It feels like hype for Tamsyn Muir’s debut novel about necromantic lesbians, bone citadels, rockin’ adventures, tantalizing mysteries, wicked sword fights, and many, many reanimated corpses has been building for YEARS. It was earlier this year, however, when it really started to catch my attention. Isabel Yap, who’s been championing the book since its earliest days, popped onto Twitter and blew my socks off by callingGideon the Ninth “the closest thing to a JRPG in novel form.”
As an older millennial, I grew up in a post-Chernobyl world. I’ve been aware of the incident for my entire life, without ever knowing the truth of it. I knew Pripyat from a few video games I’d played—its mystique as a ghost town overshadowing the reality that tens of thousands of people had their lives uprooted and never truly destroyed because of the disaster at the nearby nuclear power platn. An equal number of people have died (and continue to die) because of the accident. This happened in my life time, while I was toddling about my home, searching for crumbs and toys, but it always had the feeling of a far-off myth or something out of a storybook. Living in Canada, I had the privilege to know about it, but not know about it.
HBO’s Chernobyl was released earlier this year to rave reviews. I thought I knew about the Chernobyl incident because I was vaguely aware of how nuclear reactors operated (thanks to the Fukushima nuclear disaster in 2011) and how government bureaucracy led to the disaster being worse than it should have been. I thought back to Call of Duty. I had no idea what I was in for when I sat down for watch Chernobyl—written by the guy who wrote Scary Movie 3 and The Hangover Part II, no less—but I walked away from the absolutely pitch perfect first episode reeling, unable to fall asleep. It was dark and bleak, angry, hopeless, terrifying.
One of the benefits of being a part of the vast SFF community is making great friends. One of the benefits of those great friends is the opportunity to read their books early. I consider myself fortunate to count Sarah Gailey among those friends. They’re smart, funny, dynamic, and have a range to their writing that few other authors can match. I had an opportunity to read their first novel a couple of years ago, back when it had a different title, and it’s not an exaggeration to say I’ve been on the edge of my seat WAITING until it was released ever since then so I could scream at everybody I know to read it. It’s out now, called Magic for Liars, I’ve read the final version, and, y’all, it’s GOOD.
(In the interest of full disclosure, I felt my previous involvement with the novel meant it would be in poor taste for me to review it for a professional venue—but, here on my blog, I can say whatever I want. So:
Last week, Kameron Hurley’s The Light Brigade was released with much fan fare and critical acclaim. Over on Tor.com, I said, “The Light Brigade is a standout novel in Kameron Hurley’s already impressive career. It’ll get your pulse pounding, your blood boiling, and your heart aching. It’ll make you angry, scared, and, at the most unexpected moments, hopeful. The history of Military SF novels is long and storied, but Hurley’s work can stand up with the best of them.”
In the tradition of Heinlein and Haldeman, The Light Brigade is a Military SF novel that explores one soldier’s tumultuous, asynchronous experience through a war between Earth and Mars.
Here’s a little more from my review:
Kameron Hurley’s The Light Brigade is the latest in this line of novels to modernize Heinlein’s classic tale, and like those that have come before, it too is an important, critical look at the role of how war bends and warps modern society. It is also every bit as good as The Forever War and Old Man’s War, and has the potential to become the next great Military SF classic.
Aidan Moher, Tor.com
Among its myriad themes are explorations of war’s toll, anti-capitalism, personal motivation, xenophobia, media manipulation, and vengeance. If it sounds heady, it is. Hurley digs into these themes with a razor-sharp scalpel, connecting each of them inextricably tight to the novel’s plot and characters. To further explore these themes and the story behind the novel, I caught up with Hurley for a chat about The Light Brigade, its influences, time travel, and what the future can tell us about the present.
Going into Xenoblade Chronicles 2, I knew the experience might not be for me. I enjoyed the first game in the series—especially its scope, colourful setting, and story—but burned out of in forty hours in after getting stuck on a boss. So, I was excited when the second game was announced, but critical and fan reception was mixed, and for all the wrong reasons. Still, I was able to snag the game on sale, and, in the wake of Breath of the Wild, looking for something sprawling and epic, decided to take the chance.
‘Tis the season to overindulge, and scream against the hurricane of social media about all the awesome stuff you did and read this year. Fun times.
Below, you’ll find some of my award eligible work, and also a long list of the coolest, most awesome, and tubular things I read and experienced this year.
My Eligible Work
Here is a sampling of my work from this year. I have two stories eligible for “Best Short Story,” and my non-fiction work across this site, my Twitter feed, Tor.com, and the Barnes & Noble SFF Blog makes me eligible for “Best Fan Writer.”
“The Dinosaur Graveyard” (Robot Dinosaurs!—Short Story, 1.4k words)
“The Dinosaur Graveyard” is a short, bittersweet story about an engineer, her daughter, and the decaying remains of robot dinosaurs that are fading from relevancy.
When Youngblood’s island is invaded by, she must gather her friends, courage, and wits to survive—and the dinosaurs are the least of her problems.”Youngblood” is LOST meets Jurassic Park fuelled by the Dead Kennedys.
You won’t find tips for writing tighter dialogue, cleaner prose, better transitions. There’s nothing inside its pages about how to make your action scenes sing, improve your descriptions, or increase your word count. It’s not a worldbuilding bible.
In case you somehow missed it, comic/book Twitter was ablaze on Friday with the news that Marvel fired Chuck Wendig in a rather unceremonious and contentious fashion. (Wendig recaps the news here.) A lot of readers were justifiably upset and angry. Myself among them.
As a result, I ended up buying Wendig’s book on writing, Damn Fine Story: Mastering the Tools of a Powerful Narrative. I’ve been meaning to read it for a while—especially with a major fiction project coming up as I wrap up “The Rose and Honey Soul” and I move on to devoting writing time fully to The Thousand Shattered Gods—and it seemed as good a time as ever to finally follow through. No surprise, Damn Fine Story is… damn fine. Anyone who reads Wendig’s blog, Terrible Minds, knows his sublime ability to to provide writing advice with a narrative voice that’s at once funny, cutting, and insightful. He’s got the uncanny ability to turn writing advice into page-turning material. (More on that later, when I post my full impressions of the book.)