Of all the Short Fiction writers I’ve recently discovered, Ted Chiang is perhaps the highest regarded, but also the least prolific. He’s been nominated for the Hugo Award eight times; of those he won three. He’s won five Nebula Awards and been nominated for the World Fantasy Award. All those awards and nomination, yet only 12 pieces of fiction published in his 20 year career – all short fiction, no novels. Half the stories he’s written have won major literary awards. That’s a hell of a resume. The Merchant and the Alchemist’s Gate won both the Nebula Award and Hugo Award for Best Novelette, and, frankly it’s easy to see why.

Time travel stories are notoriously hard to tell with any success. Time paradoxes, physics being broken and non-linear timelines all lead to plot holes in the hands of an inexperienced author. Novels that pull off the conceit well, like The Anubis Gates by Tim Powers or Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut are few and far between. Chiang, though, tackles the time travel motif with aplomb and challenges the reader by filling every plot hole just when they think they’ve found one. It’s at turns both clever and profound, full of smart twists and genuine insights into the compulsion we all have to live in the past, to regret turns not made or choices gone wrong. So often, time travel stories present fluid timelines, easily saved or ruined by the hero or antagonist, but Chiang plays with the idea that only the present is fluid and that what’s before us is every bit as defined as what’s passed us by. It’s a story of redemption and regret, with a melancholy air hiding just under the serpentine switchbacks of the puzzle-like time travel narrative.

A free audio version of The Merchant and the Alchemist’s Gate is available on StarShipSofa. It also collected, along with several of Chiang’s other stories, in Stories of Your Life and Others.

The Stable Master’s Tale by Rachel Swirsky is a modern parable, with echos of the bite found in the works of The Brothers Grimm. Though there’re no animals in sight, Swirsky has a point to make, a moral to bring to light, and she does so in a grim, honest way that reveals both the light and the dark in humanity. We’re neither good, nor bad. Rather, we’re both at once.

Swirsky’s prose is suitable to the tone of the story, and the voice of her nameless narrator is lively, but never so overwhelming that it takes the focus away from the themes and plot of the novel. It’s a novel about both the relationship between a girl and a dragon, and the parallels in their respective imprisonments (her’s through choices she’s made, its through mutilation and literal captivity), and also explores the limits of the human propensity to allow greed and narrow-mindedness to lead to self-destruction. Swirsky never forgets the ultimate strength of the classic fables: though they’ve a lesson to tell, but they never forget that they’re supposed to be fun. Like the best stories, The Stable Master’s Tale could potentially be read, and enjoyed, by young and old alike, It’s never bogged down by overwrought prose or too heavy moralism. Even with the themes removed, it’s a classic bed time tale.

In recent years, Rachel Swirsky’s short fiction has shown up on ballots for the Hugo, Nebula and Locus awards (among other honours). Though The Stable Master’s Tale is not one of her nominated works (and likely won’t be, given that it treads very familiar ground, unlike works such as The Memory of Wind and Eros, Philia, Agape), it’s more than enough to convince me that Swirsky is more than capable of sitting alongside writers like Caitlin R. Kiernan and Saladin Ahmed atop my list of exciting young authors to keep an eye on.

You can read for free The Stable Master’s Tale on the Fantasy Magazine Website.

City of Ruin

Author – Mark Charan Newton

Hardcover
Pages: 400
Publisher: Tor (UK)
Release Date: June 4, 2010
ISBN-10: 0230712592
ISBN-13: 978-0230712591

The New Weird. It’s that strange little literary movement that, according to Mark Charan Newton, is dead. And yet, he’s flying that mantle high, telling anyone who’ll listen that City of Ruin, the second volume of his Legends of the Red Sun series, has been let of its leash by virtue of a four book publishing deal; it’s going to be weirder, more true to Newton’s original vision of the sun-deprived Boreal Archipelago. Nights of Villjamur, Newton’s first novel (REVIEW), dabbled in the New Weird, but City of Ruin is meant as a love letter to two ailing genres (it’s also very much in the vein of Jack Vance’s Dying Earth novels and Gene Wolfe’s Book of the New Sun), and promises to be the unrestrained novel Newton wanted to write in the first place (it’s not easy to sell giant spiders, floating spaceship islands and geriatric cultists to publishers, I guess.)

The New Weird movement is one I’ve only watched with vague disinterest from the sidelines. It just wasn’t for me. I’m too traditional, too happy to read novels I recognize. Why would I need weird for weirdness sake? At least, that’s what I thought. I was worried that the New Weird would take too much to wrap my head around, would be more trouble than it was worth. But, if City of Ruin is such an example of the genre then, well… the New Weird just isn’t as weird as the reputation that precedes it. Rather, it’s Fantasy with an open mind, Fantasy that steps away from Elves and Dragons and replaces them with smoking, male banshees and corpse golems. My early perceptions of New Weird were that I’d constantly be forced to reevaluate how I approached the place and setting of the novel, to push aside preconceptions and learn again how to listen to a story; but, really, in the end, a hulking, angry coin golem is just a fresh coat of paint on a troll, and a city-stomping cephalopod is just a dragon in disguise.
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Imagine Beowulf, but replace the titular character with a drunk lesbian, the verse with beautiful prose and a myth-like lilt and you’ve an idea of what to expect from The Sea Troll’s Daughter, Caitlin R. Kiernan‘s contribution to Swords & Dark Magic, an collection of short fiction compiled by Jonathan Strahan and Lou Anders. In an anthology stuffed with Scott Lynch, Joe Abercrombie and Greg Keyes, it comes as a bit of a surprise that, a few weeks since putting the novel down, the story that has lingered longest was written by an author I’d not had any encounter with in the past, that I’d not been intending to read at all. I’ve since learned that Caitlin R. Kiernan, beyond her novels, is a multiple awarding-winning, and very prolific writer of short fiction. It’s easy to see why.

The Sea Troll’s Daughter tells the tale of an (at first) unnamed warrior – a drunkard woman who claims to have slain the Sea Troll, a nefarious monster that has threatened the livelihood of the village. Weaved on top of this overall narrative are the woes of a downtrodden, but greedy village, doomed romance and the dangers of misconception. Kiernan plays with the ideas of repercussions, of greed and its inexorable hold on our race, and, ultimately, of that ever present search for redemption and self-worth.

The connections and allusions to Beowulf are obvious, but doubly interesting when one considers that Kiernan wrote the novelization of the 2007 film version of Beowulf. The Sea Trolls Daugher seems to be Kiernan’s rebuttal to the famous poem, a challenge to the stereotypes and plot structure that has been stolen so many times in modern and ancient literature. Replacing the archetypical Beowulf with a cynical, well-realized female lends a weight to the classic tale that I’ve not run across before.

Told much like a fireside tale, rather than a more typical narrative style, Kiernan’s work is reminiscent of myth and legend, like a story passed by word of mouth and subverted by each tongue it touches. The story there is compelling, but there’s also the melancholy feeling that the truth has been lost in the telling. It’s an unusual road for the narrative to travel, but one that gives the story a timeless quality, and it’s lingered with me far longer than the other stories in the volume. Rather than just setting out to tell a story that entertains, Kiernan attemps, and succeeds, in showing that cliches and familiarity can be strengths, as much as weaknesses.

Stories with this much perspicacity are rare, and doubly so when they have the courage to retell and refine one of the defining works of our civilization’s literature. If The Sea Troll’s Daughter, one of the standout stories in an exceptional collation, is an indication of the quality and life of Kiernan’s work, I’ve got a new trove of wonderful fiction to explore.

Bearers of the Black Staff

Author – Terry Brooks

Hardcover
Pages: 368 pages
Publisher: Del Rey
Release Date: August 24, 2010
ISBN-10: 0345484177
ISBN-13: 978-0345484178

In the interest of full disclosure, I’m a moderator at the Official Terry Brooks Forums, a role which I take seriously, but which has not coloured the following review

Reviewing a new Terry Brooks book is always a taxing experience for me. On the one hand, I’m a longtime fan of his work and have trouble separating my critic sensibilities from my fanboy sensibilities. As a fan, it’s often easy to overlook shortcomings by focussing on the elements of the novels that appeal to my deeply engrained fanboyisms – those small, easter egg elements that would mean little to a new reader, but send shivers up the spine of longtime fans. On the other hand, as a critic, Brooks’ reliance on these cyclical, repeating themes, plot elements and character archetypes is something that can’t be ignored.

Bearers of the Black Staff is the opening volume of a duology (in name only, which I’ll get to later), The Legends of Shannara, that further attempts to connect his Word & Void series (a wonderfully original and darkly satisfying Contemporary Fantasy trilogy) with his decades-running Shannara series. As promised. Brooks continues to explore how our war-ravaged Earth was transformed into the sweeping magical world of the Four Lands, and fans of the series will love some of the surprises and revelations in store.
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The Prince of Mist

Author – Carlos Ruiz Zafon

Hardcover
Pages: 224
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Release Date: May 4, 2010
ISBN-10: 0316044776
ISBN-13: 978-0316044776

EXCERPT

Carlos Ruiz Zafon’s The Shadow of the Wind is one of my two favourite novels. The other is The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. On the surface, these novels appear to have little in common – one is quest Fantasy, set in a mythical world, the other is a coming-of-age story set in 1940′s Spain. Where they’re similar, though, is in their origins and the reasons they were written.

Tolkien originally wrote The Hobbit for his children, a tale of adventure and hijinks meant to entertain and excite them. I much prefer it to The Lord of the Rings for its brevity, for its ability to get to the point and tell a story for storytelling’s sake.

I once saw young adult (YA) novels described as (and I’m paraphrasing) ‘Adult novels without all the crap’. I thought this a rather apt description of the oft-maligned publishing category. Though I’m ultimately a reader of adult novels, I’m drawn to YA for its hungry veracity to lay the story out before its audience, to cut out all the nuance and posturing and let the reader into its secrets, to reward them quickly for their commitment. It’s like a moped to a motorcycle: simple, little stress the reader, but ultimately enjoyable.

I like to think of The Shadow of the Wind as an evolution of this style of storytelling. It’s more drawn out than typical YA, with much of that extraneous fat and muscle added back on, but Zafon was able to draw on his experience writing YA and apply what he’d learned to craft a story that was as fable-like as the best YA. From a small cast of characters, to a youthful, zesty voice, to its ability and willingness to question the world, The Shadow of the Wind is a YA Adult novel grown up. This bumbling, awkward kid’s turned into a sophisticated gentleman.
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Prior to releasing A Game of Thrones, and subsequently becoming one of the brightest and most respected authors in the Fantasy field, George R.R. Martin was perhaps best known for his short fiction, much of it in the Science Fiction genre, and a far cry from his current bread and butter. Foremost among those is Sandkings.

Set in the far future city of Asgard, Sandkings tells the lamentable story of playboy Simon Kress, a man ruled by passions, but lacking in wit. Kress is a purveyor of exotic (and dangerous) animals, which he uses to entertain his guests at parties. A lonely attention whore. To this end, he acquires four sets of Sandkings – rare, insect-like hiveminds drawn to tribal warfare and worshipping their owner, all within the confines of a large aquarium. Just imagine being a kid and watching your pet turtles, or the ants in your ant-farm, war with each other over land and food. They promised to be the crown jewel of Kress’ collection.

Martin’s strength of creating characters you hate, yet understand at the same time, a hallmark of A Song of Ice and Fire is evident even in his early short fiction. Sandkings follows Kress’s travails as he raises the sandkings, cruelly using them to his amusement, wading into an addiction to the popularity they bring him. In a remarkably short space, Martin manages to make Kress both despicable, but interesting and likable at the same time. As the reader, we can see all the mistakes the man makes, but, equally, we understand his reasoning for making them. It all comes back to that loneliness, that cry for attention.

Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire is known for its uncompromising twists and turns, for setting up plot twists hundreds of pages in advance, but only clear to the reader upon reflection. Sandkings is no different, and shows the roots of the storytelling that would go on to make Martin famous and rewards the reader with a cruel twist ending, that leaves several juicy questions to gnaw on.

Equally viable as a horror story and a psychological profile of the downfall of a greedy, lonely man, SandKings is an absolute pleasure to read, and justifies those that claim Martin’s true strength lies not in his Epic Fantasy but in short fiction. Speaking also to its quality is the fact that despite being published 30+ years ago, the story holds up to every one of its contemporaries, with not a wrinkle or liver spot to be seen. If you’ve only read Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire, or haven’t read anything by Martin at all, do yourself a favour and pick up Dreamsongs Volume I & II, and discover Sandkings, and the other roots of one of the most compelling storytellers of our generation.

With the release of The Lies of Locke Lamora in 2006 (REVIEW), Scott Lynch made a lot of noise and quickly established himself as one of the most promising young writers in the genre. It was an impressive debut, mixing Sword & Sorcery with an Ocean’s Eleven-style heist, and was quickly followed by an entertaining (if slightly disappointing) sequel, Red Seas Under Red Skies. Since then, Lynch has been quiet, periodically popping online, but mostly working on the third volume of his series, The Republic of Theives, in silence. It’s been a hard wait; doubly so after reading Lynch’s contribution to Swords & Dark Magic. In the Stacks is an over-too-soon story that showcases Lynch’s best qualities as a writer – his wit, grasp on character and layered (but never too intricate) plotting.

In the Stacks is set in the High University of Hazar; more particularly in its library. The story follows three youths as they attempt to pass their year-end exam. Simply, they have to return a book to its place among the shelves. As expected of a Swords & Sorcery story, things are never quite so simple as they seem and the charming chaos that ensues forces the characters to stretch their magic and fight with a very unconventional weapon. The library is full of grimoire’s, and the creatures they spawn, that would like nothing less than to devour any outside presence, including the words spoken from mouths of errant students.

It reads, well… like Scott Lynch writing Harry Potter. There’s bite to the dialogue (though it’s not as ribald as his Gentlemen Bastard Sequence), lots of action, and a suitably clever climax. The school setting, the camaraderie and even the magic system (light and nebulous as it is), are reminiscent of Blake Charlton’s recent Spellwright, but with more cheek, and a bit of a chip on their shoulder. The only low comes in the last pages, when Lynch throws an unnecessary (but, admittedly, well-established) twist at the reader that shines a different light on one of the characters. Still, it’s a small flaw amidst a wonderful story.

If there are connections to Lynch’s earlier work they are not easily noticed, but I couldn’t help but see shades of Locke Lamora and his gang of thieves among the students. Lynch’s clever prose and easy command of his characters will wrap you up, and rambunctiously steal you away to that mysterious library. In The Stacks is a strong addition to a heavyweight anthology, and promises of great things when The Republic of Thieves hits shelves in several months.

When Swords & Dark Magic was first announced, several names jumped out at me from the Table of Contents, but none more so than Joe Abercrombie. Known for writing doorstoppers, I’ve always felt that Abercrombie would benefit from writing in a more confined space, that limits his ability to wander off into conversational tangents, to offer restraint for a writer who fills his novels with characters who are unfamiliar with the word.

The Fool Jobs, the final story in the collection, features a band of mercenaries (some of whom are central to his upcoming novel, The Heroes), are hired by some mysterious woman to retrieve some mysterious thing from some dive in the middle of nowhere. That’s all they know about the job, and that’s all the reader knows about the job. Like all good Sword & Sorcery, The Fool Jobs is not about the destination, but rather the journey to get there. In typical Abercrombie fashion, the characters all seem to hate each other (or at least express their love with acerbic wit), raise some hell, botch even the simplest tasks, and then pull through with a charming twist of fate.

Perhaps it’s not surprising, but I found The Fool Jobs, to be just what I’ve come to expect from Abercrombie, short fiction or long. The characters are all well defined, with their own voices. They perhaps chatter too much (and everyone is clever, too clever), especially in the early pages of the story, when a large handful of names and personalities are introduced, which is somewhat hard to swallow in a short story. Abercrombie’s trademark cynicism is, oddly, kept to a minimum, despite the brutality of the story and the nature of the characters. There’s a lightness to the camaraderie, which is a nice change after the relentlessness of Best Served Cold, and he ends the story with a twist that’ll bring a smile to anyone’s face.

It might not make convert non-believers to the Cult of Abercrombie, but The Fool Jobs is everything his fans love. For this fan, it was a nice palate cleanser after a somewhat disappointed experience with Best Served Cold. I’m left more anxious than ever to get my hands on The Heroes and rejoin Craw, his group of bandits, and Whirrun’s many-named sword.

At times horrifying, at times touching and sad, Elizabeth Bear’s The Horrid Glory of Its Wings is an intense testament to what the Fantasy genre can achieve when it sets out to explore some of the harsly human aspects of our own world. To say much about the plot and themes of the story (short, as it is) would be to ruin the potential emotional impact on the reader, but watching protagonist Desiree struggle with her demons — both psychological and physical — can be frustrating, uncomfortable, and left me feeling like a teenager watching a slasher flick, yelling advice at the page as Desiree struggles against her demons.

The story unfolds delicately, starting with Desiree speaking of the ‘Harpy’, whose tangibility is hard to grasp a hold of, and reveals each new layer of Desiree’s insecurities and the realities of her world at a perfect pace, painting a slow picture of a road with two forks, one light, the other dark. If it touches on melodramatic, it’s easy to forgive.

The Horrid Glory of Its Wings is a startling look at the human condition and our ability to shun help, support and success even when it stares us in the face. But through all this darkness, there is also that desire to overcome, to persevere and throw off our shackles and take what is rightfully ours. It is up to the reader to find the message in this story. Highly recommended.

You can read or download The Horrid Glory of Its Wings by Elizabeth Bear on Tor.com.

I first caught wind of Saladin Ahmed when he was interviewed by the charming Blake Charlton. I was impressed with the interview, and the things he said of embracing Muslim themes and mythology and integrating them into the sometimes stale Fantasy genre. When I saw that his short story Hooves and the Hovel of Abdel Jameela was on the ballot for the Nebula Award, I figured it was time to get my ass in gear and give his fiction a go.

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