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Galactic Central link Other reviews: Fiction: Non-fiction: Editor<\/em><\/strong>, C. C. Finlay<\/p>\n The Cat Bell<\/em><\/strong> by Esther M. Friesner gets the fiction off to a good start with what is the best piece in the issue, a story about a malevolent cook who works in a nineteenth century household. She has the unwanted task of feeding the master\u2019s nineteen cats and, after tossing a stray tomcat who tries to join them into the bushes, dumps the job onto Ellen the under-cook. Ellen subsequently starts feeding the stray tomcat, who later talks to her and reveals that he is Puss in Boots.1<\/sup> When he grants Ellen a wish she says she only wants the cook to be happier. For this funeral service, Dolores selects The Selena\u2122 kit and pairs it with sky-high stilettos. The kit comes with a thin silicone prosthetic bodysuit that covers her slender frame and a real-time face-tracking and internal-projection video mask to map the face of a twenty-year-old Latina over her own. Unlike the ridiculous rubber suits worn by other weepers, her kit is top of the line. This is the fourth funeral Dolores has worked this week, the second to be held in the Valley of the Tears Funeral Stadium. <\/em> As she is on her way to the funeral engagement her mother calls to tell her to come home for the memorial service for\u00a0her ex-lover Melody. A number of students and professors from her home town have been \u2018disappeared.\u2019 A thin-shanked man in red and ocher clothing was in the act of locking the door. Raffalon accosted him and said, \u201cSomeone has just shot this at me.\u201d Raffalon eventually enlists the services of a Discriminator called Cascor and (spoiler) they catch the would-be assassin. From there the story concerns a forged account about the death of a female thief. To establish the true events the three have to break into the archive of the guild of thieves, no small feat. The thief made a sound that might have been a word in some harsh, barbaric tongue. No one would ever know, because he followed it with a stream of recognizable words and phrases in the common speech, though none of them were recommended to be used to assault the hearing of children. I can understand that the writer doesn\u2019t want to insert bad language into a light fantasy story because it would be inappropriate in tone, but if we get the descriptive device above used once in the story we get it half a dozen times, and it becomes tiresome. Oh, and there are a couple of anachronistic [redacted]<\/em>s in one of the documents they find in the library. From more than a mile away, we began to feel the heat that rises from that place, warming our fronts while our backs and ears remained chill\u2014an odd sensation\u2014and then we crested a low hill and beheld the most wondrous sight my eyes will ever behold: the Dragonlands. A perilous journey unfolds, resulting in (spoiler) desertion, starvation, death, and cannibalism. One member of the expedition escapes when he gives up and turns\u00a0back. \u201cI\u2019m trying to think of another way in which the director could have been sane and telling the truth. I mean, truth in the sense of something true about the nature of reality.\u201d It ends with the director considering that matter. Were this the extent of the damage, the tornado of \u201939 would have no reason to enter our legends, horrific tragedy though it may have been. But the three hundred and three students did not merely die. Their bodies were swept from the residence halls and shredded by swirling shrapnel, becoming part and parcel of the tornado. As it neared the still-underconstruction library\u2014entirely exposed to the elements from the third floor up\u2014the tornado evolved from mere weather phenomenon to infernal nightmare. A twisting, razor-toothed pillar of blood, flesh, and bone, it struck the unfinished edifice and deposited\u2014no, more, embedded\u2014the remains of the three hundred and three unfortunate students from the residence halls in the walls and floor of the third floor. Bone chips plunged deep into mortar. Organ fragments pasted themselves into the crenulations of brickwork. A glittering sheen of plasma varnished every surface that faced the tremendous wind. Newspapers of the day would vividly describe the scene as an \u201civory tower abattoir.\u201d<\/em> p. 155<\/p>\n From then on, anyone who enters the Special Collections on their own disappears. In 1985, June Takawa, an internationally renowned cryptologist, turned her sights upon the White Books and their mystery script. For two months, she studied the script\u2019s insensible configurations and bizarre patterns, sometimes spending entire days feeding data into computer decryption programs of her own devising. As she scoured the books for meaning, she said she felt \u201cincreasingly convinced that the script represents something more complex than a written communique. The symbols\u2014of which there are thirty-five distinct variations\u2014are arranged in impossibly long and intricate palindromes, with each single volume reading exactly the same front to back or back to front.\u201d Near the end of Takawa\u2019s second month of research, she lamented that \u201cthe more time I spend with the books, the more they laugh at me, the more they run and hide their secrets. It\u2019s as if they know I\u2019m looking.\u201d Her research came to an abrupt halt when she contracted an unknown disease that caused her to break out in a rash of massive, bright white blisters filled with an inky organic matter. Takawa was hospitalized for three weeks during her illness and, afterward, refused to return to Special Collections to continue her research, saying only that \u201cthe books are the mind of God, and I lack the courage to peer into that terrifying vista.\u201d<\/em> p. 161-162<\/p>\n At times this reminded me of the sort of story that you would occasionally find from Barrington J. Bayley or John Sladek in the Moorcock New Worlds<\/em>:<\/p>\n A few nights prior to his entrance, he called for a group meeting and we obliged his request, unorthodox though it was. At the meeting, Fordyce submitted to us an idea so rudimentary, so obvious, that we could barely believe it hadn\u2019t been tried in the long history of our recorded explorations. He asked, with soft tremolo underlying his voice, if we could leave the door open after he ventured inside. He said he\u2019d read the record from cover to cover and, as far as he could tell, it had never been attempted. Those of us who spend great quantities of time with the record knew Fordyce was correct. We\u2019d never kept the door open after an entrant had forged in alone. We\u2019d never even discussed it, as far as we could tell. It was an oversight so flagrant it embarrassed us all. An unusual and enjoyable piece that, I suspect, will reward rereading. Two cyclists are catching him on the uphill. As a rule, Lucas doesn\u2019t remember names, particularly new names. But he knows this pair: Alexis and Bracken. Alexis sits forward on her seat, clipped-in shoes helping the electric motor do its work. She wears biking clothes and biking shoes, every stitch eating energy from her motions, ready to light up like a Christmas tree when night falls. Her telephone is frozen smoke set in front of her face. Her helmet was printed to fit her skull. She has a narrow skull and an almost pretty face, and her bike is beautiful, built from whisper-steel painted blue with gyros that hold its balance, and the one gear that acts like a hundred. Best of all, her tires are diamond wrapped around bubbles of vacuum. She can run over razor blades for a week and never needs a bike pump.<\/em> p. 204<\/p>\n Lucas has cultivated this friendship at\u00a0the behest of Alexis\u2019s backup, who has discovered that Bracken\u2019s backup is doing something immoral (although I\u2019m not sure that this is ever revealed, or maybe I had just lost interest by that point). Up on the stage, valedictorian Ethan Snow takes the podium. His handsome profile splashes on the overhead screens, along with a list of outstanding academic and sports achievements. How can a young man like that have anything but a future bright? In a clear, inspiring voice he says, \u201cAlthough the years to come will be full of challenges, I know each of us will succeed one hundred percent in our hopes, plans, and chosen careers.\u201d I\u2019ve mentioned before that I think it\u2019s a shame that so many Xmas stories are cynical and\/or dystopian. Xmas is a fairly easy target for that kind of thing, whereas writing an uplifting piece that isn\u2019t sentimental schmaltz is difficult. That said, it\u2019s hard not to like this one, and it has an appropriately acidic final line that I\u2019ll leave you to read for yourselves.<\/p>\n Kisten Kest\u2019s Cover<\/em><\/strong> for Esther Friesner\u2019s piece is more of a colour illustration than a colour cover, if you catch my drift, but I like it: it suits the magazine and also the story. There are the usual selection of Cartoons<\/em><\/strong> by various artists and the usual bits and pieces, such as a Curiosities<\/em><\/strong> review by Graham Andrews, and the results of F&SF Competition #92: \u201cUpdated\u201d<\/em><\/strong> plus the start of F&SF Competition #93: True Names<\/em><\/strong>. As a kid, I liked the horror movies with monsters in them. Werewolves, Dracula, the Frankenstein monster, the giant ants in <\/em>Them. What I didn\u2019t like was psychological horror, because supernatural creatures [. . .] are obviously fictional, but sociopaths are real and could be living next door. Each to their own, but I think this wildly mischaracterises and underestimates Walter White, the anti-hero of that series. This is a very good issue.<\/p>\n This magazine is still being published!<\/strong>\u00a0Subscribe:\u00a0Kindle UK<\/a>,\u00a0Kindle USA<\/a>,\u00a0Weightless Books<\/a>\u00a0or\u00a0physical copies<\/a>.<\/p>\n Galactic Central link ISFDB link Other reviews: Bob Blough, Tangent Online Steve Fahnestalk,\u00a0Amazing Stories Greg Hullender\u00a0and Eric Wong,\u00a0Rocket Stack Rank David Loyd,\u00a0There Ain\u2019t No Such Thing As A Free Lunch Patrick Mahon, SFcrowsnest Sam Tomaino, SF Revu Various, Goodreads Fiction: The Cat Bell \u2022 novelette by Esther M. Friesner \u2665\u2665\u2665\u2665 The Farmboy \u2022 novelette by […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2597","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fantasy-and-science-fiction"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6Pcj7-FT","jetpack-related-posts":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2597","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2597"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2597\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2612,"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2597\/revisions\/2612"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2597"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2597"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2597"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nISFDB link<\/a><\/p>\n
\nBob Blough, Tangent Online<\/a>
\nSteve Fahnestalk,\u00a0Amazing Stories<\/a>
\nGreg Hullender\u00a0and Eric Wong,\u00a0Rocket Stack Rank<\/a>
\nDavid Loyd,\u00a0There Ain\u2019t No Such Thing As A Free Lunch<\/a>
\nPatrick Mahon, SFcrowsnest<\/a>
\nSam Tomaino, SF Revu<\/a>
\nVarious, Goodreads<\/a><\/p>\n
\nThe Cat Bell<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 novelette by Esther M. Friesner \u2665\u2665\u2665\u2665
\nThe Farmboy<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 novelette by Albert E. Cowdrey \u2665\u2665\u2665
\nBetween Going and Staying<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Lilliam Rivera\u00a0\u2665\u2665\u2665
\nThe Vindicator<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 novelette by Matthew Hughes \u2665\u2665\u2665+
\nThe Place of Bones<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Gardner Dozois \u2665\u2665
\nLord Elgin at the Acropolis<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Minsoo Kang \u2665\u2665\u2665+
\nSpecial Collections<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Kurt Fawver \u2665\u2665\u2665+
\nA Fine Balance<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Charlotte Ashley \u2665\u2665\u2665
\nPasselande <\/em><\/strong>\u2022 novelette by Robert Reed \u2665
\nThe Rhythm Man<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by James Beamon \u2665\u2665
\nMerry Christmas from All of Us to All of You <\/em><\/strong>\u2022 short story by Sandra McDonald \u2665\u2665\u2665+<\/p>\n
\nThe Cat Bell<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 cover by Kristen Kest
\nCartoon<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 by Arthur Masear (3), Bill Long, Nick Downes (3), S. Harris, Bill Long
\nBooks to Look For<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 by Charles de Lint
\nBooks<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 by Chris Moriarty
\nGetting High<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 film review by David J. Skal
\nF&SF Competition #92: \u201cUpdated\u201d<\/em><\/strong>
\nF&SF Competition #93: True Names<\/em><\/strong>
\nComing Attractions<\/em><\/strong> (F&SF, November-December 2016) \u2022 essay by uncredited
\nIndex to Volumes 130 & 131, January-December 2016<\/em><\/strong>
\nCuriosities: The Morlocks, by James C. Welsh, M.P. (1924)<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 review by Graham Andrews<\/p>\n
\nLater on,\u00a0the cook is disciplined for unsuccessfully trying to incriminate Ellen in the supposed murder of Puss. The cook is sent away for two weeks and, while she is gone, every member of staff has the most amazing good fortune, courtesy of the cat\u2019s wishes. When the scullery maid tells the cook about these events on her return she\u00a0tries to get into Puss\u2019s good graces.
\nThere is a lot of entertainment in this one waiting for the cook get her long deserved comeuppance. This happens in a manner that I should have seen coming miles away\u2014but didn\u2019t.
\nThe Farmboy<\/em><\/strong> by Albert E. Cowdrey is set on a colony planet where a survey team have landed and discovered, amongst other things, gold. A plot is started by the medical officer amongst a group of four crew members: they will leave the rest behind and use\u00a0the available payload to take gold instead. The intense scheming that subsequently occurs makes it an engrossing read but there are a couple of weaknesses. First of all, three of the four characters in the group plot\u00a0in a manner that would be worthy of Machiavelli himself\u2014one or two I could believe, but three out of the four\u00a0is just pushing it. Secondly, the ending (spoiler) is a brute physical one compared with\u00a0what had hitherto been a cerebral game of cat and mouse. It is a good read nonetheless.
\nBetween Going and Staying<\/em><\/strong> by Lilliam Rivera is about Dolores, who is a professional mourner\/media star in the near future:<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAgain,\u201d Dolores says to the Codigo5G. She greases her body with a special glue to provide suction and listens to the machine recite the bio once more:
\n<\/em>\u201cClient: Jos\u00e9 Antonio Ramirez de la Guarda. Born in Sinaloa, Mexico Discovered singing at his cousin\u2019s quincea\u00f1era part. Lead vocalist of the narcocorrido band The Super Capos went solo with the single \u201cWhen I See You I\u2019ll Kill You\u201d
\nDeath listed as cardiovascular
\nDoliente Order: The Selena\u2122
\nLocation: Valley of the Tears Funeral Stadium
\nFee: $35,990.33 dollars
\nTransport provided, arriving in 30 minutes and counting.\u201d
\n\u201cCardiovascular? Yeah, right,\u201d Dolores says to herself. She avoids the news but heard the real story on the deceased singer from her driver\u2014the accordion player from his former group The Super Capos took him down. But such is the life. Dolores almost fired the driver for telling her. He knows now never to speak to her of such things.<\/em> p. 52-53<\/p>\n
\nYou have to respect the serious intent behind this work but it is an uneasy read with an ending that doesn\u2019t provide any comfort.2<\/sup>
\nThe Vindicator<\/em><\/strong> by Matthew Hughes is, we are told in the introduction, the seventh of the \u2018Raffalon the Thief\u2019 stories to appear in F&SF<\/em> since 2012, and they are too be collected and published this year (2017). As with the previous Raffalon story I read, this piece is good quality light fantasy adventure. This one perhaps has more humour in it than the last, as shown by this passage where Raffalon tries to discover who has just tried to kill him by going to the Terrible and Tenacious Guild of Vindicators (the assassins guild):<\/p>\n
\nThe man took the proffered dart, examined it briefly, and said, \u201cBlown it, actually. It\u2019s a puff dart.\u201d He considered it a moment more then said, \u201cOf course, at very close range it can be thrown from the hand, or even just poked into the recipient\u2019s flesh.\u201d
\n\u201cRecipient?\u201d Raffalon said.
\n\u201cA Guild term,\u201d said the man. \u201cYou would probably say \u2018victim.\u2019\u201d
\n\u201cWhat I would say is that I want to know who is trying to kill me.\u201d
\nThe man pulled a long and thoughtful nose and handed back the dart.
\n\u201cDifficult,\u201d he said. \u201cDepends upon the nature of the contract. But I can tell you that confidentiality is usually a standard clause.\u201d
\n\u201cHow do I make inquiries?\u201d
\n\u201cBegin by speaking with the duty officer.\u201d
\n\u201cI will do that now,\u201d Raffalon said. \u201cOpen the door.\u201d
\nThe man signaled that such was beyond his power. \u201cUntil moments ago, the duty officer was me. Now my term has ended. Tomorrow a new vindicator will occupy the position, filled with a desire to serve. Come back and make your inquiries then.\u201d
\n\u201cBut one of you people is trying to kill me! By tomorrow morning I may be stretched on a cold slab!\u201d
\nThe vindicator agreed that such might well be the case. Indeed, it was unusual for a Guild member to miss. \u201cBut, if it is any comfort, all I could do for you now would be to take an application for redress. The paperwork would then have to go to the Committee of Examiners, and they meet only on alternate Murthledays.\u201d
\nRaffalon\u2019s face expressed his shock. \u201cThis is a matter of life or death! I expect action, prompt if not immediate!\u201d
\nThe vindicator\u2019s smile, though Raffalon did not know it, was an exact duplicate of the one he had so recently bestowed upon the nondescript whose goods had been lifted. \u201cYour naivet\u00e9 is refreshing,\u201d he said. \u201cI wonder that you have lived so long and retained such a large portion of it.\u201d
\nThe thief saw that there was no point in pursuing the issue. \u201cSo what can I do?\u201d he said.
\nThe man\u2019s narrow shoulders climbed and fell. \u201cNot much, I suppose. We are not called terrible and tenacious for nothing. Set your affairs in order. Prepare for a new experience.\u201d He descended the steps, casting a look back at the thief and saying, \u201cOr an old, familiar one, if the Reincarnationists are
\ncorrect.\u201d<\/em> p. 96-98<\/p>\n
\nI have a minor niggle about this one that I hope the book editor manages to eliminate. This happens when Raffalon loses his temper with the young female assassin:<\/p>\n
\nCascor put up a hand to stop him. It was not enough. Finally, as the spate of profanity continued, he gestured with one hand and spoke his own string of syllables. Abruptly, Raffalon\u2019s coarse tirade ceased. His mouth opened and his lips and tongue still moved, but no sound came out<\/em>. p. 110<\/p>\n
\nThe Place of Bones<\/em><\/strong> by Gardner Dozois has a group of men, presumably in medieval times, cross the Alps by a particular route that leads\u00a0them not to Italy but the Dragonlands:<\/p>\n
\nBones. The bones of dragons. A field of scattered bones, immense rib cages, titanic femurs and fibulas, that stretched out of eyeshot to the horizon in all directions save directly behind us. Near us, at the edge of the
\nfield, was a skull the size of a wagon, with fangs longer than a man\u2019s arm. <\/em>
\nAll the bones glowed a deep, muted red and radiated a sullen heat. It was if an immense explosion had gone off here, a shot from some cosmic bombard bursting, killing these creatures in the air and scattering their remains over the ground as far as the eye could see. A direct act of God, perhaps, smiting the dragons as He had once smitten Sodom and Gomorrah? If so, God\u2019s wrath had not yet dissipated, for the bones still emanated the heat and smoky light of that divine anger many hundreds or thousands of years later; the townsfolk said that the field of bones had been here forever, unchanging, since the Beginning.<\/em> p. 133<\/p>\n
\nThis is promising\u00a0and well-done but it goes nowhere. I wonder if it is the start of a longer piece, or part of a novel to come.
\nLord Elgin at the Acropolis<\/em><\/strong> by Minsoo Kang starts with the director of an art museum making his daily viewing of one of the artworks on display and realising it is fake. However, all subsequent investigations and analyses prove the work genuine.
\nThe story then cuts to a police inspector and his writer friend having a long, leisurely dinner and discussing the case. The inspector is convinced that the director is telling the truth and various theories are discussed that would explain the matter. These cover acquisitive aliens who want to remain undetected, time-travellers from the future saving artworks from an impending apocalypse, AI created virtual worlds, etc. Later on, the piece turns metafictional when it starts describing its own story:<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAnd?\u201d
\n\u201cThe world we are living in is not real. It\u2019s like a temporarily put-together environment created by a writer as a background for a story he wants to write, with enough details to create a sense of verisimilitude for the reader but no need for anything beyond that. For instance, the writer may throw in some detail about how we grew up together in the same small town. We are presented as people with complete pasts, a full sense of ourselves, but we are actually just empty constructs put together for the purpose of the narration. In this case, a narration that is almost entirely dialogue. The director is a construct as well, but one who caught a glimpse of the fictive nature of reality.<\/em> p. 148<\/p>\n
\nThis is a clever, tricksy, entertaining and impressive piece, and I look forward to seeing more of this writer\u2019s work.
\nSpecial Collections<\/em><\/strong> by Kurt Fawver is an intriguing and, at times, droll story about a library that has a strange\u2014and lethal\u2014Special Collections department that was location of a freak storm:<\/p>\n
\nThere is no real story here, just a description of various aspects of this enigmatic space, the repeated attempts made by solitary entrants to explore it, and an account of the\u00a0perplexing White Books:<\/p>\n
\nSome of us flew into a rage over the idea and tried to defend our blindness. We upended tables and chairs and shouted that Fordyce had overstepped his bounds, that entering Special Collections simply wasn\u2019t done that way, that an established division of inside and outside had to be preserved for our continued safety.
\nSome of us applauded Fordyce\u2019s entreaty and cheered for the step in a bold new direction. We clapped one another on the back and, with determined grins and starry eyes, boomed that this was the dawn of a new era of exploration, that a propped open door might alter our entire perspective on the problem of Special Collections, that revelation was surely at hand.<\/em> p. 167<\/p>\n
\nA Fine Balance<\/em><\/strong> by Charlotte Ashley is an entertaining story about two female duellists who repeatedly fight to possess the other\u2019s favour, which is then ransomed back to their clan. It has been some months since the two women have fought, unusually, when Yildrim\u2019s apprentice Eminent spots her mistress’s\u00a0nemesis, Kara Ramadami. However, on this occasion, events do not proceed along their traditional course. One of the clans has raised a militia in order to help Ramadani take Yildrim\u2019s favour and thereby bankrupt the Olsen clan.
\nThis has the feel of heroic fantasy\/sword & sorcery but there are no supernatural elements.
\nPasselande <\/em><\/strong>is a long novelette by Robert Reed that is set in a near-future where people have \u2018backups.\u2019 The main character Lucas sometimes works as a private investigator for these digital entities. On his current\u00a0assignment he visits a place called Passeland, which supplies farm goods in a future where those commodities are considerably more valuable than they are today. There he interacts with a couple called Alexis and Bracken:<\/p>\n
\nThere is a subplot concerning another backup who is trying to get Lucas to investigate the disappearance of her original, but that never seems to go anywhere.
\nThis story never really got going for me. I wasn\u2019t convinced by it, and I felt that it didn\u2019t cohere into a believable story or world.
\nThe Rhythm Man<\/em><\/strong> by James Beamon is about a blues player whose popularity has waned deciding to meet the supernatural Rhythm Man to ask for a favour. This was, I thought, a variant on all those bluesmen-meeting-the-Devil stories. As with\u00a0them, your take on this one will partially depend on how interested you are in the blues and that milieu. It has\u00a0a good last line.
\nMerry Christmas from All of Us to All of You <\/em><\/strong>by Sandra McDonald is a mordant Christmas tale about the graduating class of one of the high schools in Arctopolis, Santa\u2019s manufacturing city-state at the North Pole. This is from the valedictory speech of one of the graduating high school pupils:<\/p>\n
\nThis is statistically impossible, but leadership is never about math.
\n\u201cWe must follow our dreams, leap into the unknown, make a difference, seize the day, and have faith.\u201d
\nWe might faint from the triteness, but we said these things at our graduations, too, back when we thought we had all the answers to all the problems.
\nEthan pauses for dramatic effect. \u201cToday is the first day of the rest of our lives!\u201d
\nPossibly true, unless it\u2019s the last day at the end of our lives. Just last week two workers met an unfortunate end when a pine needle machine exploded, and yesterday an associate was flattened in a sled-loading accident. Years ago Ruth Everpine\u2019s husband got caught up in a ribbon turbine. She should have moved on by now, don\u2019t you think?<\/em> p. 247-248<\/p>\n
\nAs it is the end of the year issue there is the Index to Volumes 130 & 131, January-December 2016<\/em><\/strong>.
\nBooks to Look For<\/em><\/strong> by Charles de Lint includes a review of the third novel in Stephen King\u2019s recent mystery\/thriller trilogy, End of Watch<\/em> (there are some SFnal elements this time around). He also reviews Out There<\/em> by long time F&SF<\/em> contributor Gahan Wilson, a book of cartoons, covers, reviews and stories.
\nThere is also this about unpleasant antagonists:<\/p>\n
\nThey were genuinely scary and a reminder of how mean and twisted the world we live in can be.
\nStrip away the preternatural aspects of Brady Hartsfield and you have a bitter, mean-spirited man, of which there are far too many in the real world. <\/em>
\nI\u2019m probably the one person in North America who didn\u2019t watch, and has no intention of watching, <\/em>Breaking Bad. I don\u2019t have the inclination or time for that kind of story.<\/em> p. 73-74<\/p>\n
\nBooks<\/em><\/strong> by Chris Moriarty reviews Aurora<\/em> by Kim Stanley Robinson, Seveneves<\/em> by Neal Stephenson, and The Martian<\/em> by Andy Weir. These are all novels of planetary exploration if I recall correctly.
\nThe description he gives of the Robinson novel does not make it sound appealing, especially so when he concludes with a short discussion about the arc of the book, which is that (spoiler) of a failed expedition to an extrasolar planet and its return to Earth. A 480 pp. book that ends in unsuccessful round trip? I\u00a0don\u2019t think\u00a0I\u2019ll be picking up that one.\u00a0And there was me thinking that John Brunner was pushing his luck with Total Eclipse<\/em>\u00a0(at half the length of Aurora<\/em>).3<\/sup>
\nThe final review column is Getting High<\/em><\/strong> by David J. Skal which, for a change, reviews a film I\u2019ve actually seen (High Rise<\/em>) and adds a few points of interest.<\/p>\n\n
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