Review of The Deep and the Drowned by Ian Green

It's always exciting to discover an unexpectedly good book by a new-to-me writer. The story lingers and there is hope of goodness to come—a back catalog to comb for more gems. Ian Green's Extremophile was such a moment for me, and upon completion, I noticed Green was releasing a new novel this year, The Deep and the Drowned (2026). He did it at least once, can he do it again?

The Deep and the Drowned is the genre opposite of Extremophile. Not a bad thing, just am observation for would-be readers. Where Extremophile is edgy cyberpunk, The Deep & the Drowned is pirate fantasy adventure. Readers follow in the footsteps of Killian Heroneye, captain of the Cutlass Hawk. He and his crew pilot the isles, looking for buried treasure. And treasure is needed, not just because Heroneye wants the plaque above his door to remain valid, but he is also deep, deep in debt. Every island and every port runs the risk of debt collectors looking to collect, usually at the point of a sword. If that isn't bad enough, a powerful mage sees Heroneye as the key to meeting a sea god. The mage forces the captain into a mission that may just never see dry land again.

Review of Kalimantan by Lucius Shepard

Lucius Shepard published more than one-hundred short stories. Most have been re-published in good-sized collections and anthologies of the 400+ page variety. But some were republished in smaller collections—special editions, in fact—looking to capture a certain audience or breathe second life into stories worth a second read not reprinted elsewhere. Kalimantan (1990) is the latter. A mini-slice of Shepard's oeuvre, it contains a short story, novelette, and novella.

The title story “Kalimantan” is a peculiar mix of ingredients. It's got bits of Graham Greene's The Quiet American, a splash of eau de Le Guin, a sprinkle or two of Robert Silverberg's Nightwings, and two cups (or more) of Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness. The cake it bakes is the uncanny tale of a man named Barnett. Living in Borneo, he meets a rude, dismissive American named MacKinnon. But the relationship doesn't last long. MacKinnon gets into trouble and flees to the jungle, a place he discovers seribu aso, a psychedelic drug that truly changes the world. MacKinnon only gets further into trouble, forcing Barnett and others to enter the jungle and find MacKinnon. Like Heart of Darkness, things get creepy the deeper they go, and in the process, Shepard casts light on the individual nature of the human plight.

Review of The Iron Code: Stories in Honour of David Gemmell edited by Ian Whates

I am no expert on David Gemmell's oeuvre. Aside from the Macedon series, what I've read goes too far into ultra-nerd D&D land—the deep sub-sub-sub reddits debating lore minutiae. Seeing Ian Whates' anthology The Iron Code: Stories in Honour of David Gemmell (2026), however, my interest was piqued. What would such ideas be like in short form, a form which does not allow for such excavation?

The Iron Code kicks off with the tasty, twisting tale of two veterans trading war stories over a drink and a hearth, “The Other” by Dan Abnett. It needed another edit to tighten up some details, but the delicately appropriate ending makes it a nesting doll worth unpacking. “Crows and Ashes” by Kari Sperring is more vignette than story—and is as gothic in mood as can be. A prioress living at the base of a mountain sees the ravages of war wash past the nunnery in the spring melt. It spurs her to action, necessitating a hike. Stylistically the story is tumultuous, but when it's on, it's dead on.

Review of The Book of Bots by James Patrick Kelly

James Patrick Kelly is one few remaining writers whose collections are published as an update, as in Here is what has been happening in JPK land since his last collection of previously uncollected stories a few years ago. As I don't read sf magazines or periodicals (nothing against them), the collections are critical for keeping me up to date. His 2026 The Book of Bots bucks the trend, however. A hybrid, it collects several recent stories which have yet to find a home in a JPK collection as well as several older stories, all around the theme of robots and robotic/artificial intelligence.

With echoes of Brian Aldiss’ “Supertoys Last All Summer Long”, “Itsy Bitsy Spider” kicks things off with the story of a middle-aged woman returning to her father’s house. A man she has a troubled relationship with, she discovers he has uploaded her memories into an android child. The conversations between the younger and older self, later expanded by the father, is fully human despite the science fiction conceit. It hones in on the value of history and memory with age, making for an effective, touching piece to open the collection. “Undone” is more science fantasy than science fiction, but I split hairs. A tribute to Cordwainer Smith and Alfred Bester, it is set in the far, far future and tells of a woman who escapes her enemies by traveling a couple million years into the future, only to discover she didn't truly escape. She is forced to settle down and start a family. The story contains backwards syntax, like listening to a cassette in rewind, along with a large dose of wacky sf.

Review of Bug Jack Barron by Norman Spinrad

It's a wonder what a few decades does to cultural perception. In 1969, Norman Spinrad's Bug Jack Barron was published to a spot of controversy. It hit a few talking points of the counter culture, but was recognized by American science fiction awards. Worth the fuss?

Bug Jack Barron is the host of a political talk show—similar to Hasan Piker but with more audience interaction and without the political connections. Day in and out, he receives a barrage of calls describing injustice and discrimination, and when possible, uses said connections to right wrongs. His influence so great, in fact, the California governor calls Barron to suggest he run for President. If it weren't for all of the humanitarian action he is involved in, maybe he would have time?

Review of The Mad Ship by Robin Hobb

You're here for one of two reasons:

1. By accident. If true, be informed as such.
2. You want to know whether Robin Hobb's The Mad Ship (1999) is as good as Ship of Magic? Yes. Go—no, Run! to your favorite bookshop—and buy it.

Want to know a little more, read on.

The Mad Ship picks up precisely where Ship of Magic ended. It doesn't miss a beat. All of the characters readers are familiar with, at least those who survived Ship of Magic, return. Hobb adds one or two more to round things off, notably a courtesan within the satrap's inner court to give the reader a glimpse of the happenings there, as well as more light on the life of a woodworker whose skills come in particularly handy for one major plot thread. These two become particularly important as The Mad Ship ratchets up political tension; where Ship of Magic effectively used the Vestrid family affairs as its launch pad for antagonism, The Mad Ship puts more spice in the stew with a kingdom in crisis.

The Mad Ship really does feel like the next wall of scenes in the tableaux room, such is the seamless nature which it picks up and carries forward the Liveship series. There was one particular character about-face that felt a bit rushed, a bit Hallmark. But it's after such a traumatic event that I have to shove it to the gray area of: Maybe? Everything else is as organic as Ship of Magic. Things are constantly zigging when they should be zagging, but always in accordance with the foundation stones of story Hobb has already laid. Legend-level story crafting.

Review of The Perseids and Other Stories by Robert Charles Wilson

Robert Charles Wilson's novels are a mixed bag. They run the gamut of cliche to existentialist. The Chronoliths is about as good a look at human nature in the face of otherness as science fiction has produced, whereas Darwinia is genre fluff if ever there were goose dander. One might assume Wilson's one and only short story collection, The Perseids and Other Stories (2000), runs in parallel. Such is not the case.

Not explicitly framed, The Perseids nevertheless has a through line: the lives of ordinary people in Toronto around the turn of the millennia, 20th to 21st. The story which kicks things off, “The Fields of Abraham”, could be seen as that setting's prequel. It tells of a Jewish boy getting by on almost nothing in early 20th century Toronto. His sister has dementia and is unable to help. So when not teaching immigrants English, he heads to a local shop to escape. But a student makes an offer that could help the boy financially, only it would mean selling his familial soul. Over a game of chess he asks the shopkeeper for advice, which doesn't go as planned. It's a simply written story, but Wilson wrings emotion from the boy's plight, setting the tone for the bittersweet stories which follow.

Criticism: Human Slop: A Deeper Look into “The Binding” by John Gwynne

AI slop is a term bandied about these days early days of artificial intelligence. It describes content that is unpolished, untidy, not 100% ready but thrown to the public for consumption, anyway. It's uncle Bob's attempt at fixing the water pump with tape and wire. It works for a few days, but depend on the fix for much longer and it starts dripping, again. Guitars gain extra strings and are played upside down. Human anatomy is displayed in inhuman form. And buzzwords are buzzzzzzing. While reading “The Binding" by John Gwynne my brain was screaming “AI slop”. But I know a human wrote the short story. What is going on?

“The Binding” is grimdark fantasy about a clan of giants who are attacked by an army of humans. Like a homework assignment scratched out last minute, the style Gwynne deploys can be described as spilling, loose, slapdash. For the first few days of tape and wire, the plot has an arc, there are primary characters, conflict occurs, and dialogue and exposition link the pieces together. But once that fix starts to give out, it noticeably fails semantically.

Review of Extremophile by Ian Green

The names of a few counter-culture/beat writers from the 60s still echo—Allen Ginsberg, William S. Burroughs, and Ken Kesey among them. But the novel which captures the espirit of the era the best is perhaps Jack Kerouac's On the Road. More rhythm and melody than plotted story with waypoints, it tells of a young man who sets aside his day job to live the moment—sex, drugs, and jazz concerts. It's been thirty years since I read the novel, but I don't remember much political ideology. It's thus interesting that Kerouac's novel kept springing to mind reading Ian Green's (wildly different) Extremophile (2024).

Extremophile is cyberpunk through and through. Body augmentation, cyberspace, corporate dystopia, dark streets, hackers, loads of neon, evil CEOs, etc., etc. You're familiar with it. Charlie, punk rock bass player by night, gene artist by later night, sleeps during the day. She and her band mates enjoy carousing with fellow musicians, just as much as they enjoy mucking with the system—ecoterrorism, DNA hacking to help their friends avoid corporate watchdogs, and generally sticking their middle-finger up at the man as much as possible. When an opportunity to hit a particularly vile corporate suit comes along, the band are all over it. Trouble is, the suit has his own private security.

Review of A Different Kind of Tension: New and Selected Stories by Jonathan Lethem

Jonathan Lethem has somehow been writing fiction for more than three decades. I say 'somehow' as his recent novels remain relevant, fresh, and off-center of typical mainstream genre fluff. Those decades also include almost one-hundred short stories, some of which have been collected, some which have not. A Different Kind of Tension: New and Selected Stories (2025) brings together almost a third of said output, but rather than a 'best of' or 'greatest hits', Lethem himself seems to have chosen what made the cut—'author's picks' the better descriptor.

A Different Kind of Tension is organized chronologically 1990 - 2024, starting with the earliest published work. Tone-setter more than story, “Walking the Moons” is a very short piece about a man in a virtual reality simulator walking a treadmill on a moon of Jupiter. Human nature ensues until mother nature comes knocking to highlight the absurdity of his attempts at experiencing reality in a sim. Unfortunately prognostic. “Program's Progress” is a Rudy Rucker or Paul Di Filippo-esque (bizarro) tale of an uploaded man (thing? consciousness?) who abuses his position for pleasure drugs and gets demoted back to stationary (immobile) life. He has "adventures" in clever, subversive fashion.

Review of A Trade of Blood by Robert Jackson Bennett

When a writer hits a groove, it's tough not to hope they can stick it for a while. Robert Jackson Bennett put the needle in with The Tainted Cup, first book in the Shadow of the Leviathan series, then settled in, letting the turntable sing with A Drop of Corruption. Just a year later, the third book in the series, A Trade of Blood (2026), is hitting shelves. Still spinning?

A Trade of Blood drops the unlikely detective duo, Dinius Kol and Ana Dolabra, into the middle of Sapirdad, a frontier agricultural land where two families, the Armentas and the Buravs, are engaged in a clan war. The Armentas raise cattle while the Buravs harvest the crops needed to feed the cattle. They feud despite this symbiosis. Din and Dolabra are called to the scene when the eldest daughter of the Armentas is found disemboweled on a hotel room floor, the scion of the Buravs, her ostensible lover, covered in blood in the forest. What they uncover turns the clans on their heads, leaving the land in tatters.

Review of A City Dreaming by Daniel Polansky

That thimbleful of Speculiction's readers are aware this blog has no love for fantasy which elicits a vibe of anything is possible therefore nothing is interesting. The kitchen sink is a mess, not art. Reading back cover copy for Daniel Polansky's A City Dreaming (2016) is not promising in this regard. I paraphrase: An immortal, charmed man visits the surreal side of New York City, a place full of monsters, pirates, shifting cafes, witches, aliens, zombies, Mister T, and much more. But it's Polansky, a writer who is one or two novels away from taking a place on Speculiction's (unenviable, unpublished) Top 10 Underrated writers' list. Let's dive in to the milieu...

Indeed, A City Dreaming is the story of a modern mage in an urban world—at least some of the time. His name is M, and at the outset of the story he leaves Paris for NYC to stay with a friend. In the course of his daily life—going to cafes, walking the sidewalks, and trying to pick up girls and/or narcotics—he finds himself slipping in and out of alternate realities. But the chump lifestyle has its price. Maybe those occasional rewards are worth it?

Cardboard Corner: Review of Sorcery: Contested Realm

I held off for two years. I had the game in the basket on more than one occasion, only to delete it. We already have enough TCGs... I would just be giving in to FOMO... Ignore the algorithm!!! But voices I trust, voices that have steered me away from simple, speculator-friendly TCGs and toward rich, unique card game experiences, slowly mounted to a chorus. I gave in. I loaded the cart, again, but this time clicked Buy on Sorcery: Contested Realm (2022). Mama was right; it's important to choose good friends in life.

On the surface, Sorcery is like the other TCGs out there. You build a resource engine to play cards, permanent and temporary, in order to knock your opponent's life total to zero. And there are further similarities to Magic: one land per round, minions and spells, summoning sickness, twenty-health start, Dungeons & Dragons motif, etc., etc. So much richer and more thematic is Sorcery, however, that it is actually Magic³.

Review of Ship of Magic by Robin Hobb

Robin Hobb's debut trilogy, The Farseer, is one of the most mixed bags I've ever encountered in a fantasy series. It starts good, gets better, then kills the momentum in a streeeeeeetched 700+ page conclusion. Good intentions, but incongruous execution. It didn't put me off Hobb, however. Something else did (more to come). But when the stars aligned, and I finally read Hobb's next offering, it had me asking: has a new arc of quality begun? Lets' look at Ship of Magic (1998).

Ship of Magic takes readers to a new location in Hobb's Realm of the Elderlings setting: the Pirate Isles. First book in a trilogy, it shifts away from kings, queens, wizards, dragons, and pseudo-Medieval villages, and moves toward pirates, treasure, slavery, sea serpents, plunder, trade, and port city ribaldry. It also anthropomorphizes calling ships “she”--making bowspirits of bowsprits. And it's a massive success. But I get ahead of myself.

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.