rolling fantasy, science fiction, speculative fiction &c. thread

started rereading thomas covenant. i was ready for the clenching and the thews and the incarnadines, but i'd forgotten about the rictuses (ricti?)

also i hadn't realized that dude had recently written a third series; i am scared to investigate

http://www.christopher-priest.co.uk/journal/2050/the-seevl-that-men-do/

Will have to check out Priest. Recently read this appealing review (incl. no spoilers, apparently) of the final Thomas Covenant novel, with backdrop of the whole thing---wow: http://online.wsj.com/news/articles/SB10001424052702304069604579158003723107482

more science fact w story potential, so I speculate as go further back in middle school: the original coverage---spider species, independently of one another, constructing spider statues/effigies/decoys {this last term most likely--or is it???)---is in here, via its Wired links, but this goober gateway has good comments too:
http://io9.com/these-spiders-build-statues-of-spiders-out-of-leaves-an-1505937330

--three volumes of fritz leiber stories
--finally finished rereading 'triton'

--thot that said 'tron', was unfazed

The goose that shits the Golden Egg: interview with the author of Windfall, The Booming Business of Global Warming. Bet Bruce Sterling and Kim Stanley Robinson are all over this tome.
http://www.motherjones.com/environment/2014/01/mckenzie-funk-windfall-interview-business-global-warming Good interview on Fresh Air too. He's not on a soapbox about it...

Oops, that Thomas Covenant link won't get you very far. It's a little old now, so maybe this is okay:
The Last Dark
Reviewed By
Tom Shippey

'The Last Dark' is the 10th and final installment of Stephen Donaldson's fantasy series "The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant," which began in 1977 with "Lord Foul's Bane." Summing up 10 books, thousands of pages, millions of words, and more than 30 years of gestation isn't easy, but the most important thing to know is this: So many heroic-fantasy epics read like Tolkien fan fiction. Mr. Donaldson's "Chronicles" are always Donaldson fiction. His work is remarkably distinct in its hero, its themes, its relationship to the real world.

To take the hero first, if the traditional fantasy model is Conan as played by Arnold Schwarzenegger, then Tolkien's hobbits (little and remarkably unwarlike) were one bold switch. Mr. Donaldson presented another. His Thomas Covenant is a leper. He not only can't solve matters by physical confrontation, he also has to be constantly careful. Nerve damage means that cuts, burns and worse may go unnoticed. Self-monitoring becomes a way of life: not an ideal start for heroic action.

Especially if you cannot trust yourself in other ways as well. Covenant carries from the start a burden of guilt quite alien to hobbits, in forms that are readily recognizable in our own real world. In some fantasies characters escape from their griefs into a world that presents more manageable challenges. But as his series has progressed, Covenant has taken more and more of his problems with him into another world, "the Land," which for all its detailed reality may be a psychic delusion. There humans live in intimate contact with many other species, with bodiless spirits and with animate nature itself. But that contact, like Covenant himself, is now diseased.

One problem which follows him is his ex-wife Joan, consumed with anger and desire for revenge, perhaps as a result of the guilt she feels over abandoning her sick husband. There's their son Roger, who has gone over to the other side, to Lord Foul, Arch-Enemy of the Creator, who means to obliterate the Land. There's Linden, once the doctor treating Joan in the mental institution to which she was confined, now Covenant's partner.

Linden, too, is a kind of leper, not physically but mentally numb. Linden—having been locked in a room as a child by her father to watch him commit suicide, and then the mercy-killer of her own mother—has cut herself off emotionally.

The threats this remarkably dysfunctional non-family confront in the Land reflect their respective personal problems. The amputations that are a common theme—well, that's what Linden has done. A sick Land that cannot heal itself, that's Covenant. The avenging female fury She Who Must Not Be Named, a personification of betrayed women throughout history, from Virgil's Dido to yesterday's victim of a one-night seduction—she sounds like Joan's vision of herself.

Mr. Donaldson's characters can't escape, and they know it. And what Mr. Donaldson is telling us is, nor can we. If the underlying bass-note of Tolkien's work was the traumas of the early 20th century, industrial war and the menace of dictatorship, then that of Mr. Donaldson's "Chronicles" is pollution, both environmental and psychic. If we want to save the whales, and the polar bears, and the Earth, then we need to look inside first.

"The Last Dark" begins with the sun not rising and the stars starting to wink out, a sign that Lord Foul is close to his final goal. Covenant, Linden and her adopted son Jeremiah, know they must get to Kiril Threndor, Mount Thunder, to stand a chance of staving off the end.

They have helpers: the Giants, intelligent horses called the Ranyhyn, and doubtful allies like the Lurker in the underground pools, and the Feroce, the Lurker's diminutive worshippers. But there are limitations, too. Calling on wild magic, the most powerful force known to the Land, is risky, prohibited and likely to backfire. A standard quest, then, with many purely tactical considerations.

But the tactics of dealing with external threats are just the outer shell of the story. At the end, the three immigrants from our world all face their own inner demons. Linden encounters She Who Must Not Be Named: determined to destroy all men, but also determined to cherish and protract the grief of all the women trapped by their own rage. How may She and they be released?

Jeremiah, simultaneously, finds himself possessed by a Raver, a disembodied spirit with its own wrongs to avenge, and its own spite against the whole natural world, especially the trees of Garroting Deep, most dangerous and vengeful of the forests of the Land. Both trees and Ravers remember "a terrible crime." How may they, too, be released from revenge?

And finally, Thomas Covenant himself has to face another revenant: his son, Roger, possessed by anger. He has grounds for hate, Covenant recognizes: He did not choose his parents. They made him what he is. Hurts like his are not to be healed by force. Nor by love, in case one thinks of that as an easy answer.

Just the same, a climax comes, with answers for all the questions. It will take a long time for fans or critics to digest and appreciate Donaldson's almost 40-year achievement. But in time "The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant" will be seen as one of the self-defining works of the third millennium, our equivalent in scope and ambition of earlier epics and fantasies, from Virgil's "Aeneid" to Tennyson's "Arthurian Idylls" and Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings," the last now a lifetime (Donaldson's own) in the past.

Speaking of ...characters escape from their griefs into a world that presents more manageable challenges...(W)hich for all its detailed reality may be a psychic delusion, there's a real good story about that, mercilessly realistic enough at first that this reader was ready to escape along with the protagonists, even into the funky future of the same old place, which may not stay manageable long---still, it's some kind of relief from/of from what may be dementia, certainly from the resulting stress on families: that would be "Neighbors," by Meghan Lindholm. It's one of the relatively few fictions relevant to this thread in the multi-genre collection Dangerous Women, edited by George R.R. Martin and Gardner Dozois.

(Martin's own offering is anendless slog through blurry asshole-vs.-asshole bloodshed: a Game of Thrones prequel, with just a very few glimpses of the cable series' appeal. I may never read the books after this thing; I may never finish reading this thing).

But there is one adventure-meets-suspense grabber, despite its title: "Shadows For Silence In The Forests of Hell," by Brandon Sanderson. Silence is a woman, and not a foo-fantasy heroine, who has to go deep into the forest, which may well be Hell to the shades who float around in the dark, barely noticeable most of the time, unless you shed someone's blood (periods etc. are okay) and they haaate fire, whatever the cause. This is a problem when you have to deal with other humans in the way that Silence and some of her countrymen have to deal with each other.

Also: a wicked human/humanoid luv affair I can't describe without spoiling,in "The Hands That Are Not There," by Melinda Snodgrass. "Wrestling Jesus," by Joe R. Lansdale, is funky in kind of an old man Matheson/Eastwood curveball kind of way; semi-ditto "Some Desperado", by Joe Abercrombie, though the truly desperate Western female and her author seem dangerously young at heart, in a Mathesonically focused kind of way.

(Some good historical fiction too, though don't know if Carrie Vaughn's "Raisa Stepanova" is alt-world or not: seems entirely plausible that our Russia could've had female fighter pilots in WWII, at least considering the loss of manpower in both World Wars, and the way Vaughn tells it.)

people still rep for stephen donaldson in 2014??

Asked the same question. His stuff put me off sf for three decades.

Single-handed.

Because, you know, the other hand fell off.

(sorry)

Having avoided Jeff Vandermeer for years (something always gave me the impression of forced whimsical surrealness of the 'I'm so ZANY!' variety), I'm enjoying his new one, Annihilation, about a group of four women exploring a sort of Roadside-Picnic-style zone of weirdness.

His publishing company being called 'Cheeky frawg' didn't help

Yeah, I kinda had the same impression of Avram Davidson--based on what, I dunno; prob haven't read him since middle school---revived by the opening of "The Woman Who Thought She Could Read." But it's a set-up for pathos, somewhat scarey (irony in there too,one of life's cruel joeks). It's no masterpiece, but what other Davidson should I check?

This is included in the previously mentioned Masterpieces of Fantasy and Wonder, where even J.M. Barrie snaps a final punchline shut on my rosey fingers; Osbert Sitwell's "Jack and the Beanstalk" demonstrates boy enterprise (not quite boy gorge); Rudy Rucker's playthings do cunning stunts; Suzette Haden Elgin's good wife struggles to cast off unbidden, most conspicuous sainthood (nasty deeds don't compensate as much as you might think); Isaac Bashevis Singer's "The Parrot" maybe keeds Flaubert; Margaret St. Clair's "The Man Who Sold Rope To The Gnoles" borrows honorably from Lord Dunsany, but isn't up to the standards set by other St. Clair/Seabright I've read. Also the impetus for xposts re Lucy Clifford's "Wooden Tony" and that L. Frank Baum--R.A. Lafferty--Tiptree subset, with ETA Hoffman, Graham Greene, John Brunner, William Morris etc., to come. Some of this is kind of weak, though: I'll figure the percentages after reading the whole thing. (DG Hartwell ed., with some assistance from K Cramer; for them, it's remarkably consistent.)

I've heard good things about, and so bought, The Adventures Of Doctor Eszterhazy by Avram Davidson -- it sounds as though it's meant to be a Hungarian novel, which is my kind of thing anyway. Not yet read, though.

TOR did an avram Davidson treasury a few years back, he's a short story/novella man so that ought to be a good rx

I'll check those out, thanks. One more (well two, counting the short sharp weregirl grind of George MacDonald's "The Grey Wolf") from that Hartwell/Cramer: I thought George RR Martin's xpost Dangerous Womencontribution had put me off dragons forever, before got to this collection's Patricia A. McKillip story, "The Harrowing of the Dragon of Hoarsbreath": every sentence, or damn near, slips in another image that further facets and fuels thee momentum's rippling tale, aarrrghhh (no pirates, just enthusiasm). Helps that there's no chop-chop, plenty flames and unexpected tactics, though. Ending's kinda Le Guin, Melville too. Better than the actual Le Guin included here, "The Darkness Box", although that's okay.

Been meaning to try mckillip forever...

Me too. This is appealing: http://www.sf-encyclopedia.com/entry/mckillip_patricia_a A little more in their Encyclopedia of Fantasy section.

Don't know why the hell they don't have a link to Encyclopedia of Fantasy on sf-encyclopedia's rail; it's this seeecret place:
http://sf-encyclopedia.co.uk/fe.php?nm=mckillip_patricia_a

i've only read riddlemaster but it's pretty grebt iirc

No love for Keith Roberts? His 'Pavane' is unbelievable.

He apparently damaged his own standing in the community of SF & fantasy writers by being a dick to people, but that book is so great. It's set in an alternative modern-day England over which the Spanish Armada and catholicism triumphed in the 16C, giving rise to technological stasis and decay, civil unrest, belief in the (folk-based) supernatural, and so on... Can't recommend it highly enough.

the first riddle-master book is good, the other two seemed pointless recapitulations, i'd forgotten ever reading them

i thought 'pavane' and 'bring the jubilee' were the same book for ages and only after i'd read the latter did i differentiate them. i also realised the other day that i've been confusing 'point break' and 'zabriskie point'

i'm reading a gollancz leigh brackett collection entitled 'sea-kings of mars and otherworldly stories', the title of which i keep wanting to repeat the word 'other'

Always meant to read her, but hardly ever had the opportunity; please keep us apprised. Will keep an eye out for Pavane. Just finished "Lila The Werewolf," pungent enough that I may not read any more stories for a while (nah). Could be wrong end of the telescope, or just one more fantasy etc. writer dropping the ball, but the degree of distancing, with glimpses of her torment and danger (eventually converging) is perfect: Lila's another restless young late-60s chick with a hang-up, man, happening to Farrell the habitual boyfriend, collector, muso. (Never see him playing, but he's always got a little money; she goes to work, no matter what). Suppose it helps that I recognize these people, as people go (so far not as far as the were thing, but far).
It's in the Hartwell; can also read it here:
http://www.bestlibrary.net/fantasticfiction/Lila_The_Werewolf/

Got a copy of Pavane a while back, but only ever read the first story, The Lady Margaret, which I enjoyed, It has lots of big-time supporters, including Anthony Burgess, who included it in Ninety-Nine Novels: The Best in English since 1939 — A Personal Choice, Kingsley Amis, who I believe gives its a nod in his own alternate history book, The Alteration, and at least one old-school ilxor, the much-missed Martin Skidmore, who recommended some other Keith Roberts books as well.

I used to be semi-obsessed with Burgess' list and wanted to collect every book in 99 Novels, including all the multi-volume series like the C.P. Snow and Anthony Powell entries. Pavane was out of print in the US at the time and that always made me so bug-eyed mad. I haven't looked in the last decade or so to see if everything could be easily acquired.

You can buy used copy of Pavane pretty easily, or even an ebook now.

Among Keith Roberts fans/defenders/boosters are two others who were associated with New Worlds and then fell out, Christopher Priest and M. John Harrison. Here is the former on Roberts: http://www.christopher-priest.co.uk/essays-reviews/contemporaries-portrayed/keith-roberts/

My friend works in a bookshop and has been consorting with Christopher Priest of late. They have been chinwagging about Mr Roberts a lot.

Cool. Hope his latest, pretty awesome book is selling well.

Here for future reference is a writeup on the first story in Keith Robert's The Grain Kings, "Weihnachtsabend," which I have yet to read: https://ttdlabyrinth.wordpress.com/2013/12/21/reprint-weihnachtsabend/#more-716

Looks like sf Gateway is coming out with an omnibus featuring that one, The Chalk Giants and another Martin Skidmore favorite, Kiteworld.

brackett is very much That Kind Of Thing, it turns out

The screenwriter?

Does that book have any of her Mars stuff? Last I checked only thing readily available here was post-apocalyptic agrarian The Long Tomorrow

Oh I see it has Mars in title suppose it must

it seems indiscriminately martian and venusian

is there, like, sustained world-building to encounter here? because the two mars stories were both about A Glorious, Now Gone Martian Past but were afaict dealing with entirely separate glorious now-gone martian pasts ...

Don't think world-building per-se. Believe her take was influential on Ray Bradbury and The Martian Chronicles , where there are all kind of variations of the theme of The Old Weird Mars that are consistent vibe-wise but not straining to be so in some other more literal way.

Anyway, does that book have the often anthologized The Last Days of Shandakor?

Anyway, apparently a lot of that, both her Venus and Mars stuff as well as Bradbury's, appeared in a magazine called Planet Stories. Do a google image search and you will see some classic What Mad Universe style covers

Yep, and some appealing comments on and by her here:
http://io9.com/they-mocked-her-science-fantasy-then-she-wrote-empir-489586578 Of course, a lot of people talk a good game. But I'll find something by her, see how it goes.

Thanks for the link. That Planet Stories anthology looks pretty good. Cheap too.

Don't know if you she ever wrote anything as good as her friend C.L. Moore's "Vintage Season" but if she ever even came close that is good enough.

Also, that exchange with George Lucas is all-time.

It does have 'The Last Days of Shandakor', yes. There's four hundred pages between me and it, though; I may not make it.

Little bit more about Keith Roberts here: http://news.ansible.co.uk/a160.html, from right after she passed away.

Thanks! Great tales. Hope that site & the rest of those writers are still alive (of course they're still with us, eternal Cloudwise). Thoggery or not, I think • 'She pouted, her lower lip projecting like the bottom drawer in a chest of drawers which has jammed open on account of too many clothes being stuffed inside.' (Mary Scott, Murder On Wheels, 2000) is good zing to sexy pouts (which I'm a fule for).
Meanwhile, in the Hartwell/Cramer fantasy-wonderbook, close encounters of the re-read L. Frank Baum/RA Lafferty/James Tiptree Jr. kind now hook up with Estimated Time of Arrival Hoffman for eco-hijinks. It is surely the way of Nature, with seeming refinements as set-ups.

Another big shoutout to Pavane from me, too. His short story collection, the Grainkings, has 1 or 2 stories set in the same world, too.

Gollancz SF masterworks put out a huge collection of brackett's pulp shorts a few years ago, and just rerelease The Long Tomorrow.

"Be disloyal. It's your duty to the human race. The human race needs to survive and it's the loyal man who dies first from anxiety or a bullet or a bullet or overwork. If you have to earn a living, boy, and the price they make you pay is loyalty, be a double agent, and never let either of the two sides know your name. The same applies to women and God. They both respect a man they don't own, and they'll go on raising the price they are willing to offer. Didn't Christ say that very thing?...The obedient flock didn't give the shepherd any satisfaction or the loyal son interest his father.
People are afraid of bringing May blossom into the house. They say it's unlucky. The real reason is it smells of sex and they are afraid of sex. Why aren't they afraid of fish then, you may rightly ask? Because when they smell fish they smell a holiday ahead and they feel safe from breeding for a short while."
...I think Javitt was glad to have me there. Surely he could not have been talking quite so amply over the years to Maria who could only quack in response, and several times he made me read to him from one of the newspapers. The nearest to our time I ver found was a local account of the celebration for the relief of Mafeking. ("Riots," Javitt said, "purge like a dose of salts.")
..."Listen, " and I heard a kind of rumbling that passed overhead and after that a rattling as little cakes of mud fell down around us. "That's a motor-car," he said, as an explorer might have said, "That's an elephant."
I asked him whether perhaps there was another way out...he made his answer, even to that direct question, ambiguous and general like a proverb. "A wise man has only one door to his house."
What a boring old man he would have been to an adult mind, but...I thought I was learning about the world and the universe...still to this day I wonder how it was that a child could have invented these details, or have they accumulated year by year, like coral, in the sea of the unconscious around the original dreams?
from "Under the Garden" by Graham Greene, Masterpieces of Fantasy and Wonder, "compiled David G. Hartwell, with the assistance of Kathryn Cramer"

The framing story is the real killer, though.