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speculativebecky
I didn't have high expectations for it because I wasn't sold on the protagonist going in, but honestly upon finishing I'm completely enamored and so looking forward to her inhabiting a larger role in the story to come!
A Tale For the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki entangles the diary of Nao, a sixteen year old girl in Japan, with the story of Ruth, a woman living on a small Canadian island who finds the diary washed ashore, preserved inside a Hello Kitty lunchbox in a freezer bag alongside another smaller diary, a set of letters, and a watch.
From the outset Ozeki situates the story with her decision to name one of her protagonists Ruth, and continues to write her own life into the story in an uncommon fashion. Her two protagonists come to life on the page, and I sunk deep into their stories, full of curiosity and in awe of the many layers to this story. This book was quite different from my expectations, but certainly met them for quality. Smart and spiritual and deeply satisfying, give me literary fiction with a little speculative quantum component ANY DAY. My mind is aflame and I love it.
Cw for suicide, assault, sexual assault
From the outset Ozeki situates the story with her decision to name one of her protagonists Ruth, and continues to write her own life into the story in an uncommon fashion. Her two protagonists come to life on the page, and I sunk deep into their stories, full of curiosity and in awe of the many layers to this story. This book was quite different from my expectations, but certainly met them for quality. Smart and spiritual and deeply satisfying, give me literary fiction with a little speculative quantum component ANY DAY. My mind is aflame and I love it.
Cw for suicide, assault, sexual assault
That We May Live IS a collection of Chinese speculative fiction in translation from Two Lines Press’ new Calico Series. It features seven short stories by six contemporary Chinese writers. Normally I’d share the name of the editor but here no editors’ names are specified anywhere in the book. Aren’t anthologies meant to have a preface or afterword? Without anything except the stories themselves and short bios of the authors and translators, this collection feels a bit adrift, with no context for its existence.
That aside, I did enjoy reading this collection. The stories were varied in how much they appealed to me, but since it's an anthology collecting work from multiple authors I was always excited to read the next one. This book is also immaculately constructed, for those aesthetically-minded among you, the bright orange title pages for each of the stories are beautiful, and I loved how they incorporate the title, author, translator, and a quote from each story.
These stories are not speculative in a straightforward SFF sense, they are surreal tales that often left me unsure about the takeaway, yet more often than not emotionally impacted. I feel these stories certainly speak to a cultural context that I’m unfamiliar with, and likely operate on a metaphorical level to which I’m missing the references. (Another reason I would have appreciated some commentary from an editor or the translators.) It stands alone fairly successfully nonetheless, and I’m so glad I picked up this collection to get these strange and fascinating tastes of the included authors’ writing.
My favorite stories were the first and last. Sour Meat by Dorothea Tse, translated by Natascha Bruce is one of the most unsettling stories I’ve read in a while, reminding me of Carmen Maria Machado or Samanta Schweblin. Flourishing Beasts by Yan Ge, translated by Jeremy Tiang, is a delicate and intriguing tale about these beings who grow from the earth like saplings and are cut down to be carved into beautiful furniture. I am excited after these introductions to seek out more of these two authors' work especially.
That aside, I did enjoy reading this collection. The stories were varied in how much they appealed to me, but since it's an anthology collecting work from multiple authors I was always excited to read the next one. This book is also immaculately constructed, for those aesthetically-minded among you, the bright orange title pages for each of the stories are beautiful, and I loved how they incorporate the title, author, translator, and a quote from each story.
These stories are not speculative in a straightforward SFF sense, they are surreal tales that often left me unsure about the takeaway, yet more often than not emotionally impacted. I feel these stories certainly speak to a cultural context that I’m unfamiliar with, and likely operate on a metaphorical level to which I’m missing the references. (Another reason I would have appreciated some commentary from an editor or the translators.) It stands alone fairly successfully nonetheless, and I’m so glad I picked up this collection to get these strange and fascinating tastes of the included authors’ writing.
My favorite stories were the first and last. Sour Meat by Dorothea Tse, translated by Natascha Bruce is one of the most unsettling stories I’ve read in a while, reminding me of Carmen Maria Machado or Samanta Schweblin. Flourishing Beasts by Yan Ge, translated by Jeremy Tiang, is a delicate and intriguing tale about these beings who grow from the earth like saplings and are cut down to be carved into beautiful furniture. I am excited after these introductions to seek out more of these two authors' work especially.
Amazing! An instant favorite short story collection that I just could not stop reading. In these eight short stories and one longer novella, Cipri introduces the reader to their awesome creativity and a slew of unforgettable queer and trans characters. While these stories were naturally slightly uneven in my enjoyment, the highs of this collection were so phenomenally high.
Shades of horror reminding me of Machado’s Her Body and Other Parties abounded in the stories Dead Air, which tells the most creepy story I’ve read in ages through audio recording transcripts, and Presque Vu, a weirdly timely feeling story about a haunted world where wraiths stalk the streets, normal people insist on wearing Halloween costumes well past the end of the holiday, and the protagonist wakes up each morning choking up keys. Somehow this surreal tale felt so of the current moment to me, despite feeling anxious when the characters had a lovely potluck. Other favorites for me were A Silly Love Story, about an artist grappling with a poltergeist in his closet alongside a swelling crush on his bigender best friend, and The Shape of My Name, a gorgeous story about a trans guy in a family of time travelers.
The collection closes with a novella entitled Before We Disperse Like Star Stuff, which was an absolute treat to read. The story imagines the discovery of a written language developed by a prehistoric species of weasels, through the lense of a documentary being produced following the trio responsible for the discovery. Damian, Min, and Ray are thrust back into contact by the documentary’s production after differences of opinion on how to handle the discovery tore their relationships apart. The story bursts with big ideas and small moments between these vibrant, flawed characters.
Highly recommended to fans of speculative fiction, magical realism/fabulism, horror, and/or queer and trans literature.
Shades of horror reminding me of Machado’s Her Body and Other Parties abounded in the stories Dead Air, which tells the most creepy story I’ve read in ages through audio recording transcripts, and Presque Vu, a weirdly timely feeling story about a haunted world where wraiths stalk the streets, normal people insist on wearing Halloween costumes well past the end of the holiday, and the protagonist wakes up each morning choking up keys. Somehow this surreal tale felt so of the current moment to me, despite feeling anxious when the characters had a lovely potluck. Other favorites for me were A Silly Love Story, about an artist grappling with a poltergeist in his closet alongside a swelling crush on his bigender best friend, and The Shape of My Name, a gorgeous story about a trans guy in a family of time travelers.
The collection closes with a novella entitled Before We Disperse Like Star Stuff, which was an absolute treat to read. The story imagines the discovery of a written language developed by a prehistoric species of weasels, through the lense of a documentary being produced following the trio responsible for the discovery. Damian, Min, and Ray are thrust back into contact by the documentary’s production after differences of opinion on how to handle the discovery tore their relationships apart. The story bursts with big ideas and small moments between these vibrant, flawed characters.
Highly recommended to fans of speculative fiction, magical realism/fabulism, horror, and/or queer and trans literature.
Our protagonist David Mogo is a demigod godhunter in Lagos after The Falling, an event where the gods fell to Earth upending normal life across the globe. He scrapes together a living for himself and his adoptive grandfather figure mainly by chasing misbehaving godlings out of people’s homes, but the story opens on a dangerous yet tempting job offer from a powerful and creepy wizard to capture a pair of gods.
I don’t know if I’m getting harsher, but I was bummed that this book didn’t land better for me. I think this isn’t totally my book wheelhouse, it was very action-driven and missing any notes of intrigue that I was craving. I found the plot to be a bit obvious and nothing really surprised me. The characters were the best part of this book for me, I appreciated their relationships and dynamics, and would have loved that aspect to be explored more deeply.
The back of this book proclaims it “A Nigerian Harry Dresden”, which *eyeroll*, but which also had me wondering whether this book intends to introduce a series, and got me thinking comparatively about other long running urban fantasy series. Dresden for example definitely started on a more mediocre note and built complexity over time. I’d be willing to read more of this story if it continues as a series, but would be more excited to read other work by the author if that’s in the cards instead.
Hopefully my downer review doesn’t put you off this book if it’s on your TBR, I would still recommend it to folks who like an action-packed adventure story.
I don’t know if I’m getting harsher, but I was bummed that this book didn’t land better for me. I think this isn’t totally my book wheelhouse, it was very action-driven and missing any notes of intrigue that I was craving. I found the plot to be a bit obvious and nothing really surprised me. The characters were the best part of this book for me, I appreciated their relationships and dynamics, and would have loved that aspect to be explored more deeply.
The back of this book proclaims it “A Nigerian Harry Dresden”, which *eyeroll*, but which also had me wondering whether this book intends to introduce a series, and got me thinking comparatively about other long running urban fantasy series. Dresden for example definitely started on a more mediocre note and built complexity over time. I’d be willing to read more of this story if it continues as a series, but would be more excited to read other work by the author if that’s in the cards instead.
Hopefully my downer review doesn’t put you off this book if it’s on your TBR, I would still recommend it to folks who like an action-packed adventure story.
This book was easy interesting reading, and I thought the stories were well compiled and the book flowed naturally. I appreciated Ronson’s decision to tell the stories basically in the order he researched them, explaining how his curiosity was triggered in each branching direction he took.
Overall I sort of felt like there wasn’t a huge point to the book. It seems like he’s trying to argue that public shaming is going too far and that we need to stop and think before “ruining someone’s life” over a tasteless joke, but because the book goes in so many directions and focuses on interviews and research without a lot of arguing a point, I don’t think there’s a strong takeaway. Maybe this type of book doesn’t aim to give the reader that kind of clean-cut takeaway though? Is it meant only to provoke thought and inspire us to draw our own conclusion?
I agree with Traci’s criticism that this book doesn’t go far enough in exploring power dynamics at play in public shaming. I wanted more on racist/sexist double standards involved, both in the moment, and the question of who gets to bounce back. Certainly our experiences with “cancel culture” have evolved in many ways since this book was published in 2015, but even with the stories that were featured in this book I think more could have been brought into the conversation. Why, for example, is the one discussion on why generally only women experience rape threats as part of public shaming a brief conversation with a female 4chan troll who basically argues that dynamic seems logical to her?
Excited to discuss this one since I think it’s biggest strength is dumping a lot of info in a well-ordered manner and provoking thought and discussion on an aspect of modern culture we sometimes take for granted.
Overall I sort of felt like there wasn’t a huge point to the book. It seems like he’s trying to argue that public shaming is going too far and that we need to stop and think before “ruining someone’s life” over a tasteless joke, but because the book goes in so many directions and focuses on interviews and research without a lot of arguing a point, I don’t think there’s a strong takeaway. Maybe this type of book doesn’t aim to give the reader that kind of clean-cut takeaway though? Is it meant only to provoke thought and inspire us to draw our own conclusion?
I agree with Traci’s criticism that this book doesn’t go far enough in exploring power dynamics at play in public shaming. I wanted more on racist/sexist double standards involved, both in the moment, and the question of who gets to bounce back. Certainly our experiences with “cancel culture” have evolved in many ways since this book was published in 2015, but even with the stories that were featured in this book I think more could have been brought into the conversation. Why, for example, is the one discussion on why generally only women experience rape threats as part of public shaming a brief conversation with a female 4chan troll who basically argues that dynamic seems logical to her?
Excited to discuss this one since I think it’s biggest strength is dumping a lot of info in a well-ordered manner and provoking thought and discussion on an aspect of modern culture we sometimes take for granted.
The Memory Police is like a melancholic, magical 1984, dabbling barely enough in elements of dystopia to classify as science fiction, blended beautifully with elements reminiscent of magical realism. Ogawa brings to life an island where objects are continuing to disappear without explanation from most people’s memories. A policing force, called the Memory Police, exists to enforce these disappearances, making sure people dispose of all traces of the now missing objects, as well as disappearing people who, for whatever reason, are immune to this loss of memory. The novel follows an unnamed narrator who attempts to hide a friend with this ability to remember. It’s largely a quiet, interior story with a preciously small cast, interspersed with excerpts from the novel the narrator is writing. The nested novel is about a typist who loses her voice, adding another layer to the unsettling atmosphere and theme of grappling with loss laced throughout.
Reading this book was a powerful experience, heavily atmospheric and a bit haunting. I wasn’t propelled through the story by any intensity, but rather fell easily through the pages, immersed in its quiet beauty and a sense of the profound. I’m sure I missed much of the metaphoric layers on which this novel functions, but I didn’t find the experience lacking for that reason. It was both a mesmerizing way to spend the day, and a story I know I’ll be thinking of for a long time to come. Definitely would recommend, to fans of literary fiction and speculative alike.
Reading this book was a powerful experience, heavily atmospheric and a bit haunting. I wasn’t propelled through the story by any intensity, but rather fell easily through the pages, immersed in its quiet beauty and a sense of the profound. I’m sure I missed much of the metaphoric layers on which this novel functions, but I didn’t find the experience lacking for that reason. It was both a mesmerizing way to spend the day, and a story I know I’ll be thinking of for a long time to come. Definitely would recommend, to fans of literary fiction and speculative alike.
Divya is gender non-conforming (and okay with any pronoun) and this collection is delightfully nonbinary and transhumanist, meaning several of the stories imagine futures in which humanity has been radically altered by biotechnology. Divya features queer and disabled characters, feminist themes, and fascinating premises. I was moved and geeked out in turn and all at once reading these stories.
Here’s a taste of some of my favorites - in Microbiota and the Masses, Moena, an eccentric biologist who’s turned her home into an experimental biome risks venturing outside for a chance at love. In Dusty Old Things, Anita realizes she’s receiving communication from a parallel universe. The Boy Who Made Flowers imagines a world where people develop unique manifestations at puberty, and Charlie struggles with his flustering power to drip flowers from his ears when he feels emotions. The short and sweetly romantic Strange Attractions imagines a marriage that evolves over centuries. In Soft We Wake, Hikaru wakes in a far-flung future without his family and grapples with how to integrate into the vastly different world.
Here’s a taste of some of my favorites - in Microbiota and the Masses, Moena, an eccentric biologist who’s turned her home into an experimental biome risks venturing outside for a chance at love. In Dusty Old Things, Anita realizes she’s receiving communication from a parallel universe. The Boy Who Made Flowers imagines a world where people develop unique manifestations at puberty, and Charlie struggles with his flustering power to drip flowers from his ears when he feels emotions. The short and sweetly romantic Strange Attractions imagines a marriage that evolves over centuries. In Soft We Wake, Hikaru wakes in a far-flung future without his family and grapples with how to integrate into the vastly different world.