Review of The Alteration by Kingsley Amis

Kingsley Amis is not a known author in households where science fiction or fantasy rule. A staunch Brit with Oxford pedigree and steady hand in politics, he doesn't spring to mind as such a writer. And to be fair, I assume neither would Amis himself associate with the common understanding of said genres. The vagaries of time being what they are, however, means Amis has a toe across the line whether he likes it or not. That appendage is the alternate history The Alteration (1976). It's (ironically) such a relevant work today that perhaps it should even have an additional appendage over the line?

Ten-year old Hubert Anvil possesses the voice of an angel. His singing touches the heavens, and the Catholic church of Amis' alternate history Europe intends on keeping it that way. They propose castrating Hubert, preserving his pristine voice, rendering him a eunuch in the cause of the church til the end of his days. Hubert's father, an aristocrat dependent on his relationship with the church, reluctantly agrees, while his brother advises him not to—“Sex is good.” being his standby argument. But things are more complicated than just pleasure, forcing young Hubert into dire straits that he will eventually emerge from, just in what form?

Review of Zeppelin City by Eileen Gunn and Michael Swanwick

Different readers have different reactions to stereotypes and cliches. Some forgive, ignore, or even embrace the overt depiction of communal cultural phenomenon. Not this blog. It's difficult, painful to read “the thing” laid bare exactly as the lowest possible common denominator would have it. Ready the tylenol with Michael Swanwick and Eileen Gunn's novella Zeppelin City (2011).

Zeppelin City is the story of Radio Jones, Amelia Spindizzy, and Rudy (no catchy last name; he's the commie). Jones is a plucky electronics wiz who has an idea how radio signals can be overheard, an idea she hopes to bring to reality so she can make a dime off listening to the autogyro operators and their crews during the big races. Spindizzy is an autogyro pilot, and a damn good one. But she has her rival—her “Red Baron” in the skies—who may or may not have her number. And there's Rudy, a single-minded lad if ever there were. He spouts commie logic all the way to the halls of the brains in jars who rule Zeppelin City. Yes, brains in jars...

Culture Corner Morocco: Part II – Erg Chebbi, Meknes, and Essaouira

 This is Part II of our Morocco photos.  Part I is here.

We spent three days at Erg Chebbi, including this obligatory camel photo.

Culture Corner: Morocco Part I - Marrakesh and Atlas Mountains

No other way to start this post than: what a pleasant surprise Morocco was! Due to past experience visiting certain Middle Eastern countries, I went in with certain preconceived notions. I was wrong. WRONG. Our two weeks in Morocco were fantastic. The people we met were amazing and everything went off splendid on the 2,200 km journey. From markets to deserts to hospitality to palaces to camels to madrasas to riads to tajines to oranges to snow-capped mountains to flocks of sheep to the genuine smiles and openness of Moroccans, it was an amazing trip.

This post will be the first of two showing various scenes from our trip. No AI, filters, or any of the stuff the kids these days use to spice up photos was used. Just a boomer with a mobile phone.

First stop was Marrakesh, perhaps Morocco's most famous city. And it's for a reason. Just ask the mule.

Review of North Sun, or the Voyage of the Whaleship Esther by Ethan Rutherford

The thimbleful of faithful Speculiction readers will be aware we love and hate taxonomizing fiction. It's a fun exercise and can be helpful for a certain type of reader, but overall fiction is fiction, and when you get down to brass tacks, there is a lot of subjectivity what is what (Derrida, cough, cough). Ethan Rutherford's North Sun, or the Voyage of the Whaleship Esther (2024) is a bucket of brass tacks.

North Sun is split in two parts. (Technically it's split in three, but the third acts more as an epilogue.) The first part will have readers breaking out comparisons to Moby Dick. A wealthy magnate, in the twilight of New England's whaling industry, equips the Esther with captain and crew, and sends them out to the seas to reap whales. Day to day life aboard the ship, from crewmen to first mate, captain to steerer, deckhands to cook, are portrayed in brief scene after brief scene, giving readers a glimpse into life aboard such a ship. (Astute readers will note the extreme brevity compared to Melville.)

Review of The Book of Lamps and Banners by Elizabeth Hand

She survived a serial killer on a lonely island in Maine. She escaped the cold wilds of Iceland. Britain chewed her up and spit her out. But Cass Neary lives on, on to what may be her final, unintended adventure: The Books of Lamps and Banners (2020).

As with all Cass Neary novels, The Book of Lamps and Banners picks up precisely where the prior novel left off. Neary is back and London after her escapades on the sandy, pagan shores of Cornwall. She tries to find out what happened to her former lover Quinn, still hoping to get back to the US. After a spot of convenient pickpocketing, she runs into an old acquaintance at an antiquarian book store. He has a lead on an esoteric volume sought by the most avid of collectors, and invites Neary along for the appointment. Shit hits the fan in the wake of that visit, and Neary finds herself with a torn manuscript page and a handful of neo-nazis a little too close on her heels.

Review of Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett

In 1987, Terry Pratchett published Mort, and by doing so introduced Discworld readers to what would become one of the series' most iconic characters: DEATH. Looking to build on the success and throw in an alien invasion (as one does), Pratchett returned to the character in 1991's Reaper Man.

Before going off the rails, Reaper Man tells two parallel stories, the first of which is of Windle Poons. Unseen University's oldest member, the wizards gather one evening to celebrate what is to be his last day alive. But things don't go as planned, and Windle finds himself with newfound life and the strength of the undead—which will be needed when aliens invade (as they do). The second is of Death. Where he normally attends to the hourglasses of ordinary mortals, at the story's outset he finds himself attendant to his own. His days are numbered, and Death decides to get the most of his final days. He abandons the robe and scythe and becomes an ordinary farmhand living on an ordinary farm on the ordinary outskirts of Ankh-Morpork. Windle lives on borrowed time and Death on finite time, the rest is Pratchett.

Review of Pagans by James Alastair Henry

It is the case, unfortunately, that identity has become a point of hyper focus the past decade. Much ado about nothing... Nevertheless, for some people ethnicity, nationality, gender, religion, and self-perception of those ideas have taken over a large chunk of cultural discourse. Wallowing like a pig in identity mud is James Alastair Henry's Pagans (2026).

The twist? It's an alternate modern world where the tribes of the British Isles never united. Celts, Saxons, Picts, Scots, and Norse abound, each with their own distinct culture, religion, behavior, fashion, etc., as well as territory they claim as their own. The heart pumping blood through this fictional setting is a murder mystery. A man is found nailed to a tree in a Celtic forest, exsanguinated, and due to the fact he is of Saxon blood, a Saxon investigator is called in for assistance. What follows is a dark journey into the shadows of fundamentalist religion and cultural identity.

Review of The Melancholy of Mechagirl by Catherynne M. Valente

Is there anything she can't do? Catherynne Valente's oeuvre not only covers a swathe of genres and sub-genres, but does so in a variety of styles and approaches that make putting her fiction in a box impossible. Ensuring that task is truly out of reach is the Japan, Japan-adjacent, Japan-inspired, and Japan touched short story collection: The Melancholy of Mechagirl (2013).

The Melancholy of Mechagirl kicks off with the eponymous poem. The zig-zag of the title becomes inherent as Valente takes the reader on a mini-journey through the soul of a Japanese teen girl. “Ink, Water, Milk” is a 3x3 grid, columns and rows the same names, or as Valente describes it, like three cells from a film roll, one laid on top of the other on a light box. More stories than story, it is a short but brilliant interplay of color, history, emotion, myth, procreation, all bleeding one into the other, separate yet part of the same whole. One of the best of the collection.

TCG Resource Systems (aka, How I Met Your Mother)

Captain Obvious says, economy is one of the three pillars supporting every TCG. Lieutenant Apparent adds, economy must be considered in every decision made and every card played. And Private Plain squeaks: economy is to blame for not being able to splash all my hardest hitting cards in one turn! (Umm, Private, that game is Yu-Gi-Oh...) Invisible yet influential, economies can make some TCGs stand tall, and others hang noodle limp. At the risk of hyperbole, it is the spine of every TCG.

As such, I thought it would be fun to look at some of the economies—resource systems—that have developed since Magic: the Gathering appeared 35+ years ago (and cursed us with the shittiest resource system known this universe—and all the universes beyond).

And there have been a number. From simple to complex, static to dynamic, inherent to abstract—the ability to pay and play those sweet-sweet cards has appeared in many iterations in TCG and TCG-esque games. (If you consider yourself a purist of the definition of “TCG”, run the other way. I will discuss TCGs, CCGs, LCGs, ECGS, UCGs, etc., etc. without a fig given to taxonomy.) A variety of systems will be discussed here, and in the closing paragraph I will draw some conclusions—objective conclusions, naturally.