these fantasy-action paperbacks from the 70s & 80s that are low on sense & sensibility but high on magic & fighting are usually guilty pleasures, and these fantasy-action paperbacks from the 70s & 80s that are low on sense & sensibility but high on magic & fighting are usually guilty pleasures, and this piece of genre fluff is no exception. had to dock a star because the dialogue was so bad it made me feel nauseous - my God, the dunderheaded misuse of certain words - and since I am a rigorous and exacting critic of such misdeeds, the book must be punished. otherwise, this was pretty fun and there was a lot of creativity crammed into its 140 pages. hilarious that the whole story is Gerin the Fox and his barbarian buddy going to the big city to recruit a sorcerer for the battle back home, and to drop off a runaway Lady, and they end up finding a sorcerer who up & loses his powers in the very next chapter and the Lady decides she didn't want to get dropped off after all - the whole trip was a big waste of time. well at least they got to do a lot of drinking plus get massages from a flirty gay masseur. this is a world where blood-craving ghosts come out at night to unintelligibly whine, but are pretty ineffective so everyone just ignores them. also a world where apparently much of the population are were-people who don't transform unless all four moons are full at the same time, which is what happens on WERENIGHT and also right in the middle of a battle. nearly everyone turns into some kind of bloodthirsty fast-healing animal and they just start attacking and eating each other, regardless of which side they were on pre-transformation. that was wild, ultraviolent hilarity, but was sadly only a third of a chapter. sure do wish Werenights could happen in our world too!...more
All of Tom Reamy's fiction under one cover, minus his Bradbury homage, the novel Blind Voices. (I read the hardcover edition of this collection, but tAll of Tom Reamy's fiction under one cover, minus his Bradbury homage, the novel Blind Voices. (I read the hardcover edition of this collection, but that's not appearing on Goodreads.) Reamy was a fascinating author and many of his tales are wonderfully strange. He had a lively intelligence that makes me wonder what more he could have brought into the world, if he hadn't left the world so soon.
The collection has three new additions to his prior collection, the excellent San Diego Lightfoot Sue and Other Stories. None of them amazed me, and two of them were mediocre - but all three are still interesting for completists like me.
"Sting!" is a screenplay about an alien invasion in a small town. Goofy fun but clichéd and not particularly memorable.
"M Is for the Million Things" is bleak and repulsive. Bad things happen to people, perhaps randomly and perhaps not, and maybe this is the start of the end of the human race. The talent is there but I'm not sure why this was written.
"Potiphee, Petey, and Me" is very hard to describe. In some kind of society - post-apocalyptic maybe? - mutated or bio-engineered men live a certain kind of way, without women. The overlords of this society keep the men "horny, happy, and ignorant" which basically involves a lot of sodomy and the designation of some males as female-labeled "butterflies". The plot: after the death of their butterfly, three men hope to reconstitute their group marriage by finding a new butterfly, which will get some female-labeled energy back into their home and will mean they can finally stop fucking each other. Our hero, the aptly-named Horse, stumbles upon a plot by a group of rebel butterflies who seek to escape into the outer world. This novella was strangely light-hearted and incredibly bizarre.
✄
I'll just copy & paste some of my review of San Diego Lightfoot Sue to describe more of this collection:
"Twilla" was super fun - a dark kind of fun, but fun nonetheless: a thrilling battle between an elderly schoolteacher, living out her days in a dusty small town, and a vicious little witch, trapped in a schoolgirl's body and armed with spells, homunculi, and and an enslaved djinn. That horrific, demonic, rape-happy djinn is the story's biggest character, in all definitions of the word, but what I loved in particular was how Reamy fully invests in his brave heroine - still virginal after all her years, but still an intrepid maverick who knows how people think and who knows exactly how to take care of business.
"Beyond the Cleft" and "Dinosaurs" are about the end of things: in the first, the end of human life as we know it in a small town (and perhaps everywhere) and the beginning of something terrible and new to take its place; in the second, the end of human life on our earth and the beginning of something new and perhaps not so terrible, ready to take our place. The first story was pitch dark, deadpan horror; the second was incredibly imaginative science fiction that is at ease in depicting completely alien cultures - human and otherwise - with a bleak and mournful tone. Sad and memorable stories depicting sad, terrible things. Ah, the sad, terrible cycle of life!
I had so much fun reading the slightly amateurish "Insects in Amber" - and the feeling I had of this story being written by an excited writer just developing his skills actually added to the fun. It was slapdash and speedy and I smiled constantly. The plot: a number of strangers find that a storm has trapped them all in an old dark mansion, one that comes complete with an eerie, elderly mistress, her sinister servant, a strange supernatural force, psychic powers galore, and a couple memorable deaths. What's not to love? I have literally just described everything I'm interested in when it comes to old dark mansions.
The cynical, snarky appeal of urban noir that stars police detectives and private detectives is fully present in "Under the Hollywood Sign" and "Detweiler Boy". The careful putting together of clues, the stubborn protagonists, the untrustworthy suspects, the sudden plunge into a bleak existential darkness - all there, alongside a rich vein of disturbing, surreal fantasy that involves inexplicable angels (the winged kind) and a mysterious twin (the bloodthirsty kind). And mixed in with all of that is what felt like a kind of homoeroticism, one not curdled with any sort of loathing, self- or otherwise. I'm not sure what the sexuality of the author was, but the feel I get is that of a person not just completely at ease with their own sexuality, but open and nonjudgmental of the spectrum of sexuality itself. That was a good feeling and a surprising thing to find.
That openness is certainly present in the highly regarded and awarded "San Diego Lightfoot Sue," which has a sweet, very naive teen from a small town, new to Los Angeles, taken in by two very flaming and, much more importantly, very kind queens. I completely loved that the depiction of these two embraced both the stereotypes and how genuine and nurturing they are. Reamy was certainly not an author who Othered those outside the mainstream. The boy falls in love with the much older prostitute-painter next door; tragedy soon follows. The story is actually barely even genre fiction - outside of the opening and the tragic closing, this is more of a coming of age tale featuring a remarkable and very sympathetic cast....more
all the sweet spots were hit, including one I didn't know I even had: sardonic and (relatively) independent heroine yearning to explore the world; welall the sweet spots were hit, including one I didn't know I even had: sardonic and (relatively) independent heroine yearning to explore the world; well-developed setting; lavish detail porn featuring décor, couture, and food; arch dialogue; vivid swordfights; and especially, surprisingly, a Gary Stu Vampire versus decadent, sadistic Satanists. I'd add in an admirably frank attitude towards describing sex, but the sex described in this one was basically satanic gang rape, so I'll leave that out as far as sweet spots go.
speaking of sex, one of the most interesting/amusing things about Gary Stu-Germain the heartbreaker protagonist is that the book makes it clear that vampires can't have sex (at least of the penetrative variety). when you combine that with his disinterest in killing people, his sweet supportiveness and gentle demeanor, his style, his frequent and generous compliments, his kindness to servants... he's the safest and most pleasant vampire one could ever have the pleasure of meeting. I'd probably let him chaperone my daughter (as long as he promised not to turn her).
Yarbro's prose is polished and sophisticated but never pretentious. despite the amount of historical detail on display, the narrative never felt heavy. this was such a pleasure to read, so droll and amusing. and sometimes very moving.
something that really stood out to me - besides the utter goodness of the vampire hero - was how Yarbro rather subtly illustrated her feminism via the letters written by certain characters to each other. instead of creating an artificial situation or unrealistic characters, Yarbro instead shows her disdain for repressive value systems by having such values extolled by a couple embarrassingly foolish supporting characters. namely, a father and an abbot, both of whom spend a lot of time talking about how beautiful and Christian it is for a woman to completely submit to their husband/master's will.
I'm excited to check in with saintly Saint-Germain in future novels to see how different iterations of him throughout history think and act, especially in comparison with the warmth and compassion displayed here.
†
much gratitude to Saffron Moon for sending me this awesome book! really enjoyed it.
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also, I love that this was the review's first like:
three mythopoeic fantasies from an author incapable of ironic distance from his topics. which is an admirable trait to me. Swann writes sparkling talethree mythopoeic fantasies from an author incapable of ironic distance from his topics. which is an admirable trait to me. Swann writes sparkling tales of myths and legends with a special kind of purity and a definite lack of winking at his audience. he's all-in, fully enchanted by the worlds he's created. the first two novellas in this collection were wonderful and the third rather less so; all three are lovely creations. "Where Is the Bird of Fire" recounts the story of Romulus & Remus through the perspective of the faun Sylvan, devoted to the kindly Remus and aghast at the brutish Romulus. "Vashti" is about the adventures of Ianiskos, an adult healer in the body of a boy of 6 years, as he follows Xerxes the Great's wife to her homeland - exiled due to suspicions of her being a supernatural jinn. these two stories are lovingly crafted creations, delicately blending earthy characterization and airy imagery, wry wit and soulful melancholy. the lesser "Bear" concerns the ambitious druidess Deirdre, eager to make a new home in Rome, far away from her chilly woodland, by bespelling a crass Roman merchant; her servant and her familiar become unlikely hindrances to her mission. it was all a bit too broad for me....more
The magisterial Valentine Pontifex crowns the first trilogy in Silverberg's Majipoor series. The author, like fellow master Roger Zelazny, is fascinatThe magisterial Valentine Pontifex crowns the first trilogy in Silverberg's Majipoor series. The author, like fellow master Roger Zelazny, is fascinated by religion; this trilogy has at its heart the values and mysticism within the Christian faith. The trilogy itself appears modeled on the Trinity. The first book, Lord Valentine's Castle, is as the Son: gentle, kind, and without judgment, casting no stones; a dreamer and a wanderer and a peacemaker and a friend to all, turning its cheek and offering forgiveness at any offence; a sacrifice and a murder victim, reborn into glory. The second book, Majipoor Chronicles, is as the Holy Spirit: visiting all, seeing each individual, rejecting none; a guide to the world of Majipoor and a guide for each of the souls on that world; a teacher for the uninitiated who would learn of this world and its ideals; it bears witness about and for the Son. And so this third book is as the Father: the Son has been reborn, transformed; the rock of ages becomes the holy mountain, a strength absolute; the powers of love and understanding and forgiveness become tidal, an irresistible force. Valentine Pontifex is not the journey nor the lessons learned, it is the kingdom come. And thus the Son, Lord Valentine, held by the Spirit and its understanding of Majipoor, enters the kingdom of the Father, and all three are united: a Trinity, three that may differ in aspect but are of the same essence.
Readers who aren't particularly interested in Christianity need not fear: the book does not proselytize! I doubt that Silverberg himself identified as Christian; I'm not sure if he even considered himself a man of faith. This is not Narnia, which wears its Christianity as a proud banner, happy to be identified. The trilogy is a contemplation of Christian ideals, offered in the form of an epic story. But a story that is dreamy, soulful - as all who are interested in faith must dream and must lay bare their souls - and an epic that has the quiet values of forgiveness and compassion at its heart.
Having to be the sum of all of that means that this third book does not have the adventure or the lightness of spirit of the first book, nor does it have the wide-ranging deep dives into individual consciousness of the second book. But it was still an amazing experience for me. Silverberg's prose is dignified, often sublime, offering a God's-eye view of the various cities and cultures of this world. His hero carries a simple but holy message: love will conquer all. The scenes of Valentine overwhelming those who would oppose him with the power of his loving spirit were awesome - I don't think I've read any such scenes outside of the Bible, when much younger. There is a grandeur to Valentine Pontifex; the lightness of prior books may be gone but there is a majesty in its place. The journeys as a youth may be over, the panorama of life no longer centralized; all that came before are encompassed within the goal of creating something lasting. Threats are dispensed with by turning those threats into friends, welcoming them as fellow believers in the dream of what Majipoor could and should be. Sinners and sinned against are but two sides of the whole. Redemption and love are offered to all: the happiest of endings.
4.5 stars for the book, 5 stars for the trilogy as a whole....more
The slice of life is a guide, an instruction manual to understand a life. It is a bore at first, like many such manuals,
"Do you know what I mean?"
The slice of life is a guide, an instruction manual to understand a life. It is a bore at first, like many such manuals, like many such lives, when looking at the minutiae, when looking from the outside in. The life moves forward in stops and starts, decisions are made, love lives and dies and death is imagined then made real. The life goes on, and so starts another life, and then another..
"Yes," she said. "It's like a... dance somehow, a minuet or a pavane. Something stately and pointless, with all its steps set out. With a beginning, and an end..."
This is our world, and another world, the past world, and the world of the future. Life cycles on, history repeats itself, religion gives and takes away, the individual rises and falls while unaware of their place in that cycle, the causality of actions small and large, the rippling effect of one human upon many other humans...
"sometimes I think life's all a mass of significance, all sorts of strands and threads woven like a tapestry or a brocade. So if you pulled one out or broke it the pattern would alter right back through the cloth.
The author inhabits the characters and their descendants, this world and its antecedents. No attempt is made to make the experience an easy one for the reader, to make a described life come alive for any but the characters he has created, to make an envisioned world make sense for any but the residents of that world. And yet the characters come alive, as any life becomes understandable upon close and patient review, using that intangible tool empathy. And yet the world comes alive, as any world becomes comprehensible after living in it, after seeing that world in terms of not just differences but commonalities. Time marches on and time folds back in upon itself, the folds make something large seem small; but unfold that little world and its characters, and see how big it all becomes...
"Then I think... it would make just as much sense backwards as forwards, effects leading to causes and those to more effects... maybe that's what will happen, when we get to the end of Time. The whole world will shoot undone like a spring, and wind itself back to the start..."
the children are transported to a different world, not a Narnia but an adult world, a LOTR world writ small, a world of battles and magic and a dark mthe children are transported to a different world, not a Narnia but an adult world, a LOTR world writ small, a world of battles and magic and a dark menace threatening all. the children take separate journeys, of course, the eldest experiencing time in a different way. he becomes of the land, forgetting his past. a war is won, of course, but the journey is not over, not for him. a sacrifice must be made.
the book itself is a transporting experience. not simple, not quick; an immersion. there are scenes of a poetic kind of power: a battle between eagles, a horse choosing its rider, a whole life in our world slowly erased from memory, wood-folk dropping silently from trees, sea-folk coming ashore and dancing on a beach, a terrible earth goddess come from below, a terrible ritual underground to appease her.
Joy Chant was aptly named. the wildness of "joy" and a strange, rhythmic "chant" that calls out, a summons. she writes as she was named. the prose is masterful and the story is resonant, rich with myth, hinting at and sometimes plunging into unknowable depths. this fantasy for teens can be read by teens and adults alike, but perhaps better appreciated by those with a lifetime of experience behind them. and that terrible-wonderful ending! such a surprise and yet somehow inevitable....more
this dreamy yet stark bit of buried treasure puts its allegorical nature front and center. in this fantasy world, the lights have gone out: specificalthis dreamy yet stark bit of buried treasure puts its allegorical nature front and center. in this fantasy world, the lights have gone out: specifically, the lights of imagination, tolerance, thinking. in its place: clannishness, a lack of love and understanding, a disinterest in moving forward, let alone connecting with others. and a mindlessness that occasionally takes over its more impoverished residents, a mindlessness that brings people together to share bloodlust and various atrocities including cannibalism. even those who are "free" in this place - free to be individuals, free to learn and practice the powers with which some of them are endowed - are not free enough to understand the importance of empathy and a supportive community.
our protagonist is one of those free people, exiled willingly from his brutish village into a more rarified environment where he learns that even freedom means nothing if it doesn't include a connection with others. and so our hero connects, and projects himself into the world, against the mindlessness - and its source, and its avatar.
I loved the haunting strangeness of this book, where everyone seems to be living in their own sort of dream or nightmare, and has just come to accept it. I also loved the elemental nature of the magic displayed - basic but primal, and often awe-inspiring. the novel is beautifully written.
Joseph Burgo later went on to become a clinical psychologist. clearly his interests in the psychology of humanity - and specifically Jungian analysis - were present at the dawn of his career, back when he was writing fantasy novels with colorful fantasy covers.
sadly, this is the first in a trilogy that was actually never completed. alas! still well worth reading though....more
2.5 stars but because it's like Karl Edward Wagner had an even nerdier and hornier younger brother except this younger brother didn't get into drugs &2.5 stars but because it's like Karl Edward Wagner had an even nerdier and hornier younger brother except this younger brother didn't get into drugs & alcohol, he got into the gym, bulked up and then dumbed down, went to college and became a fratboy, wrote a fantasy series that showed all of his older bro's talent at creating dark imagery and menacing atmosphere and dying civilizations, all delivered in classic purple prose with the requisite cynical perspective, but also frequently using nonsensical phrases like "she laughed intricately" which made me laugh intricately, and of course since he's basically a dumbass super-horny fratboy, all the ladies are topless, there's lots of gory slaughters and cluelessly macho guys and sword fights and pirate attacks, rapin' and torturin' and reincarnatin', lots of demons fucking and killing, and a scene where an enigmatic but topless temple priestess mystery lady performs something that can only be called an Orgasm Dance, all of that sitting alongside the awesome haunted imagery and Game of Thrones court intrigue and cool scenes of magic and a creepy island full of creepy gardens and creepy tombs, I guess this younger brother played a lot of Dungeons & Dragons in between time at the gym, and clearly he smoked a lot of weed, and even though I rolled my eyes a lot, I also had a lot of fun, so why not give the kid an extra .5 stars for effort, there you go, I rounded up to 3 stars, pass me the bong and pass me the beer, man isn't Moorcock cool, let's watch some WWE no let's watch some Girls Gone Wild, no let's watch some Heavy Metal that movie's the shit, man....more
Who knows what wonders Tom Reamy could have provided the world if he hadn't died early of a heart attack, found literally over his typewriter working Who knows what wonders Tom Reamy could have provided the world if he hadn't died early of a heart attack, found literally over his typewriter working on a new story. He went from fanboy to convention organizer to published author, and left us with two works: the novel Blind Voices and this collection of stories and novellas.
The book bursts with talent, fully formed. Reamy was a lover of genre fiction and it shows: the pieces here range from the horror noir of "Under the Hollywood Sign" and "The Detweiler Boy" to the strange post-apocalyptic science fiction of "Dinosaurs" to the cheeky, Vonnegut-esque "The Sweetwater Factor" to the wistful urban fantasy of the title story to the wonderfully creaky Old Dark House-ness of "Insects in Amber" to the rural, small town dark fantasy of "Beyond the Cleft" and "Twilla". An embarrassment of genre riches are between the pages of this collection.
A bit more about some of the stories:
"Twilla" was super fun - a dark kind of fun, but fun nonetheless: a thrilling battle between an elderly schoolteacher, living out her days in a dusty small town, and a vicious little witch, trapped in a schoolgirl's body and armed with spells, homunculi, and and an enslaved djinn. That horrific, demonic, rape-happy djinn is the story's biggest character, in all definitions of the word, but what I loved in particular was how Reamy fully invests in his brave heroine - still virginal after all her years, but still an intrepid maverick who knows how people think and who knows exactly how to take care of business.
"Beyond the Cleft" and "Dinosaurs" are about the end of things: in the first, the end of human life as we know it in a small town (and perhaps everywhere) and the beginning of something terrible and new to take its place; in the second, the end of human life on our earth and the beginning of something new and perhaps not so terrible, ready to take our place. The first story was pitch dark, deadpan horror; the second was incredibly imaginative science fiction that is at ease in depicting completely alien cultures - human and otherwise - with a bleak and mournful tone. Sad and memorable stories depicting sad, terrible things. Ah, the sad, terrible cycle of life!
I had so much fun reading the slightly amateurish "Insects in Amber" - and the feeling I had of this story being written by an excited writer just developing his skills actually added to the fun. It was slapdash and speedy and I smiled constantly. The plot: a number of strangers find that a storm has trapped them all in an old dark mansion, one that comes complete with an eerie, elderly mistress, her sinister servant, a strange supernatural force, psychic powers galore, and a couple memorable deaths. What's not to love? I have literally just described everything I'm interested in when it comes to old dark mansions.
The cynical, snarky appeal of urban noir that stars police detectives and private detectives is fully present in "Under the Hollywood Sign" and "Detweiler Boy". The careful putting together of clues, the stubborn protagonists, the untrustworthy suspects, the sudden plunge into a bleak existential darkness - all there, alongside a rich vein of disturbing, surreal fantasy that involves inexplicable angels (the winged kind) and a mysterious twin (the bloodthirsty kind). And mixed in with all of that is what felt like a kind of homoeroticism, one not curdled with any sort of loathing, self- or otherwise. I'm not sure what the sexuality of the author was, but the feel I get is that of a person not just completely at ease with their own sexuality, but open and nonjudgmental of the spectrum of sexuality itself. That was a good feeling and a surprising thing to find.
That openness is certainly present in the highly regarded and awarded title story, which has a sweet, very naive teen from a small town, new to Los Angeles, taken in by two very flaming and, much more importantly, very kind queens. I completely loved that the depiction of these two embraced both the stereotypes and how genuine and nurturing they are. Reamy was certainly not an author who Othered those outside the mainstream. The boy falls in love with the much older prostitute-painter next door; tragedy soon follows. The story is actually barely even genre fiction - outside of the opening and the tragic closing, this is more of a coming of age tale featuring a remarkable and very sympathetic cast.
The collection does have its non-starters, of course. Reamy was at the beginning of his career, and despite his incredible skills, there are a few not so great items included: the feminist but half-baked deconstruction of female roles and the gothic novel of "The Mistress of Windhaven"; the very romantic sorta-ghost story, also half-baked, of "Waiting for Billy Star"; and what looks like a not-even-baked draft for a post-apocalyptic adventure tale along the lines of "A Boy and His Dog" that the author hoped would also be sold as a movie: "2076: Blue Eyes". I'm not sure why any of those pieces were even included.
I read the mass market paperback edition - not the hardcover that this review is under (I just really prefer the cover of this edition!) - and it includes a no doubt laudatory but probably still fairly critical introduction by the esteemed Harlan Ellison. However, since I am absolutely not a fan of Ellison's voice when it comes to his appraisal of other authors, I skipped it.
But I don't want to end on a critical note. The book is fabulous! All lovers of buried treasure and the darker side of genre fiction will be well-rewarded if they seek it out....more
oh the pretty city! a pastel dream, a symbol, a memento mori to the afternoon past; a vision held of that sunny afternoon, held in place like a butteroh the pretty city! a pastel dream, a symbol, a memento mori to the afternoon past; a vision held of that sunny afternoon, held in place like a butterfly in amber. the afternoon has passed but this pastel city lives on in its fragile fugue state, imagining a past that never can be again and forgetting itself, what it is and what it should be. our heroes fight the northern hordes and their fearful weapons to save this pretty pastel city. but should they? they fight for a dream, and all dreams are fleeting.
oh such pretty words! Harrison channels Jack Vance and his science fantasy The Dying Earth in this slim and enticing tale. the elegant prose, the terseness, the cynicism about the cyclical quality of human struggle. but he does not ape Vance; he is his own human. and so the pretty prose, the colors, the evanescence of it all, are suffused with a melancholy and dread quite unlike the moods of that author. this gorgeous book conjures Vance in all of his stylishness, but has made itself into something quite different.
oh you pretty things! warriors and a young queen: a poet, a dandy, a dwarf, an old man, an heiress. they speak poetry and sing songs while sharpening swords, they grumble and moan and battle and mourn, they fit themselves into giant metal contraptions, they fly to the rescue. these fearless characters, all of them heirs to a past that must be overcome. the future is a bright and shiny thing: there is no room there for poets and fanciful dreams of times long ago. if the past returns, it will return transformed. this is how a new world must begin; pretty pastel memories must be forgotten....more
Tanith Lee's second book is a sweet and featherlight collection of children's fairy tales. A dozen princes and princesses each get their own little stTanith Lee's second book is a sweet and featherlight collection of children's fairy tales. A dozen princes and princesses each get their own little story. Magic and talking animals abound, as well as odd, short quests and a gallery of amusing enchanted creatures (some of which include the princes & princesses themselves). Silliness reigns supreme; right at the start of her career, the author makes her love for the absurd clear. There is a princess who accidentally turns herself into a furry snake with whiskers (a prince finds her to be just the cutest thing), a witch who yearns to win the annual Wickedest Witch prize, a cross younger sister named Princess Pineapple, an annoyingly perfect older brother named Prince Lion, a villainous enchanter appropriately named Nasty, a pair of condescending eagles, a bunch of sheep turned into a bunch of princes, and a host of other similarly nonsensical characters and scenarios. Not a whiff of the darkness that later made Tanith Lee famous is to be found in these slight and sunny charmers. My favorite is the tale of a prince, looking for love, who assumes that the swan he's found must be showered with kisses in order to turn her back into a human princess. Turns out, she's actually a princess of swans, and finds the whole ordeal quite revolting. The book includes a lovely drawing by Vilma Ilsley for each story. I quite liked the one with a haughty Prince Charming dancing with a cat named Clever....more
surprise! this odd, often bleak, always wistful, very minor note novella is actually a ringing endorsement for revolution! rise, washer women and all surprise! this odd, often bleak, always wistful, very minor note novella is actually a ringing endorsement for revolution! rise, washer women and all the downtrodden!
calling it "minor note" is not a critique, it is a description of the tone of the entire story. it is played in minor chords.
synopsis: in an alternate version of France where the English have triumphed and the divide between haves and have-nots is stark and brutal, a diminished young woman is further diminished. all the while she clings to her prized possession, a book about a martyr to the cause, that martyr also being the object of her obsession. eventually she lands in the dreamlike abode of "Madame Two Swords", the inexplicably still-alive paramour of that long-dead revolutionary.
there was an incredible moment near the end that combined wish fulfillment and empathy and the channeling of the dead into a strange yet loving and compassionate kiss between young woman and old woman. that moment had so many layers. the book is beautifully written and that was certainly the most beautiful part of all.
this is more of a 3 star book for me: although I certainly admired it, I have no interest in rereading; it was interesting but also an often depressing, frustrating experience. however that moment was sublime. 4 stars!...more
hard to classify. bizarre fantasy... postmodern romance... portrait of erotic fixation... story of an artist luxuriating in wish fulfillment... or some sort of modern fable? I dunno. one thing it's not is "gothic" so ignore that subtitle. the book is a modern one in all aspects, save for its heroine's obsession with Apollo's hot bod.
oh, Apollo. he may be pretty but he can also be pretty uptight and inflexible; not my favorite sort of god. I'm glad that the novel's focus moved to that much more relaxed party boy, Dionysus. who doesn't like Dionysus? he radiates charisma. Love Object also makes it clear that Dion doesn't suffer from that modern ill of homophobia and knows how to have a fun time in a gay bar. good for him!
this is sorta the visual I had of our protagonist's pièce de résistance... although this likely lad is neither Apollo nor Dionysus, it's Priapus (forgive my wolf codpiece, but I'd rather not have this review flagged; let's just say he's bringing some meat to that mise):
Cunningham's writing style is impressive. this is not a straightforward genre novel like apparently the rest of the author's body of work. he appeared to have been heavily influenced by the rich river of postmodern fiction flooding the shelves of the mid-80s. the prose herks and jerks all over the place, from stream of consciousness to sardonic descriptions of Sally's chaotic life to deadpan comic scenes to dreamy moments of weirdness. I loved how footloose and fancy free the storytelling turned out to be. quite a surprise.
the heroine's characterization was also surprising. so insular, so off-kilter. man-crazy but not remotely on the make. hungry for a perfect male body but not really hungry for a man. for Sally, art comes first. in Love Object, her search for the perfect dude - or at least the parts that will serve as models for that dude - is actually a longing for creating her perfect work of art. she's pure artist, living only for that art, as the rest of her life spins carelessly out of control. at least until that charmer Dionysus decides to give her a helping hand, and dick.
gorgeously written, mind-bending, appalling, cruel, ambiguous, stark, lush, radiant, sepulchral. all of my favorite things! in different combinations,gorgeously written, mind-bending, appalling, cruel, ambiguous, stark, lush, radiant, sepulchral. all of my favorite things! in different combinations, of course. nine stories from one of my favorite writers; all of them interesting, many of them utterly brilliant.
authors can't help but put themselves into their writing, on one level or another. I can't help but wonder how much Carter put of herself into the three stories set in Japan - "A Souvenir of Japan" & "The Smile of Winter" & "Flesh and the Mirror". they detail the troubled romance of an older English woman and a younger Japanese man, the inevitable disintegration of that romance, and its bleak aftermath. there is a lived quality to her descriptions of a lovely small town, an anonymous big city, and a dire beach - as well as an understanding of Japanese culture and character that manages to have complete self-awareness of her status as an outsider who can never really understand: her thoughts on Japan are cuttingly critical, even-handed, and eventually self-abnegating in her realization that true understanding is beyond her. likewise there is an exceedingly personal feeling to the description of this ill-fated romance - the kind of "personal" that is so intimate it can be difficult to read. I'm not sure if all three stories are actually even detailing the same love affair, but there is a distinct (and tragic) continuity. of the three, "A Souvenir of Japan" is perhaps the most breathtaking in its transition from a description of pleasant country life to its bitter deconstruction of the all too fallible qualities of man and woman.
authors also can't help but put their obsessions onto the page; indeed it is often those obsessions that cause a writer to even write. Carter's obsessions are well-known: a fascination with gender and power, the subversion of both of those things, and the violence that can come when they engage with each other. both of those obsessions drive two of the strongest and strangest pieces: "Master" is the horrific tale of a cruel Great White Hunter and the native girl he enslaves - and who in turn becomes an even greater, crueler hunter; "The Loves of Lady Purple" details the horrific life of a fabled whore with a heart of utter darkness, and the literal puppet she has become. the push and pull when gender and power (or the lack of it) meet are also central to the collection's most confused and therefore weakest story - "Elegy for a Freelance" - which takes place in some bleak future London about to burn in riotous flames, and gives a snapshot of an absurd terrorist cell making its first group decision to take its first life - that of its own leader, a deranged and murderous idiot.
Carter is perhaps best known for bizarre, mordant, lusciously written, postmodern fantasias The Infernal Desire Machines of Doctor Hoffman, The Passion of New Eve, Nights at the Circus, and The Bloody Chamber (as well as Heroes and Villains, a grim post-apocalyptic anti-romance that deconstructs, wait for it, power and gender). I think fantasia is what she does best and it is certainly what made her one of my favorites. in addition to the previously mentioned "Lady Purple", the collection includes three more and each one provoked very strong reactions from me. I was revolted and depressed by "The Executioner's Beautiful Daughter", which despite being brilliantly written, had an analysis of certain elements of human nature that was so dark (and literally disgusting) that my mind rejected what it was reading and I had to take a long break from the book before moving on. I was wonderfully perplexed and fascinated by the hallucinatory "Reflections", which features a man being forced through a looking-glass into a sort of Reverse World by a villainous, violent young woman and her hermaphrodite guardian; it soon becomes clear that he is perfectly willing to be just as villainous and violent in his attempt to escape. I was enchanted by "Penetrating to the Heart of the Forest", a spellbinding story about an Eden in the heart of a jungle, the darkness that lies beyond a village of happy naturals, a journey into that darkness, and um twincest. because hey, why not? things like a positive depiction of two siblings making love under the Tree of Good and Evil are just par for the course to Carter.
do people really need trigger warnings? if you do, most definitely avoid Angela Carter: you will no doubt be triggered, again and again and again....more
the Traveler in Black travels throughout a strange world, one balanced between Chaos and Order. the Traveler has one nature: to extract Chaos. the humthe Traveler in Black travels throughout a strange world, one balanced between Chaos and Order. the Traveler has one nature: to extract Chaos. the human kind should fear any being with only one nature. as the Traveler travels, tipping the balance towards logic and away from magic, those cities that follow his path disappear, and so enter the rational world. the magic slowly fades away...
Brunner writes in the Vancean vein for this effort, and he does it well. spare but evocative prose with not a word out of place; a world and its people beautifully described with elegance and wit. this was a surprising read for me, as I mainly know Brunner through the chaotic cut-up technique he deployed in his scifi classic Stand on Zanzibar. The Traveler in Black has a feel to it that is distinctly Dying Earth. which made it dryly amusing - but also occasionally irritating, as Brunner lacks the sardonic even-handedness that is such a treat in The Dying Earth books. this episodic novel features a string of morality plays where the Traveler makes certain that bad things happen to bad people - and that became a bit tedious to me. an enjoyable book, but the enjoyment rather diminished over time as its strongest stories are its earliest ones. I also found the idea that magic = chaos = bad stuff that should be eradicated... personally annoying? I guess. why you wanna hate on magic so much, Brunner? don't be a Lev Grossman.
still, I don't want to give the impression that this is not a worthwhile experience. many fascinating ideas and the prose is top notch. I also really loved the two appearances of a certain character - first in one tale as a fretful but smart child wizard employed by a royal court under siege, and then briefly in a second tale, where he reappears as a fat and magic-less grandpa, relaxed and happy to spend time with his grandsons. I like it when authors are generous with certain characters. that first tale also features your basic inoffensive Englishman from our world, transported by the Traveler to this world of magic, to be worshiped as an otherworldly god. that was fun!...more
Chamiel the angel visits a human boy throughout his life and relays stories about his own life: his boyhood in Heaven, his tutelage under Archangel MiChamiel the angel visits a human boy throughout his life and relays stories about his own life: his boyhood in Heaven, his tutelage under Archangel Michael, the War of Revolt and the casting of the Black Angel from Heaven, various side adventures, and the fall from grace of Adam and Eve.
all of that sounds so amazing to read as a finite story between two covers, all of those great tales that have been told through so many vehicles, now one simple tale to be read as a sort of adventurous personal narrative. an angel's personal narrative. sadly, the prose let me down. it is as if the Black Angel himself made the writing as pedestrian as possible so that it reads more like a casual account of certain events rather than a grand vision. alas! the writing is certainly not bad or inept, it just lacks any sort of flair. uninspiring prose.
but I will give Pearson my respect nonetheless. this may not be lyrical yet epic Tolkien or warmly human Lewis or even drolly stylish Dunsany, but the story here is well-told and engaging. there are occasional moments of beauty in the spare simplicity of the writing, and in the often pastoral imagery. Pearson is happy to approach his story sideways to surprise the reader or straight-on when he wants them to be right there. the battle between the legions of Good and Ill was exciting enough (flying cones of fire!) and includes a literal deus ex machina. I can't remember if I've ever read about a deus ex machina that features the actual Deus.
SPOILERS AHEAD
Pearson's approach to Adam and Eve and that infernal snake was interesting. an unusual take. Black Angel comes to Eve in his own form (i.e. hot). Eve's fall from grace isn't due to any apple, it is simply because she slept ("companied together") with sexy Black Angel because why not. Adam's fall from grace comes because that sneaky devil tells him all about it under the guise of brotherly concern, and so Adam starts feeling this new thing called "jealousy" that makes him uncomfortable and unsure of himself, and unable to even look at Eve in the same way. then Eve starts wearing a skirt because she's feeling a little uncomfortable with herself now too. and so off the unhappy duo go from Eden because home just doesn't feel like home anymore.
so yeah, that was an unusual take on that topic. I appreciated how Pearson makes Eve curious and soulful rather than wanton or irresponsible. he has Adam realize that he has taken Eve for granted. Pearson treats this sequence, and all others, with straightforward seriousness while leaving a lot of room for ambiguity. this is his style throughout the book. he doesn't stand in judgment and even the Black Angel is treated fairly by him. only God should judge! and Goodreads reviewers too, of course.
MORE SPOILERS
my favorite part of this unique little novel is when Chamiel meets the Lord... who takes on the image of whoever He is meeting with. fascinating!
"Michael - when I saw the Lord - when He talked to me, d'you know what I saw?"
"Yes. I think so. But you must tell me yourself."
"I saw myself."
Michael smiled and put his hand on my knee.
"Yes. You did. All of us see ourselves when we meet Him. We see in Him all that we should be. He is each one of us. For how else could He know us all? That is why we have no fear of Him. That is why He knows us."
"Yes," I answered and I was too full of thought to say any more.
I think the cover is quite striking but I'm not sure who it is supposed to represent. Based on the descriptions within, it is certainly neither Black Angel nor Chamiel....more
how to express how much I love Patricia McKillip and her books, how much her stories move me, how they slowly and invisibly transform from enthrallinghow to express how much I love Patricia McKillip and her books, how much her stories move me, how they slowly and invisibly transform from enthralling fairy tale to a genuinely emotional experience? how to describe the prose: so refined and elegant, so expressive, so light and delicate, so deep and beautiful, and yet often so simple? just so: her arrangements are perfect, my own kind of perfect. how to describe all of that, to make into something as plodding as a book review? love is a subjective experience and so resists codification. it would be easier to describe why I liked that walk in a forest, that beam of sunlight hitting the leaves in just that way; or how I like to watch the fog roll in past that great hill, making of the world a dreamscape. words seems so small for such a task, and yet words are the very tools she uses.
the tale is about a magical woman in a forest. she is a cold woman and her forest is surrounded by an angry world. she surrounds herself in turn, with what she loves, the only things she truly understands: her beasts - her friends. the story is about being loved and falling in love; it is about making bad decisions and letting terrible things turn you into something terrible. it is about being understood and not being understood, why understanding is not always necessary, why it can be hardest to understand yourself. it is about letting go; it is about letting other people be a part of you. it is a fable, and so much more....more
a splendid collection of old-fashioned fantasies, enlivened by Carter's lavish purple prose and his unerring misuse and misunderstanding of various woa splendid collection of old-fashioned fantasies, enlivened by Carter's lavish purple prose and his unerring misuse and misunderstanding of various words and phrases. for example a consomme of oyster would never be served with a cream sauce, even in ancient Hyperborea. how exactly would a cream sauce go on a broth anyway? or, for that matter, is it even possible to make a clarified broth from oysters? well I suppose you could just boil them down and then strain the oysters out. that sounds disgusting.
Carter divides up his stories into sections featuring different lost lands like Lemuria, Mu, Atlantis, Valusia, Antillia, and of course my favorite, Hyperborea. not that the separation means much. they all pretty much sound the same: places full of lush jungles and dank crypts and airy palaces and dark manses and magic and murder and undead monstrosities and sinister sorcerers and bare-breasted damsels and bare-chested warriors. wonderfully strange and archaic places made popular by Robert E. Howard, Clark Ashton Smith, et al.
nearly each tale is tremendous fun. Carter may criminally overwrite his stories but I don't care, that's a big part of the appeal for me. while he may lack the weird poetic flourishes of CAS or the exciting narratives of REH, he makes up for it with a surplus of delectable descriptive passages. I was constantly smiling at his obvious pleasure in writing about these worlds (as well as at his charmingly egocentric introductory passages for each lost world). even better, a good number of these stories are from the perspective of various villainous creatures. reading about an undead lich in "The Stairs in the Crypt", rising from his tomb and admiring his new appearance then contemplating feasting on a yummy, chubby priest... that was a special pleasure. although his Conan tale "Riders Beyond the Sunrise" was surprisingly dull, I thoroughly enjoyed his pastiche of H.P. Lovecraft in "The Thing in the Pit" (bad priest realizes that the Old Ones are even more bad than he realized and he probably shouldn't attempt to open their gates because, you know, end of the world and stuff). my favorite was the Vancean "The Twelve Wizards of Ong": a light and ironic tale featuring a bunch of amusing magic-users who would normally be the villains of any other story, attempting to woo a 13th person into their group so that they can finally form the coven of their dreams. delightful!...more
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