20 splendiferous short stories I read in August

 

Honestly, August passed in a bit of a blur. I was writing a story that had to be finished by August 31, and the kids were still out of school, so there was a lot of stuff going on. But, yes, there were still so, so many good stories to read.

Right before I put together this month’s roundup, Augur Magazine published their preview issue. This is a brand new Canadian magazine of intersectional, speculative fiction, and it is definitely worth checking out. The preview issue contains wonderful reprints by a range of fantastic authors that gives you a taste of what this magazine is all about. Augur is also running a Kickstarter campaign – so if you feel like supporting a new, pro-paying, Canadian-based venue… head on over and invest a few bucks.

The Lamentation of Their Women, by Kai Ashante Wilson at TOR.com. “They loped like winter wolves, thin yet, but bellies hanging full of fresh kill, and future tooth and scenting nose toward all these little lambs gamboling on every side.” Fierce, brutal, sexy as hell, action-packed like a pulpy Hollywood movie (but better), and devilishly dark… this is yet another masterpiece from Kai Ashante Wilson. The way he mixes high and low, street and Shakespeare, brutality and beauty, the sexy and the savage… I am honestly in awe. This is a powerful and passionate story that deals with race, police violence, and racism. Read it with his harrowing ‘The Devil In America‘ for a gutpunch of prose.

If a Bird Can Be a Ghost, by Allison Mills in Apex. “Shelly’s grandma teaches her about ghosts, how to carry them in her hair.” I love this story so much it makes me hurt. I have a weakness for stories that manage to break my heart, and then stitch it back together, and this is such a story. Weaving together magic and spirituality, life and afterlife, childhood and adolescence, grief and family – with all its guts and glory – this story is both haunting (in more ways than one), and deeply moving. A must-read.

Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience™, by Rebecca Roanhorse in Apex. “What Theresa doesn’t understand is that Tourists don’t want a real Indian experience. They want what they see in the movies, and who can blame them?” Another brilliant story from the August issue of Apex – this one is sharp and incisive, chilling, and darkly funny to boot. Using virtual reality and the often misguided longing for “authentic” experiences as a starting point, Roanhorse expertly explores issues of stolen identity and stolen culture. This is one of those stories that works its way deeper and deeper into your mind after you read it.

Never Yawn Under a Banyan Tree, by Nibedita Sen in Anathema. “Never yawn under a banyan tree….A ghost might jump down your throat.” Fair warning: there is so much delicious food in this story that it will probably make your mouth water. It is also wickedly funny as it deals with family, unladylike behaviour, sexuality, and a very hungry, and seriously food-loving ghost.

Eruption, by Jaymee Goh in Anathema. “You will grow out from under the aegis of the Founding Mothers in due time.” What a fierce and fiery and deeply unsettling story this is, set in a society where the women once, not too long ago, made a hard choice, and carried it through to its sweet and bitter end. They changed the world, and were changed in turn. Beautiful, powerful, and heartbreaking.

For Now, Sideways by A. Merc Rustad in Diabolical Plots. “There’s never been a tomorrow since the war began.” Rustad’s story is a masterpiece of small-scale space-opera – its prose honed to perfection – and populated by scarred survivors of war, mech-bods, and soldiers who can no longer remember who and what they were before the war began. Masterfully done.

Skins Smooth as Plantain, Hearts Soft as Mango, by Ian Muneshwar in The Dark. “The beast in the folds of Harry’s gut had no heart and it did not need one…” A horror story and love-story (of sorts) folded one inside the other, I love the way Muneshwar brings both the beauty and horror of Harry’s world to life. It is a visceral, deeply unsettling story and the prose is so vivid you can almost feel the beast touch your skin…

The Broken Karwaneer, By Jeremy A. TeGrotenhuis in Beneath Ceaseless Skies. “Where she found goodness, she would protect it. Where she found cruelty, she would resist.” Set in a harsh and unforgiving landscape where violence and death lurk at every turn, this tale packs a big emotional punch, and also features some very rich and evocative world-building. The children at the center of the story suffer so much hardship, but I love how they still come across as headstrong and complex individuals. Also, this story has an ending that definitely left me wanting more (in a good way).

Red Bark and Ambergris, by Kate Marshall in Beneath Ceaseless Skies. “She had survived sixty poisons. She was thirteen years old.” A beautifully told story of vengeance and loss and family and longing, and  of how difficult it is to be true to yourself in your heart of hearts. The world of this story is alive with details – scent, taste, emotion, colour – and Marshall brings everything so close you feel you might be able to touch it.

The Moon, The Sun, and the Truth, by Victoria Sandbrook in Shimmer. “Truth-running kept Andy moving, employed, and fed, but she wasn’t sure it was worth not seeing the near side of forty like Mama had.” A weird western of sorts, this story takes place in a world where truth-runners earn their keep, and risk their lives, by smuggling data from one place to another. Danger lurks everywhere in this suspenseful tale, and it also explores the longing for safety and a place to belong, even when the world seems to make such dreams impossible. Highly recommended.

Ink, by Bruce McAllister in Lightspeed. “…the things he collected did not make him bleed, when so much of the world—the sharp, angular things of it—did.” This exquisite story has a wonderful quiet power. It is set in a beautifully described real world and real place, and then, little by little you feel the edges of that reality tremble and waver… Gorgeous prose and the kind of story I read twice just to catch all its subtle nuances.

Tongue, by Ashok K. Banker in Lightspeed. “He is very good man. Only hits when absolutely necessary. We are very happy together.” Gripping, troubling, and disturbingly entertaining, Banker tells a story of “traditional” marriage in a future world. He eviscerates and skewers the expectations of what a wife is expected to endure and sacrifice for the sake of her husband and marriage. I love the way the story weaves together old prejudices and new ways of enforcing the patriarchal order. Brilliantly done.

These Constellations Will Be Yours, by Elaine Cuyegkeng in Strange Horizons. “We were the future galleons of our Empire and ours was the fate of starlight.” Cuyegkeng’s prose is so beautifully crafted that she spellbound me from the first sentence of this story. Wrapped in that exquisite prose, is a fierce tale of pain and suffering, and about what price a society is willing to pay for progress and profit and glory. The dark secret at the heart of Le Guin’s “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas” whispers through this tale, but Cuyegkeng also manages to pack an epic space-opera, and some truly excellent world-building into the tight space of a short story.

Oven Game, by Paul A. Hamilton in Metaphorosis. “Opening an oven from the inside is difficult…but Drea Kane has had practice.” I have a thing for stories that start off in a completely unexpected way. This one definitely does. The rules of the oven game are thoroughly bizarre and highly unsettling – crawling into people’s houses through a strange door / portal that leads from Drea Kane’s own home into other homes. I don’t want to give anything away, but suffice it to say that I was hooked by this weird and creepy story that has made me somewhat suspicious of my oven and my dryer…

The Waduf, by Naru Dames Sundar in Kaleidotrope. “I prepare my fictions…prepare my bulwark of story to hold back the Waduf’s power…” Oh my gosh, what a wonderful story this is – rich and luscious language, a uniquely imagined antagonist, and a tale that explores storytelling as a form of battle. Brilliant and original.

The Stone Weta, by Octavia Cade in Clarkesworld. “Resistance was revolution, sometimes, blood and dramatic acts, but more often it was survival.” This is a unique and powerful story about science and resistance in a world that is hostile to science, research, and the truth. Sound sort of familiar? Yeah, this story definitely hits home. Cade shifts the story’s POV from one resistance fighter to another, all of them named after various creatures – the stone weta, the resurrection plant, and so on. The way Cade uses the description of each creature to introduce the characters is frankly brilliant. I was quite happy to find out that  Cade is working on a novel rooted in this short story.

Four Hours of a Revolution, by Premee Mohamed in Pseudopod. “Rebels, like vampires, prowl by night, sleep by day…” A story of war and rebellion, told from the perspective of… Death. Death tells us who it has come to claim from the very beginning, but even so, Mohamed twists the suspense and horror tighter and tighter as the story progresses. This is a well-crafted and harrowing tale of struggle, betrayal and the price paid for revolution.

Cassandra Writes Out of Order, by Andrea Tang in Podcastle. “I only write prophecies. I don’t know how to change them.” I tend to love stories told out of order, and this one uses the form to great dramatic effect. Life is definitely not easy for a girl who writes prophecies that have a tendency to come true… What I love the most about this tale is the interaction between the children / adolescents at the heart of it. Their dialogue is sharp and vivid, and their relationship is achingly wonderful in all its well-crafted complexity.

Plain Jane Learns How To Knit Worm Holes, by Wendy N. Nikel in Flash Fiction Online. “No wonder Jane dropped the stitch and opened up an interdimensional wormhole.” When crafting goes interdimensional, you know you’re reading a good story. This flash piece by Nikel is a treat, and is packed with religion, knitting jargon, and time travel.

On Light and Shadow, by L.L. Madrid in Gamut. “Did the voice come from something lurking in the cracks of my mind or the house?” If you’re a parent, you’ll know that bercoming and being a parent is great fodder for horror. L.L. Madrid’s story resonates with me on so many levels: it’s brilliantly written horror set in the everyday world, a world that is slowly twisting out of true for the main character. This story also explores the fears and insecurities of motherhood with an unflinching eye. Unsettling and dark, this story swallowed me whole.

    (Originally published at mariahaskins.com) 

19 wondrous short stories I read in July

 

I traveled a lot throughout July (but then I always travel a lot in July). The month included long flights to Sweden, and a lot of travel within Sweden as well, visiting family and friends. As a result, my reading was rather haphazard and scattered throughout the month, and so was my time at the computer. But as always, I read a lot of fantastic fiction – more than I had time to rope together for this post – and 19 of those fantastic stories are here in this roundup.

Salamander Six-Guns, by Martin Cahill in Shimmer. “One moment I was shoving a pitchfork into the belly of a croc-man, and next I knew, the flashing of the stranger’s salamanders blinded me, sea-foam flame belching hot lead as natural as rainfall.” This is such an extraordinarily weird and wonderful western. A gripping story of love and vengeance plays out in a world that has been fundamentally altered by the arrival of… something new… that has changed both the landscape and the people in it. Action, emotion, and glorious prose.

The Moments Between, Kate Jonez in Gamut. “The mother always gets blamed. Without exception. Doesn’t even matter what I say. I ask anyway because maybe he can tell me the magic incantation that will make everything right again. “What do you want me to say?”” An excellent, chilling story of motherhood and loss, guilt and survival, anger and fear. (Rational or irrational fear? that might depend on your point of view…). Brilliant, haunting writing by Jonez that hit me right in the heart.

Arkteia, by Genevieve Williams in See The Elephant. “Arktoi: bears. On the one hand, government contractors, living in the vast wilderness designated by the Reclaiming Act and tending it as they might a garden. On the other, priestesses of the goddess Artemis under sacred charge, protectors of wild sanctuaries, feared for being a little wild themselves.” I absolutely love this story and the way it weaves together the wild landscape of the Pacific north-west, near-future science fiction-ish technology, with ideas and beliefs from ancient mythology. There’s the lingering spell of an old relationship, and the power of a volcano beneath. A must-read.

The Wardrobe, by Matthew Sanborn Smith in See The Elephant. “It was a man – a naked, patchwork man, nipples and navels appearing where they shouldn’t be. A man clad in the skins of other people…” A riveting, deeply unsettling and mind-warping story about a magic wardrobe – yes, it might be THAT wardrobe – that starts out firmly in the real world, and ends up…somewhere completely different. Fair warning: the world inside this particular wardrobe, beyond the coats, is a rather terrifying place.

Litany for the Departed, by S. Kay Nash in See The Elephant. “Mama pulls my hair again, her phantom fingers tangled around my mind. I wince at the sudden memory…” A dark and beautifully told tale of grief and loss and how people who had a hold on us in life, can still haunt us after death. In this case, the haunting is very real, and the dead person’s presence is poisoning the life of a young woman. Moving and evocative.

Brujitas, by Shara Concepción in Flash Fiction Online. “It’s a look we’ve seen before—the way our grandmothers stare out of their windows, like the sky is a paved road they never meant to wander down.” Oh, the lovely glow and shimmer and rhythm of the words in this story… It’s the kind of story I can read over and over again just to listen to the way it moves and the way it feels. There are the children, and their grandmothers, and the fence that divides the world, and there is the magic and the climb… Beautiful.

The Last Exorcist, by Danny Lore in Fiyah. “Naheem is our last great exorcist. When you point this fact out to him, he barely blinks. It is a title he accepts, not with humility or even resignation, but with frustration.” This story, from another terrific issue of Fiyah, turns the familiar ideas of demonic possession and exorcism on their heads, as it tells the story of Naheem, the exorcist. This story is razor-sharp in the way it imagines possession as a political tool of oppression, with white people willingly selling their souls to maintain their power.

Abide With Me, by K.M. DeMeester in Lamplight. “Like some terrible dream come to life she’d wake with her heart rabbit quick in her chest and her hands slick with the sensation of blood.” I read this dark and chill-inducing story in the middle of the night, in a cabin located in the woods. Since the setting for it is a cabin in the middle of the woods… that made for a rather intense reading experience. DeMeester’s story follows a woman facing some big choices and changes in her life as she seeks clarity and solitude in the woods. It is both terrifying and surprising: I did not see that ending coming. Excellent slow-burning horror.

Oscars on the Rue Jules Verne, by L. Chan in Empyreome Magazine. “Come back, she sang to the squad in her heart, come back to your queen.” Naked mutant mole rat marines in space? Connected to a human mind as they battle aliens on a strange planet? YES, please. All that awesome weirdness is interwoven with a story of a person haunted by love, by her dreams, and by regret. Terrific (and terrifically strange) science fiction set in a very interesting future.

A Question of Faith, by Tonya Liburd in The BookSmugglers. “His voice…vibrating beyond bone, sibilant beyond time, stretching at her mind.”️ This is such a mind-bending, gripping story about faith and religion, set in a world that is reminiscent of ancient Egypt. I especially loved the blend of religion and technology in this story, and the complex, layered world-building that is effortlessly built into it. A fantastic read.

Owl Vs. the Neighborhood Watch, by Darcie Little Badger in Strange Horizons. “Owl-as-a-Man loitered outside her apartment, barefoot. From toes to brow, a white feather pattern rippled up His brown skin.” Oh my gosh, how I love this story. The dark sense of humour, the incisive description of depression, the haunting imagery of Owl as he visits the protagonist through life…it’s masterfully done. A gripping, wonderful tale.

Dispo and the Crow, by Rich Larson in Mythic Delirium. “…he rose up over his domain, surveying the crumbled concrete, the tangled rebar, the glitter of smashed glass, and set to work. He found his first corpse half a block away, wedged inside the splintered geometry of a wrecked car.” This story of a robot labouring away in a post-apocalyptic landscape, broke my heart every which way. From the simple pieces: a crow interacting with a robot that is trying to come to terms with its purpose and mission in a world that has changed, Larson crafts a moving tale.

A Portrait of the Desert in Personages of Power, by Rose Lemberg in Beneath Ceaseless Skies. “Slightly to the northeast, below ground, I felt the edges of my star. Woven of delicate longer deepnames, the lacelike edges of it stirred with the breath of sleep.” Wow. How to describe this intricately woven, exquisitely crafted, stunning masterpiece by Rose Lemberg? As always, Lemberg’s prose is spellbinding, and if you’ve followed their Birdverse stories, this novella is a must-read – it delves deep into the history, spirituality, and mythology of that world. Love, transformation, magic, lust, longing, pain and desire – so many threads are woven together in this tale. Breathtaking storytelling.

Ora et Labora, by Theodore McCombs in Beneath Ceaseless Skies. “Your family has renounced you and donated you to the Church. The name they gave you is a lie…. You are Disordered, a child of the Jack of Lies. Rejoice in your deliverance, and submit with gladness to God’s sacred labor.” Confession: I have a weakness for stories set in medieval times, especially if they deal with monasteries or libraries. Ora et Labora is set in a medieval-ish world, though it is definitely not our own past middle ages, but rather an alternate version of it. It is gripping from start to finish as we’re introduced to a world where “disordered” individuals are give to the church, and are thought to have certain powers or aptitudes that are best used there. Science and religion are closely interwoven, and I found this tale riveting from start to finish as the secrets of the church, and the society it is part of, are revealed.

A Lasting Legacy, by Osahon Ize-Iyamu in The Dark. “Calming himself, he scrubbed the floor with rags, washing the blood away till it looked normal. To be safe, he placed his raffia mat over the spot.” This is a haunting, well-crafted story about a man trying to achieve the recognition he believes he deserves in his community, while circumstances keep slipping out of his control. The escalating sense of desperation makes for a gripping, chilling story.

An Unearned Death, by Marissa Lingen in Fantasy & Science Fiction. “Cemeteries she loved; cemeteries were restful and well-tended. The boneyards, filled with the barely living remains of those the gods had rejected, felt like a personal failure to her.” This story deals with the afterlife and the gods in a rather unique way, as it is set in a world where you have to be claimed by one of the gods in order to really “die”. Otherwise, you linger as something more or less undead. I love the vivid prose, I love the texture and feel of the world, and I love the real, gritty feel of the characters.

The Waxing Quiet, by Tony Pi & Stephen Kotowych in Deep Magic. “He retreated to the calculation antechamber, where the tallylooms worked unceasingly. Click-clack went the wooden hooks, tying knots in the coarse hemp twine, the knot-history of their answers.” Fate and faith are at the center of this story, set in a society where a complex loom is used to determine which decisions are the right ones: for the society as a whole, and for individuals. The loom itself is a breathtaking piece of imagined technology, and I love the way the organization of the society uses concepts and terminology from bees and bee-keeping. A uniquely imagined world, and I’ll be thinking about that loom for a while…

Must-read reprints:

«Légendaire», by Kai Ashante Wilson in Apex Magazine. It’s Kai Ashante Wilson. It’s brilliant and I love it.

The Oracle, by Lavie Tidhar in Clarkesworld. Such an awesome read, dealing with the emergence of “the Others” – “children of the digitality”. Tidhar’s imagined future version of Israel, Palestine, and the rest of the world, is gloriously mind-boggling. This story is part of Tidhar’s excellent Central Station universe.

    (Originally published at mariahaskins.com)