Novels and Novellas

Thanks to the good offices of SF author Warren Wagar, I came into possession of Eduard Prugovecki’s Dawn of the New Man (Xlibris, trade paper, $26.99, 506 pages, ISBN 1-4010-4547-2), and am grateful for the chance to have read this rather old-fashioned but stimulating Utopian novel. Prugovecki is a scientist by trade, a quantum physicist in fact, yet his writing is far from ham-handed. Solid if a tad ungainly prose wraps the tale of a sleeper awakened. Genius playboy physicist Dr. Philip Deron sleeps for 350 years, entering a future where two rival polities–Terra and the FWF–dominate an Earth slowly recovering from the Last War. Terra is a near-paradise, run as a kind of consensual anarchy made possible by various new mental disciplines, while the FWF is an extension of all that is most reprehensible about our current Western capitalist societies. Deron’s initial acclimation to his new world was laid out in Memoirs of the Future (2001). Neatly prologued with backstory, this volume finds the conflict between the rival camps coming to a head, with Deron playing a major role in the battle. Combining the heady didacticism of Wells with the sometimes wacky sexual-philosophical stylings of van Vogt, this novel deals with important issues in a intermittently stodgy but always interesting fashion.

Single-Author Collections

A peyote prospector who falls in love with a strange cactus. A world where all life rides a bizarre roller-coaster of evolution/devolution. A society based on teleportation and shame. A lonely man who loves so much he brutalizes the very object of his affections. A blocked artist who finds the solution to his problems in a Renaissance myth. These are simply a few of the marvels on display in Bright Segment: Volume VIII of the Complete Stories of Theodore Sturgeon (North Atlantic Books, hardcover, $35.00, 408 pages, ISBN 1-55643-398-0). Although not containing perhaps so many acknowledged classics as some of the earlier collections, this latest installment does not lack in immense reading pleasures. Despite the period represented being a tough one for Sturgeon (his artistic frustrations are brilliantly encapsulated in "To Here and the Easel"), none of these stories is less than technically adroit and heartfelt, and many of them are brilliant and shattering. Even the O. Henry ending of "Twink" can be forgiven, since, as Sturgeon remarks, he only pulled this stunt once. One curious benefit of reading an author’s stories in this compact chronological manner is to see dominant tics and riffs prominently displayed. The fact that three men in three tales punch in the faces of the women they ostensibly love is disturbing, even given period mores, but no one ever claimed Sturgeon was a saint, just a brilliant writer. As always, this volume has been scrupulously and lovingly assembled and annotated by Paul Williams, who deserves some kind of medal or lifetime annuity.

Alert readers of this magazine won’t need to be informed about the attractions of Kage Baker’s "Company" stories. Like Fritz Leiber’s Change War cycle or Poul Anderson’s Time Patrol books, Baker’s tales of the mysterious firm known as Dr. Zeus, Inc., and its era-hopping operatives combine the best of historical fiction with the cognitive dissonance and paradox-filled estrangement that SF fans relish. Add a dash of the amoral protagonists from C.L. Moore’s "Vintage Season" and you have a tasty recipe. Now, fourteen of these stories are collected in Black Projects, White Knights (Golden Gryphon Press, hardcover, $24.95, 288 pages, ISBN 1-930846-11-8). Eleven of them hail from Asimov’s, while three have never before seen print, making this a must-have volume for Baker’s fans. Among the new gems, my favorite is "The Queen in Yellow," wherein we find the famous archaeologist Flinders Petrie most disconcerted while on an Egyptian dig by a fellow who knows much more than he should about the contents of a three-thousand-year-old tomb.

Another name that resonates loudly in the pages of this magazine (and across the SF world) is James Patrick Kelly. His new collection, Strange But Not A Stranger (Golden Gryphon, hardcover, $25.95, 297 pages, ISBN 1-930846-12-6) is if anything even stronger than his previous Think Like a Dinosaur (1997). From the retro-redolent, Hugo-winning "1016 to 1," which opens the volume, to the far-future, mind-blowing "Undone," which closes it, Kelly is relentless in his noble, impossible pursuit of the quintessential SF story. (Not to mention essaying the occasional ghost story and fantasy as well.) Whatever its surprising premise or unforeseen modes, a Kelly story can be recognized by meticulously hewn prose that sings, a wry humor, affection for the cast assembled, and a determination to explore every aspect of an idea. As the title of this collection hints, Kelly makes his readers feel at home in marvelous places they’ve never imagined.

The most marvelous thing about Zoran Zivkovic’s surreal storytelling is the tone and voice of his tales. He’s able to capture perfectly the same sense of plausible absurdity that Kafka and Borges also specialized in, and to create narrators who blithely fall into the all the odd traps of life without ever fussing about the improbability of what’s happening to them. Oh, the hapless folks in a Zivkovic story might be startled or have questions, but they always plunge ahead gamely with their odd fates. In the six stories contained in The Library (Publishing Atelier Polaris, trade paper, $10.00, 133 pages, ISBN 86-83741-95-2), we meet a man who finds his future career outlined for him ("Virtual Library"); another who is on the receiving end of an infinite flow of books ("Home Library"). We learn of the "Night Library," which boasts the biographies of everyone who has ever lived; and we see what Hell holds for non-bookish types in "Infernal Library." "The Smallest Library" is the obverse of "Home Library," where a single book becomes infinite; and "Noble Library" draws all the threads together in fine metafictional fashion. Throughout all these calamities visited upon fussy souls, we are guided by Zivkovic’s sure hand and deadpan wit, and by the fine translation rendered by Alice Copple-Tosic.

On the basis of Lord Stink and Other Stories (Small Beer Press, chapbook, $5.00, 76 pages, ISBN unavailable), Judith Berman is a skillful, passionate writer who proceeds at her own measured pace to produce quality craftsmanship from her workshop. Two stories here, the title piece and "Dream of Rain" are mythic, fairytale-like fantasies that evoke the best of Ursula Le Guin. The heretofore unpublished "Election Day," by contrast, is a madcap Tim-Powersish romp involving talking mirrors, reanimated corpses and a touchingly awkward, nascent love affair. Finally, "The Window" moves into Carol Emshwiller territory with its tale of an Earth overrun by the Grubs, and how humanity fares as pets. Berman exhibits a sure hand and a sharp imagination. Seeing more of her work will be a pleasure, especially at possibly longer lengths.

I’m coming later than I could have wished to Keith Brooke’s excellent collection from 2001, Head Shots (Cosmos Books, trade paper, $15.00, 162 pages, ISBN 1-58715-387-4). But since Head Shots is a print-on-demand publication, it’s eternally available in virginal incarnations for your reading pleasure. And pleasure you will indeed experience. Brooke’s stories reflect a sprawling talent, one that can create Zelazny-worthy tales like "Hotrider," or Silverbergian excursions like "Queen Bee," or surreal fables like "Skin." Without being pretentious or flashy, Brooke deploys his solid, intriguing, state-of-the-art prose in orderly fashion to get each different job done. The results are stories you won’t soon forget. The opener, "Witness," is one of the best far-future idylls I’ve seen in a long time. This collection is surely one of the essential volumes for the new century.

The subtitle to Richard Parks’s The Ogre’s Wife (Obscura Press, trade paper, $18.95, 280 pages, ISBN 0-9659569-5-4) is "Fairy Tales for Grownups," and the stories therein fill that description admirably. Deceptively simple, earnest, and tragicomic, Parks’s tales convey deep truths beneath narratives that tumble along like limpid streams. Whether exploring Oriental mythologies, as in "A Place to Begin" and "Golden Bell, Seven, and the Marquis of Zeng" or creating Dunsanyian wonderlands as in "How Konti Scrounged the World," Parks delivers stories that are rooted very tangibly in specific times and places, yet which are underpinned by eternal issues. I particularly enjoyed the trio of stories– "Wrecks," "The God of Children," and "A Respectful Silence"–which deal with scientific ghostbuster Eli Mothersbaugh. Parks’s gift for close-up characterization stands him in good stead throughout.

Much more to my taste is the stellar anthology Keep Out the Night (PS Publishing, hardcover, $65.00, 248 pages, ISBN 1-902880-55-2), brilliantly ushered into print by editor Stephen Jones. Inspired by a dozen classic horror anthologies issued in the UK in the thirties and collectively known as the "Not at Night" series, Jones has revived the concept of seeking out rarities from a select group of authors and wrapping them in informative introductions. The cast–in this first of what portends to be many such volumes–consists of Sydney Bounds, Poppy Brite, Ramsey Campbell, Hugh Cave, Basil Copper, Dennis Etchison, Neil Gaiman, Caitlin Kiernan, Tim Lebbon, Brian Lumley, Kim Newman, and Michael Marshall Smith. Many of the stories here are seeing only their second appearance ever (Cave’s has lain dormant for sixty-five years till now!), and yet they’re all of remarkably high quality. Literate, restrained, genuinely terrifying, they make picking a favorite impossible. This collection, though priced high to reflect its limited production run, will repay all readers tenfold.

The shaping hands of Lucinda Ebersole and Richard Peabody have opened the taps of superb writing in Gargoyle 45 (Paycock Press, trade paper, $10.00, 162 pages, ISBN 0-931181-11-9). Some of the contributions are even speculative in nature, but none of them will you regret reading. Among the more fantasticated pieces are Sharon Krinsky’s poem "Things to Do in an Edward Hopper Painting," which invites the reader to step into many canvases; Kyle Conwell’s "An Underdeveloped Picture of my Brother," which tells of the fierce emotional bond between a man and his dog who is more than a dog; Amy Eller Lewis’s "The Double Life of Evelyn Gray," wherein a woman confronts her doppelgänger; and finally David Schneiderman’s "Tupeat, Frompeet, Repeit," a metafictional romp across linguistic landscapes.

What do you get when you combine the editorial genius of Back Brain Recluse’s Chris Reed with that of Wordcraft’s David Memmott? Only one of the best original anthologies of the year. Angel Body and Other Magics for the Soul (trade paper, $16.95, 192 pages, ISBN 1-877655-39-2) features mainly writers who have long been associated with Wordcraft, in a tribute to that press’s twenty years of accomplishments. Just off the top, we find Don Webb depicting the defiance of a Black Magic martyr in "Afterward." "Burrito Meltdown" is a zesty Ishmael-Reed-style concussion bomb by Ernest Hogan. Conger Beaseley’s "The Man Who Adopted Dead Children" out-Poes old Edgar. And Scott Edelman’s "Choosing Time" adapts choose-your-own-adventure format to a sophisticated tale of a housewife’s escape from angst into a wide-open future. A rich assortment of poetry supplements the outstanding fiction nicely.

Dr. Jekyll
and Mr. Hyde
by Lucinda Ebersole
and Richard Peabody

NBM, hardcover, $15.95, 64 pages,
ISBN: 1561633305

Also from NBM comes another in the marvelous "Cities of the Fantastic" series by Francois Schuiten and Benoit Peeters. (See my earlier review of their Brusel.) The Invisible Frontier (hardcover, $15.95, 63 pages, ISBN 1-56163-333-X) is set at an imperial cartographic center that takes the form of a huge many-storied dome in the middle of a desert. Our protagonist, the newly adult yet still vaguely Harry-Potterish Roland de Cremer, finds himself the novice on the staff, and experiences various bizarre yet familiar transitional difficulties. On the point of finally feeling at home, Roland finds his tenuous foundations undermined by a visit from the imperial ruler, who mandates a new direction for the center. Here, this first volume ends, with the tale to conclude in a second book. As usual with the work of Schuiten and Peeters, architectonic marvels akin to Piranesi’s complement the witty and enigmatic text, producing a world so tangible that you’d swear you could step directly into it from the page.

Bruce Boston’s latest long poem, She Was There for Him the Last Time (Miniature Sun Press, chapbook, $5.00, 15 pages, ISBN 0-9676666-9-4) is a panoramic survey of the continuum-sprawling career of a fabulous Belle Dame Sans Merci who crops up amidst Armageddon and peacetime, offering both solace and despair. For some reason, I kept humming Neil Young’s "After the Gold Rush" throughout the reading of this gorgeously tumultuous ballad, which for all its savagery shares some of the winsome melancholy of Young’s song.