Contemporary science fiction is witness
to more and more female authors rising to the top—short fiction in particular
seeing a huge increase in the number recognized by awards. Over the past few years, in fact, the number
of women nominated for the major short fiction awards has either been greater
than or equal to the number of male authors.
Elizabeth Hand, Nancy Kress, Kelly Link, Kij Johnson, and others have
been nominated or won Hugo, Nebula, Locus, Theodore Sturgeon, and World Fantasy
awards. Rachel Swirsky’s 2010 novella The Lady Who Plucked Red Flowers beneath the
Queen’s Window among these works, reading the story it’s obvious why the
movement is underfoot.
The
Lady Who Plucked Red Flowers beneath the Queen’s Window does not belie
the pretention of the title. Defying the
fairy tale hints, it is the story of Naeva, a sorceress in a world where women
rule—women and other men. Her allegiance
and loyalty falling awry in the opening pages, Naeva finds her soul imprisoned
in a stone, able to be made corporeal only by someone with arcane knowledge. Pulled back into the real world at various
moments in the years that pass, she learns the truth behind her death and does
what she can from her prison of stone to enact revenge. But that is only the first half of the
story. Pulled into reality on a later occasion,
an entirely new scene awaits, one which she may not have the resources to fight
against.
Cathrynne M. Valente’s Silenty and Very Fast is a unique piece
of speculative fiction in that it is a science fiction story told in the
language of poetry and fantasy. Likewise
putting story type in a fresh light, Swirsky’s novella takes a fantasy setting
and so subtly injects it with a science fiction motif many will be unaware she
too is playing with genre. Like Valente’s
story, the effect is overwhelmingly positive, a unique tale emerging that has a
fuzzy feel intelligently bridging both genres.
And the language, oh the language. Not as lush as Valente’s novella but more
literary in aim, Swirsky has total control of the words channeled through her
fingertips, producing a story that is at all times incisive, rhythmic and
smooth—half the fight won with only the words themselves. Pacing perfect, Naeva’s twists and turns
through the labyrinth of treachery, revenge, back biting, and coming to terms
with what it all means in the larger context of gender reads evenly, and fully
engages the reader one word at a time.
And the imprisoned soul is a brilliant plot device. Allowing the narrative to shift abruptly yet
plausibly, Swirsky wastes no time in the transitions, in turn underlining the
steps she imagines the world to evolve through.
That the content at depth is so dependent on this contrast likewise
proves the premise superb.
One of the most interesting aspects of
the novella is that the opening scenes are set in a woman’s land where rarely a
man is mentioned or found. Everywhere
the characters go women are encountered and men are stick figures in the
background—quite literally. Exactly as
books of old but with women and female interests foregrounded, Swirsky again
turns things on their head. In the
latter half of the novella, matters are once again subverted, the view expanded
to one more universal, and dare I say, transcendent. Though a bit forced, the message rings clear.
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