"Bodies are awkward heavy things."
SHOGGOTHS IN BLOOM
By matociquala
Mephistopheles recurs in Elizabeth Bear's most recent collection of short fiction. Faustian bargains figure prominently, whether in the case of past-their-prime rock stars, war vets, disfigured orphans, or geneticists. The thread runs through the diversity of locales, circles ring fingers, runs along shorelines, pools among the refuse in dark alleyways and always at the center is a damaged individual, because for this author, and this reader, damaged individuals are not only the most interesting but in speculative fiction where the science fictional or fantastical drapery hugs humanity's figure, the most real.
Short stories are lessons in craft, the four-paged "Annie Webber" all the way to "In the House of Aryaman, a Lonely Signal Burns," which clocks in at 47 pages. They are more or less self-contained worlds but also laboratories for experimentation. And one sees here so many of the different ways the mythic is made personal and vice versa. The strongest stories here are those that manage a special cohesion, where everything is firing on all pistons so much so that the story seems effortless, that it came sui generis. "Sounding" is an example of this and one that put a smile on the face of this particular New Englander. "The Girl Who Sang Rose Madder" also manages the feat. That isn't to say that the best stories here are the ones that brush the lightest against the fantastical. The title novelette broke my heart, managing to be a commentary on war, weaponry, and bondage all at once, with a protagonist at the center that embodied the dialogue between all three. "The Horrid Glory of Its Wings" and the way the story examines loneliness and hideousness, feeling and being unwanted, and whether one can find solace in being alone with others, in that story all of Bear's themes ring with magnificent tragedy. "Tideline" manages mournfulness with no small amount of humor. "The Something-Dreaming Game" rushes headlong into dangerous thoughts, into taboo, and runs straight up against heartbreak. Some of the toughest stories here involve children. But my all-time favorite story in this collection is "Sonny Liston Takes the Fall", for some reasons particular to me as a boxing fan(atic), but also because it's a damn good story. "Annie Webber" was just straight-up fun to read.
Murder mystery is a familiar template here and I counted 4 stories that utilize that blueprint. In some the Greater Moment (that point at which the story reaches or reaches towards that grand existential statement) is more successfully pulled off than in others: the twist in "Confessor" did it for me while the Moment "In the House of Aryaman, a Lonely Signal Burns" seemed to strike with almost too much suddenness. Though, mechanically, "Cryptic Coloration" steams along, the sharp left turn in tone--from playful and curious to distraught and scarred--felt more like jack-knifing than hugging the curve along mountain road.
Each of these stories works, though (and maybe this is the commute working on me) I did leave with the feeling that the best cuts had been front-loaded on the album.
Still, this is a wondrous assemblage of fictions. And more than a few times, I finished a story wondering "how the hell did she do that".
It is indisputable that Elizabeth Bear, in the parlance of today's young'ins, has the range.
By matociquala
Mephistopheles recurs in Elizabeth Bear's most recent collection of short fiction. Faustian bargains figure prominently, whether in the case of past-their-prime rock stars, war vets, disfigured orphans, or geneticists. The thread runs through the diversity of locales, circles ring fingers, runs along shorelines, pools among the refuse in dark alleyways and always at the center is a damaged individual, because for this author, and this reader, damaged individuals are not only the most interesting but in speculative fiction where the science fictional or fantastical drapery hugs humanity's figure, the most real.
Short stories are lessons in craft, the four-paged "Annie Webber" all the way to "In the House of Aryaman, a Lonely Signal Burns," which clocks in at 47 pages. They are more or less self-contained worlds but also laboratories for experimentation. And one sees here so many of the different ways the mythic is made personal and vice versa. The strongest stories here are those that manage a special cohesion, where everything is firing on all pistons so much so that the story seems effortless, that it came sui generis. "Sounding" is an example of this and one that put a smile on the face of this particular New Englander. "The Girl Who Sang Rose Madder" also manages the feat. That isn't to say that the best stories here are the ones that brush the lightest against the fantastical. The title novelette broke my heart, managing to be a commentary on war, weaponry, and bondage all at once, with a protagonist at the center that embodied the dialogue between all three. "The Horrid Glory of Its Wings" and the way the story examines loneliness and hideousness, feeling and being unwanted, and whether one can find solace in being alone with others, in that story all of Bear's themes ring with magnificent tragedy. "Tideline" manages mournfulness with no small amount of humor. "The Something-Dreaming Game" rushes headlong into dangerous thoughts, into taboo, and runs straight up against heartbreak. Some of the toughest stories here involve children. But my all-time favorite story in this collection is "Sonny Liston Takes the Fall", for some reasons particular to me as a boxing fan(atic), but also because it's a damn good story. "Annie Webber" was just straight-up fun to read.
Murder mystery is a familiar template here and I counted 4 stories that utilize that blueprint. In some the Greater Moment (that point at which the story reaches or reaches towards that grand existential statement) is more successfully pulled off than in others: the twist in "Confessor" did it for me while the Moment "In the House of Aryaman, a Lonely Signal Burns" seemed to strike with almost too much suddenness. Though, mechanically, "Cryptic Coloration" steams along, the sharp left turn in tone--from playful and curious to distraught and scarred--felt more like jack-knifing than hugging the curve along mountain road.
Each of these stories works, though (and maybe this is the commute working on me) I did leave with the feeling that the best cuts had been front-loaded on the album.
Still, this is a wondrous assemblage of fictions. And more than a few times, I finished a story wondering "how the hell did she do that".
It is indisputable that Elizabeth Bear, in the parlance of today's young'ins, has the range.