It was a pleasant way to start the day, I must say. Opened my email to find correspondence from Sean Moreland at Postscripts to Darkness 5, in which he stated "We unanimously love At Union."
So, the story is sold to the anthology. Not sure as yet about the publication date.
Very gratified about the sale because it seems the editorial team there are all about discovering the literary in genre fiction. Sounds like a divine match to me.
Sergio Vila-Sanjuan's A Barcelona Heiress has all the ingredients for a great novel, following in the tradition of early 20th century writers such as F. Scott Fitzgerald and John Steinbeck. There is the hotbed of political unrest during the Crown-supported dictatorship of General Miguel Primo de Rivera, anarchists bombing Barcelona, a growing discontent of the country's poor and working classes.
Into this the author introduces a protagonist based upon his own family's history, an indigent aristocratic lawyer who moonlights as a reporter, and through the lens of that individual a series of seemingly disconnected characters and events.
All these elements could have been riveting, for certainly there is enough intrigue and danger in Spain's 20th century history to inspire even the most mundane minds. The execution, however, of that narrative tended to drag, partly because of long passages of exposition and political rhetoric, and partly because the author is so familiar with the history of which he's writing that he forgets to inform the reader. Historical characters walk on and off the page like old familiars, without giving the reader any reference or landmarks, which would be fine for a Spanish audience, but alas not for an English-speaking one, even one as familiar with Spain's history as this reviewer.
Transitions between scenes often runs to abruptness, leaving the reader adrift, although certainly the use of metaphor and language is accomplished. Overall, the novel needed the guidance of a good developmental editor, at least in this reviewer's opinion.
Worth reading? Indeed yes. Why? Because of the historical background if nothing else. Memorable? Not so much.
Harrison Demchick's The Listeners is a novel which, in this reviewer's opinion, could have been great, breaking all borders of genre. Alas, it falls short, due I believe to lack of good developmental editing. Certainly Demchick demonstrates he is a literary adept, with several passages that are breath-taking in their impact, and his concept is a new perspective on the much-overdone zombie apocalypse trope, enough so it kept this somewhat jaded reviewer reading. That says a great deal.
The story revolves, for the most part, around a young boy, Daniel Raymond, who finds himself adrift in a locked-down American city borough. There is the impression, through the boy's actions, he might be autistic, but that is never realized, so the reader is left to assume the boy is instead suffering from extreme shock. Simply put, the plot sees Daniel adopted by a quasi-religious male cult in which all followers, but for the leader, are relieved of their right ears so they might better hear the truth, or lies, we're not sure which because the lines become very blurred after awhile.
While the plague that destroys the city revolves around a zombie-creating virus, the real story is one of brutal survival and the bestiality of humankind, and ultimately becomes a vignette of gun-culture, jingoistic America. All very gritty and powerful stuff.
The actualisation, however, of the story is a confused and conflicting timeline that jumps so rapidly between past and present, without any linear landmarks in either period, that the story falters, stutters and several times comes very close to termination. Demichick's attempt to echo the protagonist's confusion and isolation through this timeline device is laudable, and with even a little guidance from Bancroft Press' editors would have been brilliant.
And while I'm greatly attracted to ambiguous endings because they often reflect life, Demchick's ending defies understanding and seems to completely contradict his protagonist's motivation. It's almost as though having gone on for too long (the story does tend to drag on after awhile), Demchick threw up his metaphorical hands and said, the hell with it, plucked an ending out of the air and tacked it on to his manuscript.
Having said all that, Demchick demonstrates clear promise as a writer, and I hope, with better editorial guidance, he will realize his full potential.
Ronlyn Domingue's latest novel, The Mapmaker's War: A Legend is an ambitious literary novel that more easily slides into the canon of magic realism than it does commercial fantasy. Generally an epic tale of a woman who defies convention and national obligation, the story explores issues of equality not only of the sexes, but of cultures, of governments founded on imperialism at the expense of all integrity, versus the cost of pacifism.
Brilliantly told from second person, present tense, Domingue's handling of this difficult voice is immediate, brilliant and compelling. At no point is dialogue written, rather it's told, and again demonstrates the author's skill in being able to take what could have been an extremely narrator-intrusive, action-stopping technique, and instead has rendered a story of imperatives.
The story itself is, as all timeless stories, driven by relationships and the characters behind those relationships, and in this case both are three dimensional and believable.
In tone I was very much minded of some of Ursula K. LeGuin and Candas Jane Dorsey's works, in particular Always Coming Home and Black Wine respectively.
Both an emotional and contemplative read, I highly recommend The Mapmaker's War to any lover of novels with depth and insight.
How to assess J.M. Sidorova's debut novel, The Age of Ice? Not an easy task.
The premise of the tale is an epic journey of a Russian nobleman over 200 years of his unnaturally extended life, from 18th century Czarist Russia, through countless wars, political upheaval both national and international. Throughout that journey we are witness to protagonist, Prince Alexander M. Velitzyn's, struggle with his strange physiology: he generates cold. Any extreme emotion will cause discomfort, even harm, to anyone he touches, a sort of cold version of Midas' Touch.
In essence the story explores an age-old concept: what does it mean to be human? And with that premise of course comes exploration of love in all its permutations and perversions.
The narrative voice is first person, past tense, but told in an impersonal, distant tone. While that choice of voice very much reflects Velitzyn's struggle with his inability to embrace or express any intimacy because of the cold he will generate, it also, at times, tends to alienate the reader so that development of pathos for Velitzyn and his plight becomes strained. I'm not sure how else Sidorova might have related this story as effectively. Perhaps that's in fact one of the strengths of the story, rather than a weakness, that the author has so skilfully embodied Velitzyn's ability (or disability, depending on perspective)that the entire narrative is cold, just as the protagonist is cold both physically and socially.
There is little by way of actual dialogue in the story. Instead, Sidorova has chosen to relate dialogue rather than write dialogue, which again reinforces the theme of emotional and physical cold.
Along with Velitzyn's strange ability to generate epic proportions of cold, is his longevity. While his physical appearance arrests at about the age of 50, he goes on to witness over two centuries, chasing love, chasing an answer to his physical aberrations, exploring business enterprises, artistic development of his cold ability by way of ice sculpture, and in the end abandons all enterprise simply to increase his amassed wealth by brokering deals.
Even then, thwarted still by love and the lack of any answers to what, exactly, he is, he disappears into the Arctic sunset, as it were, with the hope of regenerating the ice cap in order to arrest global warming. It's this final act which, in my opinion, is the undoing of what could have been a great literary novel. It seems almost a throw-away ending to a novel that ended up too long, too repetitive, almost as though Sidorova was searching for an ending and in the end gave up.
Still, some fascinating study of the effects of cold on humans in Siberia in the 19th century, some moments of beautiful writing, and some incisive insight into human nature. I would definitely watch for more from Sidorova.
As many know, I don't readily give out 5-star reviews. In this case I'm compelled to do so. Why, when this isn't a literary series of books, but rather genre fiction? Because Suzanne Collins clearly demonstrates mastery of her craft, and by virtue of that talent she deserves high accolades.
If I had to use one word to summarize The Hunger Games trilogy it would be riveting. It isn't often a writer creates plot and characters so real, so compelling, I am haunted by them throughout both waking and dreaming hours.
Although the premise is simple: evil overlord/government reigns through tyranny, oppression and manipulation, it's this latter, Collins weaves so deftly through her story and thereby creates screaming tension and sense of outrage.
The language throughout is simple, conversational, written in first person present tense, not an easy feat, but certainly one done so deftly as a reader this literary device slides by almost unnoticed. And yet it is the use of first person, present tense which enhances the immediacy of the story. Like the children who are forced to participate in the killing-field of the Hunger Games, the reader is held suspended in the now, aware of the horror of the past, and the promise of only more horror to come. And although Collins periodically weaves in a moment of hope, they are so fleeting as to be like sunlight through storm clouds, and because of that poignant.
Simple moments become moments of import, both terrible and glorious. She has a way of setting up her reader, and then not only pulling out the rug, but the floor, collapsing the walls, leaving you wounded in rubble.
If you haven't already found yourself caught up in the hype around The Hunger Games I can assure you the trilogy is well worth the time and emotion you will expend.
I have every confidence this series will be studied in classrooms alongside other SF greats like The Lord of the Flies, 1984, and Brave New World.
I was advised very early when I first established my own blog to keep it focused, to keep it out of controversial subjects. Always thought that was a bit ridiculous, being the passionate, idealistic sort of person I am. I've always thought people had an intrinsic right to express opinions in an intelligent, non-violent fashion. This is, after all, how we learn about one another, reach broader perspectives, perhaps even greater understanding.
This morning this foundation of freedom of information and speech, however, has been somewhat shaken by two seemingly disparate and yet similar occurrences from two allegedly polar political extremes. One comes from a British broadcaster in Tiananmen Square, who has been detained by Chinese officials without apparent reason, seemingly because he mentioned the infamous student uprising of 1989. (A year that will forever be etched upon my memory.)
Concurrent with that is a report is one here in Canada about yet another attempt by our Conservative government to muzzle any perceived disagreement with Prime Minister Harper's policies. This time it's not our scientists who are targeted, but rather Library and Archives employees. Now, it would appear, not only are our scientists being muzzled, but the archivists and employees who safeguard the bulk of Canada's history and intellectual properties.
It would seem the Harper government is steadily working toward shutting down the dissemination of information to Canadians, especially information the government deems we should not receive. Much of this, I'm sure, is done under some misguided sense of national security. But in truth, it has more to do with control of the people, because restriction of information is one of the first strategies toward control implemented by any totalitarian regime. Doesn't matter what label you put on that regime: Communist, Fascist: go far enough in any direction and it all ends up in the same place.
Here, however, in this country called Canada, where we've championed human rights, won Nobel prizes and international recognition for our peace-keeping efforts, we're rapidly moving toward a government that serves not the people, but rather a self-serving political agenda and party that is all about consolidation of power and repression of any dissent.
How, then, does that make our current government any less insidious, dangerous, mis-representative of the people than China's government?
And why should this writer and this publisher care so very vehemently about the direction our Canadian government is heading?
Because I am a writer. Because my existence is based upon the gathering of knowledge, the dissemination of that knowledge, and the free exchange of ideas. Because I am a publisher, and the ability to provide knowledge to people is just part of the paradigm of my publishing house, and my own life.
So, in Canada, if elections can be skewed through the manipulation of information through robocalls, if scientists are no longer allowed to publish or discuss their findings without first receiving government sanction, and if the gatekeepers of our collective knowledge are no longer the non-political archivists and librarians of the nation but rather one political party serving its own interests -- then how is Canada any different from any despotic nation on the planet?
Sure, we're not incarcerating protesters. Yet. Sure, we're not shooting down protesters. Yet.
But as both a writer and a publisher I become increasingly concerned that Big Brother Canada is watching, listening, and at any time the wealth of small, independent publishers and authors across this nation will fall under the same cloak of silence, because we won't have the international political or economic clout to take on the juggernaut of Harper's regime. What if silencing scientists and librarians isn't enough? What if the Harper government chooses to silence other outlets of information? Our magazines, our newspapers, our publishers, our writers? What, if like China, our government chooses to monitor the Internet and social media, and individuals start receiving polite but pointed gag-orders from the Prime Minister's office?
Nonsense, many will say. Lorina, you're chasing shadows.
Really? How is it, then, other totalitarian governments have come to exist? Because the people did nothing. Because people shrugged their massive shoulders and said it can never happen here. We're civilized. Nothing extreme going on here.
But it is. Right now. Right under our noses. Tampering with elections. Silencing of scientists. Silencing of librarians. Will you be next? Will I?
