In Praise of Anthologies

Over the past few months, I’ve read a number of short story anthologies. I seem to go through phases with respect to reading anthologies. Last year, I read only two multi-author short story collections and two single-author collections.

Black Swan, White Raven, (eds.) Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling
Crossroads, (ed.) Mercedes Lackey

Consider Her Ways and Others, John Wyndham
Dressing for the Carnival, Carol Shields

So far this year, I’ve read nine multi-author short story collections (two of which – the James Tiptree Award anthologies – I have written about already) and six single-author collections (most of which I’ve discussed earlier in this journal).

Sex, the Future and Chocolate Chip Cookies: the James Tiptree Award Anthology Vol I, (eds.) Fowler, Murphy, Nothin, Smith
The James Tiptree Award Anthology Vol II, (eds.) Fowler, Murphy, Nothin, Smith
Women of War, (eds.) Tanya Huff and Alexander Potter
Aegri Somnia, (eds.) Jason Sizemore and Gill Ainsworth
The Doom of Camelot, (ed.) James Lowder)
Glorifying Terrorism, (ed.) Farah Mendlesohn
So Long Been Dreaming: Post Colonial Science Fiction and Fantasy, (eds.) Nalo Hopkinson, Uppinder Mehan
Tales from the Black Dog: A Wyrdsmiths Chapbook, (ed.) William G. Henry
The New Wyrd: A Wyrdsmiths Anthology, (ed.) William G. Henry

Stealing Magic, Tanya Huff
Her Smoke Rose Up Forever, James Tiptree Jr.
Meet Me at Infinity, James Tiptree Jr
Boy in the Middle, Patrick Califia
Ordinary People, Eleanor Arnason
Bloodchild, Octavia Butler

I’m not going to discuss any particular anthologies at length here, because many of these I’ve already written about elsewhere, and the remainder I will write up sooner or later. I just wanted to talk about the short story anthology in general and my relationship to it.

I tend, overall, to prefer novels to short stories. I think part of it may be that I read very quickly – short stories, no matter how wonderful, are, well, short. I mostly read fiction to be deeply engaged, swept away, taken under the waters of creative vision and held there until I can’t endure the richness of the thoughts and images in my blood and have to come up and breathe the thinner air of reality. Novels do that better than short stories.

But short stories are often the faerie lights along the road that lure you toward the heady realms that are deeper in, further up. They intrigue, seduce, lure the reader toward the vast realms that await, often at the same time that they shine, perfect creations in their own right, short but intense experiences that leave haunting afterimages in the mind.

Anthologies serve a number of excellent purposes. They can introduce the reader to a new author – and many of the anthologies I’ve read this year have done just that. Best-of collections, anthologies set in a shared world, collections assembled – as in the two Wyrdsmiths collections on my list – by a group of writers creating a showcase for their work, are all great ways for me of finding new and interesting voices. I confess that I’m more likely to buy one of these if there’s at least one story by someone I know and enjoy – but the one known quality, so to speak, is usually enough for me to jump in and see what other, hitherto undiscovered treasures may be found.

Single author collections, especially from a favourite writer, can be a delightful change of pace, a smorgasbord of varied tastes and tones from someone you already know and appreciate. I’ve read a fair number of these this year, all from writers on my (admittedly large) list of favourite authors.

The kind of anthology I tend to like the most, however, is the one built around a theme, and there are a few of those in this year’s reading so far. It is fascinating to see how different authors approach a basic concept, to be required by the multiplicity of images and voices and paths and conclusions presented to examine that concept in greater detail, and broader scope. Which is one of the reasons that I think that Glorifying Terrorism – an anthology created in response to a recently enacted British anti-terrorism law that makes it a crime to “glorify terrorism,” whatever that means – may be one of the most important anthologies of the year. But more on that in a post devoted to that particular book.

Sometimes, in the midst of reading those all-encompassing novels I enjoy so much, I forget that less can be more, at the right place and time. It’s been a pleasure remembering that this year.

In Praise of Wyrdsmiths

The Wyrdsmiths are, according to their blog profile, “a group of pro and semi-pro writers in Minneapolis & St. Paul, MN, with over 20 novels and 100 short stories published, collectively. The Wyrdsmiths blog on writing, publishing, and genre, particularly Science Fiction and Fantasy.”

I found the group’s website because two of my favourite authors (out of, admittedly, a longish list of favourite authors), Eleanor Arnason and Lyda Morehouse, are members of Wyrdsmiths. And once I knew the this writers' collective had published both a chapbook and a full anthology of short stories by its members, and that each of these collections contained stories by both Arnason and Morehouse, well, I simply had to get them.

Tales from the Black Dog: A Wyrdsmiths Chapbook (ed.) William G. Henry
New Wyrd: A Wyrdsmiths Anthology (ed.) William G. Henry
(There's a link on the website to order New Wyrd; email wyrdsmiths@gmail.com to order Tales from the Black Dog)

Both collections were a real delight for me. It was one of those exciting moments when you buy an anthology because you know there are one or two stories in it from authors whose work you expect to enjoy, and find out that every single piece speaks to you on some level.

The two books arrived at the same time, and I read them both one after the other, so instead of discussing the stories in the two collections separately, I’m combining both in one – because I assure you, you will want to read them both. Works from Tales from the Black Dog are indicated with TFBD, and those from New Wyrd with NW. Both contain a mixture of stand-alone short stories (even though these may be part of a series, or set in a universe shared with other works by that author) and excerpts from larger works in progress or seeking publication.


The Short Stories

“The Ballad of the Pterodactyl Rose” (TFBD), by H. Courrages LeBlanc
This is a light, lyrically written, and very funny space pirate story. Just perfect for every girl or boy who ever wanted to be a pirate, and since that describes me to the core, I loved it.

“How Many Horses” (NW), by H. Courrages LeBlanc
A more serious and thoughtful piece, this story, like most fairy tales, this examines some universal truths – in this case, truths about power, corruption, and the human heart – in the guise of a simple story of magic. LeBlanc has a real gift for the language and rhythms of ritual story-telling, which is displayed very effectively and very differently in the two stories in these collections.

“Tutivillus” (TFBD), by Lyda Morehouse
One of the things that I love about Morehouse’s work is that she tackles issues ingrained in our culture by centuries of religious tradition, head-on. Often science fiction writers tend to shy away from issues arising from the real history of human spirituality and religion, while fantasy writers tend to approach these issues from the side, creating new religions that may showcase similar ideas, but lack the punch of the names and symbols we all grew up with. This stories takes all the traditional imagery of demons, sin and salvation, and gives us an evocative, moving characterisation of redemption in a way that completely inhabits and at the same time transcends traditional Christian/Catholic themes. I cried at the end. Literally.

“Jawbone of An Ass” (NW), by Lyda Morehouse
Morehouse describes this story as “a modern retelling of the story of Samson’s first wife, who slowly comes to realise the horror of knowing that she, through no fault of her own, is on the wrong side of the wrath of angels.” The history of religion is full of praise for heroes doing God’s will – but aren’t those who oppose them doing God’s will as well? Who weeps for them? This story also seems to be at a deeper level, about what religious conflicts look like from the inside, to those who believe that they really are doing the will of a god, and who believe in the necessity of martyrs, the manipulation of people into their divinely appointed roles, the impossibility of negotiation or compromise, that leads to the unending escalation on all sides.

“Shatter” (TFBD), by Kelly McCullough
This is a very strong story of grieving, guilt and personal responsibility. At the same time, it is a wonderful and original take on the standard urban fantasy where unearthly creatures lurk in alleyways and shopping malls: if the Fae are the creatures of hills and forests, why would you expect find them in cities – and once you realise that you wouldn’t, then what kind of power would you find instead? McCullogh notes that this is a story set in a universe he is returning to, and I can hardly wait to see the development of this new urban mythology.

“The Basilisk Hunter” (NW), by Kelly McCullough
This is the truly funny sequel to McCullough’s “When Jabberwocks Attack” (available online as part of the Wyrdsmiths contributions to International Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day) about an unfortunate young classics student who falls under the spell of wizard turned entertainment impresario Merlin (yes, that Merlin. In his The Sword and the Stone incarnation, more or less).

“Spirit Stone” (TFBD), by Naomi Kritzer
This story, set among a semi-nomadic desert folk in a post-Mage Wars setting, where unknown and possibly dangerous objects from times long past lie in wait for the unwary, is a powerful parable about the nature and uses of power. At the same time, it raises questions about the assumptions that we may have about how best to provide freedom to those we believe to be in need of our help. Enjoyable as a simple fantasy, but with thought-provoking depths.

“Masks” (NW), by Naomi Kritzer
Set in the world of her earlier novels, Fires of the Faithful and Turning the Storm (which I have not yet read but now feel I must rapidly acquire and consume), this is a story about a young man who discovers the depths of betrayal that can be reached when it is necessary for otherwise decent people conceal and even deny what and who they really are in order to fit in to their society and perform their calling in life.

“Maelstrom” (TFBD), by Sean M. Murphy
The first in a proposed series of works to be set in the same universe under the name The Mendarin Evolution, this is a stand-alone “origins” story that definitely leaves one wanting to know where it goes from here. Looking at a not uncommon science fiction premise – some kind of alien influence or symbiosis that heightened humans’ mental abilities to the point where there is a kind of networking, linking or even uniting of all affected minds, the story explores some of the not-always-considered implications and consequences of the situation. Murphy’s notes about the story indicate that he will be continuing to investigate what this kind of change means in terms of the development, even the evolution, of his characters, and I’m very much looking forward to finding out where he’s taking them.

“Cloverleaf One” (NW), by Sean M. Murphy
This is a relatively light and humorous piece, though with some harrowing moments and some very interesting overtones. Set in a situation that’s all too familiar to the academics among us – the incomprehensible, unfathomable and seemingly ridiculous if not outright impossible demands of one’s thesis supervisor – this is tale of a apprentice, er, graduate student about to discover the existence of a modern alchemical brotherhood and the secrets known only to its initiates. It presents the ancient tradition of magical mastery known only to the workers of such crafts as smithing or masonry in a modern and science-fictional setting, and makes us think twice about whether there is more than one reason why things are made the way they are.

“Mammoths of the Great Plains” (TFBD), by Eleanor Arnason
Although intended as part of a larger work, this piece stands alone, so I’m including it as one of the short stories rather than one of the excerpts. This is rich work, with so many interwoven strands: respect for nature, preservation of ancient wisdoms, the need for living in harmony, the utter necessity of sensible ecological planning and conservation, the importance of storytelling as a means of conveying truths. Arnason is, to me, in much the same class of writers as Ursula K. LeGuin – her works resonate on so many levels of thought, the personal, the political, the historical, the ecological in the broadest sense, as well as being wonderful entertainments in their own right.

“Big Black Mama and Tentacle Man” (NW), Eleanor Arnason
This is just hilarious. Feminist to the core, it’s the best antidote ever created for a surfeit of hentai and overwhelming male privilege. Oh, it’s got all that other stuff I mentioned above in it, too, but you have to read carefully or you might laugh so hard you miss it the first time. Spend a few minutes savouring the introductory section before you get into the fun and you’ll see what I’m talking about.


The Excerpts

It’s harder to give a thumbnail review of an excerpt from a larger work, because you don’t always get much more than a glimpse of some key characters and themes – even though, naturally, the author is going to pick a selection that she or he hopes will both showcase and intrigue. I do know that of the three books excerpted in the collections, I’m going to want to read all of them.

From The Commission by Willian G. Henry
“Laila Ahara” (TFBD)
Here we are given a brief introduction to a potentially interesting heroine as a young girl, with a look at what one anticipates will be one of the formative periods of her youth..

“Bird of Fire” (NW)
an introduction to another female character, who appears to have had significant dealings with the Lalia Ahara’s father, and a look at an adolescent or young adult Laila herself, from that character’s viewpoint.

The writing and characterisations in both these excerpts are good. These excerpts sell the characters more than they sell the story, in that I still have little sense of what is going on or where these characters might be headed. Even so, I’m very interested in finding that out and I hope that it’s somewhere I want to follow them to.


From Kyria Zulie by Rosalind Nelson
“A Candle For the Dead” (TFBD)

This gives the reader an introduction to what would appear to be the main character of the novel, a warrior/soldier/guard of honour named Iltani. We learn something about who she is, the kind of society she lives in, and one of the issues that drives her – remorse or guilt, or perhaps fear of a haunting by the dead. There are indications of a strongly developed religious system in the novel, which is something I always find interesting. Plus, as I said, woman warrior.

“A Game of Beasts” (NW)
Another brief and intriguing glimpse of the novel’s heroine, Iltani, and of her quest and the world she lives in. Political intrigue seems to be coming into the mix, which is also something I enjoy in an sf novel. I hope someone hurries up and publishes this.


From Dust and Steel by Douglas Hulick
“An Inconvenient Corpse” (NW)
This looks to be an interesting fantasy with an ambiguous hero – think of a mob enforcer, but in one of the classic fantasy environments of deserts and tradetowns. I’d swear that if I turned the corner and looked down the next street over from the one where this novel’s action is happening, someone like the Grey Mouser or maybe Terazin the thief would by up to his or her neck in something not quite on the right side of the law. And that’s a kind of universe I like to read about.

Exercising Freedom

Glorifying Terrorism, ed. Farah Mendelsohn.

This anthology is dedicated to “all the terrorists who are now revered as elder statesmen.” It’s not hard to come up with at least a few names that fit, no matter what your definition of terrorism, or the politics you preach. Nelson Mandala. Ariel Sharon. Ulysses S Grant. Charles De Gaulle. Mao Zedong. And so it goes.

Totally ignoring the wise observation – or was it a prediction – made by Benjamin Franklin that “They who would give up essential Liberty to obtain a little temporary Safety deserve neither Liberty nor Safety,” the British government proposed – and has since passed – an anti-terrorism measure making it illegal to “glorify terrorism” (of course, we would hardly expect Her Majesty’s government to heed the words of a colonial, a revolutionary – even, by some measures, a terrorist leader).

The opening paragraph of Andrew MacKie’s introduction to this anthology is blunt and to the point.

The purpose of the stories and the poems in this book is to glorify terrorism. More specifically, they attempt to break the law proposed by the British Government designed to outlaw anything which might be read or interpreted as that.

Mackie continues to touch on many of the issues one might reasonably expect to find in a discussion of such a law – the definition of terrorism, the interpretation of politics, the judgement of history, freedom, of thought and of speech, and so on. His concluding paragraph sums it all up:

Under this legislation I can think of plenty illegal SF classics, from Dune’s suicide commandos to short stories by Rob Shaw, John Varley and Bruce Sterling. So can you. All we are asking is that we continue to be allowed to think of them; that the people writing for you in this book be allowed to think of them and others. If we are not going to be allowed to think as we choose, we choose to be targets – not for terrorists, but for our own legislators.

This is why I think this is one of the most important anthologies of the year. It is not only about creative expression and the sharing of ideas and the gift of joy and passion that is art, it is about the freedom of all of us, artist and audience alike, to be able to continue this greatest of human endeavours.

Twenty-five writers contributed short stories or poems to this collection. As one might expect, in a collection with such a range of writers, with so many different styles and sub-genres represented, not every piece resonated with me. I’m mentioning a handful of the contributions that affected me most powerfully, but this truly is the kind of anthology of which it can be sad that there is something for everyone – or at least, for everyone who is willing to look hard at the many sides of glorifying terrorism.

Ian Watson’s “Hijack Holiday” was written in early 2001. It begins as an examination of the commercialisation of every more intense experiences by the wealthy and privileged, but the takes a very dark turn from fantasy to reality.

Kira Franz’s “The Lion Waiting” is a short but powerful look at the power of resistance and sacrifice.

Davin Ireland’s “Engaging the Idrl” explores the bewilderment of those who “come in peace” to civilise and improve the lot of indigenous people who do not wish to be civilised or improved.

James A Trimarco’s “The Sundial Brigade” is on the surface, a strong SF story in a very traditional subgenre; some people arrive on Earth from somewhere else and impose an unwelcome social order; some people from Earth fight back and we applaud their heroism. Even when that fighting back involves the kinds of resistance we identify as terrorism when they are employed against us. Beyond what this story does in the context of this collection to make us consider what we call terrorism and what we call justified resistance, it also makes an interesting companion piece to Watson’s “Hijack Holiday” in its exploration of constructed experiences as entertainment.

Elizabeth Sourbut’s “How I took care of my pals” examines the kind of paradigm shift that can turn a soldier committed to a genocidal mission into a resistance fighter determined to stop that mission at all costs.

Katherine Sparrow’s “Be the Bomb you Throw” reminded me, in the final analysis, of James Tiptree Jr’s great ecoterrorist short story, “The Last Flight of Doctor Ain.” Both stories deal with the threat of environmental collapse, the power that lies in the actions of a single human being and the ethics of terrorism.

Rachel Swirsky’s “The Debt of the Innocent” explores a specific act of terrorism in a world only a little bit more callous, more sharply divided between have and have-not than our own, looking at the process of commitment to such an act on the one hand, and the consequences of the act on the other hand.

Adam Roberts’ “Here Comes the Flood” focuses on fear as a weapon, not only against one’s enemies, but as a means of social control, and at the same time reminds us that the means of resistance are closer to hand, and less conventionally warlike, than we may realise.

Suzette Haden Elgin’s ”What We Can See Now, Looking in the Glass” is a poem about the root causes of resistance, and how privilege breeds it.

As I said, that’s only a handful – some of the selections from this anthology that hit me hard, in one way or another, for one reason or another. In addition to the stories I’ve mentioned, the book contains worthy offerings on the theme from the following authors:

Jo Walton
Vylar Kaftan
Ken MacLeod
Gwyneth Jones
Kari Sperring
Lucy Kemnizter
Marie Brennan
Kathryn Allen
Hal Duncan
Lavie Tidhar
Van Aaron Hughes
Chaz Brenchley
H. H. Loyche
Ian Whates
Una McCormack
Charles Stross

I urge you to read this book. Because these stories will entertain you, because they will give you something to think about – no matter how carefully and completely you think you have considered the subject – and because to do so will be a statement in support of that liberty which we must not give up, even for a little safety.

You can order it here.

(no subject)

Women of War, (eds.) Tanya Huff and Alexander Potter

Women of War is an anthology of stories linked by the requirement that the main character be a female warrior. To me, There’s something particularly powerful, even iconic, in the image of the woman warrior. I remember discovering, as a child, and being entranced by, C.L. Moore’s Jirel of Joiry short stories. I gloried in finding the almost-hidden accounts of real women who fought for life, land, or even just for adventure – Boudicca, Zenobia, Grainne Ni Maille, Marguerite Delaye, Anne Bonney, Trung Trac, Trung Nhi and on and on, for women have always been doing everything that men do (and not always backwards and in high heels).

I still feel this strange, almost atavistic swelling of – something – when I watch Geena Davis as a pirate captain in Cutthroat Island, or the proud Red Sonja matching Conan strike for strike. Whether I’m reading or watching it, I want to pump my fist in the air and scream “Hell, Yes” when Eowyn declares “I am no woman” and blasts the Witch-king of Angmar into nothingness. In fact, sometimes I do just that.

Perhaps it’s that so much literature, particularly the heroic, epic, thousand-year classic kind, has had something to do with war, or the quest that depends on warrior’s skills, or both. From The Iliad to War and Peace, from The Mahabharata to Le Morte Darthur, so many of our heroes have been warriors – though not always eager ones – and by convention, these special, epic heroes have almost always been men.

But all that’s changing, at least in genre fiction. Even a cursory look at the shelves and where the fantasy and science fiction books and DVDs are displayed will show you a wealth of women warriors (in the widest sense of the term): Xena, Ripley, Lara Croft, Honor Harrington, Tarma Shena Tale'sedrin, Victory Nelson, Modesty Blaise, Paksennarrion, to name but a few. Still not nearly so many as the men warriors, but far more than ever before.

And that’s where the power of this anthology comes from: 15 stories about women warriors, all different, preparing for, fighting, and (mostly) surviving their battles, but all collected in one place. Another thing that’s very special about this anthology is that not one of these stories failed to catch and hold my attention, to speak to my mind and heart. The sketches below may be short, but there's a great deal of appreciation for every story behind them.


“Fighting Chance” by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller. To speak one truth about warriors and wars, it’s that many of those who could be called professional soldiers come to the wars because even in the face of death, it’s better than what they leave behind. This is a story of a young woman making that choice.

“Painted Child of Earth” by Rosemary Edghill. An eternal warrior, bonded to a sword of legend, takes the risk of staying close to her humanity.

“She’s such a Nasty Morsel” by Julie E Czeneda. An ancient intelligence, one of the Web Shifters who gather and preserve knowledge about more ephemeral species, learns something about herself by going to war in mortal form.

“The Children of Diardin: to find the Advantage” by Fiona Patton. A tale rooted in Irish Legend, in which the shape-shifting children of Diarden seek the aid of the Tuatha De Danann against the giant army of the King of the Sea.

"Not that Kind of War” by Tanya Huff. A Torin Kerr story from Huff’s Confederation of Valor universe. A small, marine force provides cover for a civilian evacuation, one small unglamorous skirmish among many in an interstellar war, in a soldier’s life.

“The Black Ospreys” by Michelle West. This story is set in West’s world of warring empires Annagar and Essailieyan, and tells, in flashbacks, of the forging of a very special band of warriors.

“The Art of War” by Bruce Holland Rogers. War is bloody and brutal and full of ugliness and horror – but the execution of it, from the level of hand to hand combat up to the highest levels of strategy, can have grace, elegance, an aesthetic all its own.

“Geiko” by Kerrie Hughes The idea of a special kind of warrior, trained as honour-guard or body-guard, is not an unusual one – real-life examples being Mamelukes and Gurkhas to name only two. In Hughes’ story, they are known as the Geiko.

“Shen-Gi-Tae” by Robin Wayne Bailey In the game of Go, it is possible to remove an entire army from the board with the sacrifice of a single piece. Such moves become something altogether different and far more difficult when the pieces are human beings.

“The Last Hand of War” by Jana Paniccia. A warrior fights a different kind of battle to bring peace to her people and herself.

“War Games” by Lisanne Norman. In a world where all conflicts are by official agreement resolved by virtual war games, is there any remaining need for warriors who fight with weapons and body armour rather than virtual displays?

“Fire from the Sun” by Jane Lindskold. In a time of changes, the granddaughter of a nomad leader must find a way to defend her people from unexpected enemies.

“Token” by Anna Oster. In this fantasy realm, the price paid for victory falls heavily on one young girl.

“Elites” by Kristine Kathryn Rusch. Conditioning humans for war is one thing. Reconditioning them for peace is something else altogether.