to find happiness together. One is an archetypical white guy who puts in the hours at a new bio company which grows human tissue. His wife has already found a new partner although she continues to live in the same house as him (sometimes openly visited by her lover). The other is Vietnamese with a violent husband who has long stopped loving her. In a sense, both have ties. His mother is in a private nursing home waiting to die. She has a daughter who left home to escape her father but has yet to find herself a place in the world outside. They meet because she’s a nurse in the home where his mother is dying. Overlaid this touching human story is a supernatural dream world. As the story progresses, we come to recognise four people interact in this world. At first, it seems to be just the man and his mother. But his potential partner’s daughter is also involved. The point of the story is to observe the way in which the dream world overlaps the human world, perhaps partly contaminating it or driven by it. If you think of the cycles of the moon and the way its unseen influence moves the tides that crash waves upon the shore, remember human bodies are largely made up of water. So there’s always the possibility the moon or other planets may move the tides of men and women. The result is an outstanding story to finish the collection. Put all this together and Worship the Night is a terrific collection of stories and well worth the money whether you buy the trade or the limited edition.
Irredeemable by Jason Sizemore (Seventh Star Press, 2014) is a collection of eighteen stories, seven of which are original. “Caspar” strips down the setting to the bare minimum and has us view a meeting on a bench. Two men come together and one offers insights into the story of the three gifts offered by the three wise men to the baby Jesus. Perhaps this interpretation of the Bible is not quite standard, but it certainly comes with a point and indicates the probable direction of travel. “City Hall” wonders whether Human Resources Departments, particularly those in the public sector, could become slightly more innovative when it comes to terminating employees who are tardy, incompetent, or have serious halitosis. For too long, personnel mavens have relied on the tried and tested pink slip. But that’s altogether too impersonal. I’m reminded of Julius Caesar Act 4 which warns, “These many, then, shall die; their names are prick’d.” “Faithless” reminds us that sometimes there’s a double edge to a situation. Now it may well be that a serpent was responsible for tempting Adam and Eve with the unfortunate consequence of original sin. But there are times when, in the right hands, the serpent can have precisely the opposite effect.
“For the Sake of Pleasing” is as the title suggests, a rather pleasing science fantasy in which the rather powerful vampire-like creatures who run Earth like a cattle farm suddenly detect the imminent arrival of aliens. This could be very inconvenient, so Earth sends its Barbarella on a first-contact mission. In tone, this is rather like the Richard Jeperson stories by Kim Newman with psychic forces blending in with sixties and seventies spy and thriller film and television series like The Avengers and James Bond. Although I don’t think the ending is quite worked out properly, this is a standout story. “Hope” is a different form of science fiction context for an urban fantasy story of hunter and hunted at the end of the world. Although mildly explicit, it builds to a pleasingly wry conclusion. “Ice Cream at the Falls” sees us back to the straight horror with an artist who has a mission to impose his point of view on the world. With his latest work on display, he suddenly discovers the sins of the father can pass down to the son. “Little Digits” is a short short story which inverts expectation lickety-split or should that be splat? “Mr Templar” takes us back to the sfnal world with a story of androids surviving a nuclear holocaust. They wander the surface of Earth searching for fuel to keep themselves functional. At times, out of desperation, they scavenge the fallen for spare parts and residual fuel. It’s a tough life made more pressing by the discovery of a spacecraft in orbit. Perhaps if they could reach that ship there would be salvation. Or perhaps an entirely different fate awaits them.
“Plug and Play” is a faintly humorous spin on the drug mule trope as our human hero has what some might think a psychotic break on the space station where he works and discovers it can be a better life to work for, rather than against, android interests. I don’t think the plot is completely coherent. Why he should want to go back to his old job and, more to the point, why the androids would want such a troublesome human back needs to be explained. Nevertheless, as written, it maintains interest to the end. “Pranks” is an unsuccessful attempt to run the biter-bit trope. Unfortunately, it telegraphs the ending from the first paragraph. “Samuel” sees a son try to defend his mother from death. It seems not to follow the logic of its basis in faith. If the mother had been baptised and had led a life without sin, or, more likely, had been given the last rites after confession, the son should have faith his mother would go to Heaven and dismiss the words of the devil as lies. But you can ignore this comment. As an atheist, I’m afraid I don’t really understand stories like this. “Shotgun Shelter” takes us back into the real world with a kind of coming-of-age story in which three teens get into trouble and have to decide what to do about it. The answer is slightly extreme but not unexpected.
“Sonic Scarring” is a powerful alien invasion story with a very interesting variation on the answer to the traditional question, “What do the aliens want with us, anyway?” “The XX Agent” is one of the most successful stories in the collection, showing us how arbitrary the line is between life and death, and how often the choices we make dictate which side of the line we fall. “The Dead and Metty Crawford” takes us into familiar zombie territory, and as the title suggests, “The Sleeping Quartet” has us in a dream/nightmare scenario where the trick is telling the real from the imagined. “Useless Creek” is one of these nicely ambiguous stories in which even thinking about a lost love can be emotionally painful. As with all such situations, it’s the uncertainty that’s the most difficult to deal with. And, as is appropriate in collections, the publisher leaves the best till last. “Yellow Warblers” is a terrific story about the nature of acceptance and the role of knowledge when it comes to survival.
Having finished, three things are clear. Jason Sizemore is better at length than writing shorter stories. Second, he’s better at writing science fiction and naturalistic crime stories than straight horror. Finally, although this collection is slightly uneven in quality, there’s no doubt that when he makes a good connection with the ball, he hits it out of the park. All of which makes Irredeemable highly readable and worth picking up if you’re into short fiction which, for the most part, is influenced by the southern gothic style.
A copy of this book was sent to me for review.
Academic Exercises by K J Parker (Subterranean Press, 2014) is an outstanding collection of short stories, novellas and novelettes. Most of the stories were published online so this represents the first hard copy opportunity to read them. It’s an interesting fact that Subterranean and Eclipse Online have been so active in promoting this writer’s work at shorter length. Better known as a novelist, this collection demonstrates that a true storyteller succeeds no matter what the length of the story. Each of the works of fiction is a masterclass of the art of narrative. What makes these stories even more interesting is that, in a way, the author more obviously crosses the line into fantasy with the supernatural assumed to be real. This departs somewhat from the novels which may be packaged as fantasy, but are actually historical fiction, i.e. mediaeval thrillers with no real systems of magic or supernatural beings on display. The three non-fiction pieces also included are delightfully illuminating insights into history.
“A Small Price to Pay for Birdsong” (2012 World Fantasy Award-Winner for Best Novella) is a wonderful story in which the relationship between a teacher and a brilliant student is charted from the early days in which the student despises the teacher’s poverty of imagination, through a period when the teacher’s reputation rises, until there’s a final moment of revenge that only a true master of the art could really appreciate. In civilised societies, things don’t get much more vicious than this. “A Rich, Full Week” sees a peripatetic brother going out on his rounds to keep the countryside free from assault from magical or generally supernatural beings. We discover he’s perhaps not the best of practitioners — they tend to stay in the city and do research — but there’s a dogged determination to avoid death (or other forms of extinction) that serves him well. “Amor Vincit Omnia” reminds us that some skills are as natural as breathing and we all do that, don’t we? So the question would be how best to persuade a breather to stop, just for a moment, so that an adjustment could be made. I suppose an appeal could be made. Perhaps something along the lines of, “Come to Mamma!”
“Let Maps to Others” (2013 World Fantasy Award-Winner for Best Novella) gives us an insight into the academic realm where scholarship is its own reward. Of course, if you did happen to come up with information about where your local Eldorado was located, there would be people willing to pay a lot for that. Unfortunately, there are no maps. . . But perhaps there might be a coded map reference showing the location. No, that’s far too unlikely, particularly if some of the documents were forgeries. Ah, now that really would add extra spice to the expedition sent out to the map coordinates. Or perhaps the crew should suck lemons. To say this story is completely entrancing is an understatement. “A Room with a View” allows us to continue the study of how magic may be performed. It all depends on being able to access mental constructs called rooms. The theory says you never find anything inside a room you enter for the first time, but you can take something into the room with you that may remain behind. It’s always useful to remember your theory should a practical need arise. “Illuminated” reminds us that the book is the medium through which one generation passes on useful information to the next. To protect the pages from contamination, it may be advisable to wear gloves. Some precautions before and during the reading itself may also be desirable. Otherwise the result may be more illuminating than you expect.
“Purple & Black” was published separately and is already reviewed on this site at length. “The Sun and I” reflects on the old truism that, if God had not existed, we would have had to invent him. Here a group of young men are uncertain how best to avoid looming poverty. They are “inspired” to begin promoting a new religion, and then discover something unusual is happening. The way in which the story balances cynicism and a sense of wonder is masterful. “One Little Room an Everywhere” also deals with the unexpected arrival of a talent. A young man who had little talent as a magician discovers he may have the ability to create works of art. The uncertainties lie in the exact nature of the process and the real price to be paid. “Blue & Gold” is also reviewed at length on this site.
“On Sieges” (non-fiction) is a fascinating piece picking out the highlights of military strategy through the ages as the balance of power shifts between offensive and defensive capabilities. What makes this so interesting is not the recital of facts, many of which I already knew, but the reminder of just how long some of these ideas and tactics have been around. So even in the last century, trench warfare was briefly necessitated by the arrival of the machine gun but once tanks were perfected, the army could drive around the fortified line. Stalingrad shows us that aerial bombardment creates endless places for the defenders to dig in for protection, while the need to occupy land invaded will always require boots on the ground. “Cutting Edge Technology” takes us into the world of the sword and how to fight with them. Although it’s slightly off-point, this is worth reading to discover the truth about the Springfield Rifle used in the First World War. It’s a delicious irony. “Rich Men’s Skins” continues the exploration of hardware by looking at the history of armour. Although I knew a little of the fighting styles of the Greeks and Romans, this filled in more gaps in my knowledge than the other two. The three pieces taken together form an immediately accessible fund of knowledge.
Put all this together and you have one of the best collections of 2014. It should be shortlisted for every major award. Academic Exercises is a must read!
A copy of this book was sent to me for review.
One of the most interesting aspects of reviewing at such volume is the sudden opportunity to notice coincidences — all the more ironic because one of the features in fiction that I find most aggravating is the coincidence, e.g. that instead of a plot developing along organic and natural lines, everything is structured in a way that events just happen to occur in the order necessary to achieve the desired effect. When this is woefully contrived, I happily leap on the improbability of the coincidence and deride the author for being a force of destiny. Well, a month or so ago, I reviewed a book with a dog as the protagonist and ruminated on the scarcity of first-person narratives featuring animals. In retrospect, this is a good thing because authors routinely fall into the trap of overly sentimentalising the way in which the animals are portrayed.
Sergeant Chip by Bradley Denton (Subterranean Press, 2014) is a set of three novellas, the titular story being about a poodle/labrador cross (the story was nominated for the 2005 Hugo Award and won the 2005 Sturgeon Award). We’re in the field of animal uplift for military purposes. Cognitive enhancement is a topic not uncommon in science fiction and medical thrillers (and animation blockbusters like Muntz’ dogs in Up). In this instance, we humans have been manipulating dogs for land use, and sealions and dolphins for use at sea. The most effective teams arise when the humans have real empathy for the animals. We ride with Chip and his human handler, Lieutenant Dial, who prove very good in the field, both for pubic demonstration purposes and when confronting the “enemy”. Thematically, this is a story about loyalty and the ethics of leadership. Because the dog is the point of view, we get to see multiple levels of duty in action. It starts with the relationship between the dog and his handler, moves up to the relationship between Dial, now promoted to Captain, and those under his command. And then spreads to look at the relationship between invading troops and unarmed civilians. Needless to say, the story doesn’t show the human side in a very good light apart from Dial, but each individual has his or her own rights and interests to protect with everything told in an unaffected prose with a clear eye for more objective values. This is an outstanding story.
“Blackburn and the Blade” was nominated for the International Horror Guild Award and shows us a series character coming into a small town to regroup, re-equip and prepare to move on again. Except coming into a new environment often means meeting new people. At times, they can prove a dangerous distraction, introducing unexpected enemies. This is most elegantly put together, giving us a clear sight of all the relevant characters and mentioning the murder just before our “hero” came to town. Once we know everyone’s strengths and weaknesses, it’s time for the murderer to reappear. Fortunately, there’s a celestial conjunction — now that’s what a proper coincidence looks like when you’re writing a noir supernatural thriller.
“The Adakian Eagle” was a nominee for the Edgar and, as that would suggest, it’s a superb story featuring an ageing Dashiell Hammett on manoeuvres in WWII. American troops found themselves in some interesting places when fighting the Japanese and this takes us to the Aleutian Islands in the northern part of the Pacific Ocean. Not only are they remote, but also volcanic and prone to rain. Once the Japanese had been defeated on Attu, the islands became a vital supply depot for the Russian campaign. This assistance to the Commies was somewhat ironic at the time and became even more so when the permafrost of the Cold War set in and the McCarthy backlash came to fruition. During the war, the cultural hostility is nicely captured here in the relationship between the Lieutenant Colonel and Dashiell Hammett, with the customary racial prejudice and contempt for those considered less intelligent also on display.
The story explores two convergent forces. The first we may call a belief in the potential of the supernatural to affect events in the real world. The second is the determination of an older and more experienced man to cut through the bullshit and do whatever is required to protect himself and anyone else who has fallen under his protection. The result is strictly speaking an investigation of a suspicious death on the side of one of the volcanos, but the influence of belief in the supernatural is immanent, providing a key element in both the short and longer term motivation for events. It should be said the other element in the motive is elegantly revealed as one of the more traditional and all too human desires. In the short term, the forces balance each other out — to that extent, everyone gets what they deserve. In the long term, history stays on track which is as it should be.
Bradley Denton is new to me but these three novellas convince me I really should take the time to track down more of his work. That means this collection has served its purpose and introduced an author whose range and diversity is worth exploring. Thank you Subterranean Press.
A copy of this book was sent to me for review.