Review of Brooklyn Crime Novel by Jonathen Lethem

Motherless Brooklyn and Fortress of Solitude are often cited as Jonathan Lethem's best novels. And reasonably so. Motherless is subtle neo-noir with a main character that leaves an impression beyond quirks of personality. Also set in NYC, Fortress is a coming-of-age tale that slips in and out of super-hero fantasy in nostalgic yet socially relevant terms. One might assume a Lethem novel titled Brooklyn Crime Novel (2023) would be in an similar vein. It is, and yet it definitively isn't.

Brooklyn Crime Novel, while not entirely plotless, operates in a mode that feels more like a series of historical vignettes. If it weren't for Lethem's singular diction, the emotion-less presentation of events could have had a textbook feel. By shifting points of view, the book relates the lives of a handful of children, of all shapes, sizes, and colors, growing up in the late 60s and 70s during the gentrification of Brooklyn. None of the children are given names. Instead, they are given identifiers—screamer, millionaire's son, board game boy, slipper, etc., which adds to the distance between reader and character. Their individual stories have arcs, but they are flat, short, and focused on the quotidian details of their lives as they link to Lethem's theme.

Review of Livesuit by James S.A. Corey

Ty Franck and Daniel Abraham (James S.A. Corey) frequently took side trips writing the nine-volume Expanse series. They released bits of short fiction every year or two to fill holes and complete the tableaux of the series' storyline. Enough short stories produced, in fact, a tenth and final volume was eventually released, a collection. While I don't expect the planned three volumes The Captive's War trilogy to generate the same amount of short fiction, the duo nevertheless continue the practice, releasing the intriguingly incongruous tie-in novella Livesuit in 2024.

Livesuit is the story of Kieran, leader of a team of soldiers battling against the galaxy-dominating Carryx. The team is a specially selected squad, each of which wears an expensive, difficult-to-manufacture skinsuit that keeps them alive in battle and maintains their bodily functions in normal life. In the early going, Kieran's leg is crushed in a trap, but the suit keeps his leg intact and his body upright throughout the remaining fight. And resilience is needed as the team have a difficult mission: to infiltrate a prison and rescue the humans held captive.

Cardboard Corner: Review of Hive

Do you like Chess or Go but don’t like the commitment—the weight of tackling brain burning hours of iterating if/then scenarios? Do you think the idea of kings and queens, soldiers and knights on a battlefield is a hoary, outdated notion? Or maybe, you think the idea of a grid is too limiting? <cue salesman voice> Well then, do we have a game for you! Hive (2000)!!

A tight-tight package, Hive is an abstract strategy game for two players that plays out in half the time of chess, and in significantly less time than go. Combining elements of both those games and simplifying them, players take turns laying hexagonal pieces in hive formation in attempt to surround their opponent’s queen. The game is insect-themed, meaning it is in fact a queen bee.

Like chess and go, Hive features black and white sides, with each side having the same pieces and starting conditions. Like chess specifically, each type of piece in Hive has its own unique move set (more in a moment), but unlike chess they do not start on the board in ready position. More like go, Hive’s “board” begins empty. I put “board” in quotes given Hive has no board. Any small, flat space will do—even airplane trays. The board creates itself as players lay pieces, making for an open, evolving experience.

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.

Review of Colossus by D.F. Jones

It's an understatement to say AI has undergone significant shifts in perspective. Undoubtedly cavemen would have furrowed their foreheads at the idea, industrialists of the 19th century, also. But when machines entered everyday life in the mid 20th, it was allowed as a possibility. And when computers appeared, it became an inevitability. The interesting perspective to that perspective is: the context was always 'the future'. AI is in the future. Guess what, it's 2026 and the future is here. AI, or something resembling AI, is in our homes and in our pockets. Beyond inevitable, how could we not have seen it come when it did? Why was it a far future thing? That's what people ask in hindsight. Looking back to the era between 'possibility' and 'inevitability' is a novel portraying a Cold War AI, Colossus by D.F. Jones (1966).

Charles Forbin is the US government project head, leading the team of people designing and building the world's first artificial intelligence. In the opening pages, Forbin has put the finishing touches on the massive project and enters the president's office to inform him of the green light. A gregarious, determined man, the president praises the project and the next day holds a press conference to announce to the world that the US would be downsizing its military by 70% and turning over control of the armed forces to Colossus, the AI. Almost simultaneously, the Soviet Union announces its own AI, an entity they call Guardian. What happens next turns the world upside down and puts humanity on the back foot for the first time in history.

Cardboard Corner: Review of Endeavor: Deep Sea

Surprise, there are critical views of the modern liberal education system. It doesn't push students. It doesn't set realistic expectations. It doesn't prepare them for the real world. It doesn't recognize differences. It's not like school when I was a kid... I will let reality speak for the legitimacy of those concerns. What I want to do here is demonstrate how the system has appeared in board games—at least one board game: Endeavor Deep Sea (2024).

Endeavor: Deep Sea is an action-selection game for 1-4 players. Each player is the leader of a team of marine biologists, technicians, engineers, etc. exploring the sea. Anything the player does—gets another submersible, discovers a new place, explores a new location, conserves a species, collects journals, fills a board with tokens (ahem)—will get them victory points. The player with the most victory points after six rounds, wins.

Review of The Wilding by Ian McDonald

Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child's 1995 novel The Relic tells of an Amazonian creature accidentally transported to NYC's Museum of Natural History. It proceeds to wreak havoc on the museum, brutally killing staff and visitors. The story is brainless escapism of the purist variety. Ian McDonald's 2024 The Wilding is an Irish peat bog take on the same.

Lisa Donnan is a tour guide working at Ireland's largest environmental reclamation project—a 400 sq. km. bog that was nearly wiped out by peat extraction and is now being allowed to regrow. She and her coworkers oversee the re-wilding of what is now a nature park by tracking wildlife, monitoring biosystems, and leading tours and hikes. Trouble starts when one of the farmers allowed to use the land discovers an eviscerated cow. The discovery coincides with the first day of hiking for a group of middle-schoolers, and Lisa soon finds her hands full with more than just teen angst.

Review of Beluthahatchie and Other Stories by Andy Duncan

Ahhh, Andy Duncan. What to say? The definition of quality over quantity, the man writes only a couple short stories per year. Each is hand-crafted, polished to chrome shine, and will certainly feature an organic premise speaking to some measure of humanity at large. And authorial voice, amazing. Each story drips with flavor yet is told in a way that fits the story being told. But I gush. Duncan’s first collection, Beluthahatchie and Other Stories (2000), is well worth seeking out by connoisseurs of speculative fiction in short form.

A Robert Johnson crossroads story with an agenda, the title story “Beluthahatchie” tells of a vice-ridden blues musician from the early 20th century who meets an untimely end and finds himself on the train to hell. But it's when encountering the devil and learning about his new living conditions that the reader really gets to thinking. Written in fabulous prose, Duncan sets the tone for the collection by drawing the reader in with rich character and dialogue, and leaves them pondering over the substance.

Cardboard Corner: Ranking Arkham Horror: The Card Game Opening Scenarios

Arkham Horror: The Card Game campaigns have a definitive arc. They ebb and flow through six, eight, nine scenarios, giving players a variety of ways to test decks and test skill, and culminating in a boss battle. That boss should be, and most often is, the ultimate test. Knowledge of the campaign's mechanisms and upgraded decks go a long way toward success. Opening scenarios are the opposite, and the focus of this post.

In some ways, the opening scenario is the best point of any campaign. The mystery of what is happening, the excitement of what is to come, and the simple joy of getting into another campaign combine to give them a little extra zest. They are also a challenge. Players have the weakest decks they will have all campaign and no knowledge of the new mechanisms. First impressions, as they say, mean everything. In previous posts, Speculiction has ranked the Arkham Horror releases and bosses. As such, I thought it would be fun to rank all the opening scenarios, as well.

From worst to first, here they are. Enjoy!

Review of Hard Light by Elizabeth Hand

Elizabeth Hand's Cass Neary series, at the structural level, doesn't poke its nose above ordinary. It's slow burn murder mystery through and through, a saturated genre if ever there were. Where the series gouges its mark is in Neary. Like boiling a frog, the reader slowly realizes they are bound to her vices almost as much as her virtues, and by default bound to the dubious circumstances spiraling around her. Not an archetype, she lives and breathes inner demons, her antagonism serving character and plot. It's that level of credibility which makes the series worthwhile and worth mention whenever the best neo-noir books are discussed. Let's see how third book in the series, Hard Light (2016), continues digging into Neary.

Generation Loss was set on the coast of Maine and Available Dark in Iceland. In the direct aftermath, Hard Light takes readers to London Penniless, Neary finds herself in a dive bar, looking for a means get home to the US. She runs into a goth singer, who takes her to a coke house, which gets her into an art party, which puts her in contact with strange prehistoric artifacts, which... takes the reader on yet another subtly evolving murder mystery that has both feet in a dark, personal reality. No spoiler, the manner in which Hand integrates the physics and chemistry of photography into murder mystery continues to astound.

Review of Moon Dogs by Michael Swanwick

Whether you know it or not, Michael Swanwick has been producing some of the best off-center fantasy fiction since 1980; he plays in the sandbox but uses his toes. What some people also may not know is that Swanwick has also been one of the best voices in non-fiction over that time. He has produced 100+ published essays, and likely just as much content if not more on his blog, in interviews, etc. Swanwick's 2000 collection Moon Dogs features the best of his short fiction between 1991 and 2000 as well as the most relevant of his non-fiction during the same time frame.

Moon Dogs kicks off with the title story. It tells of a young man who goes to a near-drowning clinic in the hopes of purging his thoughts of mortality. After, he rests in the woods and meets a strange woman with a pack of mechanical dogs. Her backstory relevant, the man's sense of mortality takes a dramatic swing in the aftermath of their meeting. This story is the lone, previously unpublished piece in the collection and is an oddly successful combination of gothic and science fiction. It delivers on mood, and, if anything else, is a well written bit of cheap revenge.