Review of The Men in the Jungle by Norman Spinrad

By the time the late 60s rolled around, America had had enough of the Vietnam War (or what the Vietnamese call the American War). Unable to shit or get off the pot (same situation Russia currently finds itself in Ukraine), the US kept sending troops and armament to 'fight the war on communism' (Russians are 'fighting the war on Nazis') but never committed enough firepower to actually win the war. And the North Vietnamese, using their own brutal, ruthless methods, fought back, hard. From a certain viewpoint, it was animals fighting animals, killing for the sake of killing, ideology a far cry. Commenting on, or at least seeming to want to comment on the war, is Norman Spinrad's The Men in the Jungle (1967), a science fiction tale/allegory of dubious execution.

Ousted asteroid dictator, Bart Fraden, sets his sights for power on a new destination, the planet Sangre. He invites along his mistress, the power-loving Sophia O'Hara, as well as General William Vanderling, a strategist Fraden hopes will easily knock over the military dictatorship on Sangre. The trio's plan is to peddle pleasure narcotics among the elite and sow discord among the rural villages, then wait for the right moment to engage with uber-weapons. The drugs work among the Brotherhood of Pain, leaders of Sangre, but rousing the villagers runs into a little trouble, one of an atavistic nature.

Review of Dagger Key & Other Stories by Lucius Shepard

There are a number of waypoints in a science fiction and fantasy reader's journey. Some enjoy the latest published hype and never look elsewhere—the years the waypoints. Others branch out, maybe taking a look at what uncle Joe was reading or what an obscure blog (Speculiction, cough cough) recommends. If uncle Joe was reading in the late 20th and early 21st centuries and kept up with genre, there's an extremely good chance he knew the name Lucius Shepard. Writing almost exclusively in short form, story to novella, perhaps Dagger Key and Other Stories (2007) is something a reader looking to explore might find on his dusty shelves?

The collection kicks off with the novella “Stars Seen through Stone”. It begins with a man contemplating life on the steps of the town library. A record producer named Vernon, he recalls the events leading him to contemplation—a demo he'd received from a preternaturally talented blues musician. An emotionally immature, overweight teen who expects the world but is unwilling to put in the effort, Jason Stanky is not the most likable guy. But his music is, and Vernon attempts to reconcile his disgust to get a record deal that will earn them both a little cash. But it’s in relating the town’s history to Stanky one day that things begin to take a turn for the weird for Vernon. Escalating alongside the potential for the young man’s success, their small town of Black William, RI finds itself on the map in ways no reader can predict. This is cited as one of Shepard's best stories for a reason.

Culture Corner: Italy - Tuscany to the Dolomites: Part II

Continuing from Part I, here is the second half of our Italy trip, Lago di Garda to the Dolomites.

#B1 - Classic di Garda – starting at 800 euros per hour. We didn't go for a ride, just dreamed of James Bond.

Culture Corner: Italy - Tuscany to the Dolomites: Part I

As is annual tradition here at Speculiction, we like to take a break from cublicle life to post photos of our vacations - not as pseudo-Instagram fodder, rather as a celebration of the beautiful places and people there are to experience with our time on Earth.  As proof, you will not find my ugly face muddying the crystal blue waters.

The following is the first of two posts related to our Italy vacation.  We started in northern Tuscany, visited a few places in the region, moved to Lago di Garda for a few days, and finished in the Dolomites.  It was even better than the photos.

#A1 – The first week in Italy was spent in Tuscany at this villa, spending time under the sun, going for walks, swimming in the river, and otherwise relaxing.

Review of Strange but Not a Stranger by James Patrick Kelly

Nobody remembers now (due to the past couple decades of history feeling like a millennium), but once upon a time James Patrick Kelly's Think Like a Dinosaur and Other Stories was a major talking point in science fiction. The publishing sphere was contained enough that most readers were aware of the majority of what was happening, and the collection was a triumphant capture of one the genre's brightest new voices. An established name, Kelly followed it up with another collection, 2002's Strange but Not a Stranger.

The collection kicks off with a piece of Cold War Americana pierced by the uncanny: “10¹⁶ to 1?”. It's the 1950s and young Ray lives for superhero comic books. Playing in the woods near his Long Island home one day, he discovers an odd man, a man who seems to know the future. Ray's life twists sideways in the aftermath, and through that transition Kelly gives readers a twisted piece of Golden Age American loosely reminiscent of Jeffrey Ford's “Shadow Year” or Harlan Ellison's “Jeffty is Five” .

Review of Mortedant's Peril by R.J. Barker

An important aspect of reading and reviewing fiction is (to attempt) to discern author intention. Just what is he/she trying to do here? Common answers are: art piece, zeigeist rider, bildungsroman, genre mish-mash, veiled imitation, character examination, etc. Another is: insular entertainment, aka quality escapism. In some ways such entertainment is the purest form of fiction. Less subjective than more ambitious efforts, the reader/reviewer can focus on how well it tells a story—technique, character, scene setting, prose, plot, etc. Such intentions 100% clear, enter Mortedant's Peril by R.J. Barker (2026).

Mortedant's Peril is one, unfortunate week in the life of Irody Hasp. As a mortedant, he is a respected member of society, a person who can read the final thoughts of the dead and offer comfort to those still alive. In the opening pages, Hasp is called to the dusty, dingy home of one of Elbay's bean counters, a dime-a-dozen civil servant in the lower tiers. Hasp thinks nothing of the last thoughts being around the berries the man ate. He collects his fee from the grieving wife and returns home to discover the berries actually meant something and he is being accused of murder. The grand magister of the mortedant's priory is able to grant Hasp a reprieve, however. He gives the unlucky mortedant a guard, one of the city's large alien osters, and one week to solve the crime himself. Or be hanged. Little does he know it, but Hasp is about to uncover threats to more than just his own life.

Review of Galactic Empiires ed. by Neil Clarke

On the west side of the Atlantic, science fiction and fantasy were built upon big, strong, cartoonish foundation stones—Buck Rogers, Barsoom, E.E. Doc Smith, Edmond Hamilton, Conan, and H.P. Lovcraft among them. Genre has iterated multiple times since, from Silver Age to New Wave to the wide-wide beyond. Technique has generally improved. Theme has more often found expression. And certainly some works have transcended genre. But the foundation stones remain. Laser pistols, space adventure, and the massive backdrop of the universe remain. A curated anthology, Neil Clarke's 2017 Galactic Empires looks to bring to the table a quality selection of what the early 21st century has to offer in the way of power structures across vast distances.

Galactic Empires kicks off with “Winning Peace” by Paul J. McAuley. An indentured scavenger is assigned the task of going to a remote location in space to find out what happened to a fellow scavenger who had been teaming up with an alien Cha!. He has a plan up his sleeve to escape indenture, a plan only accelerated by what he finds upon investigation of the location. Not everything is predictable, however, in this classic story rendered in contemporary voice. “Night's Slow Poison” by Ann Leckie is a mixed effort. It tells of a galactic voyage in which a guardsman is forced to confront an uneasy history through the eyes of his dead lover. Leckie has not shortage of imagination, but technique is a challenge, making this a rough read. Continuing with alternate perspectives, “All the Painted Stars” by Gwendolyn Clare is a human encounter told from the alien's view when its octopus-self gets stuck aboard a human ship. The ship is not of human origin, however, and the alien finds itself in a compromising situation. More classic sf in a modern voice.

Cardboard Corner: Review of Kira-ai: The Duel

Our board game collection consists of games big and small. On one end we have giant boxes like Tidal Blades: Rise of the Unfolders, the Ashes Reborn all-in box, and the mother of them all, old school Fireball Island. On the other end, we have Pax Transhumanity, Radlands, and Hannamikoji—games that fit snugly in a shoebox, together. But the smallest game of all, smaller than the size of a wallet, is Kira-ai: The Duel (2023). And here the adage is true: size doesn't matter.

If you enjoy games where you sit across from an opponent, trying to discern what's going through their mind as they do precisely the same to you, Kira-ai is one to check out. No fluff. No draw a card and see. No roll a die. It's mind games, only mind games, wrapped tightly around the theme of a samurai duel.

Review of The End of Everything by M. John Harrison

Over the past few years, my thoughts return with increasing frequency to the Camus-esque absurdity of normal life. Juxtapose the thousands of years of work, sleep, family, food, etc. with the fresh soil modern humanity is tilling (AI, screens, globalization, politicized media, etc.) and its mindblowing—in slippery yet sturdy, bizarre yet normal, out of touch yet 100% palpable, Camus-esque fashion. There are people following the love advice of chatgpt. That's a human doing what humans would do given such an opportunity, yes? But chatgpt?!?! Capturing this (seeming) juxtaposition pitch perfect artistically, narratively, and thematically, is M. John Harrison's The End of Everything (2026).

Boil away the skin and hair, muscles and organs, and in its bones The End of Everything is a near-future alien invasion of Britain. The iGhetti have appeared slowly and steadily in myriad forms on the island nation's shores, sometimes invasive of daily life and sometimes just hovering on the perimeter. In the wake of their arrival, government is degrading, a dense fog has descended on Europe, and all manner of the odd and uncanny is washing ashore. Two characters, Philip the beachcomber and Marnie the senior citizen artist, attempt to come to terms with their evolving world.

Review of The Rainseekers by Matthew Kressel

It's always an interesting question: what will the current generation go down as when all is said and done. It's an interesting question because, the youngest generation always faces the harshest criticism, yet seems to defy that criticism in interesting ways as time goes on. It's still too early to tell with Gen Z, but one thing for certain is that their youth will be youth, going off doing the wildest, logic-defying things that the youth of every prior generation did. Optimism is priceless, but only for a time, when a price must be paid. Matthew Kressel, in his 2026 novella The Rainseekers, features the lives of people reflecting on their youth.

The Rainseekers is a quasi-frame story. It is ostensibly about Sakunja, former holo star on Earth now journalist on Mars. She recounts for the reader this path, including her joining a group of people on an excursion to be the first to witness rain on the red planet. During the overland journey, she talks with her fellow travelers, and agrees to write the stories of two for her newspaper—an orphaned engineer and a reformed Muslim truck driver. That is, until a not-so-proverbial wrench is thrown into the works of the excursion.