{"id":3865,"date":"2018-01-14T16:16:34","date_gmt":"2018-01-14T16:16:34","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/?p=3865"},"modified":"2019-07-16T22:25:50","modified_gmt":"2019-07-16T22:25:50","slug":"the-magazine-of-fantasy-science-fiction-733-september-october-2017","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/?p=3865","title":{"rendered":"The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction #733, September-October 2017"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/p>\n

ISFDB link<\/a>
\nF&SF<\/em> subs<\/a> \/ Amazon UK<\/a>, USA<\/a> \/ Weightless Books<\/a><\/p>\n

Other reviews:
\nGardner Dozois, Locus<\/a>
\nSteve Fahnestalk, Amazing Stories<\/a>
\nRich Horton, Locus<\/a>
\nGreg Hullender\u00a0and Eric Wong,\u00a0Rocket Stack Rank<\/a>
\nJohn D. Loyd,\u00a0There Ain\u2019t No Such Thing As A Free Lunch<\/a>
\nJason McGregor, Tangent Online<\/a>
\nPatrick Mahon, SF Crowsnest<\/a>
\nSam Tomaino, SF Revu<\/a>
\nVarious, Goodreads<\/a><\/p>\n

_____________________<\/p>\n

Editor, C. C. Finlay<\/p>\n

Evil Opposite<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Naomi Kritzer \u2217\u2217<\/strong>
\nWe Are Born<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Dare Segun Falowo \u2217\u2217<\/strong>
\nLeash on a Man<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 novelette by Robert Reed \u2217\u2217<\/strong>
\nTasting Notes on the Varietals of the Southern Coast<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Gwendolyn Clare \u2217\u2217<\/strong>\u2217<\/strong>
\nThe Care of House Plants<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Jeremy Minton \u2217\u2217<\/strong>\u2217<\/strong>
\nThe Hermit of Houston<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 novelette by Samuel R. Delany \u2217\u2217<\/strong>\u2217<\/strong>
\nOn Highway 18<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Rebecca Campbell \u2217\u2217<\/strong>\u2217<\/strong>+
\nHollywood Squid<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Oliver Buckram \u2217\u2217<\/strong>\u2217<\/strong>+
\nStill Tomorrow\u2019s Going to Be Another Working Day<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Amy Griswold \u2217\u2217<\/strong>
\nBodythoughts<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Rahul Kanakia \u2217\u2217<\/strong>\u2217<\/strong>
\nRiddle<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Lisa Mason \u2217\u2217<\/strong>\u2217<\/strong>+
\nChildren of Xanadu<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 novelette by Juan Paulo Rafols \u2217\u2217<\/strong>\u2217<\/strong>+
\nThe Two-Choice Foxtrot of Chapham County<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Tina Connolly\u00a0\u2217\u2217<\/strong>\u2217<\/strong>
\nStarlight Express<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Michael Swanwick \u2217\u2217<\/strong>\u2217<\/strong><\/p>\n

Non-fiction:
\nStarlight Express<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 cover by Maurizio Manzieri
\nCartoons<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 by Danny Shanahan, Nick Downes, Arthur Masear, S. Harris
\nBooks to Look For<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 by Charles de Lint
\nBooks<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 by James Sallis
\nVanishing Act<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 science essay by Pat Murphy and Paul Doherty
\nOn Finding Her Inner Kaiju<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 film review by Kathi Maio
\nCuriosities: The Great Demonstration, by Katharine Metcalf Roof (1920)<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 review by Robert Eldridge<\/p>\n

_____________________<\/p>\n

This issue begins with three stories of average quality.
\nEvil Opposite<\/em><\/strong> by Naomi Kritzer actually gets off to an engrossing start with its tale of a post-graduate and his dislike for fellow research assistant Shane. The latter not only irritates the narrator constantly but has also managed to get a position working with their professor. While the narrator is trawling through the latter\u2019s research papers he comes across an undeveloped paper on a \u2018quantum viewer.\u2019 He builds this, and it lets him observe other-world versions of himself to the point that his absorption in this process adversely affects his life. However, these observations, and the deductions he draws from them, eventually lead him to a better path in life and, in particular, he manages to avoid one particularly calamitous action involving Shane.
\nUnfortunately this promising piece rather peters out, and I also didn\u2019t buy the narrator giving the machine to Shane at the end.
\nIt would be unfairly reductionist to describe We Are Born<\/em><\/strong> by Dare Segun Falowo as a \u2018golem\u2019 story, but that label gives you an idea of what is happening at the start of this story.\u00a0 A village sculptress in rural Nigeria, who has previously lost three babies, forms a child from the Earth:<\/p>\n

The earth, softened by pattering raindrops, fell away beneath her fingertips as she pulled the entrails of the land to the surface. Red mud, soft and thick; brown mud, dour and fragile, no better than a leaf sucked dry by harmattan; pink mud, heavy like raw meat. These formed a discolored hill around her, and as she dug deeper and deeper, rain fell harder.
\nWith a lunge that thrust her shoulder-deep into the hole she had dug, she hit it with aching fingers \u2014 clay, off-white and exuding a warmth like it had been waiting for centuries, holding sunlight in itself. She had never seen it in all her time sculpting the medium, but she knew it would be there and she knew it would give her what she needed as it pulsed in her fist with life.
\nShe scooped it up and began to work. Rain fell harder but the mud did not run.\u00a0 p. 21<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Subsequently, however, the story unfolds its own myth of storm-borne spirit children.
\nI found this story a little overwritten and consequently\u00a0slow-moving, but it has an effective last section.
\nLeash on a Man<\/em><\/strong> by Robert Reed is narrated by Porous Mirth, a genetically modified guard who works in a future Earth prison. They receive\u00a0a young woman called Constance who has killed every person on an L4 habit called Crystals. It takes Reed about ten pages (of thirty odd) to get to this point in the story, and this is followed by a murky plot about the warden plotting to have Constance murdered.
\nI couldn\u2019t work out the warden\u2019s motivation for this, or fathom what happens during the sequence (spoiler) when she escapes. I also did not like the frequent passages where not much happens, nor that they are told in a stilted and telegraphic style. Take this passage about Porous encouraging one of the cons to greet the new inmate:<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen are you going?\u201d I ask.
\nRussell looks at me. It takes him a few seconds to figure out my question, and that\u2019s when he looks away.
\n\u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d he asks the empty street.
\n\u201cShe\u2019s been here a few days,\u201d I say. \u201cYou should go to her front door, give her your warmest and best.\u201d
\n\u201cYeah, well,\u201d he says.
\nI\u2019m having a little laugh.
\nHe looks at me again, hard as he can. \u201cYou think I want to get some of that.\u201d
\n\u201cYou\u2019re our resident stallion,\u201d I tease.
\nHe would normally relish that description. Smile and kind of fling his head to the side. But not today. \u201cI couldn\u2019t get in the mood with that. You know?\u201d
\nRussell is throwing out the impotence card.
\nI say, \u201cYou\u2019re scared of her.\u201d
\n\u201cYeah,\u201d he says. No bravado, just blunt agreement.
\nSo I say, \u201cI\u2019ll go with you.\u201d
\n\u201cYou?\u201d
\n\u201cYou need backbone and I\u2019ve got enough back for three men. So you can be the residents\u2019 official greeter and I\u2019ll be your chaperone. How\u2019s that?\u201d
\nRussell licks his lips when he\u2019s thinking hard. Which doesn\u2019t happen often.
\n\u201cOkay,\u201d he says finally.\u00a0 p. 43<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

My considered response was: \u2018Get on with it.\u2019
\nReed used to be a reliable and prolific producer of short fiction, but I can\u2019t recall anything recent of his that I particularly like. This one isn\u2019t bad, but it is barely okay.
\nTasting Notes on the Varietals of the Southern Coast<\/em><\/strong> by Gwendolyn Clare has an introduction from editor C. C. Finlay where he says \u201cshe writes a whole world into existence in just a few short pages.\u201d He is not wrong: in short order the author conjures up what would seem to be an alternate Roman Empire that is waging a plague war on the Qati for their territory, vineyards and wine. The highlight is the narrator, a master vintner who only cares about the latter:<\/p>\n

In Rambekh there is a body floating in the mashing vat \u2014 gray and bloated and utterly disgusting, though I could not say whether from the plague itself or the putrefaction after death. Such a waste, eighty or ninety gallons in total, all of it ruined. The whole harvest from the west-facing slopes above the city, if I had to guess.\u00a0 p. 65<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The Care of House Plants<\/em><\/strong> by Jeremy Minton is a tale about two enforcers from a future biotech company looking for an employee who has absconded with samples from the lab. They arrive at a house overrun with modified plant growth:<\/p>\n

Beyond the door it was humid, dark, and dusty. It smelled of overripe life and moist decay. I rubbed my hand through my glove, praying the skin was unbroken. Something had slashed me while I groped for the door handle. NuGenera retune my B-cells once a week, so theoretically I was safe from anything here, but it was a theory I\u2019d rather not put to the test.
\nTrails of foliage threaded the verdant wall. Some plants I recognized \u2014 honeysuckle and roses, briar and devil\u2019s ivy promiscuously pressed together with no respect for season. More looked unfamiliar. Beneath the broken floor tiles I saw scurrying bugs.
\nFat-leaved violets spread across surfaces, coiling fleshy heads around stove burners. Saucepans and spice racks almost disappeared beneath elephant\u2019s ear and peacock plants. A book poked sadly from the window sill: The Care of House Plants<\/em>.\u00a0 p. 70<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

In the sitting room they find an old woman, the employee\u2019s mother. An effective piece of SF horror.
\nI wasn\u2019t particularly looking forward to The Hermit of Houston<\/em><\/strong> by Samuel R. Delany as I\u2019ve never really liked (or understood) much of his work (probably because I read most of it too young) but I got on with this one okay. That said, this future slice-of life is not what you would call an easy read, especially the first few pages which has a rambling narrator give a garbled account of a future history.
\nAfter that it settles down to an account of a strange male-only society, although some of the characters are referred to as she (a product of the gender fluidity that seems to be either culturally or surgically available). The unfolding narrative (there is no particular \u2018story\u2019 here) centres on the narrator\u2019s relationship with another man called Cellibrex and, alongside the account of their relationship, we learn about their world. This involves (another) data-dump later in the story when he visits the Hermit, where he is told a number of things, one of which is that the male society he inhabits is part of a population control plan. There are various other snippets of background information throughout the story, such as the mention of an (occasionally) brutal post-Facebook, post-Handbook society where the discussion of certain ideas will get you killed.
\nIf you get the sense that I am struggling to synopsise the story then you are correct: it is one of those discursive and rambling pieces that would probably reward a second reading, although that rather begs the question of why the writer didn\u2019t make it clearer than it is. Perhaps this is\u00a0a deliberate choice to let the reader sieve out information one their own, or this may be an early draft of a longer work in progress. While it is more opaque than the kind of fiction I normally enjoy, I liked how Delaney creates a convincing world and some of the ideas touched upon. I think this short passage may illuminate what the story (or possible longer work) is at least partially about:<\/p>\n

It works so much better now that we\u2019ve separated the sexes and mixed up the genders \u2014 given them their proper dignity along with that of the ethnicities. All you have to do is dissociate them from where someone actually comes from and how they got here. Then you can do anything you want with them . . .\u00a0 p. 124<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Before I finish up with this one, there is this at the end of the introduction to the story:<\/p>\n

As readers of \u201cAye, and Gomorrah…\u201d or Stars In My Pockets Like Grains of Sand<\/em> might expect, this new story would get an NC-17 rating at the movies and is not appropriate for younger readers.\u00a0 p. 105<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

If you forensically examined each issue of the magazine I suspect you could find a lot that is not appropriate for younger readers: violence, immoral behaviour, drug use, etc. Why a couple of briefly described episodes of gay oral sex calls for a specific warning I am not sure, especially in what I assumed was a magazine with a sophisticated readership. I note in passing that there is no warning about the sex with an alien in the Kanakia story (see the quote below) or the sex with cat-like sphinx in the Mason story.
\nOn Highway 18<\/em><\/strong> by Rebecca Campbell is about the disintegrating relationship between two teenage girls:<\/p>\n

This was how it used to be. You are both sixteen. You will be an actress. You will be a world traveler. You will direct great films, or write epic novels. You will fuck a million beautiful men. Just for now, though, you\u2019re lying together on an air mattress in a backyard and listening to a mix tape you have listened to a thousand times already and which has been distorted by all those listenings and by the cheap cassette deck in the car, and by the heat of summer. For twenty years afterward you will keep the tape, and when you listen to it, and hear the familiar distortions that time and repetition make, it will break your heart a tiny little bit.\u00a0 p. 138<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

They live in a town where a couple of dead girls have been found, and ghosts with knowledge of the future appear. This is an atmospheric tale with some convincing description.
\nIf Campbell\u2019s story reminded me a little of C. L. Grant, then Hollywood Squid<\/em><\/strong> by Oliver Buckram reminds me a lot of Ron Goulart. The story is about a washed up Hollywood director and an alien squid pitching a cop\/squid buddy movie. Apart from the project\u2019s unusual pairing, another script plot twist is that the Oscars are used to smuggle diamonds, which turns out to be dangerously close to the truth.
\nStill Tomorrow\u2019s Going to Be Another Working Day<\/em><\/strong> by Amy Griswold is a short piece about a kid being repossessed as the mother hasn\u2019t kept up the payments to the fertility clinic. It is a promising notion, and well enough done, but the writer doesn\u2019t go anywhere with the idea.
\nBodythoughts<\/em><\/strong> by Rahul Kanakia is about a young alien on Earth who becomes infatuated with a captain who was held prisoner during an interplanetary\/interspecies war, During the latter\u2019s captivity he had sexual experiences with the aliens:<\/p>\n

And after those long talks, they embraced him, and he touched them in their deep-inside places until they spurted their smelly ink at him. And he wasn\u2019t forced into doing this. No! Even now he could admit he\u2019d done it because he liked it! Liked how it relieved him from feeling guilty over putting them in danger. Because if he could give them pleasure, then somehow the risk was squared and became even.\u00a0 p. 171<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The story is told from three points of view: the young alien George, his three progenitors, and the Captain. It is an offbeat story whose last image helps make it.
\nRiddle<\/em><\/strong> by Lisa Mason establishes its jilted artist protagonist in a gritty urban background quickly and effectively, before having him meet a strange creature in the alleyway where he lives. He initially thinks it is a woman needing shelter, and lets it in to his house:<\/p>\n

The overhead light never shed much illumination on his studio or his life. But he sees the curve of her rump, her haunches with knees thrust forward, golden fur ruffling her rib cage. Her tail twitches, knocking over his pottery wheel.
\nEdwin could accept that \u2014 a puma downtown. Why not? With a lair on Telegraph Hill where the cliff falls too steeply to build condos and the weeds grow thick. A puma could account for lost pets and lost children.
\nShe\u2019s not a puma.
\nThe furred rib cage sweeps up into smooth shoulders. The spine of a big cat arches into a woman\u2019s spine. Her skin is pale as milk, her biceps like a body builder\u2019s. The human arms, elbows flush on the tabletop, are nude-smooth. Each outstretched human finger is tipped with more of those long, glistening nails. Or claws.
\nShe smiles at him. Golden hair springs out around her face in disheveled tufts. Black pupils expand in her silver eyes. Her nose slopes long, her mouth full and wide. She licks her lips, the pink flick of a tongue.
\nIn a husky voice, she says, \u201cIt has legs, but never runs. What is it?\u201d\u00a0 p. 186-7<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The story then details his sexual relationship with the creature, the constant riddles it poses him, and a later encounter with his ex-partner, Nikki, and her boyfriend. The story is a very good one till that point but I rather wish it had gone in a different direction thereafter. That said, it is still a strong piece.
\nChildren of Xanadu<\/em><\/strong> by Juan Paulo Rafols is a resistance story set in a future Chinese hegemony. The latter aspect of the story is initially made clear by a striking passage at the beginning of the story, when the narrator is sailing to the offshore hi-tech city of Xanadu:<\/p>\n

My presence was tolerated on the viewing deck where, fortuitously, I was left alone. The other passengers were bureaucratic functionaries, offduty military, and their related families. Those who did notice me assumed I was one of the serving staff.
\nWhile on the viewing deck, I noticed that the vessel was off-course. Instead of following the general contours of Palawan to the southwest, the ship cut into choppy sea. The afternoon sun was at our back and the green of distant slopes faded to blue. I tugged on the sleeve of a passing sailor and asked about our destination.
\n\u201cSightseeing.\u201d The sailor\u2019s teeth flashed. My stomach knotted in realization. Of course hydrofoils to Xanadu would be made to take this detour.
\nThe other passengers anticipated this, too, or else they had already known. They streamed on deck from their compartments \u2014 a parade of dress uniforms, airy cotton shirts, summer dresses, and straw hats. Mothers unfolded umbrellas, protecting the hue of their pale children. Pairs and families populated the railing.
\nThey did not have long to wait. The first ruin could have been mistaken for a squat mountain of rock, jutting from the sea at an angle. Crawling vines obscured its contours; layers of kelp accumulated at its base, giving it the appearance of something melted. It was only when the hydrofoil fell beneath its shadow that one could clearly make out the shattered windows, the bent antennas, the bridge, and the metal twisted by impact. Waves became uncertain eddies as they passed over the slanted, submerged flight deck.
\nThe wreck of the CVN Gerald R. Ford<\/em> had been driven by current into the tablemount of the Reed Bank. Mist receded; what had appeared to be islands and shoals revealed themselves to be the remains of the U.S. Seventh Fleet. A flock of gulls spiraled about a gutted flight tower. Beneath, silver fish schooled amidst broken hulls. It was a graveyard for more than just ships. Tens of thousands of men fought and died here. Their remains added to the bedrock, buried by coral.\u00a0 p. 199-200<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The narrator is a Filipino doctor who works on a eugenics program that uses children who are kept in virtual reality tanks and artificially aged before being disposed of. The results of the genetic research are used by wealthy Chinese to competitively equip their children to advance in the ruling meritocracy.
\nThis is an impressive (and longer than normal) d\u00e9but which uses a variety of SFnal elements to produce a convincing setting, has a well-realised narrator, and a plot structure that works in conjunction with all these\u00a0elements. l look forward to seeing more from this writer.
\nThe Two-Choice Foxtrot of Chapham County<\/em><\/strong> by Tina Connolly is a short and original rural fantasy about an unmarried young woman who gets pregnant with a stone baby:<\/p>\n

Suzie never was one for chasing the boys, that was the funny thing. She told me later she\u2019d been sent to get a packet of tobacco for her da at the general store. And there was Tony, sorting out the threepenny nails from the fourpenny screws, and their eyes met over the hogshead fulla metal and that was that.
\nThere\u2019s only two choices if you\u2019re gonna have a stone-baby, a course.
\nThe first one, and best one, is you get the daddy to marry you, and if you\u2019re quick enough, you can catch most of it in time. Sure, the baby\u2019s born with a little flint toe, or a patcha marble back of her left elbow, but that ain\u2019t too uncommon in this town. Mildred Percy\u2019s got a whole swatch of granite on her skull, where the hair don\u2019t grow. She combs it over and we pretend we don\u2019t notice. Our fathers maybe give Mildred\u2019s mother an extra wink in the grocery store, and we pretend we don\u2019t notice that too.\u00a0 p. 241-242<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Starlight Express<\/em><\/strong> by Michael Swanwick, according to the introduction, appeared in both Esli<\/em> magazine in Russian and Science Fiction World<\/em> in Chinese before its first English language publication here. It is set in the Rome of a future, post-peak Earth. One of the creations left from earlier days is the Starlight Express:<\/p>\n

His apartment overlooked the piazza dell\u2019Astrovia, which daytimes was choked with tourists from four planets who came to admire the ruins and revenants of empire. They coursed through the ancient transmission station, its stone floor thrumming gently underfoot, the magma tap still powering the energy road, even though the stars had shifted in their positions centuries ago and anyone stepping into the projector would be translated into a complex wave front of neutrinos and shot away from the Earth to fall between the stars forever.
\nHuman beings had built such things once. Now they didn\u2019t even know how to turn it off.\u00a0 p. 246<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

No one has arrived on the Starlight Express for generations, until one day Szetta steps off the platform and is taken in by Flaminio, the narrator.
\nThe rest of the story details his infatuation with her and what is discovered about her origins. This story is on the slight side but works well enough; in particular (spoiler) the ending convincingly limns the ennui that can be caused by losing \u2018the one.\u2019<\/p>\n

The cover, Starlight Express<\/em><\/strong>, is another superior piece by Maurizio Manzieri. There are Cartoons<\/em><\/strong> by Danny Shanahan, Nick Downes, Arthur Masear, and S. Harris, none of which did much if anything for me.
\nI got on with Books to Look For<\/em><\/strong> by Charles de Lint more than I normally do, probably because there is more contextualisation than normal, as well as a number of the titles which sound interesting (books by Seanan McGuire, A. G. Carpenter, and the Thorne Smith-ish Playing with Fire<\/em> by R. J. Blain).
\nBooks<\/em><\/strong> by James Sallis covers two titles, including The Night Ocean<\/em> by Paul La Farge, a review whose synopsis just left me confused.
\nVanishing Act<\/em><\/strong> by Pat Murphy and Paul Doherty is a short science essay about invisibility cloaks, which starts by examining the flounder (a fish that camouflages itself against the sea floor).
\nOn Finding Her Inner Kaiju<\/em><\/strong> by Kathi Maio is an informative column about the movie Colossal<\/em> and the work of its director Nacho Vigalondo.
\nCuriosities: The Great Demonstration, by Katharine Metcalf Roof (1920)<\/em><\/strong> by Robert Eldridge examines what sounds like an interesting piece of supernatural fiction.<\/p>\n

A solid issue after a lacklustre start.\u00a0 \u25cf<\/p>\n

_____________________<\/p>\n

This magazine is still being published!<\/strong> Subscribe: F&SF<\/em> subs<\/a> \/ Amazon UK<\/a>, USA<\/a> \/ Weightless Books<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Edited 16th<\/sup> July 2019: formatting changes.<\/em><\/p>\n\"rss\"<\/a>\"rss\"<\/a><\/span>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

ISFDB link F&SF subs \/ Amazon UK, USA \/ Weightless Books Other reviews: Gardner Dozois, Locus Steve Fahnestalk, Amazing Stories Rich Horton, Locus Greg Hullender\u00a0and Eric Wong,\u00a0Rocket Stack Rank John D. Loyd,\u00a0There Ain\u2019t No Such Thing As A Free Lunch Jason McGregor, Tangent Online Patrick Mahon, SF Crowsnest Sam Tomaino, SF Revu Various, Goodreads _____________________ […]<\/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-3865","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\/p6Pcj7-10l","jetpack-related-posts":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3865","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=3865"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3865\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10754,"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3865\/revisions\/10754"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3865"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3865"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3865"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}