4.5 stars. Elegantly written Asian-inspired fantasy novella, nominated for a Hugo award, that was far, far better than I expected.
A traveling NB cleri4.5 stars. Elegantly written Asian-inspired fantasy novella, nominated for a Hugo award, that was far, far better than I expected.
A traveling NB cleric, Chih, makes their way to an isolated villa where the empress In-Yo, who recently died, once lived in exile. Now, many years later, it's inhabited only by the empress's now-elderly servant, called Rabbit. While Chih examines the old records and artifacts, Rabbit gradually unfolds the story of In-Yo to Chih and their talking hoopoe bird companion. She was a princess from a northern kingdom that lost a war, and was given away in marriage (read: hostage) to the southern empire, one of the many wives of the emperor. But In-Yo isn't quite as helpless and accepting of her fate as she might at first seem.
I have to admit I got an ARC of this book last year and it joined the stack of "maybe-read" unrequested ARCs, partly because — true confessions here — I'm getting a little tired of the endless focus on angry-feminist/queer-character fantasy. Some of it's good, but a lot of it is message fiction and I'm not into being preached at in my fictional reading. But when it made the list of Hugo nominees, I dusted off my copy and jumped into it. And ended up seriously enjoying it! Nghi Vo's writing is lovely and evocative, and there's a lot going on under the surface with both the characters and the plot. It's like a delightful puzzle box.
Full review to come. Thanks to Tor for the ARC!...more
Kiki’s Delivery Service, a 1985 children’s fantasy novel first published in JaOn sale July 7! Final review, first posted on Fantasy Literature:
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Kiki’s Delivery Service, a 1985 children’s fantasy novel first published in Japanese as Majo no Takkyūbin (or “Witch’s Express Home Delivery”), is best known outside of Japan as the basis for a 1989 Studio Ghibli anime film directed by Hayao Miyazaki. In fact, the book won several prizes in Japan and Kadono has published five sequels over the years (unfortunately none of the sequels are currently available in English translations). Kiki’s Delivery Service was first published in English in 2003, but a new translation is now available.
Twelve-year-old Kiki lives in a small town with her mother Kokiri, a witch, and her human father Okino. Her coming-of-age day is nearing, and tradition requires young witches like Kiki to strike out on their own and find a town or village that doesn’t have a witch and needs their magical services. Witches’ powers have been growing weaker over the years, though, and Kiki’s only magical abilities are flying on a broom (at which she’s quite adept, in fact) and being able to speak with her black cat Jiji.
Once Kiki decides to leave she does so quickly, soon landing in the seaside town of Koriko. Initially downhearted because of the dismissive attitudes in this large town, Kiki cheers up when she meets a friendly and very pregnant baker who gives her a place to stay and an idea: she can go into business as a delivery girl. Her delivery service leads to a series of adventures, a few new friendships, and a growing feeling that Kiki has found a place and people that she cares about.
Kiki’s Delivery Service is a warmhearted and whimsical children’s story, told in eleven fairly easy-to-read chapters. It differs from the Miyazaki film in many of its plot points, and it’s much more episodic and understated in its approach. Kiki deals with the typical difficulties of growing up and gradually gaining self-confidence and independence. Her adventures tend not to be dramatic, life-and-death difficulties. It’s the more mundane, ordinary issues that mostly concern her: a worried mother; a thief who swipes her broom; a group of musicians whose instruments were left on the train; a boy who may or may not like her. Jiji’s sarcastic comments add a little humor and spice to the underlying sweetness.
The magical elements in Kiki’s Delivery Service are low-key and pure white witchcraft — there’s no real evil or meanness at all in this book. People may be annoying but fundamentally they’re all goodhearted. It’s about ordinary people going about their lives, sometimes frustrating each other, but more often connecting with and helping one another. In a foreword to the novel, Kadono comments, “[Kiki] is a witch, but she’s also a perfectly ordinary girl. She has the same worries, disappointments, and joys as anyone else … And as I continued writing Kiki’s story, I realized that magic is something everyone possesses. Even if you can’t fly through the air like Kiki, you have your own unique power that is equally important.”
And as Kiki herself realizes:
"Of course, with my new business I’m usually delivering things in a hurry, so I need to fly. But sometimes it’s good to walk. When you walk, you end up talking to all sorts of different people even if you don’t want to, you know? … And when people see a witch close up, they realize that we don’t all have pointy noses and gaping mouths. We can discuss things and maybe come to understand each other."
Kiki’s Delivery Service is a charming tale with a timeless feel, giving readers an enjoyable and authentic glimpse of Japanese culture. I recommend it for fans of children’s fantasy.
Initial post: I just picked this up on NetGalley! It's a brand new translation of the Japanese children’s novel that inspired the Miyazaki anime film. Sounds fun!...more
3.5 stars. Now on sale! Full review, first posted on Fantasy Literature:
The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water is a surprisingly warmhearted fa3.5 stars. Now on sale! Full review, first posted on Fantasy Literature:
The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water is a surprisingly warmhearted fantasy novella set in a war-torn Asian country. It’s a queer take on wuxia, a time-honored genre of Chinese fiction based on heroes skilled in the martial arts, frequently in superhuman, fantastical ways (think Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon or even Kung Fu Panda).
One day, in a small coffeehouse, a customer angrily accuses his waitress of using jampi witchcraft on him. The quarrel degenerates, a handsome bandit intervenes, dishes fly, daggers are pulled. In the aftermath, the waitress, Guet Imm, gets fired from her job and tracks down the bandit’s gang in their camp outside of town, and somehow convinces the bandits’ leader to let her join their group, promising help with cooking and cleaning. Guet Imm is a former nun with a shaved head from a burnt-out tokong. She’s not much of a cook … in fact, she can’t cook at all, nor will she sleep with the men (it would require a cleansing sacrifice to her goddess, in the form of chopping off their dicks). She does, however, manage to “part the men from their filthy clothes and launder them, in the teeth of the men’s appalled resistance.”
After a somewhat rocky start, Guet Imm becomes friends with one of the bandits, Tet Sang, who is the right-hand man of the handsome leader of the bandits. But trouble is brewing, and it has to do with something secret that the roving bandits are planning to sell, as well as personal secrets that some of the characters are keeping.
The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water is set in the pre-industrial era, in a period called the Protectorate, in an mythical Asian country that, according to Cho’s website, “draws on both the semi-mythic China of wuxia and the Malaya of the Emergency.” Zen Cho, a Chinese Malaysian author, frequently uses Malay names and words in this novella, like tokong (a Malay temple), jampi (incantation or spell) and pahala (reward). Though the setting is a mix of cultures, it feels cohesive and organic to the plot.
The story focuses on Guet Imm and Tet Sang. While Tet Sang may be concealing the bigger secrets, Guet Imm is, I think, the heart of the tale. She combines wide-eyed earnestness with a sarcastic sense of humor, and a serene and profound faith in her deity with a canny understanding of human nature. Cho’s dryly humorous prose lends itself well to the affectionate bickering between the characters.
The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water is a pleasant read, more understated and tranquil than one might expect from a story about a group of bandits and stolen treasure that’s set in the midst of political turmoil. It’s more about interpersonal relationships and finding oneself and one’s family, than heart-pounding adventure and martial arts fighting, although there’s some of that as well. Zen Cho knows both wuxia traditions and Asian history and culture, and that shines through. I’d recommend it if you’re a fan of either wuxia or queer fantasy.
Chinese science fiction author Cixin Liu has had a successful career in China for many years, winning China’Review first posted on Fantasy Literature:
Chinese science fiction author Cixin Liu has had a successful career in China for many years, winning China’s prestigious Galaxy Award nine times. But it wasn’t until 2014, when his 2007 novel The Three-Body Problem was first published in English, that he became well-known outside of Asia. Since then, some of his earlier novels, like Ball Lightning (originally published in China in 2004), have been translated and published in English. This one, Supernova Era (published in October 2019, originally published in 2003 in Chinese, but written even earlier, in 1989) is one of Liu’s earliest works. a stand-alone novel in which a natural disaster leaves the children of Earth alone and in charge of everything, from transportation to weapons of mass destruction.
Sometime in the near future, a massive star only eight light years away from Earth, previously hidden from our view by a cloud of cosmic dust, explodes into a supernova. When the high-energy particles and electromagnetic radiation from the so-called Dead Star hit Earth eight years later, it briefly lights up the entire sky before leaving behind a rosette-shaped nebula that can be seen day and night. It also leaves a dose of radiation that, humans soon figure out, has irreversibly damaged the chromosomes of all humans over the age of thirteen, who will die in ten to twelve months. But in younger children and, apparently, all plants and animals, the damaged chromosomes will repair themselves and there will be no short- or long-term ill effects.
The first chapter of Supernova Era, which relates all of the scientific details relating to the supernova, is the only real hard science portion of the novel. The remainder is a social science novel, exploring the ways in which societies and individuals react to the pending death of all the older teens and adults, desperately trying to pass on their knowledge and skills to the children, and the events that occur — and their effects on various nation’s societies and on our world generally — once the adults have died and the children are in charge.
In fact, the hard science underlying Supernova Era is improbable, if not impossible, and difficult to swallow. A near-Earth supernova would in fact be disastrous, but the likely effects would be severe damage to the ozone layer, our atmosphere, and the ocean. This is the first and largest of the novel’s improbabilities that you just need to roll with, and I had a difficult time with it. I’d be reading along and every so often my brain would interrupt my reading to ask, what about all the animals? Why aren’t there any mutations? Aren’t children’s cells actually MORE susceptible to radiation damage than adults’? (Yes, in fact they are.) But I believe the real answer is, Liu just wanted to tell a story where children have to take over the running of society, worldwide. And with that story he succeeds quite well.
In many ways Supernova Era is an allegorical type of tale. It was inspired, per Liu’s afterword, by the Tiananmen Square protests in June of 1989 and by a dream he had that same night of children marching to war under a blinding blue light. Liu compares humanity to orphans who are unable to find their parents’ hands, groping in the “endless darkness of the cosmos.” Despite a (perhaps unwarranted) optimistic conclusion, much of Supernova Era is quite grim. War is treated like an Olympic contest, with a motto of “Sharper, Fiercer, Deadlier,” a result of our videogame-influenced age. The children who lead nations display the stereotypical weaknesses of their culture: Americans are violent and inclined to escalate conflict; the Vietnamese prime minister proposes that the war games include a “guerrilla war” contest (he’s voted down by the other nations’ representatives); Japanese children kill whales indiscriminately, using depth charges.
Supernova Era lacks the intense creativity of The Three-Body Problem and is a more typical science fiction tale. It was early days yet in Liu’s writing career, and that shows. On the positive side, if you had difficulty following the REMEMBRANCE OF EARTH’S PAST trilogy, this one is much easier to comprehend. Liu spins an interesting tale here, with ample food for thought.
Initial comments: ARC received from publisher ... well, actually it's on sale as of today, so I guess it's not an ARC any longer. RC? :) Cixin Liu had such fascinating ideas in The Three-Body Problem that I'm really interested to see what he has to say in this one....more
Aliette de Bodard’s UNIVERSE OF XUYA series of novellas and short stories has been nominated for Best SerieReview first posted on Fantasy Literature:
Aliette de Bodard’s UNIVERSE OF XUYA series of novellas and short stories has been nominated for Best Series in the 2019 Hugo awards, for very good reason. The detailed worldbuilding and thoughtful writing pull the reader into a world with an alternative history, where Chinese ships were the first to discover the Americas, drastically changing our history and leading to a space age future where Chinese and Vietnamese galactic empires hold great power and intelligent mindships interact with humans outside of the ship through projected avatars. De Bodard’s website has an extremely useful page that includes a brief description of the Xuya (“Dawn Shore”) universe and a handy chronology listing all of her XUYA tales.
The Citadel of Weeping Pearls, one of the novellas in this series, takes place in the Dai Viet Empire. Thirty years before this story begins, the Citadel, a space station headed up by the Bright Princess Ngoc Minh, Empress’s oldest and favorite daughter and her heir, was a place of technological wonders: tiny but immensely powerful weapons, teleporting inhabitants, and more. The Empress, furious at her daughter’s ongoing defiance (including not sharing these weapons), had sent her ships to destroy the Citadel, but when they arrived the Citadel and all of its inhabitants had mysteriously vanished.
Now the Empire is threatened by an invading fleet of ships from the Nam Federation, which appears to have discovered a way to hijack the brains of the Empire’s mindships, their biggest advantage in war. The Empress is in more need of the Citadel’s weapons than ever before, and the Empire’s scientists may have found a way to use the mysterious aspects of deep space to revisit the past.
The focus of The Citadel of Weeping Pearls is as much on interpersonal relationships as it is the mystery of the Citadel’s disappearance and the search for a method to find it again. De Bodard examines the sometimes difficult bonds and relationships between mothers and daughters and sisters: the Empress regrets her falling out with her eldest daughter Ngoc Minh; the Empress’s youngest daughter, Ngoc Ha, tries to come to terms with her tense relationship with her own daughter, the mindship The Turtle’s Golden Claw, and her lingering jealousy of her older sister Ncog Minh. The Turtle’s Golden Claw is helping with the search for the Citadel and the newly vanished Grand Master Bach Cuc, the mindship’s paternal grandmother, who was one of those searching for the Citadel’s trail. Meanwhile, engineer Diem Huong, whose mother vanished with the Citadel when Diem Huong was six years old, is part of a team working on an experimental time machine, and she desperately hopes to use it to find her mother again.
The Citadel of Weeping Pearls is a slower-paced and somewhat opaque novella, with a large and sometimes confusing array of characters (all of the Vietnamese names were, I’m afraid, a slight challenge for me to keep straight). But it’s also a beautifully written, bittersweet mystery in a wonderfully imaginative space setting. Readers who are patient and attentive will be amply rewarded by reading this novella....more
The ARC for this lovely book landed on my doorstep a month or so ago: a Chinese fantasy setting with magical tailors making amazing clothing. Maia TamThe ARC for this lovely book landed on my doorstep a month or so ago: a Chinese fantasy setting with magical tailors making amazing clothing. Maia Tamarin comes from a family of talented tailors and is a great tailor in her own right, but she lives in an age where women tailors aren't accepted. So when a royal summons comes for her ailing father to participate in a contest to find the next tailor for the emperor, Maia disguises herself as boy and takes his place.
I have to admit I got partway through this book several weeks ago and then got distracted by other reads. But just a day or two ago the hardback appeared in my mail. I think it's a sign. Putting it in my next-up reads pile!...more
A bitter, ongoing quarrel with her mother about her career plans to be a chef led Natalie Tan tOn sale now! Review first posted on Fantasy Literature:
A bitter, ongoing quarrel with her mother about her career plans to be a chef led Natalie Tan to leave her San Francisco home in anger. Seven years of stubborn silence and globe-wandering later, Natalie is called home by a neighbor at her mother’s passing. She still deeply desires to be a chef and to have her own authentic Chinese restaurant, like her grandmother Qiao had done many years earlier, and now she’ll have the chance: Natalie has inherited her laolao’s (maternal grandmother’s) long-abandoned restaurant below their apartment. It’s still operable, though dusty and dirty, but their Chinatown neighborhood is fraying, with family-owned businesses dying and a steep rise in real estate prices causing Chinese families to move away.
A psychically-gifted neighbor returns Qiao’s old, handmade recipe book to Natalie, along with a prediction: if Natalie cooks three recipes from the book to help three of her neighbors, as her laolao did many years ago, and is able to save these neighbors, her restaurant will be the jewel of Chinatown and the neighborhood will be revitalized. Natalie is initially dubious and reluctant ― she feels like her neighbors had let her down when she was struggling to deal with her mother’s agoraphobia years ago ― but she soon enters into the spirit of the endeavor, and magical things begin to happen when her neighbors eat her food.
As I watched, fractures ran along the surface of their skin, reminding me of shattered porcelain. The cracks deepened as they ate. Once they were finished, tiny streams of glittering gold filled the cracks: mending, repairing what was broken, and transforming it into something far more beautiful. It was similar to a piece of kintsukuroi I’d picked up in Tokyo, repaired pottery that had been mended with gold.
As Natalie begins cooking in Qiao’s restaurant, the scent of fried dumplings even leads a handsome young man to her restaurant and her life. But neither love nor her quest to help the neighborhood is as easy as Natalie had expected.
Natalie Tan’s Book of Luck and Fortune is a charming, sweet tale with a dash of magical realism. I expected something like The Joy Luck Club or a Chinese-American version of Like Water for Chocolate. What I got was more like a literary version of a Hallmark TV romance movie. It’s so lightweight as to approach being fluffy, though the immersion in Chinese culture and food serves to give it some heft and make the story more memorable. Several Chinese recipes are included in the novel, and they and the luscious descriptions of Natalie’s cooking made my mouth water. The romance subplot wasn’t particularly well-developed or romantically satisfying; I got far more enjoyment out of reading about the “plump prawns” and “tender steamed rice noodles and crunchy golden fritters.”
Debut author Roselle Lim incorporates a few serious issues into her tale, including mental illness and the loss of ethnic urban neighborhoods. Her writing is sometimes clunky; phrases like “gathering fog brewed at the base of the gate the way steam rises from a perfect bowl of noodle soup” and “hoping the fog would thicken like salted duck congee to conceal my arrival” struck me as unintentionally humorous.
Natalie Tan’s Book of Luck and Fortune is a warmhearted tale with an authentic Chinese voice, if not as deep and literary as one might hope. Don’t expect too much from this book and you may enjoy it.
Thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for the ARC!...more
4 stars because, when all is said and done, I think this is a well-crafted fantasy novel with an important story to tell. But it’s intensely grimdark,4 stars because, when all is said and done, I think this is a well-crafted fantasy novel with an important story to tell. But it’s intensely grimdark, and more like 2.5 stars for how much I actually enjoyed reading it. Review first posted on Fantasy Literature:
Fang Runin (Rin) is a war orphan living with opium-dealing foster parents who physically abuse her and treat her like a slave, which is miserable enough. But when they arrange a match for her at age fourteen with a twice-divorced merchant three times her age, Rin has finally had enough. She comes up with an escape plan, managing to hold off her foster parents’ marriage plans for her for the time being through a combination of threats and promises. Rin spends every spare waking moment during the next two years studying for the Keju, a national test to find the brightest students in the empire to admit to the Academies, even burning herself with hot candle wax to keep herself awake and focused as she crams for the test. And it works: Rin does so well on the Keju that she’s admitted to Sinegard, the military school for the most elite students in the Nikara Empire.
It seems like a dream come true, but Rin’s problems are far from over. As a dark-skinned peasant with no family name or wealth, she’s shunned and mocked by most of her classmates. Characteristically, Rin fights back both physically ― which only gets her more ostracized ― and scholastically, by throwing herself into her class studies like she’s fighting a war. She finds a teacher, Master Jiang, an extremely peculiar man with an unusual gift for the art of shamanism, and begins learning from him how to access higher powers.
If the story thus far sounds like a fairly standard, if Chinese-inspired, road to triumphing over adversity, debut author R.F. Kuang has far more in mind in The Poppy War, a Nebula and Locus award-nominated novel. When Rin finishes her studies at Sinegard we’re only two-fifths of the way through the book, and terrible experiences await her as a member of the Empress’s militia, particularly when she’s assigned to the infamous thirteenth division. The Nikara Empire has already had two Poppy Wars against the Federation of Mugen, a land divided from their country by only a narrow sea, and hostilities between the countries explode in the latter half of The Poppy War.
The similarities to the conflicts between China and Japan are readily apparent, and in fact Kuang has deliberately created a fantasy version of the twentieth century conflicts between these countries, complete with an analog of the Nanjing Massacre. The Poppy War is a close look at the underside of war, all of the cruelties, treacheries, and suffering that war brings with it, and the prices people pay, both individually and as a society.
Kuang does not pull her punches: the brutality and cruelty continue to build throughout the pages of this book, building a terrible picture of the worst that’s in humanity. The triggers are almost too numerous to list, but include self-harm, physical abuse from an admired superior, drug use, rape, vast amounts of violence, human experimentation (a la the Third Reich ... but Japan was doing similar things), murder, and even genocide. The addition of fantasy elements to this tale ― the magical powers that come when people are god-chosen ― are not comforting or charming; rather, they magnify the effects of the hatred and revenge that are in the hearts of Rin and other characters.
Rin is a difficult character to like ― even Master Jiang tells her that she’s too reckless, holds grudges, and cultivates her anger and rage until it explodes ― though there’s much to admire in her determination and sheer grit. She fights with her foster family, fellow students, teachers, enemies, fellow soldiers, and even the gods. She totally rules at rote memorization and sheer willpower, though! But her single-minded determination plays a negative role as well as a positive one in Rin’s life, and her anger and resentment lead her to some incredibly dark decisions.
The Poppy War is an extremely intense, grim and gritty military fantasy in a Chinese-inspired country. Bitterness, betrayal, pain, death and genocide haunt the characters and the pages of this book. It wasn’t really an enjoyable read for me (grimdark fantasy is aggressively not my thing), but I have to acknowledge the scholarship that went into the creation of this novel and the power of its storytelling. Rin’s story will be continued in The Dragon Republic, due in August 2019, and a third book in the series is in the works....more
The narrator, an employee of the U.S. state department, is passed a message from his Miao (Hmong) grandmother, who lives in a small, mountainous village in China: “a funny-looking fellow fell from the sky in a giant pearl and was teaching the village’s children odd things.” No one outside of the village is aware of the alien visitor. Alarmed, he rushes across the world to his grandmother’s village to find out what is happening and whether his grandmother is in danger. Less understandably, he fails to tell anyone at the state department where he’s going and what he’s heard.
Once he gets to the village and recuperates from his jet lag and a major bout of food poisoning, he meets the alien, named Foom. Foom is literally unable to see clearly anyone who is immersed in modern technology, whether it be carrying a cell phone, eating processed food, or wearing store-bought clothing. Foom calls these things “unlife,” and requires the narrator to put aside all these artificial trappings of technology and modern society in order to learn from him. Most especially, the narrator learns that he must respect the Rule of Three: you must be no more than three people removed from the one who originally made the food, clothing, method of transportation or anything else.
“Three is the limit. Pass the thing I made on to a fourth person and it can no longer detect me. The connection is broken. Unlife rushes in to fill the void. As a result it cannot be easily perceived. It is dark, inert.”
I swallowed. “You’re describing virtually all manufactured goods. Everywhere.”
The primitive Chinese village Foom is visiting was one of the few places on earth where he could perceive humans. All technologically advanced societies are dark to him.
The Rule of Three is a back-to-nature screed, with a bit of a bite to it. This story was inspired by the author’s trip to Guizhou Province, sponsored by the Future Administration Affairs and a poverty abatement program run by the Wanda Group. I found it rather long-winded and preachy, but readable. And while I appreciate that technology has many dangers, I think it brings countless benefits as well (most modern medicines and treatments would, of course, violate the Rule of Three; food might be manageable, but clothing and transportation would be near impossible).
I can’t say that I found the Rule of Three ― either the credo or the novelette ― particularly compelling or convincing. ...more
This 1985 SF novella won the Hugo and was nominated for the Nebula award. Mari is an older woman, traveling incognito through Japan, avoiding computerThis 1985 SF novella won the Hugo and was nominated for the Nebula award. Mari is an older woman, traveling incognito through Japan, avoiding computers and all technology for reasons that very gradually become clear (Zelazny likes to hide the ball for a while from his readers). Mari is following the path of the artist Hokusai, seeking to find all of the places where he painted the 24 pictures that are in a book she has with her. There’s danger around her, and some heavy experience awaits her at the end of her journey.
The key to the plot (which is a surprise so I won't spoil it) is a bit well-worn now, but I'm sure it was much fresher when this was written over 30 years ago. In any case this is fantastic story-telling by Zelazny, brimming with philosophical ideas and literary references. And art - each of the 24 short chapters in this novella has a different Mt. Fuji print by the Japanese artist Hokusai at the beginning, setting the theme for that chapter.
For example:
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And there's Mt. Fuji in the background of that famous picture of the waves! How did I never notice that before?
[image] This is a fictionalized account of a real-life girl in post-WWII Japan, who begins to suffer the aftereffects of radiation poisoning from the b[image] This is a fictionalized account of a real-life girl in post-WWII Japan, who begins to suffer the aftereffects of radiation poisoning from the bomb that hit Hiroshima at the end of the war. Her quest to fold a thousand origami cranes begins with the gift of one gold paper crane.
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Sadako Sasaki is an energetic 12 year old Japanese girl, who was just a toddler in 1945 when her town of Hiroshima was hit by the atomic bomb. Now it’s 1955, and Sadako is starting to have dizzy spells. Diagnosed with leukemia, a long-term after-effect of radiation poisoning, Sadako pins her hope on the legend that if a sick person folds one thousand origami cranes, the gods will grant her wish to be healthy again. Sadako sets to work, diligently folding hundreds of paper cranes, but she’s getting weaker and weaker.
It's a tearjerker of a story, bolstered by an anti-war message. Seriously, I needed several tissues for the last half of the book. Unfortunately the story is fictionalized in some key respects(view spoiler)[- most significantly, the story says that Sadako dies before she completed her goal, and that her schoolmates finished up for her; Sadako’s brother has stated that she actually folded about 1400 cranes before she died (hide spoiler)]. The book and its message are simple and straightforward. Whether or not you think the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki was necessary to end WWII, it’s a powerful reminder of the cost of war and its innocent victims.
[image] The Hiroshima Peace Memorial, topped with a statue of Sadako and a crane.
This book was a Christmas gift from a friend who’s a teacher. Thanks, Janet!...more
$2.99 Kindle sale, March 3, 2018. GR reviews are kind of mixed so I'm on the fence as to whether to buy it. Someone please push me off, one way or the$2.99 Kindle sale, March 3, 2018. GR reviews are kind of mixed so I'm on the fence as to whether to buy it. Someone please push me off, one way or the other....more
In the aftermath of a deadly plague that struck their area in ancient China, the narrator and his wife, Li-Fan, are among the survivors. But the plague has left its mark on them: the narrator has lost his sight but is otherwise still a healthy man; Li-Fan is frailer and weakened, especially on her right side. Still, as the couple learns to cope with their disabilities, they realize how lucky they are: their family business flourishes with the plague-caused deaths of many of their competitors, and their physical limitations have caused the couple to draw closer to each other and more in love.
Then one day Li-Fan brings home a man named Jin-Kwon: a maker of eyes. Not just inanimate glass prostheses, but eyes that can actually see. And not just eyes that see, but eyes that will be able to magically view one of life’s facets, whether it be beauty, other men’s desires or weaknesses, or other things:
“In the golden lands, where this technique was perfected, tradesmen used to willingly carve out one of their own eyes, to replace it with one that could better serve their respective professions. Healers implanted eyes that could diagnose illness. Portrait painters implanted eyes with flawless understanding of shading and pigment. Investors implanted eyes that could spot opportunities for profit. Soldiers implanted eyes that could discern the weakest points of their enemy. … The options are limited only to the imagination of the buyer.”
The narrator’s decision-making process is the heart of this story. As he reflects on his options and considers and rejects various choices, he takes into account his wife’s wise counsel. Their meaningful relationship and communication enriched this allegorical tale. His ultimate decision was a surprise in one sense, but the way it played out was predictable ― except that his philosophical musings in the end were a little too esoteric for me to fully appreciate.
2 stars for the other story in this issue, "Woe and Other Remedies" by Michael Anthony Ashley. This is an ornately detailed story of a wealthy, decadent kingdom where jaded, dissolute nobles await the periodic banquets of Dejanira, where she offers up elaborate and deadly entertainments. The thrill of the risk is like a stimulant to the nobility who attend, even if a large percentage of them end up dead every time. What will happen at her latest banquet, the first one in ten years?
I did like the details about how the nobles used acids and enzymes in their breath and spit to control their slaves:
Gama III summoned the precise combination of acids into his saliva, touched finger to tongue then stroked his mark upon the first pair of manacles. The lock smoked and popped and they fell away in a heavy clangor.
But otherwise the unpleasant characters and their degenerate society weren't my cuppa tea, it was all too far-fetched for me to suspend my disbelief, and I thought the pacing lagged in the middle....more
Seika and Ji-Lin are the twelve year old twin princesses of the Hidden Islands, a group of a hundred iFull review, first posted on Fantasy Literature:
Seika and Ji-Lin are the twelve year old twin princesses of the Hidden Islands, a group of a hundred islands cut off from the rest of the world by a magical barrier created by an ancient volcano dragon. Seika is the heir to the throne, while Ji-Lin is being trained as an imperial guard, dedicated to protecting her sister from any danger. For the past year they’ve been separated while Ji-Lin is in training at a mountain temple, with the winged, talking lion Alejan as her partner and closest friend.
Ji-Lin’s training is unexpectedly cut short when she is called to return to the imperial city. The emperor, their father, tells Seika and Ji-Lin that the next day they will begin the ritual five-day-long Emperor’s Journey to visit the Dragon’s Shrine. There they will renew the traditional bargain with the volcano dragon to keep the barrier around the islands, which protects their land against invaders and koji, vicious magical monsters feared by the people. Seika and Ji-Lin are mystified ― they didn’t expect to take the Emperor’s Journey until they were much older ― but obedient. Besides, they’re thrilled to be able to spend time together again after a year apart, and they’ll be flying through the air on the back of Alejan as they journey.
But their epic journey turns unexpectedly dangerous: the islands are being shaken by earthquakes, and their magical barrier is beginning to break down. As Ji-Lin, Seika, and Alejan travel from island to island, they tangle not only with flying koji monsters and some semi-piratical explorers who’ve slipped through the failing barrier, but also with the expectations of their strict royal father and the breaking of traditions and expectations.
Journey Across the Hidden Islands (2017) is an enchanting middle grade fantasy, a journey adventure that celebrates the bond of sisterhood and the need to take chances in life. The setting is inspired by feudal Japan, but elements of Venice, Italy, and Polynesian island culture have found their way into the mix of creating this unique fantasy world.
The two young sisters are a contrast in their characters: Seika is softer and more deliberate, careful and concerned about the people of the kingdom; Ji-Lin is more fierce, physical and adventurous. But both show great courage in their different ways, and both gain in wisdom and maturity as they deal with the trials of their journey. The girls are joined by Kirro, a ship captain’s son, for most of their journey, which is initially a trial for all three of them, with Kirro’s different background and occasionally abrasive personality. Ji-Lin’s flying lion Alejan will charm readers with his delightful sense of humor and love of flying and adventure. Although he has a more youthful personality, he reminded me of my beloved Monster in Durst’s book The Girl Who Could Not Dream: slyly humorous, always loyal, and wise.
Journey Across the Hidden Islands blends in some insights and life lessons with the adventures. A waterhorse (not a hippopotamus-type of animal like I first envisioned, but a magical horse literally made out of water, with whirlpool eyes and sprays of foam for his mane and tail) informs the young travelers:
Stories are how we understand who we are and who we wish to be. Heroes. Traitors. Both at once. We define ourselves by the stories we tell. We shape ourselves by the stories we hear.
The children come to realize that life can be complicated, and that others’ motives and even personalities may not be as easily categorized ― good or bad, traitorous or heroic ― as they initially thought.
I recommend Journey Across the Hidden Islands for young readers in the 10-14 age range, as well as older readers who enjoy middle grade fantasy adventures with a coming-of-age element. It’s a delightful and enchanting journey.
I received a free copy of this book from the author for review. Thank you!!...more
I know “deThis review is for “Maneki Neko,” a fun SF short story free online at Lightspeed magazine. Full review, first posted on Fantasy Literature:
I know “delightful” and “cyberpunk” are two words that rarely appear in the same sentence, but that’s what this short story is. We follow a day in the life of Tsuyoshi Shimizu, a young man living in Tokyo with his pregnant wife. He’s self-employed, making a fairly good living transferring old videos to new formats, and occasionally sharing older images that are of archival interest on the net.
The net machines would never pay for data, because the global information networks were noncommercial. But the net machines were very polite, and had excellent net etiquette. They returned a favor for a favor, and since they were machines with excellent, enormous memories, they never forgot a good deed.
Tsuyoshi moves through his day, periodically receiving anonymous gifts and advice from the net, and passing out random acts of kindness ― or taking more strategic actions ― when prompted by his handheld pokkecon device. Gradually it becomes apparent that there are forces tying him together with others in a mutual benefit society. It all comes to a hilarious boil as Tsuyoshi runs afoul of an American who is investigating and does not approve of this hidden gifting economy. But she’s taking on not only Tsuyoshi, but all the human and nonhuman forces that support him.
“Maneki Neko” is a humorous story, where we see the beneficial side of AI’s, the Internet gift economy, and dominant networks … at least from some people’s point of view. There’s just a little bit of an edge to the story, enough to make the reader question whether there might be some possible drawbacks to this system.
[image] [image]
Maneki neko, which means “beckoning cat” in English, is a popular Japanese cat figurine and tourist souvenir, usually having one paw upraised, depicting it beckoning for or inviting good fortune. It becomes very funny in the context of the story. Incidentally, “Maneki Neko” is referenced in the Hugo award winning 2016 short story “Cat Pictures Please,” and clearly served as an inspiration to that story.
In this story, Theodora Goss weaves together past and present. The past is an Asian folk tale type of story about a young woman named Kamora, the favorite maiden of the Empress Nasren. Kamora wishes to marry the Cloud Dragon, who turns into a handsome man at night. In return the Cloud Dragon will give his whiskers to Kamora’s uncle Alem Das, a blind instrument-maker, to use as strings for a dulcimer. The Empress, however, refuses to give Kamora permission to marry unless she can find someone who amuses the Empress more than Kamora does.
The present-time part of this story follows Sabra, a student and teaching assistant at a university in Boston. She was born in Ethiopia (once Abyssinia) to a powerful and wealthy man who died in the revolution against the Emperor, and his still-lovely but rather heartless wife.
I insisted on providing for myself, and living in a city that was too cold for her, because it kept me from feeling the enchantment that she threw over everything around her. She was an enchantress without intention, as a spider gathers flies by instinct. One longed to be in her web. In her presence, one could not help loving her, without judgment. And I was proud of my independence, if of nothing else.
Sabra begins a relationship with Michael, her co-TA, who introduces her to Samuel Taylor Coleridge and his evocative poem “Kubla Khan.” But she fears that if her mother ever comes to visit, she will steal Michael away, even though her mother is far older. One day Sabra begins to write a term paper on Coleridge in her ice-cold apartment, and suddenly she finds herself in the cold, stone palace of Kubla Khan, alone … except for Coleridge. They chat, and at his request Sabra picks up a dulcimer and sings for him.
A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw: It was an Abyssinian maid And on her dulcimer she played, Singing of Mount Abora.
These two stories are both intriguing: Kamora’s story reads like an authentic fairy tale, and Sabra’s story is brimming with the small, sometimes painful details that make her human and sympathetic. As the two stories to connect together through Coleridge, a woman with a dulcimer, and a name of an empress, I was caught in the enchanting web Goss wove. It’s a lovely work.
I recommend taking a few minutes to read “Kubla Khan” first (it's quite short, and here's an online copy of it) … and don’t forget the “person from Porlock,” the now-legendary unexpected visitor who interrupted Coleridge’s creative spell while writing “Kubla Khan.” Also, in Goss’ Author Spotlight on Lightspeed, she relates a fun story about how “Singing of Mount Abora” came to be, which involves an anthology of spelling-bee inspired stories, a list of words including “dulcimer,” and a fascination with minor characters in others’ stories.
In my search for dragon fantasy short stories for my 2/20/2017 SFM column (Short Fiction Monday) at Fantasy Literature, I found Aliette de Bodard's stIn my search for dragon fantasy short stories for my 2/20/2017 SFM column (Short Fiction Monday) at Fantasy Literature, I found Aliette de Bodard's story "The Dragon's Tears." This story is free online at here at Lightspeed magazine:
In this Chinese fairy tale-inspired short story, every year three unstoppable horsemen scour Huan Ho’s city of Fei Weng, taking whatever and whomever they please. One horseman is dressed in gold, the second one in silver, and the third in purest black. Huan Ho, who lives with his ailing mother, is determined to enter the door on the hillside that the horsemen come from, looking for a cure for her sickness … as long as the horsemen pass by their home first. Huan Ho is certain that on the other side of the mysterious door he will find the Dragon’s Tears, an enameled flask that holds the full power of the Dragons: the power to instantly heal.
Aliette de Bodard channels the Chinese fairy tale traditions, with dragons, ghosts, and brave adventurers going to strange places for a noble cause, and weaves into them a story based on the Confucian value of caring for your parents when are old. This story is rich in symbolism, weaving together disparate feelings and values like hope, fear, sorrow, sacrifice and love, and exploring how our choices and values may change us.
The more I looked at this story and thought about it, the more I liked it. 4.5 stars - recommended....more
Kao Yu is a middle-aged judge in ancient China, renowned for hFree online Tor short story, available here. Review first posted on Fantasy Literature:
Kao Yu is a middle-aged judge in ancient China, renowned for his fairness and honesty. He spends much of the year traveling from town to town to assist with legal cases. Kao Yu is sometimes assisted in making decisions by a chi-lin, a multicolored Chinese unicorn who will suffer no dishonesty in its presence. [image]
More than once—and the memories often returned to him on sleepless nights—he had pleaded with the criminal slouching before him, “If you have any hope of surviving this moment, do not lie to me. If you have some smallest vision of yet changing your life—even if you have lied with every breath from your first, tell the truth now.” But few there—tragically few—were able to break the habit of a lifetime; and Judge Kao Yu would once again see the dragon-like horned head go down, and would lower his own head and close his eyes, praying this time not to hear the soft-footed rush across the courtroom, and the terrible scream of despair that followed. But he always did.
Now it so happens that on one trip Kao Yu is asked to pass judgment on an imprisoned pickpocket, who turns out to be a young woman of surpassing beauty named Lanying. He is instantly entranced by Lanying, and unexpectedly tempers his judgment of her with mercy, cutting her sentence in half. He spends many sleepless nights thereafter dreaming of Lanying, and grumping at his devoted servants during the day. When he next passes through the area, he arranges to have dinner with Lanying, and ends up spending the night with her. But Lanying, though lovely and refined in her manners, is a hardened criminal, and the judge’s heart will end up conflicting with his duties and his devotion to justice.
“The Story of Kao Yu” is a melancholy tale, another story of love and loss, and the choices we make when any choice will bring pain. Peter S. Beagle has told a tale of a very different unicorn here, one who embodies justice. Beagle effectively and respectfully captures the style of an ancient Chinese legend, while making some timeless points about our human weaknesses.
4.5 stars for this collection of Chinese SF short stories. Final review, first posted on Fantasy Literature:
Invisible Planets is an interesting and va4.5 stars for this collection of Chinese SF short stories. Final review, first posted on Fantasy Literature:
Invisible Planets is an interesting and varied anthology of thirteen speculative short fiction stories and three essays by seven contemporary Chinese authors, translated into English by Ken Liu. As Liu mentions in the Introduction, several of these stories have won U.S. awards (most notably the 2016 Hugo Award for best novelette, given to Hao Jingfang’s Folding Beijing) and have been included in “Year’s Best” anthologies. Chinese fantasy and science fiction is richly diverse, and this collection amply proves that. While there is political commentary in some of these stories, it would be, as Liu comments, doing these works a disservice to assume that they can be reduced to metaphors about Chinese politics. These stories offer insights not just into Chinese thought and culture, but about life and humanity generally, which is what the best science fiction and fantasy does.
“The Year of the Rat” by Chen Qiufan. Genetically engineered rats, rodents of unusual size and intelligence, and programmed with certain behaviors (like walking upright), are exported from China as luxury pets. When a mass escape of rats from their farms occurs ― whether by accident or as a political ploy ― and the rats’ genetic limitations on reproduction begin to break down, they create a threat to the country. Unemployed college students, like the narrator, are enlisted to hunt and kill the Neorats. But the hunting and the killing turn out to be more difficult than expected: the rats’ intelligence makes them difficult to trap, and some of the students begin to question the morality of the cause. Among other things, this story explores how our ideas and perceptions can be manipulated, whether by rats, love interests, or hidden political powers.
“The Fish of Lijiang” by Chen Qiufan. A workaholic office worker, stressed and burned out, is placed on a mandatory two-week leave and sent to the beautiful historic city of Lijiang, now a center for rehabilitation. He meets a girl there and they begin spending time together, seeing the sights, playing drinking games, listening to strange Naxi music, watching the red fish hover in the waterways, struggling against the current to maintain their positions. The girl opens the narrator’s eyes to some high tech tricks that are being foisted on unsuspecting workers. The class themes in “The Fish of Lijiang” are echoed in the later story Folding Beijing, which I felt handled that theme more creatively, but the repeated symbol of the fish was thought-provoking.
“The Flower of Shazui” by Chen Qiufan. An engineer, on the run from a failed criminal scheme at his prior job, has made a new life in Shazui Village, selling black market augmented-reality software and “body films,” a thin film applied to people’s bodies that displays words or pictures. When Snow Lotus, a lovely high class prostitute, needs his services one day for a malfunction in her body film, he finds out about the troubles in her life and decides to use his high tech skills to assist her. This story, set in an alternate reality version of the Shenzhen Bay area, juxtaposes hard science fiction and high tech with the underside of society and its desperate and very human problems.
“A Hundred Ghosts Parade Tonight” by Xia Jia. Ning was left on the steps of a temple as a baby, and was picked up and adopted by the ghosts who dwell on Ghost Street, a long, narrow street inhabited only by the ghosts ― and Ning, who loves them. Ghost Street is a defunct tourist attraction: no tourists come any more, and the buildings are falling to pieces. Gradually it becomes apparent that Ghost Street is a type of Westworld amusement park: the souls of real people have been fused into mechanical bodies that mimic some of the characteristics of actual ghosts: they cannot stand direct sunlight, which burns them irreparably; they can remove their heads and put them back on again.
Before she became a ghost, Xiao Qian tells me, she lived a very full life. … And then her children got sick, one after another. In order to raise the money to pay the doctors, Xiao Qian sold herself off in pieces: teeth, eyes, breasts, heart, liver, lungs, bone marrow, and finally her soul. Her soul was sold to Ghost Street, where it was sealed inside a female ghost’s body. Her children died anyway.
Ning thinks he is the only living being on Ghost Street, but it may be that there is something artificial about Ning as well. “A Hundred Ghosts Parade Tonight” is a lovely, bittersweet tale, enhanced by Xia Jia’s wonderful imagery. This is a story that confused me at first (I initially missed the shift from fantasy to science fiction), but once I understood the premise, I reread it with tremendous pleasure. It’s a magical but sad world, left behind in society’s unceasing search for newer, more sensational amusements.
“Tongtong’s Summer” by Xia Jia. Tongtong’s Grandpa, who can no longer live on his own, moves in with her family. Grandpa grumpily resists getting a caretaker, so Tongtong’s father decides to try out a prototype robot caregiver, which they call Ah Fu. One day Tongtong begins conversing with Ah Fu, and finds out that the robot is remotely controlled by Wang, a university student working in R&D at the robot manufacturer’s facilities. Grandpa’s temper continues to worsen, until Wang comes up with a creative solution.
This is a fairly straightforward tale that sensitively explores the needs and concerns of the elderly in a near-future science fictional setting. I was especially moved by the author’s note at the end, dedicating this story to “all the grandmas and grandpas who, each morning, can be seen in parks practicing tai chi, twirling swords, singing opera, dancing … You made me understand that living with an awareness of the closeness of death is nothing to be afraid of.”
“Night Journey of the Dragon-Horse” by Xia Jia. A huge, ancient and rusted dragon-horse awakens from a long sleep to find a desolate world from which humans have disappeared. Where cars once filled the street like a river of steel, lush trees now dance in the wind. The dragon-horse begins a journey to explore this changed world. He befriends a chatty bat, and they exchange stories as they travel. It’s a leisurely tale, a melancholy tale, a poetic meditation on the effects of passage of time. As a bonus, Xia Jia provides links for some YouTube videos to an actual robotic dragon-horse, built by France and gifted to China to commemorate the friendship between their nations, which inspired this story.
“The City of Silence” by Ma Boyong. In the year 2046, the State tightly controls the lives of its inhabitants, in a polluted, stagnant world. People’s lives are solitary and rather empty, with the Web as the main vehicle for human interaction. They are only allowed to use “healthy words” in their communications in person or online. Originally a list of forbidden words deemed unhealthy (for example, “tired,” “love,” “movement,” and all sexual and curse words), now it is a list of the words that people are permitted to say or write. And the List of Healthy Words gets shorter every day. People’s speech is constantly monitored and policed by the state.
Arvardan applies to use the BBS forums, but they don’t contain any more interesting speech or ideas than he normally sees. However, he notices that the documents given him by a woman working in the Department of Web Security contain a hidden message … and a dangerous invitation.
Evidently inspired by George Orwell’s 1984, which is discussed in one of the meetings of the Talking Club that Arvardan joins, “The City of Silence” takes the concept of thought police and applies it to a technological age. As one of the characters comments, “technology is neutral. But the progress of technology will cause a free world to become freer, and a totalitarian world to become ever more repressive.” Arvardan and his friends know and can still think the words that the State now deems unhealthy, but one wonders what will become of the next generation in Ma Boyong’s nightmarish society.
"Folding Beijing" by Hao Jingfang: Lao Dao, a humble man who works in a waste processing plant in “Third Space” Beijing, sorting recyclable trash, finds a bottle with a message offering what for Lao Dao is a fortune, to take a message from a man in Second Space to a woman he loves who lives in First Space. Travel between the three areas is dangerous and illegal, but Lao Dao, desperate to earn enough money to pay for his young daughter’s education at a decent school, is determined to make the trip.
As the story unfolds, it becomes apparent that Beijing literally folds and unfolds as well: the city has been completely rebuilt, with huge sections of ground that turn upside down every 24 hours. The inhabitants of each space are put into a drugged sleep while their part of the city folds up and disappears underground. This increases Beijing’s ability to support a large population … and, disturbingly, also increases the physical and emotional separation between the haves, have-nots, and “have-somes.” First Space has by far the lowest population and most of the wealth; it also gets the largest amount of time above ground (24 hours in every 48), while Second Space, filled with white collar workers, gets 16 hours and the underclass in Third Space only gets 8 hours.
The setting is the real jewel of this science fiction novelette, a clear symbol of the economic and social differences between the classes and the lack of fairness in the way economic benefits and even life itself have been parceled out. With such a dramatic setting, the story itself is far more understated than one might expect — even the exciting scenes have a quietness to them, and every time the tension ramps up it soon ramps right back down again. Rather than pursue a more dramatic story, Hao Jingfan chose to focus on the domestic details of life. As she mentions in her interview with Uncanny Magazine, “The characters themselves care more about things that touch their daily lives: family, love, power, and wealth, but a reader can see the fundamental inequity of their world.” It’s a thought-provoking story that melds well with the unique setting, and illustrates human nature in action, as well as some larger truths. A highly recommended read.
Liu Cixin’s two stories, "The Circle" and "Taking Care of God," were among those in this anthology that impressed me the most. "The Circle" is set in ancient China, where Jing Ke, an intellectual and would-be assassin of the king of a neighboring dynasty, is co-opted by King Zheng as an advisor instead. King Zheng is entranced by Jing Ke's studies, hoping it might open the door to eternal life. When Jing Ke explains pi to the king, and the difficulties of calculating its digits, the king pushes him to do whatever he can to calculate pi much further. The answer that Jing Ke comes up with, a primitive man-powered computer, is absolutely fascinating. Anyone with an interest in computer programming should read this story.
“Taking Care of God” uses a science fictional setting to explore the interrelationship between the youthful and the aging, both on an individual level and on a macro level, as we see here how an entire civilization echoes the aging process. There is frustration and some understandable self-interest on both ends of the spectrum. As bad as the elder abuse gets in some situations, it hits hard when one of the Gods explains that they have been treated even worse in the past. Their urgent advice to humanity in the end was an interesting and unexpected turn in the narrative.
The rest of the stories in this collection were reviewed by Jana and Kat, two of my co-reviewers at Fantasy Literature; you can read their insightful reviews right here -- and I highly recommend doing that!
I received a free copy of this ebook from the publisher and NetGalley. Thanks!...more
4.5 stars for "Folding Beijing," a gem of a SF novelette, and the 2016 Hugo winner. It's free online at here at Uncanny Magazine. Review first posted 4.5 stars for "Folding Beijing," a gem of a SF novelette, and the 2016 Hugo winner. It's free online at here at Uncanny Magazine. Review first posted on Fantasy Literature:
Lao Dao, a humble man who works in a waste processing plant in “Third Space” Beijing, sorting recyclable trash, finds a bottle with a message offering what for Lao Dao is a fortune, to take a message from a man in Second Space to a woman he loves who lives in First Space. Travel between the three areas is dangerous and illegal, but Lao Dao, desperate to earn enough money to pay for his young daughter’s education at a decent school, is determined to make the trip.
As the story unfolds, it becomes apparent that Beijing literally folds and unfolds as well: the city has been completely rebuilt, with huge sections of ground that turn upside down every 24 hours. The inhabitants of each space are put into a drugged sleep while their part of the city folds up and disappears underground. This increases Beijing’s ability to support a large population … and, disturbingly, also increases the physical and emotional separation between the haves, have-nots, and “have-somes.” First Space has by far the lowest population and most of the wealth; it also gets the largest amount of time above ground (24 hours in every 48), while Second Space, filled with white collar workers, gets 16 hours and the underclass in Third Space only gets 8 hours.
The setting is the real jewel of this science fiction novelette, a clear symbol of the economic and social differences between the classes and the lack of fairness in the way economic benefits and even life itself have been parceled out. With such a dramatic setting, the story itself is far more understated than one might expect — even the exciting scenes have a quietness to them, and every time the tension ramps up it soon ramps right back down again. Rather than pursue a more dramatic story, Hao Jingfan chose to focus on the domestic details of life. As she mentions in her interview with Uncanny Magazine, “The characters themselves care more about things that touch their daily lives: family, love, power, and wealth, but a reader can see the fundamental inequity of their world.”
It’s a thought-provoking story that melds well with the unique setting, and illustrates human nature in action, as well as some larger truths. A highly recommended read. It's translated from Chinese by Ken Liu....more
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