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mary_soon_lee's review
Once again, F&SF provides a great breadth of well-crafted speculative stories, from dystopic short-short science fiction to a refreshingly original fantasy novella. My favorite this time was the aforementioned dystopic flash fiction, "A List of Forty-Nine Lies," by Steven Fischer, which executed its clever conceit to striking and moving effect. Another favorite was Mary Robinette Kowal's short story, "A Feather in Her Cap," which had a deft, light, likable touch despite its heroine being an assassin; I note that the story had little to no overt fantastical content, but that didn't stop me from enjoying it. I also particularly liked the fantasy novella, "Jewel of the Heart," by Matthew Hughes, as well as Robert Reed's short story, "An Equation of State," which is a nice spin on science fiction tales of alien warfare. Not every piece was to my taste, and indeed I found the last novelet, "The Donner Party," by Dale Bailey, to be unpleasant, but it was still powerful. A fine issue of a very fine magazine.
standback's review
2.0
Alas. I found this a singularly frustrating issue. Rare, for me and F&SF, but I guess it does happen. Most of this issue's tentpoles just really didn't work for me.
And among them, most of all:
Galatea in Utopia, by Nick Wolven.
Rick's new romance turns out to have an ugly side, in a future where people change their sex to and fro across the gender spectrum -- and he falls for the one guy who can't.
There's a compelling core here -- about a yearning for authenticity, about incompatibility within a relationship, and their attendant power plays. But in this story, that's coupled with a deeply weird approach to gender, sex, and sexual relationships.
I raised an eyebrow at the story's transformation being measured in percentages -- "60% XY", "75% XX." OK, interesting, and it's certainly nice to see nonbinary sex taken as a norm. But also. Ummm. Nonbinary sex as, like, a precise weighted average between "male" and "female"? Where a few percentage points this way or that are, apparently, a really big deal?
There are a dozen other attendant issues, some of which I kind of glossed over as I was first reading the story, but the moment I actually start thinking about it, make my brain itch so bad. Everything fromwhy does Allen even care whether Rick's 100% female, or only 80-90%? What does that mean , through to If Rick suffering so damn much from being female all the time, and Allen says it only matters for him during sex, would it absolutely kill you to not have sex for a week? People have endured greater trials .
For me, these issues completely undermine the story's ability to discuss sex or gender. The story's approach to sexual identity is very flashy, but it's so poorly thought-out and so poorly constructed, that actually tackling weighty issues with it is practically insulting.
----
Two other major stories in the issue I found disappointing:
Jewel of the Heart, by Matthew Hughes.
Another story of Baldemar, the shrewd and sober henchman. This one lands Baldemar in a riddle-quest within a dreamland.
While it definitely has its moments, "Jewel of the Heart" mostly feels like a set of arbitrary, meandering challenges. 60 pages is a lot to go through with little guidance more than "I will send you to the place where whatever happens will happen," with the exhortation that Baldemar "trust his instincts" -- a phrase which here means Baldemar getting Strange Feelings throughout, pointing him at some action which is entirely arbitrary, but will advance the plot. I'm very fond of Hughes in general, and of Baldemar in particular, but this piece doesn't make much use of their strengths, in my eyes.
Widdam, by Vandana Singh.
A mosaic of viewpoints in a future Earth suffering the ecological devestation of climate change.
This one I just didn't connect with. It's a ponderous story, focused on constructing its portrayal of the world, and imagining human environmental destruction as a tangible, sentient being. Important issues all, but I felt the story had very little to say beyond how very, very bad it's going to be.
----
The issue's bright points for me were these two, which I really enjoyed:
The Donner Party, by Dale Bailey.
Not a story for the squeamish, but deliciously dark. In this story, those at the apex of high society eat human meat -- "ensouled flesh" -- and thus celebrate “the divinely ordained social order.” The horror of the story is far less in the gore of genteel cannibalism itself (although that’s definitely there too). Far more, it’s in the readiness with which Mrs. Breen, and others trying to touch that apex, are willing to accept, pursue and defend the practice — assuming themselves, of course, to be considered among the cannibals, and not the cannibalized.
A Feather In Her Cap, by Mary Robinette Kowal.
A quick, delightful caper.
Biantera was once a gentlewoman, now reduced a humble milliner -- which she'd mind a whole lot less if not for her mother's constant complaints. We immediately discover Biantera wears more than one hat:
----
The issue's other stories:
Aurelia, by Lisa Mason: A horror story with an insect-themed femme fatale.
Neanderthals, by Gardner Dozios: A very slight story -- a quick action sequence followed by pontificating about genetic engineering, and how "normal" people might treat the results.
A List of Forty-Nine Lies, by Steven Fischer: Clever flash piece, in which the evils of totalitarianism are assiduously disavowed.
An Equation of State, by Robert Reed: An alien army sets up camp near a planet full of minor beings of no consequence. Their diplomat, however, has bigger plans for these small people. Reed does something very different here, and I like it.
The Equationist, by J.D. Moyer: The main character here "sees" people as mathematical equations, representing both their personalities and their futures. Didn't quite lift off the ground for me -- the view of people as equations never rises, in my eyes, above a pretty simple metaphor for "I get who this person is; they're predictable." This felt more like a math-flavored gloss to me, than actually working like math does.
----
Magazines are a grab bag by nature, but this one had too many pieces I didn't get along with, and not enough that clicked.
(Fortunately, speaking as a long time F&SF subscriber, and writing all the way in September, I'm very satisfied this is a one-off occurrence...)
And among them, most of all:
Galatea in Utopia, by Nick Wolven.
Rick's new romance turns out to have an ugly side, in a future where people change their sex to and fro across the gender spectrum -- and he falls for the one guy who can't.
There's a compelling core here -- about a yearning for authenticity, about incompatibility within a relationship, and their attendant power plays. But in this story, that's coupled with a deeply weird approach to gender, sex, and sexual relationships.
I raised an eyebrow at the story's transformation being measured in percentages -- "60% XY", "75% XX." OK, interesting, and it's certainly nice to see nonbinary sex taken as a norm. But also. Ummm. Nonbinary sex as, like, a precise weighted average between "male" and "female"? Where a few percentage points this way or that are, apparently, a really big deal?
I decide it's an eighty percent kind of night. (...) I punch in the settings, climb into my chamber. Ten seconds before start-up, I get that fluttery feeling. Why not go all the way to ninety-five? Ninety-nine? One-hundred percent. I shout the number just before the flash. Hold on, kids. We're in for a change.The other weird thing is what those percentage points are significant for. The answer is very, very clear: the higher your percentage, the more you are drop-dead SEXY.
It's been so long since I took myself to the end of the spectrum. I do a full range of Degas poses, just to take it all in.The constant references to how very, very sexy Rick is, because he is not 95%, nor 99%, but 100% percent female, get old really fast, and have stuck in my craw ever since. It's just a world of nope. I mean, we have a world here which suffers from no shortage of people who are "100% XX", and yet somehow are not ultra-femme Cosmo-bodied sex goddesses. Holy hell. And anybody writing a story about fluid, transitional, or nonbinary sex, should know a hell of a lot better than to crow about how being "100%" is the sexy, sexy ideal.
Hips? Check. Lips? Yes. Tits? You bet.
(...)
Here I am, one hundred percent XX, heels up to here and woman-parts like nobody's business, and the whole point of looking this way is to be the brashest eye-magnet in the house.
There are a dozen other attendant issues, some of which I kind of glossed over as I was first reading the story, but the moment I actually start thinking about it, make my brain itch so bad. Everything from
For me, these issues completely undermine the story's ability to discuss sex or gender. The story's approach to sexual identity is very flashy, but it's so poorly thought-out and so poorly constructed, that actually tackling weighty issues with it is practically insulting.
----
Two other major stories in the issue I found disappointing:
Jewel of the Heart, by Matthew Hughes.
Another story of Baldemar, the shrewd and sober henchman. This one lands Baldemar in a riddle-quest within a dreamland.
While it definitely has its moments, "Jewel of the Heart" mostly feels like a set of arbitrary, meandering challenges. 60 pages is a lot to go through with little guidance more than "I will send you to the place where whatever happens will happen," with the exhortation that Baldemar "trust his instincts" -- a phrase which here means Baldemar getting Strange Feelings throughout, pointing him at some action which is entirely arbitrary, but will advance the plot. I'm very fond of Hughes in general, and of Baldemar in particular, but this piece doesn't make much use of their strengths, in my eyes.
Widdam, by Vandana Singh.
A mosaic of viewpoints in a future Earth suffering the ecological devestation of climate change.
This one I just didn't connect with. It's a ponderous story, focused on constructing its portrayal of the world, and imagining human environmental destruction as a tangible, sentient being. Important issues all, but I felt the story had very little to say beyond how very, very bad it's going to be.
----
The issue's bright points for me were these two, which I really enjoyed:
The Donner Party, by Dale Bailey.
Not a story for the squeamish, but deliciously dark. In this story, those at the apex of high society eat human meat -- "ensouled flesh" -- and thus celebrate “the divinely ordained social order.” The horror of the story is far less in the gore of genteel cannibalism itself (although that’s definitely there too). Far more, it’s in the readiness with which Mrs. Breen, and others trying to touch that apex, are willing to accept, pursue and defend the practice — assuming themselves, of course, to be considered among the cannibals, and not the cannibalized.
A Feather In Her Cap, by Mary Robinette Kowal.
A quick, delightful caper.
Biantera was once a gentlewoman, now reduced a humble milliner -- which she'd mind a whole lot less if not for her mother's constant complaints. We immediately discover Biantera wears more than one hat:
She made damn good money as an assassin, but if her mother was upset about the supposed millinery business, Biantera could only imagine what she'd have to say about the Other job.The constant juxtaposition between hatmaking and murder makes for great roguish fun, and Biantera's methods are clever and refreshing.
----
The issue's other stories:
Aurelia, by Lisa Mason: A horror story with an insect-themed femme fatale.
Neanderthals, by Gardner Dozios: A very slight story -- a quick action sequence followed by pontificating about genetic engineering, and how "normal" people might treat the results.
A List of Forty-Nine Lies, by Steven Fischer: Clever flash piece, in which the evils of totalitarianism are assiduously disavowed.
An Equation of State, by Robert Reed: An alien army sets up camp near a planet full of minor beings of no consequence. Their diplomat, however, has bigger plans for these small people. Reed does something very different here, and I like it.
The Equationist, by J.D. Moyer: The main character here "sees" people as mathematical equations, representing both their personalities and their futures. Didn't quite lift off the ground for me -- the view of people as equations never rises, in my eyes, above a pretty simple metaphor for "I get who this person is; they're predictable." This felt more like a math-flavored gloss to me, than actually working like math does.
----
Magazines are a grab bag by nature, but this one had too many pieces I didn't get along with, and not enough that clicked.
(Fortunately, speaking as a long time F&SF subscriber, and writing all the way in September, I'm very satisfied this is a one-off occurrence...)
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