For the last year or so, my habit has been to supplement my monthly Clarkesworld and GigaNotoSaurus review with a second feature where I highlight a couple different publications with multiple stories that caught my eye. This month it’s a bit longer than usual, as I’ve rolled up stories from two magazines that do smaller, more frequent releases (Beneath Ceaseless Skies and Strange Horizons), added four from one of my typical venues (Asimov’s) and dug into a pair of magazines where I’d received Advanced Review Copies (Adventitious and Otherside). So for the second time in the last year, I’m doing a five-zine blitz–there’s plenty to talk about, so let’s get to it!
Adventitious
Three stories caught my eye from the second-ever issue of Adventitious–two new releases and a reprint from Clarkesworld. All Under Heaven by Marie Brennan is a retelling of the histories of the great unifiers of Japan, only with the historical “Demon King” moniker cast as literal. It can be a bit tricky to sort through the details for those unfamiliar with Japanese history, but the structure and style make for an entertaining read with a satisfying conclusion.
The second original piece to hit my TBR, Fernie by Angela Liu, is a time travel story that’s just plain fun. Perspective is split between the oft-ignored child of a time-traveling family and the sentient fern inserting itself as a spy on a powerful group of mammals. One can see how hijinks would ensue. And if it isn’t especially surprising, it easily makes up for it by being a blast to read.
But perhaps my favorite of the three I read from this issue was the reprint, Of Sight, of Mind, of Heart by Samantha Murray, a second-person tale of a mother speedrunning the parenthood of a genetically-altered child raised for war against the aliens invading the solar system. Interestingly, this isn’t even the first weird parenthood story I’ve read by Murray in Clarkesworld, but I suppose if your brain is stuck on a theme and you have interesting things to say about it, keep writing. This one is short and emotional, with both a punch and a bit of ambiguity at the finish.
Asimov’s
The March/April issue of Asimov’s had just three short stories on a table of contents stuffed with three full-length novellas, but all of them immediately caught my attention, as did one of the novelettes. I started with the novelette, How to Live With Polar Bears by Octavia Cade, which makes up for its lack of plot with some incredible narration. It opens as a riff on the viral “man or bear” question, except that the narrator—despite living in New Zealand—fancies the bear in question to be a polar bear. That kicks off a wild, stream-of-consciousness series of musings that cover everything from genetic engineering to climate change to transporting bears across oceans to. . . let’s just say it covers many things. There’s even an extended segment in which the narrator airs her frustrations with the personality of Frankenstein’s monster. It’s dark and it’s bloody, but it’s also hilarious and features some strong thematic exploration just under the surface. This seems like the sort of story that could easily go viral if it weren’t behind a paywall. The almost complete lack of plot is a minor negative (I don’t need a lot of plot, but some is nice), but this one is an absolute trip regardless.
On the short story side, The High Shrines by Stephen Case sees the lead hunting for a man who had suddenly left his job for a small religious sect on an isolated island just after surveying an asteroid for which there are few records. The story of a skeptic forced to engage with a religious community and learning to take their faith seriously hits plenty of predictable beats, but the tale captures the wonder of discovery and the vast breadth of the unknown in a way that keeps it plenty fresh.
Antarctic Radio by Gu Shi, translated by Andy Dudak, looks like a straightforward climate crisis story—a topic I usually dislike, as worldbuilding doom can so easily take the place of a compelling narrative—but I’d enjoyed the author in the past and so decided to give it a try anyways. And while the bulk of the story is indeed a pair of radio hosts reflecting on historical disasters, it’s interspersed with a slow-building family story that gives the whole piece some greater emotional depth.
The third short story I read from the issue is How Else by David Ebenbach, the story of a virtual reality machine that allows people to briefly experience the lives they would have had if certain major events had gone differently. The lead is obsessed with these counterfactuals and insists on saving for a session, even over her husband’s objections. What she finds says more about her than her environment in a story that relies more on a clever take on the premise than a deep dive into her character.
Beneath Ceaseless Skies
February is science-fantasy month at Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and there were a pair of stories that piqued my curiosity. Bloom Where You Are Planted by Melanie Mulrooney considers a world in which people are sorted into communities based on the plants that sprout on their bodies. The lead is the classic overlooked younger sister of the perfect child whose roses provide their family a ticket to a social status they’d never dreamed of. The lead has never wanted that life, and she soon finds another outcast to befriend. The story doesn’t dig far beyond the familiar beats, but it does offer a climactic confrontation between sisters that lends depth and pathos to the entire enterprise.
Next, To Atone for Evil by Megan Chee follows a winged hunter whose conquering people have themselves been conquered by the self-styled Peace Collective. The lead is meant to tour the worlds until they can see the error of their ways, but what they see instead is some of the imperfection beneath the Peace Collective facade. While the lead’s moral relativism is unconvincing, the exploration of different sorts of strife and oppression in different societies still makes for an excellent read.
Otherside
I was honored to receive an ARC of the very first issue of the queer SFF magazine Otherside, and while I’m not sure I have the appropriate sensibilities for everything in the issue, there were a pair of stories that stood out on initial scan and delivered highly enjoyable reading experiences. I often enjoy the work of Nadia Radovich, so Curriculum for Girls Who Will Survive was always going to be worth a try. It shares plenty of DNA with zombie stories, though the change seems to be translated through visual perception rather than biting, making it a fair sight less gory. This tale in particular focuses on girls born to survivors, having lived their whole lives in the knowledge that their mothers would hold up their community. But ultimately, the next generation must learn to fend for themselves, relying on each other and the value of what they had learned. While coming-of-age-in-the-apocalypse isn’t a storyline that pushes boundaries, this one is written in a way that beautifully brings out the life-or-death tension and the burning desire to find a way forward.
The next selection is another that follows familiar forms but stands out with its storytelling. The Claywife by Tanadrin stars a woman built from clay and magically imbued with life, but only to obey and to serve, never to deceive or pursue her own agenda. At least until she finds a refugee from another land and begins to change in ways she doesn’t even understand. The unique patter associated with claywives presents an unusual storytelling rhythm that requires an adjustment period, but once the reader sinks into the flow, they’re rewarded with a story that’s impressive as it is enjoyable.
Strange Horizons
A pair of stories by indigenous authors jumped out at me in the February issue of Strange Horizons. A Night with Hui ‘Enehana ‘Ike by Maʻemaʻeolehua Matsumoto features a tech organization that heavily integrates native wildlife into their infrastructure. The details are unclear, but it lends a solarpunk aesthetic to the tale of a young woman trying to meet her job’s demands in spite of a tendency toward oversleeping that has given her a reputation for unreliability. The problem-solving is fairly straightforward, with the glimpses of a new way of living being the star here.
Finally, The River Speaks My Name by Ocoxōchitl la Coyota is a folk horror tale set in an arid landscape whose meager river doesn’t nearly fill the irrigation needs for the local community. And yet, there’s a mysterious hole with no known depth and plenty of rumors about women and children disappearing. Whenever I review a horror story, I caveat that I’m not a horror fan and am not the best judge, and yet this one won me over with a wonderful atmosphere, with tension building to the (expected) reveal of the lead’s tragic history and then going one farther. Extremely effective.
March Favorites
- “How to Live With Polar Bears” by Octavia Cade (novelette, Asimov’s)
- “The River Speaks My Name” by Ocoxōchitl la Coyota (short story, Strange Horizons)