Article: Fantasy Fiction: The Farce of Complex Characters

I recently switched phones, and in the process switched browsers to Chrome. On mobile, this means Google advertizing. One of the first ads I saw, undoubtedly due to browsing history, was a link to Fantasy Review's “6 Urban Fantasy Series for Fans of Complex Characters”. With a couple minutes to spare, the word 'complex' had my interest, so I clicked. Turns out there are different definitions of the word.

One of the centerpieces, if not the centerpiece of literary fiction is character realism. Readers of said fiction expect emotions, thoughts, actions, dialogue, and the details of human life to cleave to reality. That is the norm of the form. It arises, naturally, that subsequent characters are 'complex'. Real people's lives are, after all, complex. Another way of putting this is: complex characters are default in literary fiction. Nobody need call them out as 'complex', or make a list of literary-minded books with 'complex characters'. That is the logic I tried to apply to Fantasy Review's article about 'complex characters' in fantasy fiction. I failed.

Review of Unseen Academicals by Terry Practhett

Whether tracked mentally or written down, I assume Terry Pratchett had a list of topics he wanted to present through the unique lens of the Disc. And he got through dozens upon dozens of these topics. Readers knew football / soccer / foot-the-ball had to be there somewhere on the list, and indeed in the thirty-seventh novel up it popped in Unseen Academicals (2009). A topic beloved by millions if not billions, one can only assume Pratchett was waiting til he had the right story, the right combination of ingredients, to do the sport justice in Discworld. Let's see what they were.

The portions plying the pot of Unseen Academicals are: ten cups of wizard, one stein of goblin, two hurlyhoos of female Unseen University kitchen staff, various dashes and splashes of Ankh-Morpork streetlife, the unpeeled onion of Veterinari, oh, and one, large orange librarian (with banana). The spice setting the stew afire is the discovery of a certain pornographic vase at Unseen University featuring ancient men at play in foot-the-ball. A set of gentlemanly rules discovered inside the vase, Veternari makes the case that foot-the-ball needs to be converted from a pie-eating, tooth-knocking, rough-housing affair on Ankh-Morpork's streets to the next level of respectability; it needs proper goals and a field judge. He asks the wizards to field a new team and stage an exhibition match. Away we go!

Good vs Great: Star Wars Unlimited vs Star Wars Destiny

In our polarizing times, it's easy to have an extreme opinion. Gush, gush, gush, rant, rant, rant. With the recent release of Star Wars Unlimited, there is a lot of gushing happening. And rightfully so; it's a tightly designed game whose industry pedigree is evident. Part of that pedigree is Star Wars Destiny, a game which Unlimited borrows a huge amount of DNA from. As such, it seemed a fun idea to approach the release with a view more subtle: the difference between a good expandable card game and a great one. This article is going to assume the reader has played both games, or is at least familiar with expandable card games in general.

We will cover:

• Gaining Resources

• Spending Resources

• Battlefield

• Initiative

• Color Pie

• Art

• The (Damned) Dice

• Theme

• Doing Damage

• Deck Construction & Card Draw

• Mulligan Rule

• Exciting Endings (or Lack Thereof)

• Conclusion

Resource systems are the foundation on which expandable card games are built, meaning there is no better place to start than how to earn the in-game money necessary to get those wonderful, fun, beautiful cards on the table.

Review of Playground by Richard Powers

I've quoted the poet Alicia Ostriker on this blog before, and it's such a powerful quote that I'm going to break it out again here: “the true poet is necessarily the partisan of energy, rebellion, and desire, and is opposed to passivity, obedience, and the authority of reasons, laws and institutions.” Writers of fiction are not poets; clear. But the concept can still apply to novels. If you're not trying to find an edge in your stories, it's difficult for them to cut. Let's check the energy/rebellion/desire meter on Richard Power's 2024 Playground.

While dipping in and out of the lives of several characters, Playground mainly revolves around three. “Jacqueline Cousteau”, actually Evelyne Beaulieu, is a woman who has seen the spectrum of underwater research in the course of her long life. She was a tester of early 20th century diving apparatuses, and has spent countless thousands of hours performing biomarine research since. At a loose end in old age, she lives on a remote Polynesian island called Makatea wondering what to do with her life. Todd Keane is a young man with a plan at the birth pangs of the internet. From an upper-middle class family, he goes to university to study IT and there puts his plan of building a social networking platform into action. Becoming a billionaire for it, he must eventually decide what to do with his earnings, something a certain Polynesian island may play a role in. And lastly is Rafi Young. Despite their racial and socio-economic differences, Rafi becomes best friends with Todd at university. The two eventually go their separate ways, but not before they must confront the results of their youthful brainstorming on the future of the internet.

Speculiction's Awards - Best Fiction Published in 2024

As is tradition here in the bustling offices of Speculiction, we come together at year's end to look back at the books published in the year, summarize what was read, and choose the best—if possible. (For best of books read in 2024, regardless of publishing year, see here.)

2024 was an average reading year. I can't say great, or even good. Partially this is my own fault. For whatever reason, genre/mainstream books held a larger than normal proportion of consumption, and of those books I read outside the mainstream, few chimed in bells or lifted angelic voices to the heavens for consideration as 'best of the year'. But a book did eventually pop up that is worthy.

Best Reads of 2024

Like the explosion of fireworks at midnight, Speculiction dons its tweed sweater and monocle every new year to reflect on the reading year past. I ask the question: What stuck out? What distinguished itself among the ~50 books I read? And as I get older: What do I remember?

Regardless year published, personal rating, number of NY Times bestselling-author quotes on the cover—here are the dozen or so books that stuck out this year. (For books published only in 2024, see here.)

Review of Absolution by Jeff VanderMeer

In 1987 Gene Wolfe released the novel Urth of the New Sun. A coda, it was intended as a piece of fiction supplemental to his landmark tetralogy Book of the New Sun. Some readers had been left confused by the original series, and as a helping hand Wolfe offered Urth. While an interesting piece of fiction, it took the subtle and made it overt, something Book of the New Sun did not need. In 2024 another author has chosen to revisit a beloved series. After a decade away, Jeff VanderMeer returns to the Area X/Southern Reach trilogy with a surprise fourth installment, Absolution. Spurious or necessary?

Each of the three Area X novels, Annihilation, Authority, and Acceptance, is relatively self-contained. There is something extra to be gained reading all three, but they largely work independently. Absolution also does. It can be read on its own. But it departs from the three prior novels by being more of a tapestry of story than pure novel. It is, in essence, three short stories, or more specifically, a short story and two novellas.

Review of Life During Wartime by Lucius Shepard

If you were born in the 21st century, it's likely you do not know the author Lucius Shepard. The flood of fiction the past couple decades has virtually washed away the chance for good but lesser known writers of just thirty, forty years ago to be discovered today. Different readers will have different opinions, but certainly Shepard's The Jaguar Hunter (1987) and the book reviewed here, Life During Wartime (1987), are to be considered among the tip-top best fantastika of the 80s. They may even have a monopoly on '87?

And the time period is important. An extremely brief history lesson, the 80s were a time when America was doing it's best not to create another Vietnam in Central America. Its military forces were secretly, and less secretly, deployed throughout the region in an attempt to “keep the commies out” lest the Soviet Union win the Cold War. Shepard took this scene, added a drop or two of something speculative, and wrote a couple pieces of fiction, including “Salvador” and “R&R”, the latter of which was expanded into Life During Wartime.

Review of Juice by Tim Winton

Many years ago, preparing to live in Australia, I read a book capturing some of the early settlers' experiences on the continental island. One experience was of a European who took a native Australian into his service. After some time, the native commented: “I now understand why the white man is so greedy. Trade me some apples for a pig, and I need to consume them rather quickly lest they spoil. Trade me some money for a pig, and I can hoard it til the end of time.” I paraphrase, but the sentiment strikes at a fundamental fact in the concept of money, and thus by default our modern society. Examining this facet in fascinatingly contemplative fashion—in the hot, dry Australia outback—is Tim Winton's 2024 Juice.

Juice is foremost a frame story. It tells of a man and young girl driving a scavenger rig through the post-apocalyptic Australian outback. Our world order has collapsed many years prior and global warming has reached peak heat. Ambushed, the man and girl are taken prisoner by a lone survivor. While under lock and key, the man must convince the survivor to let him go, something he does by telling his backstory. It's in the telling of this backstory that the book's true story emerges. The reader learns of the man's childhood in the sun-baked prairies and his eventual taking of an operator position in a secret order dead set—literally—on preventing the capitalism of our our era from ever having the same power again. These two stories culminate in a choice for the survivor, and ultimately, the reader.

Review of The Great When by Alan Moore

Post-war London, the occult, alternate worlds, serial killers, blah, blah, blah... Acknowledging the keywords of a contemporary novel is uninspiring, to say the least. They push a book deeper into the milieu of modern publishing rather than distinguish it. But, what if I tell you Alan Moore's 2024 The Great When likewise possesses a superb authorial voice, characters with character, and a twisty story that constantly surprises? Hopefully sounds a bit more intriguing. Let's set the hook deeper.

The Great When follows one Dennis Knuckleyard, used bookshop assistant, in the post-WWII years of London. But it's not the London you know. Superficially it looks like your London, but there are doors, entryways to another, darker, surreal London. Dennis gets himself into a spot of trouble one day in Soho picking up a box of vintage Arthur Machen books. One of the books in the box exists only in fiction, but there it sits in Dennis' hands. The young man's world turned sideways in the aftermath, he is forced to explore the London you don't know to get rid of the book, meeting all manner of gangsters and artists, harlots and killers along the way.