Haunted by stories he hears while on jury duty, a documentary filmmaker finds himself in an abandoned mall at the dead of night.
Black Leg
Haunted by stories he hears while on jury duty, a documentary filmmaker finds himself in an abandoned mall at the dead of night.
Orna, a representative of a universe-wide trade union, undergoes a drastic change in perspective while investigating the disappearance of three planets and their inhabitants on a newly terraformed world.
Auga, a wandering sorcerer, follows his brother’s fate-thread into the village of Ormsfjoll, where he expects to deliver good news and continue his travels. What he doesn’t anticipate is that to meet his brother he must first contend with the truth at the heart of the volcano that wreaks havoc on Ormsfjoll.
When young Ira arrives for her appointment, she is prepared to be transported to The Gateway to Heaven, 6,070 light years away. But the technicians shepherding her through the process fear there’s more to it than what’s advertised.
“The Far Side of the Universe” was translated from Chinese by Michelle Deeter.
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This is a prequel to “Sinew and Steel and What They Told”, published in 2020 and available to read here.
Graff’s official role is muscle for the Visigoth – but his personal mission is internally cataloguing all of his experiences to relay to the other beings from his home planet when they cross paths. His professional life rarely clashes with his identity, but when he realizes his newest job is to take down one of his kind, everything becomes a bit less simple.
For over 25 years, the Wild Cards universe has been entertaining readers with stories of superpowered people in an alternate history.
Nine years after the ace John “The Candle” Montaño first wielded his fire powers as a teenager on the reality TV show “American Hero”, he’s landed a job as the lead investigator for a prestigious arts insurer. His latest assignment, providing security for a traveling art show featuring Satchmo’s golden trumpet, threatens to be a disaster when some of John’s long-buried secrets come calling with a vengeance.
Nothing tears two women apart like the men who want and take indiscriminately. In this retelling of “The Crane Wife”, a makeup artist and her actress lover struggle to stay together as the glitz and glamour of old Hollywood transforms into a cruel and manipulative beast that threatens to pluck them apart.
Content warning: This story contains fictional depictions of domestic violence.
Reading poetry sometimes feels like battling a giant squid: overwhelming, disorienting, and more than a little slippery. Poems can be elusive beings, evading comprehension and dissection. When you take an already chimeric beast and give it appendages of fantasy, science fiction, horror, or mythology—well, then it becomes another monster entirely.
Even just a few years ago, I would steer clear of poetry tables at book festivals, feeling that it was too frustrating of an artform to fully grasp. But now writing and reading poetry is a weekly pleasure for me, and I recently read the 2021 Rhysling Anthology—which specifically celebrates speculative poetry—from cover to cover.
I have a fantasy about June 26, 2001. I have a fantasy about a certain person, a die-hard, unapologetic Kubrick acolyte, who has come to witness the debut of Steven Spielberg’s A.I. Artificial Intelligence. There she/he sits, in the very first row of the very first screening…but not to watch Spielberg pay homage to friend and mentor Stanley Kubrick, who developed and largely fleshed out the original idea for A.I. (with a significant contribution from Ian Watson) before passing it on to Spielberg in the belief that the director of Close Encounters of the Third Kind and E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial could better navigate the film’s emotional beats. No, this person has come with an expectation, born of a certain over-simplified preconception of Kubrick, of Spielberg.
This person has come to witness his/her worst nightmare come true. [Does the student betray the master? Read on!]
Human polities cohere into empires (often thanks to conquest) and then break apart (Rome, for example)… then perhaps re-form in some fashion (China, Germany). Such processes can be devastating to those forced to live through them. But they also provide rich plot fodder for authors, SFF authors included. Today I’m going to tackle a small subset of political-breakup SFF novels: those that treat of the decline and fall of the US and the rise of its successor states. Here are five vintage examples.
Serial killer narration is the hot sauce on the tuna casserole of a murder book. What would Thomas Harris’ Red Dragon (1981) be without the talking William Blake painting that keeps yelling at poor Francis Dolarhyde to pump iron and get jacked so women can’t threaten to snip off his penis with scissors anymore? Psycho (1959) stays firmly in third person limited point-of-view but its twist wouldn’t work if chapters didn’t keep dumping us into Norman Bates’ head while he has perfectly reasonable conversations with “Mother.” By the final chapter her voice has eaten his away like acid, a genuinely chilling end that works far better than Hitchcock’s closing square-up.
It’s almost impossible to read a murder book anymore that doesn’t include cuckoo chapters from the psychopath’s POV because they’re just so much fun to write. “Watch this!” writers say as they go full Method. “I’m going to totally channel the voice of a man who pretends to use a wheelchair but is really murdering children while dressed as a nurse in order to transcend gender and become immortal. I’m an artist! I can do anything!” But to do anything, there needed to be decades of work by writers as varied as Shirley Jackson and Richard Wright before someone could give us a serial killer book with Elvis wearing a chihuahua inside his pants.
Cosmere Chickens ahoy—in more ways than one! This week’s reread involves two actual Cosmere Chickens, along with all the rest of us peeps. Join us in the reread for Lift’s interlude, with Wyndle being his adorable self, interrupted by yet another of those characters most of us love to hate. Also, That Everstorm, with all it brings… And chickens. Did I say chickens?
Cixin Liu’s The Three-Body Problem has been a massive hit for over a decade now, garnering praise from the likes of President Barack Obama and Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg.
Netflix is set to adapt the trilogy as a live-action series (from the creators of HBO’s Game of Thrones), but if you haven’t picked it up yet, there’s a new medium to consider: Tor Books and Macmillan Audio is releasing the audiobook as a podcast, and you can start listening to it now.
Welcome back to Reading the Weird, in which we get girl cooties all over weird fiction, cosmic horror, and Lovecraftiana—from its historical roots through its most recent branches.
This week, we cover Chapters 19-20 of T. Kingfisher’s The Hollow Places, first published in 2020. Spoilers ahead!
…seeing that I was good for nothing, of my own free will I became a poet and a rhymester. That is a trade which one can always adopt when one is a vagabond.
–Victor Hugo, Notre-Dame de Paris
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) was born in turbulent times. His father, a not always successful officer with Napoleon’s army, also fought frequently with his wife. The combined marital and martial strife meant that Hugo spent his early years almost constantly on the move, with little stability until 1815, when Napoleon fell from power. Hugo converted to his mother’s royalist views—his political opinions would later greatly change on this point—and agreed to study law. His real love, however, was always for poetry. He had a talent: on the strength of his first book of poems alone, Odes et poesies diverses (1822), the restored Bourbon king granted him a pension.
We’ve reached the end (of all things?) and the word of the day is two words: Free will.
Paramount has lined up a director for its next Star Trek film: Matt Shakman, who recently helmed the entirety of Marvel’s WandaVision, according to Deadline. According to the publication, the project has been written by Lindsey Beer and Geneva Robertson-Dworet, and it’s set to begin production at some point in the spring of 2022.
I have a fantasy about June 26, 2001. I have a fantasy about a certain person, a die-hard, unapologetic Kubrick acolyte, who has come to witness the debut of Steven Spielberg’s A.I. Artificial Intelligence. There she/he sits, in the very first row of the very first screening…but not to watch Spielberg pay homage to friend and mentor Stanley Kubrick, who developed and largely fleshed out the original idea for A.I. (with a significant contribution from Ian Watson) before passing it on to Spielberg in the belief that the director of Close Encounters of the Third Kind and E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial could better navigate the film’s emotional beats. No, this person has come with an expectation, born of a certain over-simplified preconception of Kubrick, of Spielberg.
This person has come to witness his/her worst nightmare come true. [Does the student betray the master? Read on!]
When Lewis finds the queue for the bus he has been walking in endless rain in a twilight town that is ever expanding but mostly empty. The line for the bus is something different than the monotonous city blocks, and he joins it as two others—a couple, apparently—end a disagreement by leaving the line. Others are fighting, jostling for position. Still others are disgusted by the class (or lack thereof) of the people in line. There’s a moment where someone cheats their way to a place further up in line. There’s a fistfight. Through it all there’s a sort of certainty that there won’t be room for everyone on the bus. And yet, when Lewis finally boards there’s plenty of room…indeed, it could have held every poor soul who had initially been in the line.
Lewis has made his choice and joined the tour, and others have made their choice and stayed in the grey city. The story of The Great Divorce hinges on this precisely: the choices that human beings make, and how those choices may or may not influence their place in eternity.
Human polities cohere into empires (often thanks to conquest) and then break apart (Rome, for example)… then perhaps re-form in some fashion (China, Germany). Such processes can be devastating to those forced to live through them. But they also provide rich plot fodder for authors, SFF authors included. Today I’m going to tackle a small subset of political-breakup SFF novels: those that treat of the decline and fall of the US and the rise of its successor states. Here are five vintage examples.
Loki wraps up its short, six-episode run on Disney+ today, and fans who sat through the final credits got confirmation that it wasn’t the last we’ll see of the character: Marvel has officially renewed the series for a second season.
In a boarded-up house on a dead-end street at the edge of the wild Washington woods lives a family of three…
From Catriona Ward, winner of the Shirley Jackson Award and the August Derleth Award, comes The Last House on Needless Street, a book Stephen King calls “a true nerve-shredder that keeps its mind-blowing secrets to the very end.” The novel hits shelves on September 28th from Nightfire.
We’re thrilled to be sharing the first three excerpts today—read the first part, from Ted’s point of view, below, then read part two, from Olivia the cat’s point of view, over at the Nightfire site, and then head over to the Tor Forge Blog to read part three, from Lauren’s point of view.
Haunted by stories he hears while on jury duty, a documentary filmmaker finds himself in an abandoned mall at the dead of night.
Last time out, I believe I mentioned Jo Spurrier’s Winter Be My Shield, and mentioned that I’d be reading the next two books in the “Children of the Black Sun” trilogy as soon as I could get my hands on them. Those books are Black Sun Light My Way and North Star Guide Me Home, and they are just as good, if not better, than their predecessor.
Have you ever dug your hands down into real, rich dirt? Like say you’re gardening or planting a tree, and you push your hands down into layers of loam and crumbly black dirt, and you found roots, and bits of stone, and maybe some confused worms? And if you’re not wearing gloves—maybe you like the feeling of dirt on your hands—you can feel the strata of warm and cool earth as you push your fingers down and down and down? You can feel how far the sunlight reached? And then you have dirt in your cuticles and under your fingernails for hours no matter how much your scrub at them?
Reading Matt Bell’s Appleseed is like that.