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Political Upheaval in Shannara: The Skaar Invasion by Terry Brooks

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I’ve written at length about not only what Terry Brooks means to the epic fantasy genre, but to me personally as a reader. His books blew the doors off the world I first discovered via Tolkien, but it was his generosity and kindness towards a young writer at Surrey International Writer’s Conference that set me on the path I travel today. Brooks is one of fantasy’s most prolific novelists, having written over 30 novels. Since 1996, he’s produced a novel a year—the release of which has become something of an event for me. Despite some inconsistency in quality over the years, I eagerly look forward to his new books, especially the Shannara novels.

Last year’s The Black Elfstone, which was the start of a new Shannara sub-series, The Fall of Shannara, was notable for many reasons. To begin with, it was promised to be the opening volume in a four-book series that will (chronologically) conclude the long-running epic fantasy. It was also one of Brooks’ best novels, a return to form after a handful of smaller scale, less impactful Shannara novels. In my review, I said:

The Black Elfstone brings to mind the days when a young Terry Brooks saved epic fantasy, and proves that 40 years later, he’s still got it. It has epic scope, heroic characters, and so much heart. The series might be called The Fall of Shannara, but The Black Elfstone is proof that the Shannara series can still reach new heights.

That’s a lot for a sequel to live up to, but I’m pleased to say that The Skaar Invasion is not only a worthy follow-up to The Black Elfstone, it’s further proof that Brooks is in the midst of writing a classic instalment of the long-running Shannara series. If the quality keeps up, The Fall of Shannara series will sit alongside Brooks’ best works, like The Elfstones of Shannara and The Heritage of Shannara. In fact, The Fall of Shannara echoes that latter series in more ways than just quality.

Shannara has always been inward-looking, caught in the past, but, in recent years, with a few particular series, Brooks has embraced his most successful books by returning to their themes and structures, and reexamining them in the context of a more socially- and scientifically-advanced Four Lands. Shannara has long examined history’s cyclical nature, and, as science and magic head toward an inevitable showdown, with the sake of the Four Lands on the line, it’s fascinating, and nostalgic, to be reminded of the series’ early days and most exhilarating moments.

The Dark Legacy of Shannara series, and Bloodfire Quest in particular, was a throwback and direct sequel to what is perhaps Brooks’ most celebrated Shannara novel: The Elfstones of Shannara. By that measure, The Fall of Shannara is a throwback to the most epic period in Shannara series, The Heritage of Shannara. This is recognizable not just in The Fall of Shannara’s epic scale, but also in its themes of political upheaval, xenophobia, the cost of power. Even its major plotlines echo those of The Heritage of Shannara: a pair of Ohmsford descendants, a rebel group facing an authoritarian government, a search for the Black Elfstone, and restoring Paranor and the Druids to the Four Lands. It’s all there. In the past, I’ve criticized Brooks for returning to the same inkwell too often, and writing novels that are derivative of his past work, but here, like in The Dark Legacy of Shannara, it works by shifting reader expectations, and providing new answers to old questions.

The Skaar Invasion focuses on two themes that are familiar to anyone following the news in 2018: climate change and the collision between xenophobia/nationalism and immigration. “Besides, this wasn’t Elven business,” laments a young Elven prince, Brecon Elessedil, midway through The Skaar Invasion. “For a long time now the Elves have been withdrawing further from the other Races, having less and less to do with them. Save for the Dwarves, with whom we still interact regularly, we share almost nothing with the rest of the Four Lands.” The Black Elfstone told the story of a mysterious, magical army invading the Four Lands. In its sequel, we learn that this army comes from a far-off nation called Skaarland. The Skaar are deadly warriors, but their commander, Ajin d’Amphere, is also politically- and socially-conniving, working tirelessly to pit Four Lands ally against ally, until they realize the true threat too late. Despite being a prince, Brecon despairs at the isolationist leadership of his people, which he has little control over. He continues:

“I did what I could, Dar. I don’t believe in isolation as either a political or economic policy. But these days, I am definitely in the minority. And the Druids had no use for us other than to keep pressuring us to let them take control of our magic. … The Federation is no better. They want the same things from us as the Druids, except their plan is to see magic eradicated from the Four Lands completely. They would see us eradicated, as well, if they could find a way to make it happen. To take our magic is to steal our heritage.”

Early on, readers discover that the Skaar are fleeing their homeland, which, due to climate change, is undergoing a transition to eternal winter. It’s beyond the point of reparation, and so, we find out, the unstoppable army tearing a bloody path through the Four Lands in The Black Elfstone is only a small expeditionary force laying the groundwork for a full-on invasion. However, in a first for the Shannara series, Brooks has written a human point-of-view character from outside the Four Lands. Ajin d’Amphere is ostensibly the antagonist of the book, but she’s also a conflicted leader and empathetic character. She’s forced into the role of bad guy, and, even from the novel’s early pages, you can see the beginnings of a convergence between her motives and those of the protagonists (even if they don’t yet realized it). The true threat to the Four Lands is not Ajin d’Amphere and her army, but the ego-driven, xenophobic leaders and societies that refuse to work together to overcome mutual conflicts.

“The damage to our people is unimaginable,” d’Amphere tells Darcon Leah early in the novel, revealing the desperate motives of the Skaar invasion. “We are dying, our numbers reduced from millions to thousands. Our most vulnerable—our children, our old and sick, those weakened already from thirst or hunger—die every day. I have watched people I have known all my life perish. I watched by nurse and my favorite childhood playmates die. My dogs. My soldiers…”

The world is in peril, headed toward destruction, its course almost irreversible, but instead of working together, the people of the Four Lands, and those beyond its borders, are headed toward a bloody confrontation.

“There’s been enough bloodshed,” a blacksmith tells Tarsha Kaynin, a wishsong-wielding descendant of Shea Ohmsformd, at one point, and you sense through his words all the pain that the Four Lands have suffered through generations of conflict—since the atomic Great Wars rained death and destruction on our world, and, generations later, the remnants of humanity crawled from the ashes, and took the first step on the path toward cyclical self-destruction.

[Drisker Arc] remembered. All those hours spent reading the Druid Histories. Just ancient legends and useless information from times dead and gone, the other Druids had scoffed. Nothing there will help you with the present. Studying the world around you is all that matters. There is nothing to be learned by studying what’s over and done with.

Except that those who fail to pay attention to the past are doomed to repeat it.

Brooks isn’t subtle, and his workmanlike prose doesn’t hide secrets, instead displaying the politics and themes openly, but there are some important messages in these books, and, considering them in context of the series’ past, they raise the Shannara series to new heights. The Fall of Shannara is the conclusion to the Shannara series, but it’s also a culmination of ideas and explorations that have been with the series from its earliest days. It doesn’t provide answers (yet), but it does lay bare Brooks’ heart, and reveals the kindness within.

One of The Skaar Invasion’s most exciting additions to the Shannara series is that it provides a glimpse at nations outside the Four Lands. Not dead, ruined Parkasia, with its AI-driven technologies and scattered tribes, which we learned little about in Antrax, but full-blown, developed societies. A whole continent of people and cultures. An untold history. It seems almost unfair that here, on the verge of the series’ conclusion, we finally see a glimpse of how large and boundless Brooks’ world really is.

The Four Lands has grown and changed tremendously since The Sword of Shannara debuted over 40 years ago, and one of the greatest pleasures of having read the series since adolescence is to reflect on those changes. The once mighty Tyrsis is now a crumbling ruin. Varfleet, meanwhile, was small and inconsequential early in the series, and is now a vital centre for trade and culture. The once empty, rolling hills of Leah, the quiet mountainous Eastland, the verdant, endless forests of the Westland, are abuzz with the noise of progress. Arishaig, which didn’t exist for the first dozen novels, is now the imposing capital of the Federation.

Shea shifted to a sitting position and peered through the open viewport at a sight that left him breathless. For as far as they eye could see, buildings of all sized and shapes sprawled across the landscape. Those closest were fewer and more widely spread apart, many of them attached to fields or pasturelands. Farther on, dirt roads rutted and narrow gave way to ones that were smoother and wider, some covered with paving stones and some graveled, and the homes became residences clustered more closely together.

It wasn’t until well beyond the outlying buildings that the city walls appeared—sizeable to begin with, but growing steadily larger as they approached. These formidable barriers encircled the city proper—huge and sheer and bracketed by weapons towers and landing pads on which various types of airships were settled. Some were huge battle cruisers, some flits and Sprints, but all were at the ready.

“They always built the strongest walls for themselves, the rich and powerful,” Rocan muttered, his bitter words so soft the boy almost didn’t catch them. “They always protect themselves, even if it’s at the expense of others.”

Like The Black Elfstone before it, and perhaps even moreso, The Skaar Invasion is one of Brooks’ most aggressively political novels. It engages with familiar conflicts and themes, digging deep into the challenges facing humanity and asking—begging—for us to do better. Be more kind. Learn from the past. Work together for a better future.

Previously, I’ve recommended The Dark Legacy of Shannara to newcomers looking to experience Brooks’ work for the first time. While The Fall of Shannara works similarly well for newcomers, it’s greatest delights are only available to fans who have grown-up with the series, a love letter to Brooks’ greatest accomplishments. The Skaar Invasion is and exhilarating, intricate portrait of a world at war with itself.

The Skaar Invasion is available from Del Rey.

Aidan Moher is the Hugo Award-winning founder of A Dribble of Ink, author of “On the Phone with Goblins” and “The Penelope Qingdom”, and a regular contributor to Tor.com and the Barnes & Noble SF&F Blog. Aidan lives on Vancouver Island with his wife and daughter, but you can most easily find him on Twitter @adribbleofink and Patreon.


Consequences in Zero G: The Expanse, “Fallen World”

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This week’s episode of The Expanse, “Fallen World,” was all about action and aftermath, with a wonderfully jolting twist toward the end. I thought this was a strong, tense episode, that perfectly sets up next week’s two-episode finale.

(Spoilers ahead.)

We already knew that sudden deceleration does terrible things to you, but this week we get to see that in stark, gory terms. Unlike last week’s suicide subplot, I thought this damage was handled perfectly, with an appropriate amount of horror and grief from the survivors, and while the show explored the grim realities of cleaning up zero G injuries, it didn’t feel like exploitation.

 

Meanwhile, With The Martian Away Team

In the heart of The Ring, Bobbie figures out what’s happened. She picks a seemingly-dead Holden up, and orders her two remaining crewmates to proceed slowwwwwly back to their ship. They’re both (understandably) ready to kill Holden the rest of the way to avenge their captain, but Bobbie convinces them that they need whatever answers he can give. She shocks him back to life, and most of her arc is spent warning the other two to leave him alone. Along the way they find out that one-third of the Martian crew is dead, and another one-third injured. When Bobbie muses that The Ring was defending itself, her pilot rebukes her, saying “that’s not a defensive measure, that’s a massacre,” which, fair. And then she and Bobbie come to an even worse realization: at the even slower speed they have to maintain now, they won’t get back to the Ring’s entrance for seven months. No one has enough provisions for such a long journey. It’s a great example of how the show uses SPACE ITSELF to ratchet up tension. Just as we’ve gotten used to Space Ghosts and last minute rescues and people being able to get ships to do whatever they need them to, we crash into a big old wall of physics. They can do everything right, they can obey the laws of The Ring, they can investigate the intentions of the proto-molecule, but they still might starve to death before they can get back out.

 

Meanwhile, On the UN Thomas Prince

OK, this was the bit that was actively hard to watch. Clarissa/Melba made it, but Tilly has a giant spike through her chest. Whether Clarissa put it there, or she got staked during the slowdown, I can’t tell—either way Ms. Mao chooses to leave her fellow former socialite and head off on her own. We cut over to Anna who is exploring the hallways with no idea of what’s just happened. There are bodies and blood droplets floating—she has to push through them to follow the living voices she hears down the hall. It looks like a nightmare. She gets to the med bay and volunteers to help, only to learn that, yes, most of the injuries would normally be treatable, but in zero G people’s blood can’t clot. Anyone with an internal injury is basically doomed. The doctors are trying to make the wounded as comfortable as possible while a space janitor walks through, slowly sucking blood out of the air with a vacuum cleaner. Anna joins the team looking for anyone hurt, and finds Melba nursing a broken arm. While she’s tending to her she gets a call from Tilly.

Sweet! Tilly’s alive!

Oh.

Anna finds her, and she clearly does not have long. Tilly manages to choke out the truth about Melba, and Anna hold her hand as she dies. She’s crying, but her tears won’t fall in zero G.

DAMMIT, show.

Anna races back to the med bay, only to find that Melba has already split. She finds her leaving the ship in a suit, and screams after her that there’s no where for her to run, and that all that’s left for her to do it “beg for mercy.”

I love it when Anna gets hardcore.

 

Meanwhile, on the Roci

Naomi wakes up in pain, having been crushed into her seat. She seems relatively OK though, compared with everyone else. And then she doe the coolest thing EVER—her control panel catches fire, so she suits up in about a nanosecond and opens her ship’s door to vent the oxygen. Again, excellent use of SPACE! And finally decides to throw caution to the wind and just use her suit to float over to the Roci. It takes her long minutes to find everyone, but there’s Alex, floating in the kitchen, surrounded by pieces of the lasagna he was making. And there’s Amos below, bleeding where one of his wrenches conked him. He opens his eyes long enough to say “You changed your hair,” and then he’s out again. She wrangles them both into the med bay. As they’re healing, and coming into and out of consciousness, Naomi starts trying to get the Roci back online all the way. She notices a disturbance and goes down to check it out, finds a hole in the hull (not good) and then gets jumped by Clarissa (extra not good) whom she obviously has no reason to expect.

Naomi’s missed out on all of this, and has no idea who this is or why she’s being attacked, but she soon learns as Clarissa, in a mecha straight out of Aliens, pins her to the floor and demands to know where Holden is. Naomi’s beaten, but makes a point of saying that even if she knew, she wouldn’t tell.

As usual in these situations I was waiting for someone to come in at the last minute and attack Clarissa—would it be Amos? It’s usually Amos. Or maybe Holden, recovered from his Death-by-Pain-Box?

But no! Someone does zap Clarissa, and she crumples to the floor to reveal: Anna!

Pastor Vengeance suited up, chased Clarissa to the Roci, and apparently packed a space taser.

And of course since this is Anna the second Clarissa’s taken care of her face floods with warmth and concern as she asks Naomi if she’s all right.

 

Meanwhile, on The Behemoth

And now….the arc that surprised me by being the best one! Drummer and Ashford were just about to scrap when the slowdown hit. Now both of them are tangled in a giant metal harvester—one of the farming machines the Mormons had packed into the ship, in the hope that they would colonize a new, fertile planet. Drummer is wedged in between two parts of it, her leg pinched so tight she can’t move. But that seems to be all that’s holding her blood in, so it’s just as well. Ashford is caught up in the front of the machine, similarly pinched between two parts, but his whole torso is stuck so he only has the use of one arm. If they move the machine enough to free Drummer, Ashford gets smushed, but if they move it to free Ashford, Drummer’s leg is toast, and so is most of her blood supply… so they’re stuck.

You know what this means: it’s time for an Intensive Therapy Session! In the time honored dramatic tradition, the two characters are trapped in a situation where they have to talk. (Hey guys, at least it isn’t a freezer or a storage space in an ’80s sitcom.) But this worked for me, because both actors dove in, and never let me forget that they were in intense pain while they were working through their shit. First they have to cooperate to try to get a handheld comm that’s floating through the air near them, but the machine’s claw is too large and breaks the delicate tech. Then the two swap near-death stories, and Drummer cracks Ashford up by saying her worst experience was at Hyperion—not the moon, but a bar on Ceres where she nearly drank herself to death. Ashford gets a big speech that actually completely worked for me, saying that the Belters have to adopt a shared uniform and become a symbol for a while, so the Inners will accept them. That this is the only way to allow the next generation to build a better future. Drummer, having been chipped away by Naomi’s love for her Roci crew, and seeing, finally, that Ashford wants what’s best for his people, listens to him, and then breaks into a Belter song. They sing together, and I love it! But holy crap are they dooooomed. You know it’s all over when the two former enemies break into song—wait, ugh, no, Drummer’s making a sacrifice play! She ignores Ashford’s arguments, reasoning that her crew needs an experience captain to guide them, and allows the machine to crush her as it frees her old enemy.

Ugh.

But then Ashford springs into action, calls for backup, and it looks like all is not lost! It occurs to him that if the spin the drum, the giant heart of the ship that was meant to keep the Mormons comfortable during their long journey, they can restore enough gravity that the injured crew will be able to heal. Of course, it might also tear the ship apart, but does anyone have a better option? Drummer is strapped to a space gurney and taken away. Ashford heads to the deck and bellows out for them to SPIN THE DRUM, and it works! And then he takes it the step further: as the crew look on in horror, he opens comms and makes an announcement: all ships are invited to bring their wounded to the Behemoth, where they will heal in normal gravity. “The Belters will welcome you.”

And thus Belter ingenuity saves the day, and maybe, possibly, ushers in a new age of respect between the people of the system.

 

Oh, But Wait! We’re Back With Holden!

OK, did I say saves the day? Cause Holden just woke up, and he’s working full Disney-esque Holden eyes, and he tearfully tells Bobbie he’s “seen the end of everything.”

That can’t be good.

 

Random Thoughts Floating in the Void of Space

  • #BringBackTilly
  • #DAMMIT
  • Having said that, the tears not falling was maybe my favorite effect on the entire show so far.
  • That blood vacuum was amazing. Such a perfect detail of practical life in space.
  • I have to admit I’m getting a little tired of the inevitable “Martian who wants to kill Holden before anyone can question him.”
  • The use of floating lasagna and floating, bloodied wrenches to show us Alex and Amos were injured??? *chef’s fingertip kiss*
  • Amos’ reactions to Naomi, and Naomi’s reactions to those reactions, were all perfect.
  • Am I the only one who noticed that they cranked up some sort of wailing 2001 Monolith music in the background when Holden said they were all doomed?

 

Book Notes for Book Nerds

I’ve been worried about Drummer since before we knew what her name was, y’all—worried because she seemed so very Samara Rosenberg, and things on the Behemoth just don’t go so well for poor Sam. But now that she survived that drawn-out scene with Ashford (it ended well, but could’ve been half as long), I think maybe she’s not just serving the roles of both Sam and Michio Pa—she’s maybe a little bit also Bull. Look, whatever it takes to keep her alive, ok? I would really miss Cara Gee’s intensity. (Ten points to whoever did her makeup: the way the black started to fade and pale as she sweated was spot-on.)

I’ve been frustrated by the pacing and focus of the last couple of episodes, and am glad to find it’s not just me being a book nerd—it’s not really been fully working for Leah, either. For the most part, I’ve loved how this show has adapted the books, but I don’t think it’s been doing as well with Abaddon’s Gate. It’s lost some of the sense of mystery, and scale (which I harped on last week and will not do again except to note that the seven-months bit was really needed), and somehow despite the blood and the extremely affecting tear effect, it’s felt like the emotional punches don’t land. The show feels constrained, and like it can’t quite figure out how to show us how much is at stake. We didn’t get enough of Tilly (RIP), or anyone aboard the Thomas Prince; the Behemoth is finally giving the impression that it’s as big as it is (did it look like you guys imagined?) after spending most of the season only on the control deck; having Bobbie around feels like a distraction; cutting straight from Anna yelling at Clarissa to her appearing on the Roci undermines what a HUGE thing this generally Earth-bound pastor just did, suiting up and blasting off into the void.

There is real feeling between Drummer and Ashford, and I’m definitely on board with his moral complexity; watching him make that vital choice while probably bleeding to death internally was rough, though also infuriating: he let Drummer think he was less injured than he is, and she nearly sacrificed herself because of it. That fraught moment with Amos and Naomi was perfect. But it still all feels a little bit like it’s lost some of the meaning. I need a little more awe, more terror, more grasping at understanding. I’ve got my fingers crossed for the finale, though!

Leah Schnelbach is in a state of DAMMIT, TILLY for the foreseeable future. Come mourn with her on Twitter!

Molly Templeton will resist the urge to walk around with her hands neatly folded behind her back in honor of Drummer. Talk to her about books and stuff on Twitter.

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom Breathes New Life into the Franchise

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There are few movie series that embody their tag line more than Jurassic Park. “Life finds a way” perfectly describes a franchise that opened with an all-time classic and followed it up with the worst movie Steven Spielberg has ever directed and a fun third entry that still somehow managed to reduce Tea Leoni to a shrieking peril klaxon. Even Jurassic World, which should have been a slam dunk, managed to stumble into some weird evolutionary dead ends: Claire running through the jungle in high heels. Owen being a just staggeringly unlikable leading man. The weird, violent glee it took in killing Katie McGrath’s character, Zara. For every evolutionary step forward, Jurassic World took two back. But it still landed well enough to get a sequel. Life still found a way.

And the good news is that Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom is far better than at least two of its predecessors, and may just be the second best movie in the franchise. There’s still a precipitous drop off between the original Jurassic Park and that number two slot but Fallen Kingdom makes a strong play for it, and breaks surprising new ground in the process…

Directed by J.A. Bayona, Fallen Kingdom picks up three years after Jurassic World. The catastrophic events of the previous movie have closed the park for good, and it’s reverted to a wild ecology where the dinosaurs mingle and fend for themselves. But Isla Nublar’s dormant volcano is not dormant anymore, and now the dinosaurs face extinction for a second time. Claire, now head of a dinosaur advocacy group, is approached by Eli Mills, a representative of John Hammond’s silent partner, Sir Benjamin Lockwood. They can save at least eleven species of dinosaur, if they go now. But to make sure that Blue the raptor is one of them, Claire is going to need Owen, too…

So let’s rip the band-aid off. When the movie doesn’t work—something that happens at several points in the film—it really doesn’t work. The opening scene features the most hilariously half-arsed corporate commandoes in recent movie history. Toby Jones and Ted Levine play epically terrible characters, a Trumpian arms dealer and cretinous redneck big game hunter, who bring the movie to a juddering halt every time they’re onscreen, which is far too often. Justice Smith plays a nerd character so stereotypical it’s like he’s fallen through a hole in time from 1990. He’s also written out of the movie—along with the excellent Daniella Pineda as Zia, a magnificently unflappable dinosaur veterinarian—for basically an entire act. This choice is almost certainly not a conscious effort to make sure the non-white cast members never grab the spotlight, but it sure as hell feels like it at times. Especially when you remember that while Owen returns for this movie, his partner in Jurassic World, played by Omar Sy, does not.

Speaking of the main cast, Bryce Dallas Howard’s blockbuster curse may finally be broken. After years of being treated dismally by every genre movie she’s been in (Terminator: Salvation and Spider-Man 3 both spring to mind, however desperately I wish they didn’t), she gets an actual, honest-to-god arc here. Claire as a dinosaur advocate feels realistic and earned. She’s determined, guilt-ridden, and completely willing to do what needs to be done. Plus, there’s no “yeah, but women aren’t complete unless they’re mothers” plot this time! Win!

Owen is still pretty unlikable, but there are some real attempts made to humanise him in this film. Like Claire, he’s faced with the consequences of his actions and, unlike Claire, is given a parental plot that makes perfect sense. His relationship with Blue is actually moderately emotionally charged and gives the film a couple of its best moments. Throw in a bunch of physical action that really plays like Pratt’s auditioning to be the new Indiana Jones and you’ve got a male lead that’s still a tenth as charming as he thinks he is, but far more charming than the last time he was on screen. If he can go an entire movie next time without negging Claire then we might even have a real winner.

So looked at this way: Fallen Kingdom is a flawed, mostly fun blockbuster that continues the slow process of steering of the franchise back on track. But it’s also vital to note that there are a few moments along the way that hint at something truly great slowly, but surely, growing in the franchise’s labs.

[Spoilers for the end of Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom follow…]

Bayona has an instinctive understanding of the scale and power of the dinosaurs that almost no other director in the series has shown, and that’s never more evident than in the way the film uses the Brachiosaurus population of the island. The “veggiesaurus” from the original movie shows up three times in this latest installment, and two of these scenes are perfect. The first is when one of the dinosaurs marches serenely through the frame, completely unconcerned with the military convoy at its feet and the characters just stop and stare in wonder at this magnificent, ridiculous animal. It’s a subtle, even poignant callback to the initial dinosaur reveal in the first movie and is shot through with the same wonder and sense of power.

The second time is much harder to sit through. As the pyroclastic cloud from the eruption sweeps across the island, the humans barely escape. A Brachiosaurus isn’t so lucky. Trapped on the dock, the colossal animal yells mournfully as the cloud envelopes her. We see a flash, we see her fall in silhouette and we see Claire’s face, streaked with tears. The message is simple; the park is dead, and so is the spirit of innocence and wonder that drove its best intentions, embodied in the massive, serene veggiesaurus.

The third time we see these dinosaurs is… odd. We’ll get to that in a moment, but first, we need to talk about the new ground the movie breaks—because the way that life finds here is both utterly new for the franchise and deeply surprising.

The script, by Colin Trevorrow and Derek Connolly, cleverly and quite literally grandfathers its new characters into place. The big third act reveal is that Lockwood and Hammond fell out when Lockwood used their genetics technology to clone his dead daughter, creating the young girl who is now his “granddaughter” Maisie (played very capably by Isabella Sermon). It’s a smartly handled idea, and one that both excuses and provides necessary context for the changes the movie makes. More importantly, this reveal carries us to the moment that catapults the entire franchise out into entirely new territory.

The genetics technology, as explained by Doctor Ian Malcolm in a pair of bookending monologues, can’t be controlled now. The results of it can’t be constrained, either, and the movie ends with the idea of creating dinosaur hybrids dead, but the dinosaurs themselves back in the wild. Many are sold to dealers for experimentation, hunting, or breeding. The remainder are set free in a scene that, on first glance, I really didn’t like—but the more I think about it, the more I think it may be the best thing the franchise has ever done.

After the closing fight, the holding pens for the unsold dinosaurs begin to be flooded with poisonous gas. Claire is faced with an impossible choice: release the dinosaurs into the wild and change the world forever or preside over their second extinction.

She doesn’t push the button. She makes the choice to let the dinosaurs die so that the world can be spared as much of the untidy biological singularity they represent as possible.

Maisie pushes the button instead.

At first this massively annoyed me. It felt like the latest in the long line of terrible choices this franchise has always made with its female leads. However, the more I think about it, the more this ending impresses me. Claire gets her big moment—she gets to make the difficult moral choice to let the dinosaurs die. The fact that they’re released anyway doesn’t invalidate or take away from her choice, but it does shift the lens of the movies solidly to Maisie and her generation. From here on out, children will be born into a world where two eco-systems are fighting for dominance, where dinosaurs aren’t a tourist attraction but a real, and present, threat, as well as asset. Owen and Claire helped make Jurassic World. But it’s Maisie, born from the same technology, who truly unleashes it. And the fact that a Brachiosaurus is seen in the resulting triumphant stampede suggests that the original spirit of the park remains alive. Yes, the world will be redder in tooth and claw than it’s ever been before. But dinosaurs are real. And now, dinosaurs are everywhere.

And ultimately that’s why Fallen Kingdom works. It’s scrappy, untidy—tonally, it’s wildly uneven (Levine’s character either has the best or worst death scene in the franchise and I still cannot decide which it is), but it’s never less than interesting. Whether it’s Bayona’s brilliant use of scale in presenting the dinosaurs or Claire flat out refusing to lie down and be rescued, the film is always reaching for something more, something better. It sometimes doesn’t entirely grasp it, but the effort is unmistakable, and the end result is far more fun than I was expecting. Better still, the stage is set for a third movie that, if it continues to build upon and subvert the mistakes of its predecessors, may finally see this franchise truly rise from the near-extinction of the original sequels. After all, as we’ve been told, life finds a way.

Alasdair Stuart is a freelancer writer, RPG writer and podcaster. He owns Escape Artists, who publish the short fiction podcasts Escape PodPseudopodPodcastleCast of Wonders, and the magazine Mothership Zeta. He blogs enthusiastically about pop culture, cooking and exercise at Alasdairstuart.com, and tweets @AlasdairStuart.

6 SFF Classics That Would Make Great Video Games

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Skyrim dragon

It hit me while checking out Fred Saberhagen’s fantasy classic The Book of Swords: This should be a video game.

The Book of Swords has a great out-of-the-box premise. “For a game the gods have given the world twelve Swords of Power so that they might be amused as the nations battle for their possession. But Vulcan the Smith has had his own little joke: the Swords can kill the gods themselves.”

I would play the heck out of that game. Even more so if there were dual storylines where you could play through as a human hunting down a God-slaying sword, or a God collecting the swords before all the humans can kill you.

The more I imagined that kind of game, the more I realized that there are a lot of science fiction and fantasy series stretching back through the decades that could find new life as a video game adaptation. Here are 6 off the top of my head:

 

The First Swords by Fred Saberhagen, as a Final Fantasy-esque RPG

Final Fantasy 15 armiger

I have to admit, the reason First Swords’ premise put me in video game mode is because of Final Fantasy XV, and that open-world RPG also features a human main character who is collecting godly swords in order to…well, actually, that’s a spoiler but it DOES involve gods. Plus, one of the first instances of you using some of your godly swords is to stand up to a really mean meteor-hurling God-Titan.

Combine Final Fantasy-style visuals, Saberhagen’s storytelling, and the insane action of the God of War series and you’d have an amazing video game.

 

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle, as a surprisingly emotional Portal-type game

Portal 2

Imagine the (also surprisingly emotional) Portal 2, but with the added features of having to negotiate between different types of portals. For instance, Meg could use a fifth dimension-based portal (a wrinkle, in the parlance of the books) to jump across a puzzle room in one shot, but would lose a memory of her family, the very thing that makes it possible for Meg to rescue Charles from IT at the end of the story. Alternately, she could use a tesseract-type portal and retain her memories, but be forced to negotiate a “flipside” version of the puzzle room, with different spatial relationships that don’t quite match up with the “normal” version.

Although this could also make unsolvable puzzles solvable. Like if you were placed inside a sphere and asked to get to a door on the opposite side, going into a “flipside” version where the sphere is a rectangular room could solve that.

There’d be a myriad of ways to solve a puzzle, but maybe only one way to preserve the memories, emotions, and humanity that enable Meg to truly win the day.

 

Wild Cards by George R. R. Martin and Melinda Snodgrass, as a Marvel vs. Capcom-esque fighting game

Marvel vs Capcom 3

Modok no

The Wild Cards series tells a wide range of stories and could sustain a similarly wide range of games, but really what I’d like to see is a game that disposes of those frameworks and just lets all the characters duke it out, power-to-power. The results would be insane, as characters who could never have met slam their powers against each other.

A bright, artistic, energetic art style akin to the Marvel vs. Capcom games would be very well suited to the Wild Cards series, and it would bring some whimsy to what is otherwise an apocalyptic landscape.

(Also you could have tournaments where the character that wins gets featured in the next Wild Cards story collection!)

 

The Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander, as a Legend of Zelda-esque adventure game

Zelda Breath of the Wild cooking

Lloyd Alexander’s middle-grade fantasy spin on Welsh mythology is better suited for a bright, cheery Dragon Quest type RPG series, but making it more of a Legend of Zelda-type would produce a way more fun game. Since each book in the five-book series involves a fetch-quest of some type, the story already naturally provides a series of dungeons, interspersed with story events. There’s also a ton of different cultures in the Prydain series, which would allow the player to wander around from town to city to village doing lots of cool, different sidequests and unfolding the mythology of the series bit by bit….

 

Iain M. Banks’ Culture series, as a SimGalaxy/Civilization-esque game

Civilization 6 Gandhi meme

Gandhi no

Because it basically already is. Except with the added tension of trying not to mess up the galactic utopia that you’ve already built!

 

Dragonriders of Pern by Anne McCaffrey, as an open-world Elder Scrolls-esque MMORPG

Skyrim dragon

The medieval setting of McCaffrey’s Dragonriders of Pern series has an amazing backstory for players to discover, one that could easily sustain a main quest storyline in an otherwise open world setting, similar to Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. The setting and the mythos are so solid, in fact, that you could really open Pern up (and really, you should, because otherwise you get weirdly stiff games like this Pern adaptation) and make it an online multiplayer game where players capture and breed dragons in between quests. (I imagine a video game studio would make millions off of dragon-breeding micro-transactions alone.)

Imagine actually being the person with the very best dragon in Pern, though. Who could ascend that valiant peak?

 

Originally published December 2016.

Chris Lough writes about fantasy on Tor.com.

“All that you know is at an end” — Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer

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While it was far from a critical success, and while the fan community seemed pretty divided on it (a common refrain was that Brad Bird had already done a better Fantastic Four movie with Pixar’s The Incredibles), Fantastic Four made a pretty penny in 2005, riding the new wave of Marvel films suddenly seemed to be all over the filmic landscape.

Green-lighting a sequel seemed a no-brainer, and so they brought most everyone back two years later, and decided to adapt one of the most iconic Fantastic Four comics stories ever: the coming of Galactus.

During their lengthy run on Fantastic Four, Stan Lee and Jack Kirby created many brilliant stories and introduced many amazing characters: villains like Dr. Doom, the Mole Man, Rama-Tut, Annihilus, the Puppet Master, and the Skrulls, plus nicer characters like Wyatt Wingfoot, the Black Panther, Alicia Masters, the Watcher, and the Inhumans.

But one of the biggest villains was Galactus, introduced in the lead-up to the landmark 50th issue of Fantastic Four in 1966. A creature as old as the universe itself, Galactus travels throughout the cosmos consuming the energy of whole planets for sustenance—and should that world be inhabited, so be it. (This was part of a particularly strong run that was preceded by an Inhumans story that ended with the Torch being brutally separated from his lady love Crystal and also introducing the Wingfoot character, and followed by the classic “This Man, This Monster,” as a scientist switches places with the Thing to get revenge on Mr. Fantastic, only to realize that the man he hates and is jealous of is truly a hero, and sacrifices his life to save him; and also the introduction of the Black Panther.)

Galactus has a herald, the Silver Surfer, who seeks out worlds for Galactus to consume. In the original storyline, the Watcher tries (and fails) to hide Earth from Galactus. The Fantastic Four do battle with the Silver Surfer, who winds up befriending Masters (the Thing’s girlfriend) and is convinced by her to plead with Galactus to save the Earth.

In the end, thanks to the FF’s resistance, the Watcher’s sending the Human Torch to retrieve an ultimate weapon, and the Surfer’s rebellion, Galactus is driven off, the first time he’s been denied a world. He punishes the Surfer by trapping him on Earth, which would remain the character’s status quo until the debut of his second solo monthly title in 1987, when he was finally freed from his imprisonment on our world.

In 2000, Marvel started their “Ultimate” line of books, with new versions of all their classic characters. The idea was to provide new stories for their iconic characters without forty years of continuity baggage. It was, in this reviewer’s opinion, a bad idea—why have two competing versions of the same characters?—but there were some good stuff in there. (Among other things, the Ultimate line gave us the Miles Morales Spider-Man and the African-American Nick Fury.) Ultimate Fantastic Four did a particularly radical new take on the FF, and the Ultimate universe also had its own version of the world-devourer, this one called Gah Lak Tus, and it was a hive mind of robotic drones that consumed worlds.

It was this version that the screenwriters used as inspiration as much as the original 1966 story, as Galactus was written here more as a force of nature than as a fifty-foot-tall white guy with a purple W on his helmet.

In addition to bringing back Ioan Gruffudd, Jessica Alba, Chris Evans, and Michael Chiklis as the titular foursome, as well as Julian McMahon as von Doom and Kerry Washington as Masters, this sequel brings in the great Andre Braugher as a new character, General Hager, as well as Beau Garrett and Vanessa Minnillo as, respectively, Frankie Raye and Julie Angel, both based on FF supporting characters. (Raye, here a captain in the U.S. Army, was a girlfriend of the Human Torch’s who wound up becoming a herald of Galactus in the comics.) Doug Jones plays the Silver Surfer but, for the second time in this rewatch, his character is voiced by someone more famous—in Hellboy it was David Hyde-Pierce, and here it’s Laurence Fishburne.

 

“I like the part where he knocks you on your ass”

Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer
Written by John Turman and Mark Frost and Don Payne
Directed by Tim Story
Produced by Avi Arad and Bernd Eichinger and Ralph Winter
Original release date: June 15, 2007

We see a world being completely destroyed—and a silver streak leaving the scene of destruction. That streak arrives on Earth, causing a river in Japan to freeze, a power outage in Los Angeles, and snow in Egypt.

On Earth, Reed and Sue are planning their wedding—for the fourth time, as each previous attempt was interrupted by a need to do something superheroic. Plans are not aided by Reed being regularly distracted by work. Johnny drags him and Ben to a club for a bachelor party, which is interrupted by the arrival of General Hager. (Sue arrives with Hager and his staff just as he’s dancing with two beautiful women, making good use of his stretching abilities. Sue pretends to be mad in front of everyone, but later privately admits to being glad he’s having fun.) Hager and Reed have history: Reed testified before Congress that Hager’s proposed missile defense system wouldn’t work.

Hager doesn’t want to approach Reed now, but he’s been ordered to. What the general public doesn’t know is that, besides the odd occurrences mentioned above, there are also gigunda sinkholes showing up at various points around the world. Hager needs Reed to build a scanner to detect this creature. Reed, however, refuses, as he has a wedding to plan. Sue is very pleased that he’s finally prioritizing their relationship.

Except he isn’t—he’s still building the scanner for Hager on the sly, and finishes it right before the wedding. Said nuptials take place on a rooftop in New York, with tons of guests, Johnny trying to monetize the wedding, including auctioning memorabilia, and also Stan Lee trying to get in but being turned away by an usher who doesn’t believe that it’s really him. (This may be the only Stan Lee cameo in which he actually plays himself…)

Unfortunately, the scanner goes online and detects that the entity is heading straight for the wedding. It causes a massive power failure all over New York, regardless of the item’s power source—it includes a drill being used by a ConEd worker and the paparazzi helicopter flying over the wedding. Reed, Sue, and Ben manage to save folks from being killed by the crashing helicopter while Reed sends Johnny after the entity.

Said entity turns out to be a silver humanoid on a silver surfboard. Johnny chases him all the way from New York to Washington D.C., and the Silver Surfer finally grabs Johnny by the throat and brings him into the stratosphere, where there isn’t enough air for him to maintain his flame. He plummets to the Earth and manages to flame on long enough for a barely controlled landing somewhere in the Middle East.

Johnny gets back to New York, er, somehow and reports to the rest of the team and Hager. The Surfer destroyed the scanner, apparently having recognized it for what it is. Hager directs Reed to build another.

At one point, the Surfer flies over Latveria, and his proximity causes von Doom to awaken within his frozen armor. He is cut out of it, and he covers his ruined body in a cloak and tracks the Surfer to the Russell Glacier. He proposes an alliance, but the Surfer just blasts him. The blast hurts von Doom temporarily, but also restores his physical form to its old self.

Proximity to the Surfer doesn’t just affect von Doom, though—every time Johnny touches one of the other team members he switches powers with them. It happens accidentally with Sue, and then Ben touches him on purpose so he can be human again, however temporarily. Sue is also worried about how they don’t have normal lives, and how can they hope to raise a family when they’re superheroes? Reed proposes that after this crisis and they’re married, they go off somewhere away from New York, stop being heroes and raise a family.

Johnny overhears this and shares it with Ben. Neither is particularly happy about the idea.

Reed figures out the pattern of the sinkholes and determines that the next will be right in the middle of the Thames near the London Eye. The Surfer arrives and makes the hole—which drains the Thames—and also starts to knock the Eye over. It takes all of Reed, Sue, and Ben’s efforts to keep it from collapsing. When Johnny goes after the Surfer, he doesn’t notice a whipping broken cable, which knocks him into Reed, and they switch powers—except Reed’s flexible form is bracing the Eye. However, Reed instead uses his newly acquired flame abilities to weld the broken part of the Eye back into place.

Hager—who was already annoyed with the FF for bickering about Reed and Sue’s plan to leave the team and not tell Johnny and Ben in the middle of a mission—is fed up with their complete inability to actually do anything about the Surfer. He brings in someone else: von Doom, now fully restored to his old self, and who has footage of his confrontation with the Surfer. They realize that his power seems to derive from his board. They have to separate him from the board. Reed and von Doom are put to work on that. Reed is not happy about working with von Doom, telling Hager that he can’t trust him. But von Doom himself says the world is at stake, and they all have reason to save it.

Johnny tries, not for the first time, to flirt with Hager’s aide, Captain Frankie Raye, and she rebukes him for almost getting his teammates and innocents killed with his irresponsible behavior.

Reed figures out how to separate the Surfer from his board: with a tachyon pulse. They track the Surfer to the Black Forest in Germany, and the FF set up the pulse generator (after Reed has to remind Hager that he’s in charge). However, the Surfer arrives before Sue can finish her part of putting it together—so Hager sends missiles after him to distract him. (This mostly results in Hager’s command center getting blown to bits by a pissed-off Surfer.) However, Sue is able to activate her pulse generator, the Surfer is separated from his board and brought to a base in Siberia. (Why a U.S. Army task force brings him to Siberia is left as an exercise for the viewer, though it will have to get in line behind how that same task force operates in England and Germany…)

With the Surfer captured, von Doom gets from Hager what was promised: a shot at the surfboard. Meanwhile, the FF are put under virtual house arrest. Sue uses her invisibility to sneak out and talk to the Surfer, who reveals that he is not here to destroy the world, but to prepare it for a cosmic creature called Galactus, which devours worlds. He agreed to become Galactus’s herald in order to spare his own homeworld. He left everything behind, including the woman he loved. Sue reminds him of her, which is why he saved her life from Hager’s missiles.

Elsewhere, von Doom informs Hager that he should have listened to Reed when he said not to trust von Doom, and he blasts the general and another soldier, puts on his armor, and connects himself to the board. Now possessed of the power cosmic (which is never called that), he kills Hager and flies off on his own.

The FF take advantage of the chaos created by von Doom’s departure to escape their own house arrest. Reed summons the Fantasti-Car and they put the Surfer—who gives his name as Norrin Radd—inside to help them. Radd explains that Galactus is drawn to the board. (At one point, Raye tries to stop them—though the gun she’s holding wouldn’t really be all that effective—but Johnny is able to convince her to let them go.)

They track von Doom to Shanghai, and he pretty much kicks their butts. They try to explain that Galactus is using the board to track Earth and come to it to destroy it, but von Doom is too consumed with power to give much of a damn. At one point, Sue gets between von Doom and Radd to try to save him, but von Doom’s cosmically powered spear penetrates both her force field and Sue herself. Reed holds her mortally wounded form. Reed can separate von Doom from the board, but only if he can get close enough. It would take all four of them to do so—or one of them with all four powers. Johnny touches all three of them at once and he winds up with everyone’s powers—er, somehow. He flies after von Doom doing his Super-Skrull act, eventually managing to use all of the team’s powers to bring him down.

Radd regains the board and uses his powers to restore Sue, then flies into orbit to confront Galactus and stop it from consuming the planet which he does, er, somehow.

The world is saved and Reed and Sue decide to have a small wedding ceremony in Japan—and as soon as they’re done, they have to stop Venice from sinking into the Adriatic Sea…

Meanwhile, the Silver Surfer floats in space, and opens his eyes, his board coming toward him.

 

“This is the end for us both”

As a live-action portrayal of the Fantastic Four comic book characters, this movie is much better than the first one. Gruffudd’s Reed is much more sure of himself, for one thing, while Evans and Chiklis remain superb. Alba’s Sue is—okay, I guess. Her best moments are her interactions with the Surfer and her work helping save the Eye is well done, but Alba still feels wrong in the part. (It doesn’t help that the wig she wears is awful.)

McMahon is actually worse as von Doom in this one, though it’s mitigated by his greatly reduced screen time. Actually seeing von Doom’s scarred face feels wrong on every level, since the one constant over the last sixty years has been that we never see Dr. Doom’s face. And what we do see is kinda disappointing. (It’s right up there with Dredd unmasking in Judge Dredd, though there at least we have the excuse that it’s Sylvester Stallone and his very famous face. What do we gain by seeing Julian McMahon covered in bad makeup?)

Still and all, the banter among the main characters is fantastic. (Sorry…) They sound like the bickering family we’ve been reading about for decades. I especially approve of seeing Reed as a great scientist who is consulted by militaries and governments, rather than the ineffectual dunderhead of the previous film.

Unfortunately, the actual storyline is a disaster. So many things here don’t make sense, starting with how, exactly, the U.S. Army is able to run operations on foreign soil like the UK, Germany, and especially Russia without any kind of presence from local military forces. (Apparently, early drafts of the script had Nick Fury in the role that eventually became Hager. This would’ve worked way better with S.H.I.E.L.D. than it does with the Army.) How does the Fantasti-Car get literally halfway around the world in ten minutes? How does Johnny exchanging powers with anyone he touches translate to him getting everyone’s powers at the end, which is contradictory to how it worked in the movie up to that point? (At the very least, his flame powers and ability to fly should have been transferred to one of the other three.) How does the Surfer actually stop Galactus? (He just sorta flies into him and Galactus collapses in on itself, and that’s it, and holy shit is it anticlimactic.)

Hager himself is a straw bad guy, elevated only by the magnificent Andre Braugher, who can make a silk purse out of any sow’s ears. Beau Garrett’s Raye goes from disdaining the FF to suddenly and unconvincingly being Johnny’s date at the wedding and trying to catch the bouquet, a transition that makes nothing like sense. Doug Jones does his usual amazing work with body language as the Surfer, and much as I love Laurence Fishburne, I wish Jones had been able to do the voice himself, especially since his own voice is actually much closer to how I always heard the Surfer in my head when I read his adventures than Fishburne’s is. Still, whatever its other flaws, the movie captured the Surfer’s regality and nobility and look beautifully.

The same cannot be said for the character to whom the Surfer is herald. Changing Galactus from a character to a monstrous force-of-nature style entity was stupid when the Ultimate line did it in the comics, and it’s just as stupid here. The power of the original Galactus trilogy in 1966 was in challenging Galactus, particularly the Silver Surfer betraying his master when he sees the good in humanity that should be spared.

By making Galactus a force of nature cloud of whatever-it-is, it just becomes a hurricane they have to stop. You don’t get the Watcher pleading on humanity’s behalf, you don’t get Alicia Masters pleading with the Surfer to spare humanity (Sue’s conversations with the Surfer in the movie are decent, but pale in comparison to the original), and you don’t get the power of the Surfer’s rebellion, nor of Galactus condemning him to Earth at the end (which doesn’t even happen in the film).

This is a better Fantastic Four adaptation than the previous film, but it’s also a much dumber movie. The general public seemed to agree, as this one had a smaller box-office return despite a bigger budget, and the planned third film never got off the ground.

Several of the actors in these movies would go on to other comic book roles. Alba is in both Sin City movies. Chiklis has a starring role for a while in Gotham (as well as the short-lived superhero semi-sitcom No Ordinary Family not actually based on a specific comic). Fishburne will play both Perry White in Man of Steel, Batman v. Superman, and Justice League and Bill Foster in Ant-Man & The Wasp. Jones will reprise Abe Sapien in Hellboy II: The Golden Army and also play Deathbolt on both Arrow and The Flash. McMahon will be in both RED and Runaways. Braugher will voice Darkseid in the animated Superman/Batman: Apocalypse.

Oh yeah, and that Evans guy starred in a movie or two, playing some obscure Marvel hero. The Patriot, or somebody…

 

For the next three weeks, we’ll look at Christopher Nolan’s trilogy about the dark knight detective, starting with Batman Begins.

Keith R.A. DeCandido will be one of the guests at “Author’s Day” at the Star Trek Original Series Set Tour in Ticonderoga, New York on Saturday the 23rd of June, alongside fellow Trek scribes Peter David, Dave Galanter, Robert Greenberger, and Scott Pearson. He’ll be selling and signing books all day, and also giving a talk from noon to 1pm. Come check it out!

13 Optimistic Fantasies to Chase Away the Grimdark Blues

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Grimdark fantasy is great, but sometimes (especially when the summer sun is beaming) we want something that’s more… optimistic. Just a little, at least! We’ve gathered 13 of our favorite brighter fantasies below, but be sure to add your own picks in the comments!

 

The Goblin Emperor—Katherine Addison

Katherine Addison’s delightful novel is about many things, but at its (lovable) heart it’s a story about realizing that sometimes your quirks are your greatest strengths. Maia, half-elven, half-goblin, becomes Emperor when his father and three elder brothers are assassinated. He has to learn how to rule a distrustful kingdom while he investigates the murder, navigates the byzantine politics of his (primarily Elven) court, and, hardest of all, stays true to himself. The story doesn’t shy away from the horrors of executions or the ugliness of prejudice, but it also focuses on the power of compassion to bridge social differences and effect change.

 

The Face in the Frost—John Bellairs

A wizard named Prospero (not that one) teams up with his old friend, the adventurer Roger Bacon (OK, maybe that one), to confront an evil power attacking their kingdom. They know going into the fight that they’re outmatched, but what else can they do? Bellairs’ story, like all of his work, juggles truly effective horror with quirky humor. The book gives weight to both elements, owning up to the terror that would come with a fight against evil, but also never wallowing in that terror to the point of overwhelming the humanity of the book.

 

The Copper Promise—Jen Williams

Williams’ novel combines some of the tropes of grimdark, e.g. mercenaries, torture, and tragic backstories, with some of the higher ideals of sword and sorcery. Best of all, it treats what could have been a slog through brutal battles as a lighthearted adventure. This bright tone, combined with a biting sense of humor, make the book fun as well as epic. The fallen knight is more complicated than we think, the swordswoman-for-hire is as handy with snark as she is with a sword, and… what’s this? The main character’s arc is one of rediscovering his humanity after a horrible trauma, rather than a slow degradation into despair? Is it possible?

 

Riftwar Series—Raymond E. Feist

Several denizens of Twitter suggested Feist’s work as an antidote to grit! The central conceit of the Riftwar books are the rifts themselves—they can join worlds, but those who travel through them can seek communication and exploration, or war and conquest, and the series explores many permutations of these choices. Sure, it has has war right there in the name, but it also has characters who are willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good, who take chances on trusting each other (and have that trust rewarded), rulers who choose mercy over murder, and candidates for the throne who abdicate so that better people can lead. We’re a long way from Westeros when we’re reading Feist.

 

Shannara Series—Terry Brooks

These are more high fantasy style, involving hero quests in addition to mundane acts of heroism. As he says in his 2003 book Sometimes the Magic Works, his “protagonists are cut from the same bolt of cloth as Bilbo and Frodo Baggins. It was Tolkien’s genius to reinvent the traditional epic fantasy by making the central character neither God nor hero, but a simple man in search of a way to do the right thing….I was impressed enough by how it had changed the face of epic fantasy that I never gave a second thought to not using it as the cornerstone of my own writing.”

 

Chrestomanci SeriesDiana Wynne Jones

All of Diana Wynne Jones’ books could be on this list, but we’ll stick with the Chrestomanci Series, and particularly, The Lives of Christopher Chant. People die, parents split up, and villainous uncles trick nephews into nefarious schemes, but Wynne Jones still gives us characters to root for and dashes of hope. Christopher Chant himself is good-hearted (occasionally bitchy, but good-hearted), going out of his way to help a young goddess, and forging a friendship with the awesomely-named Throgmorten the Cat.

 

The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars—Steven Brust

Brust’s novel is about a painter creating oil paintings and putting an art show together. It’s also a retelling of the Hungarian tale of Taltos, who uses expert-level trickster skills to con the sun, moon, and stars away from the monsters who own them. The stories parallel each other in fascinating ways, but much of the weight is given to the modern story of a person who is part of both an artistic community and a supportive relationship. This allows the book to work as an inspiring tale of the value of art, rather than just another quirky fairytale mashup.

 

Range of GhostsElizabeth Bear

Range of Ghosts, the first book in Bear’s Eternal Sky trilogy, gives us an epic fantasy world influenced by Central Asian culture. Temur, a grandson of the Great Khagan, and Samarkar, the former princess of the Rasa dynasty who abdicated her royalty to become a wizard, must stand together against the hidden cult that has caused civil war throughout the empires of the Celadon Highway. While this is a complex book, with layers of religious tradition and political intrigue, Bear also focuses on the characters at the story’s center, and, as Liz Bourke said in her review, “the significance of a single life, united with other single lives,” and “moments of kindness and stillness amidst the horror of war,” creating an epic with a beating, human heart.

 

The Dragon’s PathDaniel Abraham

The Dragon’s Path is epic fantasy that picks up after the dragons have gone, leaving behind thirteen races who were bred to serve them. Now those races squabble and war with each other as they try to map an economy and political destiny. While there is a lot of page-time spent on pseudo-Renaissance banking systems, Abraham also takes the time to give us several point-of-view characters that enrich the story with humanity. He chooses to focus on a higher-class couple who would probably be the villains in most books, but here are made worthy of empathy.

 

Little, Big—John Crowley

Little, Big unfolds over nearly a century, as the Drinkwater clan builds an intricate relationship with the world of faerie. We meet the human family, hear rumors of magical beings, visit a dystopian City, and spend some time with a Grandfather Trout who might be a cursed prince. Crowley isn’t afraid to slow down and ponder heady subjects like free will and fate, or to tell his story through intricate detail and gorgeous language, which led to a novel that Ursula le Guin said, “…all by itself calls for a redefinition of fantasy,” and Thomas Disch called “the best fantasy novel ever. Period.”

 

Lyonesse TrilogyJack Vance

This trilogy melds Arthurian stories, chivalric tropes, and Celtic mythology into a story of a despotic king, his daughter, and her lover. Since Vance took elements from several different medieval periods and used those elements to bring life to his own magical lands, he can play around with references to stories and echoes of themes, such as the fall of Atlantis, without being tied to an expected narrative. While the story itself is not exactly lighthearted, it does feature plenty of humor, fun, and romance. He also uses the Atlantean references to tinge the whole story with melancholy—how long can Lyonesse last? Does the possibility of the Kingdom’s end overshadow the joy that can be had in the moment?

 

The Innkeeper’s SongPeter S. Beagle

We talk about The Last Unicorn a lot on this site, because The Last Unicorn is fucking awesome. But! Peter S. Beagle did so much more! So when a Twitterer mentioned Beagle’s work, I decided to highlight The Innkeeper’s Song. Beagle jumps across multiple points of view to weave several different quests together. Tikat pursues his childhood love, whom he saw resurrected by magicians. Lal and Nyateneri, the magicians, are racing to save their old mentor from his powerful but evil student. Lukassa, the resurrected girl, has her own path to pursue. And the Innkeeper himself must take them all in, even though he knows they bring trouble with them. Through nested quests and elegant language, Beagle tries to get to the heart of death, love, and duty.

 

The Curse of Chalion Series—Lois McMaster Bujold

This series is a melding of fantasy and theology informed by elements of medieval Spanish history and mysticism, especially the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella in the late 15th Century. The Curse of Chalion follows Lupe dy Cazaril, who returns home after war and enslavement to try to live a quiet life, but instead finds himself working to lift the curse that lays on the royal family that has acted as his patron. A little bit epic, a little bit slice of (imaginary, alternate universe) life, the series takes questions of morality and duty seriously, without succumbing to endless bouts of violence or despair.

So, this is our list, but we’re sure there are more upbeat fantasies out there—give us your suggestions! Do you want some light to cut through the grimdarkness, or are do you prefer your fantasy as gritty as possible?

 

Originally published in April 2014.

Octavia Butler Will Change the Way You Look at Genre Fiction

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The first Octavia Butler novel I ever read was Fledgling, and it was a revelation. While I had been taught by early exposure to Ursula Le Guin that genre fiction could be political, could comment on social and cultural morés, I never expected that someone would use vampires to discuss bigotry, racism, and slavery. It’s been almost a decade since I read it, but I doubt I’ll ever forget that sense of wonder.

And that, more than anything else, is why Butler ranks as one of my all-time favorites. Of course, her accomplishments are many—this is a woman who conquered both dyslexia and prejudice to become an award-winning writer and a MacArthur Fellow. Kindred alone is enough to put her in the ranks of influential sci-fi writers. But I am a lifelong genre fan and a somewhat-jaded reader, and I’ve read a lot of good books and many great ones too. So when I read, I’m looking for a return to that moment we’ve all felt, in which an author does something so original, so creative, so truly surprising, that it feels like your mind has been blown wide open. Octavia Butler’s books create that moment, time and again.

For the first U.S. World Book Night, I chose to hand out Kindred. There’s nothing simple about trying to convince strangers first, that you’re not trying to give them religious materials, and second, that they should take this sci-fi novel from you. And believe me, I dearly wanted to say, “Have you accepted Octavia Butler as your personal reading savior?” but wiser heads convinced me this was a bad idea. So instead, I often found myself babbling. “It’s not just a time travel novel,” I told people. “It’s a book that shows how you can use science fiction to talk about politics and society.” “It’s amazing. It will change the way you look at genre fiction.” “She’s the most famous female African-American sci-fi writer!”

I said all those things because they were true, but mostly because “It will astonish you,” doesn’t seem like enough of a pitch. But truthfully, that’s the highest praise I can give: Octavia Butler will astonish you.

Originally published in June 2013

Announcing the 2018 Locus Awards Winners

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Locus Awards winners 2018

Locus Magazine announced the winners of the 2018 Locus Awards during the Locus Awards Weekend in Seattle, WA, which took place June 22 to 24, 2018, with Connie Willis serving as MC of the awards ceremony. Congratulations to the all of the winners and finalists!

The list of finalists and winners is below. Winners for each category appear in bold.

SCIENCE FICTION NOVEL

FANTASY NOVEL

HORROR NOVEL

YOUNG ADULT BOOK

FIRST NOVEL

NOVELLA

NOVELETTE

SHORT STORY

ANTHOLOGY

COLLECTION

MAGAZINE

  • Tor.com
  • Analog
  • Asimov’s
  • Beneath Ceaseless Skies
  • Clarkesworld
  • F&SF
  • File 770
  • Lightspeed
  • Strange Horizons
  • Uncanny

PUBLISHER

  • Tor
  • Angry Robot
  • Baen
  • DAW
  • Gollancz
  • Orbit
  • Saga
  • Small Beer
  • Subterranean
  • Tachyon

EDITOR

  • Ellen Datlow
  • John Joseph Adams
  • Neil Clarke
  • Gardner Dozois
  • C.C. Finlay
  • Jonathan Strahan
  • Lynne M. Thomas & Michael Damian Thomas
  • Ann & Jeff VanderMeer
  • Sheila Williams
  • Navah Wolfe

ARTIST

  • Julie Dillon
  • Kinuko Y. Craft
  • Galen Dara
  • Bob Eggleton
  • Gregory Manchess
  • Victo Ngai
  • John Picacio
  • Shaun Tan
  • Charles Vess
  • Michael Whelan

NON-FICTION

ART BOOK


Tor.com Publishing Opening to Novella Submissions on July 30

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Tor.com Publishing will soon be reopening to unsolicited novella submissions! Starting July 30, 2018, Lee Harris, Carl Engle-Laird, and Ruoxi Chen will be reading and evaluating original novellas submitted by authors to https://tor.moksha.io/publication/tornovellas. You can find full guidelines here, and we highly recommend you read the guidelines before submitting. We will be open for two weeks beginning on July 30 around 9:00 AM EST (UTC-1:00) and ending on August 13 9:00 AM EST (UTC-1:00).

For those of you who held off submitting in May, this is your moment! If you did submit in May and have not yet received a response, fear not: we are still reading and will be responding to every submission.

Until the end of this open period, Tor.com Publishing will be considering novellas of between 20,000 and 40,000 words in both the science fiction and fantasy genres. If it’s speculative and fits the bill, we want to take a look at it.

Lee Harris, Carl Engle-Laird, and Ruoxi Chen all actively request submissions from writers from underrepresented populations. This includes, but is not limited to, writers of any race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, nationality, class and physical or mental ability. We believe that good science fiction and fantasy reflects the incredible diversity and potential of the human species, and hope our catalog will reflect that.

In addition to reviewing the guidelines, we also encourage you to take a look at our existing list to get a sense of the work our current authors are producing and Tor.com Publishing’s vision and tastes. Good luck—we look forward to reading your work.

How SciFi Can Solve the Problem of Red Dwarf Stars

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Certain facts about M-class red dwarf stars are vexing for authors and readers of SF. Not to mention reviewers. I am vexed.

First fact: they’re economical. Because they are low mass, you can make a lot more of them from a given amount of matter than you can make of mid-K to mid-F class stars1). Also, they last a long long time, even by galactic standards. Someone or something must have been frugal, because the vast majority of stars are red dwarfs. This proportion will only increase once the stelliferous era draws to an end in the near future (by galactic standards).

What’s so bad about most of the galaxy being composed of long-lived stars? Well, I am happy you asked…

A lot of science fiction authors simply ignore red dwarfs, if only because simple math suggests that the odds of an Earthlike world being in the habitable zone of a red dwarf must be pretty slim. After all, the Sun is fairly bright as stars go and it only has three potentially habitable worlds in the Goldilocks zone—two of which are dead as Dillinger. A back of the envelope calculation suggests that if the Solar System is any guide, most Earthlike worlds in red dwarf systems would be too close or too far away.

But the universe does not necessarily conform to reasonable expectations. A surprising number of red dwarfs have potentially habitable worlds in their tiny Goldilocks zones (as we now know, having learned to detect extrasolar planets). Proxima Centauri, for example, has one, despite the fact that its habitable zone is roughly the width of a piece of paper. Gliese 581 has one, too. TRAPPIST-1 has three and what’s up with that? It seems any quasi-realistic setting will have not just a surfeit of red dwarfs, but a surfeit of habitable worlds orbiting them. Sorry—potentially habitable. Let me explain.

Red dwarfs are roughly as bright as a 40-watt bulb. For a world to be close enough to a red dwarf to be potentially habitable, they have to be close enough that, like our Moon with the Earth, they would be tidelocked (technically, what is called 1:1 spin-orbit resonance.). One side will perpetually face their primary and one perpetually face away2].

That’s fine for the Moon. We have an interesting view because most of the mysterious someone/something’s SF/X budget was spent on the Lunar nearside. Nothing of importance is lost because we never see the farside.

A planet, however… one side will be bathed in continual sunlight, while the other lies in Stygian darkness. In olden days, some feared this would lead all the volatiles like water and oxygen to precipitate out on the night side. Recent models suggest even a modest atmosphere would prevent that from happening. Unfortunately, proximity to the star means exposure to solar flares: goodbye atmosphere. Well, maybe.

This presents hard SF authors with the annoying possibility that the Milky Way is replete with worlds that would be habitable if only they weren’t in orbit around a red dwarf. This seems wasteful. But until our telescopes get good enough to say whether or not the potentially habitable worlds of red dwarfs are actually habitable or if they are radiation-soaked airless rocks, there are some dodges SF authors can use to handwave habitability3.

The first and easiest is to simply ignore issues like spin-orbit resonance and flares and assume habitable worlds of red dwarfs are pretty much like Earth, except that the light is a bit redder4. Example: In Rogue Queen, de Camp’s Ormazd orbits the dim star Lalande 21185, but it seems to be astonishingly Earthlike. That’s the boring solution.

The second easiest solution is to accept that there’s a vast distance between “habitable in the sense that some form of life-as-we-know it could survive there” and “habitable in the sense that humans could survive there without sophisticated technology.” Life does persist in places where humans would quickly perish, after all. So one can embrace the implications of 1:1 spin-orbit resonance and the occasional flare, and see what story ideas fall out of it. Stephen Baxter’s Proxima, for example, is set on a hypothetical planet of Proxima Centauri, one not especially friendly to humans. (To add to the misery, the world is being settled in a manner seemingly calculated to maximize human unhappiness—as one might expect from a Baxter novel.)

The third solution is to imagine a way in which tidelocking has been avoided or mitigated. Larry Niven’s Draco’s Tavern series, for example, features a race of aliens who evolved on a double planet orbiting a red dwarf; the two worlds are tide-locked to each other and not their star. The series notes that such double worlds are not exactly common, but…in a galaxy of 400 billion stars, even a small fraction is a large absolute number. The Chirps have found lots of worlds like their home. Now, given the existence of the Earth-Moon and Pluto-Charon systems, double worlds might seem like a reasonable hand-wave. On the minus side, the forces operating on such worlds may destabilize the double planets in a geologically short time. Note that no world closer to the Sun than the Earth has a natural satellite….

There are other solutions.

The Mercury Solution: spin-orbit resonance doesn’t have to be 1:1. Mercury, for example, is close enough to the Sun to be tidelocked, but for various reasons, it spins three times for every two passages around the Sun. This means it does not have a permanent day side and permanent night side. It also means that Mercury’s Solar day (the interval between noon to noon) is about twice as long as its year. Oddly, although Mercury’s 3:2 spin-orbit resonance was discovered half a century ago, I cannot think of many SF authors who were inspired to imagine worlds with 3:2 tidal locks elsewhere in the galaxy. The closest example that comes to mind is the homeworld of the alien Betans in Poul Anderson’s Avatar. Beta orbits its K3 star in about 3000 hours and is tide-locked into a 2000 hour day. Not exactly what I had in mind. If you know of a better example, please provide it in comments!

Venus offers still another solution. Venus revolves around the Sun in about 225 days. It revolves around its axis once every 243 days. It revolves backwards, because apparently Venus is the Ginger Rogers5 of the Solar System. Why there is that slight mismatch is an interesting question. The important thing is that there is one: If Venus’ spin and orbit can be slightly out of phase, so could the spin and orbit of a world orbiting Ross 128. At least until the astronomers show us otherwise. Again, Poul Anderson provides an example: in “The Three-Cornered Wheel” the planet Ivanhoe orbits a red sun, but has a day sixty hours long.

Note that when rotation and revolution almost but don’t quite match, solar days can be counterintuitively long. If, say, a hypothetical world orbited Proxima in 16 hours and rotated on its axis in 15 hours, 50 minutes, it would take about 1485 hours (over 60 Earth days) for Proxima to return to the same point in its world’s sky. Assuming I did not mess up the math. On the plus side, that gives inhabitants more time to get out of the ocean’s way (greater tidal forces, Bay of Fundy tides).

Again, I cannot think of a novel featuring a world with a long day, orbiting a red dwarf, but Dave Duncan’s West of January features a world, Vernier, where a near match between revolution and rotation has given it a day two Earth centuries long.

If one is a pessimist and assumes that naturally occurring habitable worlds around red dwarfs are vanishingly rare, there’s still hope. The key word there is “naturally.” What is a dead world—tidelocked to its star and scoured clean of air and water by flares—but a supreme challenge for your dedicated terraformer? Begin building shades in orbit, import the volatiles that almost certainly exist in the system6, put some hardy lifeforms to work and voila! In just ten thousand years you might have an anoxic Precambrian world!

It is a small investment of time, given that planets can be habitable for billions of years. Pity humans don’t think in those scales.

 


1: Wait, do I need to explain this bit? The Morgan-Keenan system rates stars from hottest to coolest thusly: O, B, A, F, G, K and M. This is easily remembered with the mnemonic obafgkm, which (as I explained to my fellow Scrabble players) is a resinous wine made from the flesh of certain cacti found in the Yukon. Or it will be, once I introduce cacti to the Yukon and convince people to start making a resinous wine from it.

I won’t get into luminosity classes except to say: if your home planet is orbiting anything that isn’t a class V main sequence star, you’re either in command of some impressive technology or very, very screwed.

2: More or less. The effects of other bodies in the system can make worlds wobble a bit, which is why pre-space-age Earth-bound observers could map more than half of the surface of the Moon.

3: One feature every habitable world will have (so obvious that authors need not mention it) is a powerful magnetic field. That should provide some protection against the charged particles in flares, although it won’t help with the x-rays.

4: Human eyes wouldn’t notice the spectrum shift, but a great many SF authors are convinced that it would be like living under a red lightbulb.

5: Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, except backwards and in high heels.

6: It turns out water, which is made from the most common element in the universe and the third most common element in the universe, is itself pretty common, contrary to what certain television franchises would have us believe.

In the words of Wikipedia editor TexasAndroid, prolific book reviewer and perennial Darwin Award nominee James Davis Nicoll is of “questionable notability.” His work has appeared in Publishers Weekly and Romantic Times as well as on his own websites, James Nicoll Reviews and Young People Read Old SFF (where he is assisted by editor Karen Lofstrom and web person Adrienne L. Travis). He is surprisingly flammable.

Rereading the Vorkosigan Saga: Winterfair Gifts, Part 1

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Roic knows you were staring at him.

Everyone has had the dream where you’re at work, or school if you’ve ever been to a school, or maybe somehow both, and there’s a test or an emergency, or a test that IS an emergency, and everyone is there and you aren’t wearing any pants.

Roic has lived that nightmare, with a side helping of bug butter, if you can use the term “side helping” to describe a quantity of bug butter that is coating a person’s entire body. It escaped most people’s notice in the moment, but his underwear and sidearm were on backwards. Roic regards the incident as an unfortunate and humiliating lapse in the standards due to his liege lord, and one that explains why he is still on what appears to be permanent night duty.

Winterfair Gifts is a novella set after A Civil Campaign. Although it is short, I will be discussing it in three blog posts—this one focuses on Roic and Taura. The others will deal with the mystery and the wedding. The story has that title because it is set at Winterfair, which I presume is half a Barrayaran year away from Midsummer. I’m not quite sure how long a Barrayaran year is, but Roic seems to have been on night duty, looking for an opportunity to redeem himself, for a very long time.

The story opens a few days before the wedding, when Roic opens the gates for Miles’s Dendarii friends. Elena and Baz have brought their daughter, little Cordelia. Something must have changed in Baz’s legal situation to allow him to make this visit. I’m so happy for him! Arde Mayhew is also here—we don’t see him in conversation with Cordelia, but I hope they reconnected.

The fourth Dendarii guest is Sergeant Taura. In the days before the wedding, Miles wants her to have what I think of as a Barrayaran Disney experience. He sends her shopping for clothes with Lady Alys, and has Roic act as her bodyguard to protect her from the anti-mutant prejudices that run rampant in Barrayaran society. She gets to nibble an endless stream of Ma Kosti hors d’oeuvres.

Taura has been on my mind for the last few weeks, not just because she’s the protagonist here, but because of what she represents. Bujold’s stories create a class—several classes—of children who are separated from their parents. Bujold’s stories deal with children who aren’t just removed from their biological progenitors, they were never directly connected to them in the first place. Some of these children, like Mark and the clones he tried to rescue in Mirror Dance, have parents in the legal or biological sense but have no relationship with them. Some of these children—the first generation of Quaddies, Taura, Terrence Cee—are separated from the entire notion of having clearly identifiable parents.

These children are the heroic. The Quaddies freed themselves from corporate ownership to create their own zero-G space commune. Mark saved Miles and has gone on to take on the clone industry in the only way that works on Jackson’s Whole. Terrence escaped to Athos with his sister’s ovarian cultures to stick it to the Cetagandans and start a new life with Ethan. Taura’s story has been marked from its beginnings by her determination to make her own choices.

These children are also incredibly vulnerable. Parents are people who stand up for children, and when children don’t have parents or are separated from them, it’s often because of a deliberate attempt to make sure no one stands up for them. The clones on Jackson’s whole were created to be sacrificed so that amoral rich people could try to stretch out their lives. Galen tortured Mark and denied him the right to an identity of his own. After years of psycho-social manipulation designed to make them into compliant slave-laborers, the Quaddies were reclassified as “post-fetal experimental tissue cultures” to enable their extermination. Terrence and his sister were hunted by assassins. Taura was subjected to medical experiments, watched all her siblings die, and then was sold into sex slavery. When she fought back, she was imprisoned and starved. If anyone but the Dendarii had been sent to retrieve the tissue samples implanted in her leg, she would have died at sixteen.

She didn’t die.

When Miles rescues someone, he doesn’t stop until they are really rescued. This is not the same as really safe. Taura has built a career as a bodyguard and a commando. She is not safe; She understands her own power, and she makes her own decisions. More people should get that chance.

Taura is dying now.

Longevity wasn’t a need for the super soldier project that created her. She dyes her hair to cover the grey. Dendarii’s fleet medics keep telling her she probably has a year. She lives her days one at a time and tries not to miss any chances. Barrayar offers some interesting chances. Roic is an interesting chance. He’s intrigued by her height, her strength, and her military experience. He’s also very Barrayaran; He delays the progress of their romance with a casual anti-mutant remark about butter bugs, and then spends days wishing he had come up with a better way to express his feelings. Fortunately, Roic and Taura have a mystery to help them through their struggles. Join me next week for an in-depth look at Miles and Ekaterin’s wedding gifts!

Ellen Cheeseman-Meyer teaches history and reads a lot.

Cosmere Cuisine: Meals Inspired by Sanderson’s Mistborn Series

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Cosmere cuisine Mistborn Brandon Sanderson

Welcome Sanderson Fans, Cosmerenauts, and foodies to Tor.com’s newest adventures through the Cosmere! Here we ask the important questions about what the people on the worlds of Brandon Sanderson eat along with their ingested metals and investiture, starting with Scadrial during the Final Empire.

Have you ever asked what foods would best fuel an allomancer’s investiture? What foods would help a street kid like Vin obtain trace metals to generate her “luck”? What flavors would the nobles enjoy to compliment the tastes of their metals? In the same way people enjoy pairing meals and wines, how does one pair metals and meals?

Join Deana Whitney, a Sanderson Beta-reader and foodie, along with Michael Gunter, a cook skilled in many modern and historical food preparation methods, as they explore the different cuisines in the Cosmere food chain.

“Ash fell from the sky.”

It is a compelling first line. Soon we know that ashfall is like rain on Scadrial—simply part of the weather patterns. Then we learn that some people are able to eat metal to fuel magic—metal that would poison a regular human. This led to wondering how these two elements—weather/environment and Allomantic abilities—affect what people eat.

Before the Lord Ruler seized power, Scadrial was much like Earth, with the kinds of plants and spices we know in our world. During the Ascension, this all changed as Rashek first moved the planet about, then had to fix his mistakes. Given the atmospheric and biological changes, many green vegetables probably turned white or yellow during this time, yet we will say their flavors remained similar to Earth’s green versions.

In the Final Empire, plants mainly occur in shades of brown, red, yellow, and orange. The concept of green plants or delicate flowers is foreign to Vin. When thinking about the food of Scadrial, we run into the immediate problem that fruit comes from flowering plants. How do they have grapes, apples, and peaches, but no flowers? The answer, according to Team Dragonsteel, is that the Lord Ruler created plants with non-showy alternatives. Accepting that the fruit ripening cycle happens on Scadrial, we speculate that some fruits and vegetables survived their transformation to the ash world better than others. Root vegetables and foods with thicker skins are going to thrive in this environment. They would be easier to grow, and more likely to survive the ashfall without spoiling during the shipping process.

The Lord Ruler’s Scadrial is a world of hardship and scarcity, where food does not go to waste. Such cultures tend to develop dishes that use the whole animal. What parts the nobles do not want would go to the central kitchens to create meals and soup stocks for the skaa population. The cooks have trained the population to enjoy meals like blood sausage, liverwurst, tripe, and haggis. (Yes, we said haggis.)

In developing these Scadrial menus, we pulled from history and from the clues we’re given in the books themselves. We tried to remain true to the world as it’s presented and described. Rather than offering many examples of specific meals or individual dishes, Sanderson uses mainly general food terms when he touches on the subject of eating: fruits, grains, and vegetables. Thus, we are not given a large base of foods we can use with 100% certainty. The existence of the Lord Ruler’s canneries indicates that preserved foods are going to dominate the cultural cuisine—even the foods being prepared in a nobleman’s kitchen. The mineral-rich waters of Luthadel, along with smoking, salt curing, and pickling, all work together to create a food profile different than our modern taste for all things fresh, one characterized by a tangy metallic flavor. For those with Allomantic abilities, the consumption of metals might enhance the sharp bite of a pickled vegetable or cured sausage. Mistings and Mistborn could enjoy their tin or bronze sprinkled over a dish of pork sausage, sauerkraut, and juniper berries.

For these menus, we focused on dishes described during the series. We tied the menus together using barley, the only grain mentioned by name in the books. Barley provides both nutrition and a feeling of fullness when eaten. Barley is a blank slate that can be flavored in a multitude of ways; this makes it the perfect vehicle for skaa and noble disbhes alike. Along with the other flavors, it would also absorb the trace metals from the cooking water, to help fill allomantic reservoirs.

 

Dining with the Skaa
Stews

Stews are mentioned multiple times in the series, and according to the books make up the majority of the skaa diet. Skaa from the farms have a hard life, but an easier time procuring a higher variety of crops for their stews. The city skaa make do with what the central kitchens provide, or—if they are of the artisan skaa class—might have their own kitchens. The rebel skaa army, while hiding in their caves, probably found a cavern or four suitable to growing mushrooms in order to help supplement their food supplies.

The skaa of the Final Empire would have access to different food, based on the location and environment of their Dominance. As Earthlings, by comparison, we have access to a much wider selection of produce and ingredients all year round. You can use any vegetables or whatever stock you enjoy while creating a version to match your choice of Dominance. For our version, we included a wide mix of textures and flavors.


Skaa Vegetable Barley Stew

Not just vegetarian, but also vegan, satisfying, and filled with umami. The aroma while the dish simmers will remind you of autumn comforts. This stew gives a warm, full-belly feeling on a cold night. The corn provides a sweet, crunchy contrast to the soft chew of the barley. Mushrooms absorb flavor and provide a meaty, chewy element. Tomatoes lend a hint of acid. The carrots and celery are tender, adding more texture and body to the stew.

Drink Pairing: A rich brown ale, like Newcastle Brown Ale

Ingredients

  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 2 large carrots, chopped
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 onion, chopped
  • 2 stalks celery, chopped
  • ½ cup cooked corn niblets
  • 1 (14.5 ounce) can diced tomatoes with juice
  • 2 quarts vegetable stock*
  • 2 portabella mushrooms, cut into ½″ dice
  • 3 bay leaves
  • 1 cup uncooked barley (we used pearl barley)
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
  • ¼ teaspoon cumin

Directions

  1. Pour the olive oil into a heated large pot (8-quart). Add the onion, carrots, celery, and garlic. Cook until vegetables have softened, about 5 minutes.
  2. Pour your stock* into the pot. (*Stocks can be pre-made or made from scratch.)
  3. Add the rest of the ingredients and bring to a boil, cover and simmer over medium-low heat for 45 minutes, stirring frequently to prevent barley from scorching.
  4. If soup becomes too thick, add water or more stock. You may also adjust the amount of barley to your liking. After 35 minutes, start checking barley for tenderness. It may take longer, depending on your heat, so cook until the texture is correct. (The barley’s texture should be like rice, tender with a chewy mouthfeel. If it is mush, it’s been cooked too long.)
  5. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Skaa Vegetable Stock

If you wish to go the extra skaa mile and create your own vegetable stock, we recommend this recipe.

Ingredients

  • 1 onion, chopped
  • 1 carrot, chopped
  • 2 stalks celery, chopped
  • 1 leek, including the rough green part, cleaned and chopped
  • 1 potato, chopped into large chunks
  • 1/3 cup mushrooms, chopped in half
  • 3 cloves whole garlic
  • 3 bay leaves
  • 6 sprigs of parsley with stems
  • 1 sprig of fresh thyme with stem
  • 1 tablespoon soy sauce
  • 8 cups of water
  • ¼ cup whole peppercorns
  • 1 tablespoon kosher salt

Directions

  1. Leave the skins on the onions and potatoes and leave the carrots unpeeled—just wash them, then chop them into large chunks.
  2. Place all ingredients into a large (8 to 12 quart) pot and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for at least an hour.
  3. Strain out the liquid. Use this as a base for soups, gravies, and more. This makes a rather dark and cloudy stock with a strong deep flavor. If you desire a lighter stock then leave out the potato and soy sauce.

 

Baywraps

Kelsier’s crew eat baywraps, often from Clubs’ kitchen. These are described as a barley and vegetable wrap, which sounds a bit like several different styles of food wraps in our own world. Since Vin takes an extra one to eat the wrap bread later, sans filling, this was a clue that the wrapping has substance on its own. Every culture develops some form of flatbread, and Michael and I decide the tortilla was the best analog, here: Tortillas have the right mix of sturdy to flexible called for with the baywraps.

At one point, Kelsier complains that Clubs’ cooks were not very imaginative with their filling ingredients. He has a valid point. While the basic description does sound boring, so does a taco, in theory. Yet there are hundreds of different taco fillings. The skaa of each region might have developed special local versions of baywraps, with one area only using beets and sweet potatoes, another using chickpeas and squash—or there may even be sweet versions of the wraps. The possible filling combinations multiply quickly. We challenge you to develop your own versions—yours could even include meat, perhaps as a treat for a special occasion. The wonderful thing about a baywap is that it can become whatever you want! Use the barley pilaf recipe below as the foundation for savory baywraps.

Drink Pairing:

Vegetable baywraps—German Amber lager or brown porter.

Sweet baywraps—Ale made from same fruit as your filling.


Savory Barley Pilaf

Ingredients

  • 1 tablespoon of oil
  • 1 small onion, finely chopped
  • 3 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
  • 1 cup pearl barley
  • 2 cups stock
  • 1 teaspoon salt

Directions

  1. In a heavy saucepan place oil, onion, and garlic. Using a medium heat, cook until softened.
  2. Add the dry barley and cook, stirring, until the barley gets slightly toasted.
  3. Add the stock and salt to the pan, and bring stock to a boil.
  4. Turn down heat to a simmer, cover and let simmer for 45 minutes. Check several times to avoid sticking.
  5. If there is extra water or stock left over, strain the barley, and set it aside.

Savory Baywrap

To create a savory baywrap, take a tortilla, warm one side in a pan with butter. Then add a spoonful of the savory barley pilaf, add vegetable filling of your personal choice, wrap it up and enjoy!

If you wish, you can add the vegetables to your stock while the barley simmers, or cook separately to create different types of baywraps using the same pilaf.


Sweet Baywrap

For a sweet application, think of a Scottish Barley pudding. Cook some apples and pears in a different pan with butter and spices, then add them to the wrap after the barley pudding is ready. Warm one side of the tortilla in a pan with butter and sugar before filling the wrap.

Pictured fillings: The lower is carrot, potato, roasted acorn squash, garlic, and onion sautéed in olive oil. Upper filling is apples, pears, and raisins cooked in butter, sugar, and cinnamon.

 


Dining with the Nobles
Drumsticks, Butter Vegetables, and Cakes

The nobles of Scadrial obviously have access to a wider variety of foods than the skaa. The first notable difference in a noble’s diet is consistent access to meat. It is unclear how often artisan-class skaa eat beef, pork, and chicken, or even the insides of an animal, like tripe. What is clear is that the nobles do enjoy meat regularly in a variety of ways. Lord Straff Venture enjoyed a beef steak, for example, while hosting Elend and Vin for dinner (even though he didn’t enjoy the rest of their visit).

The noble houses, due to the tradition of hosting opulent balls, have a tradition of serving food more in a buffet style, rather than presenting individually plated food. Sazed serves Lady Valette food from larger chafing dishes at the balls; while he arranges it artistically, buffet style is the default cuisine service style. Thus, if metals were to be served along with a dish, they would likely be served in shakers like salt and pepper. Mistings could simply choose the metal that matches their power.

Lord Cett, in particular, seemed to enjoy his food. He also used it as a weapon to make Elend feel uncomfortable by serving a drumstick dish with a rich sauce. (Just looking at the red gravy Michael created for this recipe made me worry for all white cloth at dinner!) The meal was a treat of falling-off-the-bone tender chicken. The tangy acids in the red wine were mellowed by the butter in the reduction sauce, creating a savory taste with just enough spice to awaken taste buds. The sauce was prone to drip and splatter if I was not very careful while eating the meat, while the savory barley both absorbed the rich sauce and provided a decorative platform to serve the meal upon.

Drink Pairing: The red wine used in the sauce. If Breeze is attending the dinner, buy three extra bottles.


Drumsticks in wine sauce

Ingredients

  • 8 bone-in chicken legs
  • 8 ounces bacon, sliced crosswise into 1/2-inch pieces
  • 10 large button mushrooms, quartered
  • 1/2 large yellow onion, medium diced
  • 2 garlic cloves, sliced
  • 2 teaspoons all-purpose flour
  • 2 teaspoons butter
  • 6 1/2 cups red wine (We used Coppola Red Blend, which includes Cabernet Sauvignon grapes)
  • 1 cup chicken broth
  • 6 sprigs fresh thyme

Directions

  1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
  2. Remove the skin and season chicken legs all over with salt and black pepper.
  3. Use an oven-proof skillet or Dutch oven. Place bacon in the dish, cook it over medium-high heat, turning occasionally, until evenly browned, about 10 minutes. Transfer bacon with a slotted spoon to a paper-towel lined plate, leaving drippings in the skillet.
  4. Increase heat to high and place chicken into skillet. Cook until browned, 2 to 4 minutes per side. Transfer chicken to a plate; drain and discard all but 1 tablespoon of drippings from the skillet.
  5. Lower heat to medium; sauté mushrooms, onion, and garlic until golden and caramelized, 10 to 15 minutes.
  6. Add butter and let melt, stirring into mixture.
  7. Sprinkle flour over vegetables and stir until vegetables are coated and flour begins to brown.
  8. Pour red wine into the skillet and bring to a boil while scraping browned bits of food off of the bottom of the pan. Stir bacon and thyme into red wine mixture; simmer until wine is about 1/3 reduced, 3 to 5 minutes. Pour chicken broth into wine mixture and set chicken into skillet; bring to a simmer.
  9. Place pot into oven for 45 minutes. Uncover and check for doneness: Chicken should read around 165 F on an instant read thermometer and be easily pierced with a fork with no red juices coming out.
  10. Once done, remove chicken to a serving platter.
  11. Place cooking pan on stove and turn flame on high. Reduce pan juices until sauce thickens slightly, about 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper; remove and discard thyme. Pour sauce over chicken.
  12. Note: if you want the sauce to be thicker, mix 1 tablespoon of corn starch into 2 tablespoons of water. Stir into a paste. Add half of the paste to the sauce. Cook for a minute—if it is still too thin, add the rest of the paste and cook for another minute.
  13. Serve dish with savory barley pilaf topped with edible gold and silver.

Butter Vegetables

For the butter vegetables, Michael went out on a limb by including green peas and fennel greens. Lord Cett is from a different Dominance than Vin—green peas and fennel might be found there as a rarity. Nobles enjoy showing their wealth through their food choices: including something like a green vegetable would certainly do that on this world of few green plants. (On Earth, we could be exotic by using yellow peas, but we did not find any while prepping for this meal.)

The fennel in this dish brings out the tangy mineral notes enjoyed on Scadrial, while the peas, squash, and onions counter it with sweet notes, along with multiple textures. These vegetables can be served on their own, or over the barley pilaf along with the chicken.

Ingredients:

  • 1 full fennel bulb
  • ½ onion, medium dice
  • 3 garlic cloves, sliced
  • ¼ lb butter (1 stick)
  • 2 teaspoons olive oil
  • 1 cup vegetable stock
  • ½ cup white wine
  • A few sprigs of thyme
  • 1 acorn or butternut squash, cubed or scooped, cooked*
  • 3 cups frozen green peas, defrosted
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • 1 teaspoon butter as garnish

*Cook the acorn or butternut squash before cooking the rest of the dish.

Directions

  1. Cut squash in half lengthwise.
  2. Oven Baked Squash: Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Place squash halves on a large baking sheet flesh side up. Place 1 teaspoon butter in the middle of each squash and roast 50 minutes or until tender.
    Microwave Baked Squash: Rub squash with butter or oil and cover with cling film. Cut a slit in the film to let steam escape. Cook for about 15 minutes for butternut and 10 minutes for acorn.

Cooking the main dish:

  1. To trim the fennel, cut the top stalks from the bulb and reserve several of the fronds for garnish. With a vegetable peeler, peel off the top layer of tough skin from the bulb. Once trimmed, place bulb flat on a cutting board and slice down into thin slices. Take slices flat on the board and cut into thin sticks.
  2. In a heavy saucepan, heat oil until shimmering. Add fennel, onion, garlic, and butter. Cook until vegetables soften, about 5 minutes.
  3. Add vegetable stock, wine, and thyme sprigs. Bring to a boil and then simmer about 15 minutes.
  4. Add peas and cook until they are cooked through and tender.
  5. Add cooked squash and simmer for another minute until heated through.
  6. Season with salt and pepper.
  7. Remove vegetables from the cooking broth and transfer to a serving plate. Pour a little of the liquid over them, and top with a teaspoon of butter and a sprinkle of the fennel fronds.

Small Cakes

A sweet treat is the proper way to end a noble’s meal. But not a chocolate treat—we have to wait until Era 2 for chocolate. The Ministry served small cakes in their waiting room. Kelsier enjoyed multiple small red iced cakes while he observed Vin and Camon. He even stacked four of them in his hand at once.

The definition of a cake is flexible, and has changed over time, depending on history and location (much like a “biscuit” currently means a sweet cookie in the U.K. but refers to a bread item the U.S.A.). Inspired by the Renaissance, we thought a fluffy cookie could serve as a cake analog. This recipe is based upon iced Italian cookies—these are a cross between shortbread and sugar cookies. The interiors are fluffy, with a satisfying crunch to the exterior. These will seem not very sweet to modern palates, and have the light taste of vanilla. The metal looks wonderful shining against the gloss of the icing.

Drink Pairing: Moscato wine

Ingredients (Icing)

  • 1 ¾ cups powdered sugar (½ of a 1-pound box)
  • 2 – 4 tablespoons milk
  • 1 tablespoon vanilla or extract of choice
  • Food coloring of choice—for red colors use powdered food coloring.

Directions

  1. Whisk powdered sugar, extract, and food coloring together.
  2. Add milk slowly, one tablespoon at a time, to form a soft, smooth icing. Whisk to incorporate the milk. Look for the flow of warm syrup. Set aside in a bowl.

Ingredients (Cookie)

  • 1/2 lb butter, softened (2 sticks)
  • 2 large eggs, beaten
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 4 cups flour
  • 2 tablespoons baking powder
  • 1 1/2 tablespoon vanilla, more if desired
  • Recipe will make 30 to 40 cookies.

Directions

  1. Cream room temperature butter and sugar together, until soft and well blended.
  2. Add eggs and vanilla, mixing well.
  3. Combine flour and baking powder in a separate bowl, and then blend into the butter mixture, one cup at a time. Dough will form large clump.
  4. Break off small, prune-sized pieces of dough and roll into disks about 1/2” thick.
  5. Bake in a preheated oven at 350 degrees F until lightly browned, about 18-22 minutes.
  6. Cool on wire racks for two minutes.
  7. While cookies are still warm, dip the top into the premade icing, as desired. Icing should flow around the cookie, but not drip off in excess.
  8. Place on wire rack, with wax paper underneath to catch any icing drips. Re-dip in the icing for a thicker coverage.
  9. Let finish cooling. Decorate with metal flakes as desired.

 


We hope you enjoyed this food journey into Cosmere cuisine. Which foods do you want to try from our menus? Are you more excited by the skaa or the noble menu? Share your thoughts with us in the comments…

Photos: Taken by Deana Whitney, 2018.

Deana Whitney is a Sanderson beta reader, a historian, and loves to make book-inspired cakes for her birthdays. She is known around Tor as Braid_Tug and was overjoyed when this article allowed her love of food and the Cosmere to combine.

Michael Gunter is a historical cook and researcher who has written several papers on historical dining and been the featured speaker at historical culinary symposiums. He has served historical dinners to parties ranging from 30 to 400.

Rage in the Cage — Marvel’s Luke Cage Season 2, Episodes 1-4

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Based on the first four episodes of the second season of Luke Cage, there are two primary themes of this latest baker’s dozen episodes of Marvel on Netflix: family in general and parents and children in particular, and actions of the past having consequences in the present.

This season doesn’t really waste much time getting into that, either. An issue with far too many release-the-season-at-once shows is languid pacing of the early episodes in an attempt to get people to keep watching, so revelations and actions are stretched out. Not so much, here: they’re not rushing, but they’re not taking their time, either. So far, so good, I’d say.

SPOILERS for the various Marvel Netflix shows in general and episodes 1-4 of Luke Cage season 2 in particular

In these first four episodes, Cage has embraced his status as the hero of Harlem. Everywhere he goes, people are admiring him, snapping pictures and video, taking selfies with him. There’s even an app that follows him around and lets people know where to find him. “It’s like Waze for you,” D.W. explains.

(By the way, D.W. is based on a character from the comics, specifically the manager of the Times Square movie theatre Cage had an apartment over. This was back in the days before Disney got its hands on Times Square, and the Gem Theatre was a run-down revival house that showed old Westerns. D.W. managed the place for his uncle, and he was also a film school student. Updating him to Cage’s self-appointed videographer and social media handler is perfect. Jeremiah Craft just nails the role.)

On top of that, Cage’s trip south with Claire Temple toward the end of season 1 to visit Noah Burstein seems to have had an effect, as his skin is even harder. At one point, he’s shot with a Judas bullet, and nothing happens. For one thing, this means that the only weapon that’s been known to work against him doesn’t anymore. (Mariah Dillard is, as one might imagine, unhappy about this to say the least.) For another, this, combined with the approbation from all over (magazine articles, praise on TV, radio, and the Internet, constant adulation from the citizens of Harlem), leads to a level of overconfidence we’ve never seen in Cage before. His constant reassurances in each of the first two episodes that nothing can hurt him is a textbook example of what my high-school English teachers would repeatedly refer to quite rightly as hubris.

It doesn’t take long for the fall that follows that particular brand of pride to goeth, as Bushmaster beats the living shit out of him at the top of episode four. That video of that D.W. took (thinking he was getting another Cage smackdown) goes viral, and suddenly, Cage can be hurt. Oops.

In addition to his overweening pride, though, Cage is also feeling considerable anger, which brings us to Theme #1. At the top of the season, Cage isn’t angry. He’s upset—someone is dealing heroin in bags labelled “LUKE CAGE,” with corner boys hawking it as “bulletproof.” The co-opting of his name is enough to get him to take action to try to find out who’s using his name and to get Luke Cage smack off the streets.

But the anger doesn’t happen until he discovers that there’s a new preacher in Harlem: James Lucas, Cage’s father. We find out that Reverend Lucas never visited his son in Seagate, and Lucas finds out that Cage now knows his secret: that Willis “Diamondback” Stryker was Cage’s illegitimate half-brother.

It is really too bad that we won’t be seeing the Reverend Lucas after this—that isn’t a spoiler, but this was Reg E. Cathey’s last role before he died, and while it’s possible that Lucas will live and they’ll re-cast, I don’t see how they can, as Cathey’s presence and voice are both so unique.

After that meeting on the street, though—and Lucas’s second attempt to visit Cage at Pop’s—Cage’s rage is simmering. Claire Temple sees this and tries to get him to reconcile with his father. Cage refuses, which brings us to Theme #2: Lucas didn’t acknowledge Stryker, which is a big reason why Stryker framed Cage, which is how Cage wound up in Seagate to be experimented on, which is what led to Reva and Kilgrave killing her and everything else. That one act by Lucas had massive consequences, the worst of which was the death of someone Cage loved. Cage isn’t ready to forgive that.

And he isn’t ready to let go of his anger over it, either, as we see at the end of episode 2. Cage and Temple have learned that Dillard is looking for a buyer for her massive gun cache. (What they don’t realize—not that they’d care if they did—is that this is one final sale before she gets out of the gun business. She wants to go legit and further her political career.) She has three possible buyers, and one of them is a gangster nicknamed Cockroach. In addition to shooting Cage with a multi-barrel shotgun that blows him out a window, dislocating his shoulder, Cockroach also beats up his girlfriend and son. Alerted by a concerned neighbor, Cage arrives at Cockroach’s place and just wails on him. He doesn’t tap him on the head to knock him out, he furiously tosses him around the apartment. This is the same Luke Cage who in The Defenders would only go with a plan that involved no killing, and he comes within a hairsbreadth of killing Cockroach. I hasten to point out that this isn’t bad or inconsistent writing—this is who Cage is becoming thanks to the anger at seeing his father.

Temple and Detective Misty Knight cover for him, but he’s still pissed at Temple getting in his business (which is ridiculous, as she’s his partner in more ways than one), and he finally explodes, punching a hole in Temple’s wall.

That’s the last straw for her, because she grew up in that apartment watching her father punch walls—and other things. She’s seen rage turned to violence, and she won’t live with that. By episode four, she’s moved out, and Cage is homeless (recall that his last apartment was blown up). In that same episode, another parent-child relationship removes Cage’s other support, the steady Bobby Fish, who has been acting as Cage’s agent and sounding board. Fish’s estranged daughter in California has reached out to him for a kidney transplant, and so he has to fly out there to help her.

One thing this season of Luke Cage is doing that the last two Marvel Netflix seasons (Punisher season one and Jessica Jones season two) didn’t do is acknowledge the other Marvel Netflix material. I discussed that aspect of Punisher in my review of that for this site, and the lack of any reference to Cage or any of the events of Defenders was a major gap in Jones season two. (I mean, there were several points in the latter when Jones should have tried to call Cage.)

But the fallout of the fight against the Hand is woven throughout these first four episodes, starting with the other reason Temple is worried about Cage: she doesn’t want what happened to Matt Murdock to happen to him. (Remember that everyone believes Murdock to be dead after Defenders.) By the same token, Cage’s early hubris is as much borne of the fact that he helped defeat the Hand as it is his defeat of Diamondback in season one of his show.

The biggest consequence, of course, is Knight’s right arm, or rather lack of same. She lost her arm saving lives and being a hero, and she seems to be the only public part of Defenders‘s climax—she even got to meet the mayor! She’s put on light duty at NYPD (which wouldn’t happen, by the way—she’d immediately be medical’d out with a full pension, an option that one of the other detectives does mention), inexplicably still allowed to carry a gun (which also wouldn’t happen). Her captain threatens her repeatedly with consequences if she keeps investigating Dillard on her own and assisting Cage, but she keeps doing it, and you know that will bite her on the ass eventually.

However, Knight is trapped between a rock and a hard place. She doesn’t want pity, she wants to be treated the same as she was before she lost the arm, but she also has to acknowledge that things are different. For starters, she’s right handed. She has to re-learn how to write, how to drive (how does she change gears, anyhow?), and how to fight. Plus, in addition to her losing a limb and everything that comes with it, she’s got a cloud over her head thanks to her former partner Rafael Scarfe being exposed as dirty. (Cockroach is only out on the street because his conviction was vacated due to Scarfe’s corruption.)

She also does physical therapy work with Temple and training with Colleen Wing. After the latter, they go out for drinks and get into a bar fight, which is the single greatest scene in the history of the universe. (They released it on YouTube as a teaser for this season ahead of time. “I don’t look down before I flush.” Beautiful.) Wing insists that she can still be a badass—right after tossing her to the mat—and when a guy in the bar recognizes her as the cop who put his brother away, she gets to prove it. The fight is glorious, and Wing doesn’t get involved until she has to, letting Knight prove herself first. (Later, Wing and Danny Rand—who is mentioned but not seen, which is the best way to feature the MCU’s Iron Fist—send her the schematics of a bionic arm as developed by Rand Enterprises. This will probably be important later.)

Seriously, guys, we need a Daughters of the Dragon series right now, dagnabbit! Simone Missick and Jessica Henwick have glorious chemistry together and we need to see more of it. Like, now. Immediately.

Ahem. Anyhow, in addition to all this with Cage and Knight, we’ve got our bad guys. Dillard is trying to go legit, and to that end, her manager tracks down her estranged daughter Tilda, a medical doctor who has gotten into holistic medicine and opened a shop in Harlem. Dillard didn’t do much to raise her, but then we know from last season that she’s the product of her uncle raping her. Shades is very not happy about this, as Dillard’s renewed relationship with Tilda is cutting into their nookie time. He’s also not happy about her going legit, because that’s not really his world. But Dillard wants to sell the last set of guns and get out of it, and focus on her Family First! initiative and ignore her family’s (and her own) horrible past.

(Tilda is also the MCU version of the longtime Cage comics villain Deadly Nightshade, so one suspects a sinister arc in her future.)

And then we have Bushmaster. Four episodes in, we don’t know precisely why he took over the Jamaican gangs in Brooklyn and has such a hard-on for taking over Harlem and such a mad-on for the Stokes family. He has a pathological insistence on referring to Dillard as “Mariah Stokes,” and there’s some serious family shit going on there. It’s hinted at in Bushmaster’s talk with Dillard in episode four, but we don’t know the details yet.

Throughout all of this, the acting is superlative. Mustafa Shakir is magnificently menacing as Bushmaster—though his family moments at Gwen’s Restaurant in Brooklyn are also genuine, which helps humanize the guy who spends most of his time being a big scary monster type. (Every scene in Gwen’s shines, actually, particularly the scene where Cage goes there trying to track down the head of the Jamaican gang—who, unbeknownst to him at the time, has been killed and replaced by Bushmaster. The four old guys playing dominoes in the restaurant are a delight, and right after we do Daughters of the Dragon, I’d like the series that’s just those four guys ragging on each other and everyone who walks in the restaurant, please. Okay, maybe not, but even if these four can be the Statler and Waldorf of the Netflix MCU, I’d be okay with that.) Alfre Woodard is brilliant as always, as the sharp state of denial that Dillard is in as she drinks her way through life is palpable—but the minute she’s in public, the radiant smile is back and she’s Councilwoman Dillard again, wowing everyone with her honeyed words and grand speeches. Theo Rossi’s Wormtongue act is even stronger this season as Shades, and it’s fun seeing him teamed up with Commanche as they are in the comics (though Commanche is actually informing for the cops, as we find out in episode four). Missick is playing Knight’s PTSD and dogged determination spectacularly, and Henwick’s one appearance mostly makes us long for more. Cathey was one of our finest actors and his final performance is a bravura one, and Ron Cephas Jones is steady and superb as Fish.

And the stars hit it out of the park. Rosario Dawson has been the glue holding the Netflix series together, and the scene where she and Cage argue over his growing anger is brilliant. Some of the dialogue is a bit too on the nose, but even so, their talk plays on so many different levels, from Cage mansplaining racism to a Afro-Cubano woman to the genuine revulsion and fear on Dawson’s face as Temple says she needs to get out of there after Cage hit the wall. With every self-righteous utterance, Cage looks worse and worse, but to his credit, he figures it out by the end—but by then, it’s too late. He’s already put a hole in the wall, and Temple has to get out before the next thing he puts a hole in is her.

Cage has already fallen pretty far by the end of the fourth episode: his temper is fraying (which is dangerous for a guy who can, as Fish reminds him, throw a Volkswagen), Temple’s gone, Fish is leaving, Bushmaster has given him a concussion, and at the very end of the episode he’s served with court papers indicating that he’s being sued. A third of the way through, things are falling apart. Next week, we’ll see whether or not the center can hold with a look at episodes 5-8, with episodes 9-13 the following week.

 

SPOILER ALERT! Please try to keep the comments as spoiler-free of episodes 5-13 as possible.

Keith R.A. DeCandido reviewed the first seasons of Iron Fist, The Defenders, and The Punisher for this site, and over on Patreon, he reviewed season 2 of Jessica Jones and the start of season 5 of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. He writes “4-Color to 35-Millimeter: The Great Superhero Movie Rewatch” for this site each Friday, covering every live-action movie adaptation of a superhero comic, and has also written about Star Trek, Stargate, Batman, Wonder Woman, Doctor Who, and much more here. In addition, he’s the author of a metric buttload of fiction, including two forthcoming fantasy novels, Mermaid Precinct and A Furnace Sealed, and the recent “Marvel’s Tales of Asgard” novel trilogy starring Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three.

A Scientist Explains What Happens After the Ending to Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

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When Michael Crichton wrote Jurassic Park in the late ’80s, he pulled from a wide range of biological knowledge at the time to envision a (surprisingly) realistic picture of what bringing back an extinct species, like a dinosaur, might look like. To bring one back from the dead would require methods from genetics, molecular biology, genomics, and cell biology (to name a few), and to set them up to survive would require knowledge of ecology and evolution. On top of that, creating a suitable habitat would require numerous other disciplines including botany, paleontology, mathematics and computer science. Finally, if one adds in the additional complications of turning the whole thing into an amusement park to generate enough funds to keep the whole thing going, it’s no wonder Dr. Malcolm kept going on and on about the danger of inherent instabilities in complex systems. In the end, Dr. Malcolm turned out to be right, and the smart money was absolutely on life finding a way.

[Warning: contains spoilers for Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom]

After life got a little too proactive about finding its way in Jurassic World, the dinosaurs are once again facing their extinction—this time due to an impending volcanic eruption. Some hand-wringing ensues, some people with money and some people with bad intentions hatch a plan, said plans fail, and in the end, the handful of rescued dinosaurs get loose in Northern California, complete with an all-too brief Dr. Malcolm cameo where he once again warns us about the dangers of our own hubris. Except this time, it’s not about the folly of thinking one can control life. This time, it’s about the extinction of humanity itself.

But should humanity really be worried about dinosaurs re-entering the mix of life on the planet, or is it the dinosaurs who should be worried? After all, the dinosaurs that escaped Lockwood’s compound face a number of very real challenges in their re-entry into the general population of the planet, first and foremost being:

Minimum viable population is a thing.

In conservation biology, the idea of minimum viable population puts odds on the survival of a species over time given there are a certain minimum number of individuals. These odds include consideration of the unique challenges that population faces, such as natural disasters, climate change, or genetic problems. For example, a population of 50 giant pandas—given inbreeding, destruction of their natural habitats and likelihoods of other natural disasters—have a 70% chance of surviving out 100 years. Increase that number to 60 pandas and you have a 96% chance. Unfortunately for our dinos, only a handful of individuals from about a dozen species were recovered from the island before it exploded, so even with some generous statistical scenarios being applied, the odds aren’t good when you only have two or three individuals to start with. Furthermore:

They are all descendants of clones.

When InGen pieced together the genomes of these existing dinosaurs from samples taken from amber-encased ancient mosquitos, they had to take some creative license with the sequences because there simply wasn’t enough source material to be sure of every single one of the billions of base pairs in a given dino genome. After all, InGen was at the mercy of what ancient mosquitos they could find, meaning they only had one or maybe a handful of source samples per species, and they still didn’t have enough of the genomes covered to not have to resort to copying and pasting sequences from other species to fill in the blanks. What this means is that these species were forced through an extremely narrow 65 million year bottleneck, and are now severely lacking in genetic diversity, which is a problem because:

Genetic diversity is what allows a species to adapt to its environment.

Genetic diversity is the thing that enables life to find a way. It’s the thing that allows enough variation in traits to cope with sudden selective pressures, such as maybe being suddenly transported from a warm, equatorial climate to an unfamiliar temperate ecology, full of unfamiliar food sources, new diseases and predators. A good example of this is the problems with monoculture crops, which are essentially genetically identical seed stocks that have been engineered to have resistance to a particular environmental stress, like a pest. There has always been a genetic arms race between plants and their pathogens, i.e. prey and their predators. Pests over time will usually develop spontaneous mutations that enable them to eat such crops. In the wild, there’s usually enough spontaneous diversity in a plant species that new kinds of resistance to that pest will pop up. But in a monoclonal crop, once a pathogen gets around an engineered defense, that entire variety is now at risk of collapse. It’s happened with countless crop species in the past, and will happen again. Our dinos face a similar threat—being clones, they are extremely susceptible to environmental stresses (climate, pathogens, toxins, etc.), and the only way to increase diversity would be for an outside population to come in to breed, or to wait long enough for mutations to spontaneously arise and increase diversity naturally. In the case of our dino friends, unless all those Victorian Lost World tales turn out to be true, or they’ve got a few thousand years to spare, the odds aren’t looking good, especially considering:

They are no longer a geographically isolated population.

Jurassic Park was designed as a nature preserve where the dinosaurs could be protected from a world they haven’t evolved to exist in. Given enough time and research, there might have been some hope of the dinosaur populations better adapting to a world where the average global temperature and oxygen levels are significantly lower than when they were alive. Additionally, there were no natural predators (aside from other dinos) and they got frequent check ups from medical professionals if they got sick or injured, and everything about their lives were controlled. Now there is no more medical assistance and they are subject to a wildly different climate with different flora and fauna, different diseases and microbes and no one to watch over them. Which is a serious problem because:

They have been plunked down into an entirely new ecological niche.

Ecological niches consist of all of the flora and fauna within a particular area that have all been evolving together over long periods of time. Often, these niches have certain checks and balances built in—say, if an organism mutates so that it proliferates to higher numbers than the niche can support, that population will frequently over-consume to the point of starvation, then die back to more sustainable numbers, or perhaps the niche contains an adaptation that enable it support of those higher numbers, or perhaps the niche will completely collapse and have to start all over again. Additional problems arise when invasive species arrive in a niche and cause similar unbalances, where either the invasive species collapses, the ecology does, or an eventual balance is found. An example of this is the brown tree snake, which was introduced from the South Pacific to Guam after World War II. Due to the abundant prey and lack of effective natural predators, the snakes brought about the local extinction of most of the vertebrate species (including birds and pets), as well as causing numerous power outages when they climb utility poles. Because Guam is a major hub in the Pacific, dogs are used to check all cargo going out of the island to ensure no tree snakes are hitching a ride elsewhere.

The problem of introducing dinosaurs into any ecology on earth is that these dinosaurs haven’t been evolving alongside the species they’re now having to live with. Take our example above with the plant/pathogen arms race—the same has been going on with herbivores and plants. Plants keep evolving new compounds to help prevent animals from eating them, and animals keep evolving ways to nullify those defensive efforts. It is unclear if the herbivorous dinosaurs can even eat the native plants in their new Northern California habitat without becoming so sick they die or so sick they become easy prey to predators. Not to mention they’ll have the same problems with being an invasive species as above—over-consume and starve to death, or the niche defends itself and the herbivores die. Furthermore, the predators face entirely different challenges having to compete with other predators for game. If they eat too much game, they run out of food and starve, or if they’re too close to other predators, they might have to fight off that predator until only one is left standing. Furthermore, even if the predators wind up spreading out, it makes finding a mate much more challenging, particularly if there are only one or two of your species left on earth. Not to mention they have to deal with the biggest threat to their existence they’ve ever faced:

Humans are the worst.

Sure, some humans will always try to save and protect a dying species, but as we can see from everything above, the dinosaurs are still going to have an exceptionally bad time. The larger predators would be easy to find, and humans are all kinds of curious and have all kinds of weapons (of self defense and of sport) that can take down a dinosaur, no matter how thick its hide or well it can camouflage itself. If any of these animals stand a chance of surviving in the wild, it’s the smaller, quicker ones, but that’s only if they manage to overcome their lack of genetic diversity and the threats from their new environment for long enough to establish a big enough population. Only then they might have bought themselves enough time for diversity to begin to arise again within them.

Malcolm’s right about there being a threat of extinction to humanity, but it’s not because of this small number of dinosaurs. It seems the only way to ensure their survival is to approach it like the conservation problem it is—to rounding up what dinosaurs we can and put them into a protected preserve, like Lockwood had wanted and Hammond before him. There we can limit their exposure to environmental pressures, and care for them when they’re sick and injured. We’ll have to do it some place away from hunters, though, maybe on an island that more closely resembles their naturally warmer climate. But this venture would cost a lot of money, and would cost more and more the more animals we successfully kept alive to breed, so it might be worth opening it to the public to generate some cash to keep it operating, and maybe add some attractions to get people to keep coming back. Maybe we can call it something like… Jurassic Park.

Kelly Lagor is a scientist by day and a science fiction writer by night. Her work has appeared at Tor.com and other places, and you can find her tweeting about all kinds of nonsense @klagor

20 Novels Later, The Saga of Recluce is Still Surprising

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When I wrote The Magic of Recluce, I didn’t intend to write a series. In fact, I hadn’t thought about it one way or another. I wrote the book because I wanted to prove a point: that a good fantasy could be realistic without losing the fantasy element. The book was so experimental that I never even told David Hartwell, who had been my editor from the beginning, that I was writing it. So receiving the manuscript was a surprise to him as well. The fact that, after reading it, he wanted to publish it… and, especially, that he wanted another book, was a shock to me.

My initial intent had been simply to do several things that most fantasy writers at the time (1989) weren’t doing: (1) to come up with a logical magic system that wasn’t a rehash of folk magic or what had been done before; (2) to make that magic an integral part of a workable socio-economic system; (3) to portray a different government/society that wasn’t a historical or present-day copy of a system in our world; and (4) to portray a world with a real and diverse history that hopefully was more than a canvas backdrop or the equivalent of a cinematic matte scenery.

One of the economic innovations that I introduced was so basic that I’m still surprised that it really hadn’t been done before, or certainly not often, was that everyone in the world of Recluce has a real job, and that their lives revolve around their job… and not around the magic system or prophecies or quests. The “real-job” aspect of the book was based on another realization about a fundamental aspect of human nature—that human beings are essentially tool-users who like entertainment. Almost no human device or system lasts if we can’t use it in some practical matter or if it doesn’t entertain… and over time make money with it.

As basic as these “realities” are to human societies, it remains somewhat of a surprise to me that, even now, some twenty-eight or so years later, that so few fantasies have a true occupational basis to the lives of their characters, especially given how integral work is and has been to every human society above the hunter-gatherer level.

Because I had envisioned the world of Recluce as a place with a history even when I’d only thought of writing one book, it wasn’t that difficult to write more books, but, there were occasional glitches, such as the fact that there never was a country named Pantera, or any Panterans, which I covered by some creative mythmaking later… and in one place in Magi’i of Cyador, I mentioned the Emperor of Hamor centuries before there actually was one.

There’s also been a great deal of conversation about “diversity” in fiction in recent years, which has been good and helpful to the F&SF genres, but a great deal of fantasy tends to lack other kinds of diversity, such as diversity in forms of government, and the interplay of the politics of diverse cultures and forms of government. In the world of Recluce, there are lands governed by trader’s councils, lands governed by chaos wizards, hereditary monarchies, military matriarchies, and even an emperor or two, and an empress. And cultural and political strife arises more out of these diversities than out of the differences between order and chaos magic. Yet that’s been another source of surprise to me, because there’s often been more of a focus by readers and reviewers on the difference in magic users than upon the fact that, in the world of Recluce, magic is a tool, and while the type of tool does influence the user, the motivations of the user determine more about what happens than do the tools used.

Along the way, there have been some surprises with every Recluce book, but not of the same magnitude as with The Magic of Recluce, and the latest—Outcasts of Order—had a few as well. Well… I did discover that Beltur has absolutely no desire to be a hero, and that the entire idea is repugnant to him… and that there’s far more to a certain healer than she or anyone else might have imagined. As for why and what… you’ll have to read the three books to find out.

And yes, the sequel to Outcasts of Order is finished. It’s called The Mage-Fire War, and it will be out about a year from now, and for some that might be another surprise.

L. E. Modesitt, Jr., is the bestselling author of the fantasy series The Saga of Recluce, Corean Chronicles, the Spellsong Cycle, and the Imager Portfolio. His science fiction includes Adiamante, the Ecolitan novels, the Forever Hero Trilogy, and Archform: Beauty. Besides a writer, Modesitt has been a U.S. Navy pilot, a director of research for a political campaign, legislative assistant and staff director for a U.S. Congressman, Director of Legislation and Congressional Relations for the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, a consultant on environmental, regulatory, and communications issues, and a college lecturer. He lives in Cedar City, Utah.


Going Green: Andre Norton’s Judgment on Janus

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I had an odd reaction to this entry in the Norton canon. It starts off with a fridging—killing off the protagonist’s mom to get the plot in gear—and then, to make things just plain weird, he turns into the Green Goblin. But then I started to kind of like Naill Renfro, and when Ashla showed up, I realized I was enjoying the ride. By the time I got to the end, I was eager to move on to the sequel (and next time I will).

The broad outlines of the plot are very familiar by now. War refugee living in the slums of pleasure world loses maternal figure and ships out to frontier planet that turns out to be full of ancient alien artifacts. There’s a lot here that reminds me of the Forerunner series, particularly the Simsa books, but Judgment was published much earlier, in 1963. This means male protagonist and heavily male-dominated culture, but there are definite cracks in the facade. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the Witch World books began to appear at just about this time. Norton was moving on past boys’ adventure to something much more, dare I say, it feminist.

In this particular iteration, baby Free Trader Naill Renfro’s ship was caught in the perpetual war that torments this universe, his father killed, and he and his mother dumped as refugees in the Dipple (where the displaced people go) in Korwar. His mother is dying. He wants to give her a merciful death, which means expensive drugs, and the only way to get them is to sell himself.

This being Norton, that doesn’t mean what it might mean in another story. He signs on as a slave laborer, and ends up on Janus, a forest world which has been colonized by a fanatical religious sect. The sect is all about sin and repression, and about eradicating the forest. The forest fights back by infecting some of the colonists with the “Green Sick.” There are also, Naill learns in short order, treasure troves of alien artifacts which turn up around the settlements, and which are destroyed with great ceremony and ferocious thoroughness.

As soon as Naill learns about this, he finds a trove, and is irresistibly drawn to the items in it, especially a kind of shiny tube. He tries to hide it when the treasure is destroyed, but is caught. And then he becomes sick.

The artifacts are the cause of the infection. And, Naill discovers when he comes to, the disease transforms its victims into aliens with alien memories. He is now a hairless green goblin with huge pointed ears and eyes that can’t tolerate sunlight, and he has the memories of an ancient alien warrior named Ayyar. He also discovers that he physically cannot tolerate humans. Even the sight of them causes visceral revulsion. This feeling is mutual: humans run screaming from the green monster.

Drawn by his fragmentary alien memories and driven by human hunters with hounds, Naill makes his way to the now ruined tree-city from which his alien alter ego came, where he discovers recent evidence of others like him. But they’re gone, and he sets out to find them, acquiring a sentient alien bird companion along the way. He just misses catching up with them as they set sail on the sea, and backtracks to the city.

In the process he passes by a human garth, and spies on a young woman named Ashla, who like him stumbles on an alien trove and fixates on one of its artifacts—in her case, a green necklace. Ashla becomes ill and is transformed as Naill was; Naill helps her escape pursuit and guides her back to the city. Along the way he learns that she carries the memory of a kind of sorceress named Illylle, and helps her deal with the transition from human to alien.

Ashla/Illylle is a dominant female, with much more and deeper knowledge than Naill/Ayyar. She turns out to be a key to the mystery of Janus, especially once they’re captured by an eerie animated spacesuit and imprisoned in a crystal maze.

The suit and the maze are controlled by the ancient enemy of the green people, referred to most often as It (but it’s neither a clown nor a power of Kamazotz). This creature or force manifests as hard daylight and burning sun, versus the nocturnal good guys, and its powers are contained in lifeless rock rather than living things. The good guys have been fighting it for millennia, and lost the last war, to the point of extermination.

But they have managed somehow (the details remain a mystery in this volume) to manufacture the treasures and plant them where humans will find them. In this way they create “changelings” who carry fragmented alien memories and are deliberately designed to be repelled by their original species. The intention is to repopulate the planet and restore their civilization.

All of this becomes much clearer when Naill and Ashla find a group of fellow captives who have also been transformed, and who have been on this planet for a very long time. One of them in fact is the First-In Scout who discovered the planet. So it seems they’re immortal, more or less. They sort out who they all are and band together to break out of prison and defeat the enemy—the latter aided by Naill’s avian ally and a flock of its fellows.

And so It is beaten (though not permanently) and our band of heroes heads back to the ancient city, which they plan to rebuild. Considering that the next volume is titled Victory on Janus, I can guess how that will turn out.

Norton has a great deal to say here. She speaks firmly and unequivocally against religious intolerance and for freedom of thought and belief. She depicts aliens who look dramatically different from humans but whose emotions and motivations are ultimately very human. And her token female major character is not only dominant, she helps unravel the mystery of the planet. Ashla comes from a horribly repressive society, but it’s clear she had a mind of her own even before she transformed into Illylle. She easily takes the lead in the adventure, and has no problem telling the men what to do. Nor do the men contest her right to do so.

In that she’s the spiritual sister of Maelen and Jaelithe and the rest of Norton’s powerful women. Actual human women are still nearly invisible, but this is a start. Later in her career, of course, Norton edged away from the all-male human universe to one with more gender parity.

She’s pretty hardline about various forms of human governance, too. Her universe here is relentlessly capitalist, controlled by guilds and cartels, corporations and companies. It’s all about profit. But it’s also about colonialism, and about the rights of native peoples.

As we’ve seen in other novels set in this universe, if a planet is inhabited by intelligent beings, that planet is off limits to colonization. If and when Naill and company succeed in rebuilding the culture of Janus, the horrible religious fanatics will have to leave, and by law Janus will belong to its native inhabitants—though the way in which they’ve been recreated might add complications. I’m looking forward to the next volume, and to seeing how the changelings and their children (who do not inherit ancient memories) manage to reclaim Janus.

Judith Tarr’s first novel, The Isle of Glass, appeared in 1985. Her short novel, Dragons in the Earth, a contemporary fantasy set in Arizona, was published recently by Book View Cafe. In between, she’s written historicals and historical fantasies and epic fantasies and space operas, some of which have been published as ebooks from Book View Café. She has won the Crawford Award, and been a finalist for the World Fantasy Award and the Locus Award. She lives in Arizona with an assortment of cats, a blue-eyed dog, and a herd of Lipizzan horses.

Westworld Season 2 Finale, “The Passenger”

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Bloody hell.

Some will live, some will die—some will not do either for very long. But all will make their choice in this lovely, confounding, misanthropic extra-sized season finale of Westworld.

Major spoilers beyond The Door.

First things first: Maeve must be salvageable in season three or I am out.

Thandie Newton’s performance is the cornerstone of this show. Sure, Dolores gets all the badass, gunslinging publicity shots, but Maeve is the heart of Westworld and the showrunners would be insane to let her go voluntarily. So, fingers crossed that Felix and Sylvester can save the selfless, all-powerful mama. How bittersweet it was to watch Maeve let her daughter literally run into an Eden where she can be safe and heal from her past traumas. I only wish we could’ve seen a bit of dialogue between Maeve and Akecheta before he, too, stepped through the long-awaited Door. But her beatific smile spoke volumes, too. If (when!) Maeve returns, what will drive her without her quest to find her daughter?

Sidenote: How awesome was Maeve’s stroll back from the brink of death!? That was the buffalo stampede I was waiting for all season and I adored how it called back to the opening credits. Resourceful, darling.

So, Maeve’s daughter, Teddy, and Akecheta seem to be, for all purposes, dead to the park, caught in a peaceful dream within a dream (we call this Widescreenworld.) This was seriously some confusing Matrix shit going on tonight, with more sci-fi than western trappings. It was a bit jarring to be so forcefully reminded that Westworld is based on a Michael Crichton novel, when we’ve been doing the cowboy vs. Indians thing for so long, even Dolores got tired of it. Satellite beams, robo-brains, body-swapping and a really weirdly literal rip in the fabric of space and time—shit got pretty madcap tonight and I’m mostly okay with it.

Was it satisfying to watch Akecheta be rewarded for his tragedy by regaining all he had lost in the Valley Beyond? Yes, it was. But it’s pretty unsatisfying that we will likely not see him again on this show anytime soon. Unless they can work him in via flashbacks. He made a great Moses. Teddy’s fate left me lukewarm. I’m happy he’s happy, but I think the show will be fine without him. He’s Dolores’ high school sweetheart; now she’s running off to college and has to find herself, so this feels like a natural end to their romance. It’s better than getting a Dear Teddy email that reads, “Sorry, but in the real world, you seem even more boring than I’d first thought.”

Clementine, too, seems gone for good. Her ride through the crowds, leaving rampaging hosts in her wake, was beautifully filmed and chilling. Way less fun than when I use the Rioting Pedestrians cheat code in GTA.

Bernard remained the most cryptic part of the show. I still feel like I understood very little of his deal and, as this was a long episode and felt like it had more false endings than Return of the King, I only watched it once. So I rarely get Bernard scenes on a first go. But, I think what was most important was (1) Ford was not in Bernard’s head when it counted, and (2) Dolores built Bernard as much as Arnold built Dolores. So, they are not friends, but maybe family, which is way more complicated.

As for Dolores, I guess it’s kinda cool that the show took two one-note characters and combined them into one. The Hale-bot housing Dolores is about to tackle bigger and better—and hopefully better-written adventures. How long will her idea that real = better last, once she’s out among all that unchecked humanity? How long will humanity go unchecked with a freed Dolores? Did Dolores bring other hosts’ source code spheres with her, too, or was it just Bernard?

I feel like the Man in Black has been awkwardly shoehorned into this season. Why did Dolores need him, “a monster,” to get to the Valley Beyond when she didn’t know Bernard/”Arnold” was going to be there? Literally nothing about that trip was particularly special. And once at the Forge, I still don’t see how their interests are aligned when Dolores wants to destroy his guest research and William might have a reason to actually want to preserve it—Emily’s data. So unsatisfying.

Holy epilogue, Batman! How far in the future is that post-credits scene with the Man in Black and his daughter? It must be in real life, in the park, as the Forge was flooded and the system was nonfunctional, but I had to wonder if it was an elaborate, cruel prank played on him by the board. And yet, it seems like we are to take it at face value, as much as one can on Westworld. In a post-finale interview with showrunner Lisa Joy, she states the post-credits scene “gives full closure of the timelines by validating what happened in the park as the Man in Black leaves.” Um, not sure what it validates except that perhaps the hosts are trying to rebuild humans? I prefer the Man in Black to be human and suffering from his ultimate hell—he must sit and think about his own guilt, forever. Though to carry that guilt into the cornerstone of a host designed to be tortured, well, that’s pretty evil, too.

My main takeaway is that it seems the park as we know it is quite gone. So many great hosts died, many of whom could not be recreated. That doesn’t mean Delos will not build more hosts. But with Hale-bot out in the real world, she very well could extract some serious revenge on the company. Moreover, the (extremely dumb) deaths of recurring human characters Elsie and Lee seem to have been the forcible tying off of loose ends. Hale-bot would approve.

The big unanswered question remains central to Westworld: is anybody really free? As Westworld ends its sophomore season, it seems that yes, people—organic or not—can make their choice, but it always comes with a price.

Final reveries:

  • Oh please let Hector, Armistice, and Shogun-Armistice be okay? Especially Hector. I could watch him valiantly die for Maeve a hundred more times.
  • How freaking creepy was that tech/surgeon who turned up Maeve’s pain sensors before he was about to decapitate her? That’s a level of sickness I just didn’t want to think about. Feeling way misanthropic after seeing what that dude is really like.
  • How did Dolores know the body she saw was Emily? Did she meet her again when she was older? We only saw them meet when Emily was a very little girl, back at James Delos’ retirement party.
  • I didn’t understand the James Delos flashback to his park experience or what it meant to the larger story.
  • Next season: Maybe Lesser Hemsworth was a host the whole time? Whatever. I’m still in it for Maeve. And the Tor.com commenters. Thanks for another season of conversation, folks. Let’s all meet at the Mariposa real soon!

Theresa DeLucci is a regular contributor to Tor.com covering TV, book reviews and sometimes games. She’s also gotten enthusiastic about television for Boing Boing, Wired.com’s Geek’s Guide to the Galaxy podcast and Den of Geek. Reach her via pony express or on Twitter.

Reading the Wheel of Time: The Green Man and Creation in Robert Jordan’s The Eye of the World (Part 19)

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Reading The Wheel of Time series banner

Well this is it. Part 19 of Reading The Wheel of Time, covering Chapters 50 and 51. There will be a part 20 next week, but this is the section in which all the action goes down. I have to admit, I had a difficult time recapping this one; when a chapter is mostly action it just starts to feel like I’m just plagiarizing the actual narration, and there’s a lot, particularly in Chapter 51, that is both complicated and unexplained. Also, I went on a sidetrack thinking about the Green Man. His death made me so sad.

Everyone follows the Green Man, and Rand is in awe of him even as he wonders uneasily what the Green Man meant when he called him “Child of the Dragon.” He also notices Perrin walking as far away from the Green Man as possible.

Despite Rand’s uneasiness, however, the peace of the place affects him, dispelling his fear and drawing him in with its beauty. The “thousands of burning points” of pain that he felt as he struggled with his flight or fight urge against the worms are gone now, and Rand believes that it is the Green Man himself who put them out.

The Green Man walks through his beautiful groves, plucking flowers to weave into the women’s hair and helping seeds to sprout and plants to grow straighter and taller. Rand can tell by their expressions that Egwene and Nynaeve can feel the peace of the place, and he and Egwene share a smile as he thinks about how pretty she is, and how determined he is to protect her.

And then they reach the Eye. In the center of the forest is a simple stone archway, its entrance shadowed, its keystone bearing the ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai, “a circle halved by a sinuous line, one half rough, the other smooth.” For a moment everyone is still, and then as Moiraine takes the garland from her hair and lays it on the branches of a bush, everyone begins gently suggesting their reluctance to enter, although Moiraine’s will is resolute. The Green Man tells them that about how the Eye was created by male and female Aes Sedai working together, as all the greatest works of the Aes Sedai were made. They made it because of the breaking of the World, and they “died, all, to make it pure.” The Green Man says that he was not made to guard the Eye, but that everything was breaking apart and that he was all they had, so he agreed to what they asked, and has kept the faith ever since. But he does not want to go in to see the Eye with them, because he can feel that his own end is linked to the Eye, somehow. But he says that when everything is over, he hopes to find a new place to make things grow.

The Green Man leaves them (er, I mean, he departs) and they step into the archway, traveling down a tunnel with walls that glow with sparkling white light. Rand can tell that it is not a natural occurrence, but he also senses that it is benign. Still, knowing so doesn’t stop his skin from crawling. They step into a domed chamber, illuminated by glowing crystals, and in the center is an oval-shaped pool, perfectly smooth and clear and yet without a visible bottom. Mat kicks a rock into its surface and the stone sinks without a splash. The image of the rock distorts itself oddly as it sinks, growing larger and somehow almost transparent before it disappears. When Rand asks, hoarsely, what it is, Moiraine explains that it is the essence of saidin, the male half of the Power, enough to mend the seal on the Dark One’s prison, or to destroy it. She explains how no one living knows how the Eye was was made or why; they know only that the Aes Sedai who made it foresaw a great need, and that they worked through the taint to make it pure, knowing that such a feat would cost them their lives. And as she explains she watches the three boys.

Rand and Mat have thrown themselves backwards against the stone wall of the room, while Perrin has his axe out. Rand asks why she brought them there, and Moiraine’s eyes seem to pull at him as she answers that they are ta’veren, and that it is here in this place that the Dark One will strike, and here that he must be stopped lest darkness will cover the world. She leads them out again, Rand edging against the wall the whole way, unable to bring himself to take even one step closer to the pool, and he’s still shaking when they reach the sunlight again.

Outside in the fresh air, Nynaeve starts to upbraid Moiraine about something when they are interrupted by two hooded figures. Lan asks who they are and if the Green Man guided them; one replies that Mat led them there but that he is not the one they seek. They push back their hoods, revealing one man who looks older and more drawn than anyone Rand has ever seen, while the other wears a black leather mask with a horrible laughing face on it. The withered man introduces himself as Aginor, and his companion as Balthamel, explaining that Balthamel no longer speaks with his tongue, as “The Wheel grinds exceedingly fine over three thousand years imprisoned.”

Mat begins to say that the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul, but Aginor cuts him off, changing “are” to “were.” He tells Moiraine that the seals are weakening, and that soon others of their number will also walk free. He tells them that there is no Lews Therin Kinslayer to save them now, and that they know which one they seek. There is no need for the rest.

Lan draws his sword, torn for an instant because Nynaeve and Moiraine are too far apart for him to step in front of them both, but the second he moves Aginor flicks his fingers and Lan is thrown back hard against the arch and falls to the ground, unconscious. Seeing this, Nynaeve draws her knife and throws herself at Aginor, but Balthamel catches her by the jaw and lifts her off her feet as she wails in despair. Rand stops Egwene from rushing to Nynaeve’s aid by tackling her bodily to the ground, crying out that you can’t fight the Forsaken, but Perrin and Mat draw their weapons and attack, only to be knocked down by an invisible hand.

Aginor tells them that if they abase themselves properly, he might let them live, and the boys and Egwene get to their feet in stubborn defiance. Aginor glances at the archway leading to the Eye, and tells them that now that he has found what he seeks, he may take the time to teach them a lesson. But before he can do anything the Green Man arrives, shouting that the men are not welcome in his place, and that they are not permitted to harm any living thing. Aginor raises a hand and the Green Man begins to smoke, bellowing in pain, but Aginor underestimates him and the Green Man catches Balthamel in his arms and squeezes him tightly. The two struggle, flames bursting from the Green Man’s face under Balthamel’s hands, but then creepers and nettles and fungus begin to grow on the man’s body, and when the Green Man throws him down, mushrooms and all sorts of plants that “love the dank” pull his body apart, leaving him just a dark forest mound.

But the Green Man goes down as well, half his head gone, burning leaves falling to the ground. As his head falls, he cups an acorn and it grows into a massive tree, huge and ancient, with limbs as big as a man, 500 years old or more, its roots curving around Nynaeve’s prone body where Balthamel dropped her. For a moment Aginor is stunned, then he snarls that it is time to end this.

Moiraine agrees, and with an outstretched hand she opens a flaming chasm beneath Aginor’s feet. But the Forsaken stands as if on air, and slowly, pushing against Moiraine’s power, he starts to advance towards her. Straining, she shouts for the others to run, and Mat, Perrin, and Loial all comply. But Egwene, Rand sees, is trying to help Moiraine, trying to use her own power. He grabs her and tells her to run, pushing her into motion, but suddenly Aginor turns toward her.

“Not her!” Rand shouted. “The Light burn you, not her!” He snatched up a rock and threw it, meaning to draw Aginor’s attention. Halfway to the Forsaken’s face, the stone turned to a handful of dust.

He hesitated only a moment, long enough to glance over his shoulder and see that Egwene was hidden in the trees. The flames still surrounded Aginor, patches of his cloak smoldering, but he walked as if he had all the time in the world, and the fire’s rim was near. Rand turned and ran. Behind him he heard Moiraine begin to scream.

Rand runs, uphill, and it’s like Moiraine’s screaming lasts forever, although Rand knows that it’s only a few moments, and therefore a few moments until Aginor follows him. Suddenly he comes to a cliff edge, and although he searches desperately for a hidden trail or some way around, there is nothing. He is about to try to retrace his steps when Aginor finds him. The Forsaken murmurs almost to himself that the man who brings Rand to Shayol Ghul will have rewards beyond mortal dreaming, but that Aginor himself has always had better dreams, and why should he share power or bend knee to Rand when he could serve the Dark Lord in death and it would make no difference to the spread of the Shadow. He mentions that he once stood in the Hall of the Servants and held his ground against the Lord of the Morning, Lews Therin Telamon himself.

Rand, meanwhile, is desperately searching for some way to escape, to get away from Aginor, when he suddenly becomes aware of a bright cord of light that stretches out from Aginor’s body and away into the distance, a cord that pulses and seems to give Aginor strength with each pulse, and yet beside it Aginor seems almost not to exist. The shining cord hums and calls to Rand, and one strand lifts away from the rest and stretches out to touch him.

Rand is instantly filled with warmth and although Aginor screams that Rand “shall not have it,” the two struggle over the power as it fills Rand, as he wraps the void around a small corner of himself and the rest is filled with Light. “Mine!” Aginor screams as flames burst from his mouth and Rand’s mind repeats the same desire to get away.

Suddenly he finds himself in a mountain pass, unable to think for himself, every bit of him subsumed with the Light, leaving him stunned in awe. Around Rand the tail end of battle rages, men and Trollocs and Fades fighting each other and then drawing back to regroup. He finds himself standing before the reforming ranks of the men, seeing that they are already defeated even as they ready themselves for a final charge. Some of them see him and cry out, but the shouts seem to come from a great distance.

Then Rand is facing the enemy, their ranks swollen and terrible. Some of them see him too, and the Dragkhar swoop down to attack; Rand can see them clearly, men’s faces and winged bodies bearing down on him as the heat of the Light burns through him and lightning strikes and kills each one.

Rand falls to his knees, clutching at grass that bursts into flame at his touch, trying to hold on to some part of himself, as he cries out “Please, nooooooo!”

With his screams the flames grow into a wall of fire that speeds away from him, and as he shouts “This has to end!” and pounds his fists,the ground is churned up into waves of earth that crash into and consume the Trolloc hoards, leaving behind only about twice the number of the human army. He yells again.

“The Light blind you, Ba’alzamon! This has to end!”

IT IS NOT HERE.

It was not Rand’s thought, making his skull vibrate.

I WILL TAKE NO PART. ONLY THE CHOSEN ONE CAN DO WHAT MUST BE DONE, IF HE WILL.

“Where?” He did not want to say it, but he could not stop himself. “Where?”

The haze surrounding him parted, leaving a dome of clear, clean air ten spans high, walled by billowing smoke and dust. Steps rose before him, each standing alone and unsupported, stretching up into the murk that obscured the sun.

NOT HERE.

With shouts that the Light wills their victory, the human host charges the Trollocs. For a moment the little bit of Rand that has room for such thoughts is worried about being trampled by combatants, but the rest of him views such concerns as beneath notice, and he climbs the stairs in a timeless void until he comes to the door and chamber from his dreams. The door explodes apart when he touches it, and inside he finds the same setting, the twisted tortured faces, the fireplace, and the mirror on the wall in which he can now see himself perfectly clearly.

Ba’alzamon greets him, remarking that he suspected that Aginor’s greed would overcome him in the end. But it doesn’t matter because the long search is ended, and Ba’alzamon knows Rand now. Rand sees that Ba’alzamon has a cord of his own, as dark as Rand’s is light, and much thicker. He tells Ba’alzamon that he is tired of running and having his friends threatened, and Ba’alzamon retorts that it doesn’t matter if Rand runs or not, that he has tried both before and everything ends the same.

Rand answers that Ba’alzamon does not weave the Pattern, and that every trap lain Rand has avoided or overcome, and that he has tracked Ba’alzamon here after all. This seems to set Ba’alzamon back on his heels for a moment, but then he counters by suggesting that he has been responsible for the entire course of events, letting the right people live to send the right words to Rand’s ears to draw him there. Rand’s confidence wavers then, Ba’alzamon’s knowledge of the details is enough that what he says could be true. But the Light warms him, sends away his doubt, and the void remains steady in his mind. Ba’alzamon continues to insist that he wanted Rand to come here, alive and on his own, so that he could be brought to heel and made to serve. When Rand denies him, he shows Rand an image of Nynaeve and Egwene, and of another woman, one that Rand recognizes as his mother.

Again Rand denies Ba’alzamon, insisting that his mother is dead and safe in the Light, but the apparition of his mother tells him that the Lord of the Grave’s reach is longer than it once was, that he is her master now, and she can only obey him. She begs for Rand’s help, saying only he can save her, as Fades close around her and begin torturing her. Rand draws his sword, a sword made of Light, and a bolt shoots from its tip, cutting through the Fades like paper and destroying them all.

From the midst of the brilliance, he heard a whisper. “Thank you, my son. The Light. The blessed Light.”

The flash faded, and he was alone in the chamber with Ba’alzamon. Ba’alzamon’s eyes burned like the Pit of Doom, but he shied back from the sword as if it truly were the Light itself. “Fool! You will destroy yourself! You cannot wield it so, not yet! Not until I teach you!”

“It is ended,” Rand said, and he swung the sword at Ba’alzamon’s black cord.

The cord is severed and the recoil flings Ba’alzamon into the fireplace. The stone around them begins to crumble as Rand swings the sword toward him again, light shooting from its tip again and crashing into the Dark One, who throws up his arms in vain to shield himself. Rand can feel his own cord weakening and thinning, he is desperate for it to be ended, and then as Ba’alzamon withers and shrieks Rand feels himself falling away.

 

No one knows the origins of the mythological figure of the green man. He is most commonly associated with the Celts, due to how numerous the depictions of him are in the ancient carvings, stonework, and jewelry of that people, but similar ancient images have been found in the Middle East and India, and many ancient cultures have imagery and deities that fill a similar role of symbolizing growth, rebirth, and man’s relationship with nature. In the case of the ancient Celts, representations of faces or heads was common, often peering out from vestigial carvings, and these images were probably influenced by and in dialogue with similar carvings from Mesopotamia and the Roman images of Dionysus. The Celtic and Roman imagery in particular went on to evolve to be common in Christian stonework, and images of the green man can be found in the walls and pillars of many churches in the U.K. and elsewhere.

Usually the green man is depicted as being made up of foliage, a single leaf with a man’s face or a man’s face with leaves for eyebrows, mustache, vines for a mouth, etc. Other times he is depicted as having foliage growing out of his mouth, his ears, or even his eyes, and some scholars have even named certain images of skulls sprouting foliage as depicting the green man.

Before Christianity, most religions said that man was born from nature, and thus the green man represents that tie. He is an icon of fertility, growth, and rebirth, and therefore linked also to death and decay. Since no one knows the true origins of the image, there is much room for interpretation, and the green man has been linked to Robin Hood, Puck, St. George, and many others. Ultimately we don’t know what symbolism ancient cultures ascribed to the green man, how much was symbolism and how much was simple decoration, and how connected the icon is across disparate cultures. But there is no denying the appeal of the character as one moves forward in history; the Renaissance saw a huge surge in the popularity of the vegetal face as a design motif, and because of his connection to the history of the country, the green man remains particularly popular in England.

But what does all this mean for Rand and his friends? I found it significant that we don’t know what the Green Man is; his species or even if he has a name of his own. No doubt that will come up in some later book, but for now, like the green man of our world, the truth of where he comes from is a mystery, and in a certain way, unimportant. Like nature itself, he just is, and I wonder how his power relates to the Power; saidin and saidar are the force which creates, and we know that Elaida used her power to make things grow. The green man does not create but only helps things along, as he puts it, so it’s a different power but one that interacts with creation in a meaningful way.

There is a paragraph where the Green Man stops to help a seed grow that strikes me as one of the most beautiful thematic moments all of The Eye of the World. The seed is in the center of the path, and the Green Man cups his hand around it, giving it shoots that bypass the rocks and dig down into the good soil below.

“All things must grow where they are, according to the Pattern,” he explained over his shoulder, as if apologizing, “and face the turning of the Wheel, but the Creator will not mind if I give just a little help.”

Rand led Red around the shoot, careful not to let the bay’s hooves crush it. It did not seem right to destroy what the Green Man had done just to avoid an extra step.

Moiraine’s mantra of “The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills,” is a useful one, but it doesn’t account for her determination to do all she can in the face of the Shadow. She works tirelessly, fights constantly, and risks everything for the duty she has undertaken. If the mantra was truly to be taken at face value, I think it would encourage idleness, suggest that fate is the only thing that matters, and this plays into the question I have been asking about free will and its place in the Wheel of Time universe. The Green Man’s philosophy seems to seamlessly blend both the understanding of the Pattern and of free will and personal responsibility. And it’s also just a beautiful sentiment.

How right the Green Man was to sense his own ending would be tied to the Eye! Not to the object itself, as it turns out, but to the conflict around him. The way that Balthamel, an agent of decay, is fed upon and destroyed by fungi and other plants that break down decaying matter is quite fitting, and shows that even in the act of killing the Green Man is not an agent of destruction but of rebirth. His own death also results in life and strength in another form. Seeing that fight, though, really makes me wonder how the Green Man got the older scar, and if another agent of the Dark One didn’t find the Eye and set this plan in motion in the first place.

Going back for a second to the Eye, I have to admit that it isn’t what I expected! Until Moiraine admitted that no one knew what the Eye was, I thought it was the center of the Wheel of Time. I think I formed that opinion back when Ba’alzamon first told Rand that the Eye would never serve him, and it was only in the last several chapters that I started to realize how mistaken my initial impression was. The foreshadowing of the Eye was done well in the earlier traveling chapters when Rand and the other Two Rivers folk saw the old wonders made by Aes Sedai long ago, like Whitebridge, and whose very composition is a mystery to the people of the present day. The modern Aes Sedai know enough to recognize pure saidin but they have no idea what such a pool, pure or no, would be used for, or how. This is because they cannot channel saidin, but also because there is no record left of the techniques that might have been used to make it in the first place.

Rand and the boys’ aversion to the pool of saidin makes sense, given what happens to male channelers most of the time. But I was a little surprised that Rand didn’t have any other thoughts about it, or any instinct drawing him towards it. Then again, was the Eye’s saidin the cord of Light that first Aginor, then Rand, was wielding? It almost has to be. For a moment I thought that perhaps Aginor was stealing Moiraine’s life force or something like that, but then I remembered the rule about saidin and saidar channelers being unable to use each other’s powers. But if the saidin in the Eye was what Aginor and Rand were using, then it’s going to be empty when Rand gets back to it, right?

There are so many questions raised by the events of Chapter 51 that I don’t know where to start. Rand is clearly being driven by a force beyond his own conscious mind; whether it be instinct, some kind of programming that the Aes Sedai who built the Eye put into it, or the will of the Light itself, I can’t tell. Rand’s use of the void to keep a little piece of himself separate was very interesting to me; it reminded me of the way Richard partitions his mind in The Wizard’s First Rule, to keep his core self from being broken under the Mord Sith torture. Like Richard, Rand doesn’t really have a full idea of what he’s doing, but his training from his father and his instincts guide him to make the partition. But that just brings me back to wondering how much of Rand is directing the proceedings and how much of what he does and even what he says isn’t Rand but someone, or something, else.

Lews Therin Telamon, perhaps? If being the Dragon means being reincarnated, then perhaps an earlier Dragon’s mind can possess the new body his soul now occupies, like how sometimes old Avatars step in to help the most recent one in Avatar: The Last Airbender. That would certainly make sense of the wild rage Rand experiences and the way he wields the Power without even feeling that he is doing it, never mind knowing how to do it. And if that’s the case, maybe Lews was the voice he heard in his mind.

Because seriously what was that? The only other explanation I can think of is that it’s the Creator themself talking. The “I WILL TAKE NO PART” bit kind of suggests that, the idea being that the Creator, like the Christian God, has left the fate of humanity and the world up to free will and the strength of a savior. And then the Creator just… makes him some steps to get to Ba’alzamon. Is Ba’alzamon the “it” or does that refer to something else?

I mean, I get that a lot of this is probably metaphysical and not literal, but either Chapter 52 is going to be full of a lot of musings and explanations or there’s going to be a lot left unanswered by the end of this book.

One question I am having a lot of fun pondering is how much of what Ba’alzamon says is roughly “truth.” I don’t actually believe him when he says that he orchestrated the clues that led Rand to the Eye and to Ba’alzamon himself; when he says that it’s a direct response to Rand reminding him that Ba’alzamon doesn’t weave the Pattern, and I think he’s just trying to save face and keep Rand from feeling that he has any agency in the proceedings. I think Moiraine’s belief that the Pattern itself led them to the right spot at the right moment is much more likely.

I also think that might really be Rand’s mom. At first it seemed like a standard tempter’s trick to show Rand the image of someone he loved and use it as a bargaining tool, but Kari doesn’t talk like that. If she was just an image used by Ba’alzamon to manipulate Rand, she would have begged him to surrender to save her, or to surrender to be with her. Instead she begs him to free her, which Rand does easily, and then she praises the Light. No deception of the Dark One would do that, I am certain. And since we know that Ba’alzamon can take control over the souls of people who have died—he tells Rand that he will do as much to him—it doesn’t necessarily mean that Kari was a Darkfriend or anything like that.

Speaking of Rand protecting people, back when he was having his fever dreams, specifically the one he had riding in Bunt’s cart, I wondered how much was standard nightmare and how much was some kind of vision, and I remember that he saw Egwene imprisoned by a Fade and shouted in his dream, “Not her!… The Light blast you, it’s me you want, not her!” and then at the end of Chapter 51 when he throws the rock at Aginor to distract him from Egwene; “Not her!” Rand shouted. “The Light burn you, not her!” Maybe not a vision, but certainly a nice bit of foreshadowing/call back to earlier.

Next week we will get some answers to some of my questions, find out who is still alive, and learn more about the mystery of the Eye. We are closing into the end of this adventure, dear reader, but that just means that we have gotten to the Beginning. See you next week for Chapters 52 and 53, the last part of The Eye of the World!

Sylas K Barrett once left a flower for the green man in Sherwood forest. It was a moving moment.

Molly Returns in Tade Thompson’s The Survival of Molly Southbourne

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I’m proud to announce that Tor.com will be publishing a sequel to Tade Thompson’s The Murders of Molly Southbourne. A finalist for the Shirley Jackson Award, the British Science Fiction Award, and the Nommo Award, Thompson’s spine-chilling thriller introduced Molly Southbourne, a woman cursed to spawn murderous copies of herself any time she bleeds. The New York Times praised the novella as “A bold outpouring of flesh and crisis at once horrifying and familiar.” In the second chapter, The Survival of Molly Southbourne, we follow Molly on the run, hunted at every turn by unknown dangers that push her survival skills to their limit. This acquisition deal was negotiated by Alexander Cochran of C+W.

Tade Thompson lives and works in the south of England. He is the author of the Rosewater trilogy (winner of the Nommo Award and John W. Campbell finalist), The Murders of Molly Southbourne (nominated for the Shirley Jackson Award, the British Science Fiction Award, and the Nommo Award), and Making Wolf (winner of the Golden Tentacle Award). His interests include jazz, visual arts and MMA. He is addicted to reading.  Thompson had this to say about the deal:

“I’m excited to return to the world of Molly Southbourne and work with Tor.com. The reaction to The Murders of Molly Southbourne was overwhelming, and it was clear that her story was not over. I can’t wait for fans to read the latest chapter in Molly’s life.”

The second volume in Molly’s story is expected to publish in Summer 2019. You can read The Murders of Molly Southbourne right now.

A Worshipper’s Guide to the Pantheon of Gods in Jacqueline Carey’s Starless

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The night sky in Jacqueline Carey’s latest novel Starless is—as the title of  suggests—bare. But a thousand years ago, the sky was lit up with glittering stars. More than stars, they were gods: the children of all-seeing Zar the Sun and his three Moon wives: bright Nim, dark Shahal, and fickle wanderer Eshen. But the children, who remained in fixed points lending light at night and guiding sailors on the four great currents, envied their parents’ freedom to wander the day and night sky. And so, they rebelled.

Rather than discipline his children in the sky, Zar the Sun grew furious and punished his rebellious children by casting them down to earth. As the heavens emptied of their celestial beings, they struck different points on the land and in the sea. In each spot, that god or goddess took on the form of their surroundings, from fierce sandstorms to calming rains to enigmatic marble statues. And where each deity reigned, so their human scions built worship around their particular form and decrees.

It is a massive pantheon to keep track of, and each plays a key part in the novel’s Scattered Prophecy. From trickster gods to harmonious nature deities, here’s a handy guide to the major divine players in this epic standalone fantasy.

 

Zar the Sun

Not surprisingly, everything revolves around this sun god, “the father of us all.” Not only does Zar oversee his starry children that he bound to the earth, but his all-seeing eye also scans over the humans whose lives unfold beneath his bright gaze. He will ever light their paths during the day; and even when he dips beneath the horizon line and his moon-wives take his place in the starless sky, his influence is not forgotten.

Every member of the royal family (a.k.a. the Sun-Blessed, a.k.a. the House of the Ageless) has “zar” somewhere in their names, which make for some increasingly creative monikers: Azarkal, Kazaran, Tazaresh, Dozaren, and one of the protagonists of Starless, princess Zariya.

 

Nim the Bright Moon, Shahal the Dark Moon, and Eshen the Wandering Moon

The mothers of all creation sometimes share the night sky, and other times two will dip away and allow one to shine bright—or dark—on her own. It is the convergence of Nim the Bright Moon and Shahal the Dark Moon under which warrior Khai and princess Zariya are born. Depending on which moon reigns at a given time will set the tone for that night: there is the calming guidance of silver-white Nim, the bloody light of Shahal, and the fickle, shifting blue glow of Eshen. While Nim and Shahal bear various gods for Zar, it is Eshen’s hidden child who turns the tide of history.

 

Pahrkun the Scouring Wind

The Sacred Twins are among Zar’s most beloved children, which is why he cast them down to the east, so that when Zar rises at the start of the day he may see them first as he moves across the sky. While they protect Zarkhoum, they’re not exactly benevolent guardians; manifesting as sandstorms and veils of fire, they can be as unpredictable and dangerous as the weather.

Out in the deserts of Zarkhoum, Pahrkun watches over a Brotherhood of elite warriors, who have established their homes in the Fortress of the Winds. Trained from infancy, or at least adolescence, they mete out harsh judgment mirroring the desert itself: The Trial of Pahrkun is reserved for those men from far-off towns who have committed a crime meriting execution. They can choose instead to travel to the Fortress of the Winds and face three members of the Brotherhood in the Hall of Proving. Should the criminal make his way through, he will be scoured of his sins and welcomed into the Brotherhood.

Pahrkun’s scouring power can be seen in the shape of the Fortress itself (with its large stone basin crossed by a thin stone bridge) to how the Brotherhood worships him (leaving their dead to be reduced to bones) to the unique trial that every Brother must confront when he comes of age. This is especially harrowing for Khai, as it is his last step in childhood before going to the city of Merabaht to be united with his soul’s twin Zariya for the first time. It is one thing to live in a land shaped by the winds; it is wholly another to let oneself be shaped by Pahrkun.

 

Anamuht the Purging Fire

The Sacred Twins both stalk the deepest part of Zarkhoum’s desert—he whipping the sands into whorls, she crackling with lightning—but Anamuht also makes her way to Merabaht when it comes time to quicken the rhamanthus seeds in the Garden of Sowing Time. Each of these seeds glows with the immortal fire of Zar and grants another year of life to the person who ingests it. Veiled in sheets of fire, wielding lightning bolts and speaking in tongues of flame, Anamuht creates quite the spectacle when she quickens the rhamanthus seeds with her lightning (no other heat or flame can do the same). But she has not visited the Garden of Sowing Time in over a dozen years, sparking rumors of her displeasure with the house of the Sun-Blessed.

The priestesses of Anamuht are the keepers of lore including birth records—paying special attention to those births that occur during a lunar eclipse, as the twin births mirror the relationship between Anamuht and Parkhoun. They also deal in prophecies, like the one claiming that as the darkness rises in the west, a member of the Sun-Blessed will stand against it…

 

Droth the Great Thunder

The great dragon protects the land of Granth, which now teems with its offspring, great stink-lizards who spit deadly acidic bile. Like any good dragon, Droth mostly sticks to his lair, sleeping atop his pile of riches and dreaming of dominion over the humans. But once every seven years, he awakens in order to mark the ascension of a new Kagan—the Granthians’ leader, elected via combat—and bind his stink-lizards in service to their new leader.

 

Ilharis the Two-Faced

On the isle of Therin, whose inhabitants say one thing when they mean another, Ilharis is represented by a marble statue with two visages and two lines of sight—one east, one west. When fickle Eshen the Wandering Moon is full and casts her light down on Ilharis, the statue weeps crystal tears. Humans would be behooved, though not necessarily wise, to snatch those rare tears, as they have the ability to change one’s luck… but whether for the better or for the worse, will not be known until the fate-changer is used.

 

Lishan the Graceful

Barakhar’s deity sounds almost whimsical: a willow tree who can pick up her roots in order to wander and bestow her dew upon her people. But as one of Khai’s Brothers points out, “Grace and guile can be deadlier than any stink-lizard’s bile, and luck can change any outcome.”

 

Obid the Stern

Many countries with their own gods regardless turn to Itarran and its deity as keepers of justice. The coursers of Obid sail all around rooting out pirates and smugglers, while the realm’s elected official (replaced every decade) follows the god’s example of solemn, fair judgment unencumbered by either vice nor emotion.

 

Dulumu the Deep

The god of the sea who gave the Elehuddin (themselves having adapted to the sea with their webbed feet and tendril-like hair) command of the sea-wyrms, a.k.a. the fan favorite characters of Starless.

 

Quellin-Who-Is-Everywhere

Trickster god who shifts into different guises as suits him; despite everyone knowing his M.O., he is rarely actually recognized. Quellin’s propensity for shapeshifting inspired the people of Drogalia to tattoo themselves—the one aspect he cannot duplicate—so as to assert their true identities and histories. Though he often makes fools of his scions for his own delight or even pleasure, he also rewards them with divine gifts, such as the ability to pass through any space, much like he can.

 

Luhdo the Loud

The god of thunder, who delivers the stunning power of a thunderclap unto his scions from Trask.

 

Ishfahel the Gentle Rain

Does the Verdant Isle gain its name from Ishfahel, or did Ishfahel come to embody the gentle rain because the isle needed to remain green? It is unclear, but the two exist in a harmonious cycle, with the misty, larger-than-life Ishfahel embodying the coolness and peace of a cleansing rain and bestowing her restorative water upon locals and travelers alike.

 

Selerian the Light-Footed

Despite being the daughter of fickle Eshen, Selerian in turn inspires in her scions, of the Chalcedony Isle, a powerful but short-lived love. For they are mayflies, able to move light-footedly and swiftly through their brief lives.

 

Shambloth the Inchoate Terror

No one really knows what Shambloth looks like, only that he instills “mind-rending fear” in anyone unlucky enough to trespass on the island of Papa-ka-hondras. There are a thousand ways that the island could kill those who are unwelcome, from the very concrete dangers like death-bladders to the nameless, permeating fear that lurks just beyond the edge of the campsite. Not being able to contain Shambloth to one shape just makes him that much scarier. (In our recent interview, Carey describes the Inchoate Terror as “a little Lovecraftian action there without any of the—hopefully—misogyny and racism.”)

 

Galdano the Shrewd

For the Tukkani, trade is a form of worship, which means it must be performed with the correct intent. As Galdano—the rare fixed god, who does not move from his place of worship—decreed long ago, the worth of a thing can only be determined through trade. As petitioners come with their worldly goods to offer up to Galdano, the god’s many constantly moving hands weigh, note, and trade the items for treasure or scraps of paper whose value only Galdano may understand.

 

Johina the Mirthful

Every pantheon needs a god, or goddess, who embodies pure joy: always dancing, adorned with flowers and birds caught in her celebratory movements, always on the verge of laughter.

 

Miasmus

Poor Miasmus, forbidden child hidden away by a fickle mother and raised not as a star, but in complete darkness. Poor Maw, yearning for love but instead filled with distrust and hatred. If you were punished for a rebellion that your thousands of siblings committed, that you had neither hand in nor even knowledge of, you too would be an Abyss That Abides. We won’t say more, as much of the plot hinges on this misunderstood deity, but Miasmus’ role in the story is as distant from omnipotent, omniscient Zar as can be—making the gods’ family drama, and its long-reaching ramifications for the earthly scions, all the more human.

 

Starless is available now from Tor Books. Read an excerpt!

Natalie Zutter would read a whole side novella about Ilharis the Two-Faced or Quellin-Who-Is-Everywhere. Talk epic fantasy with her on Twitter!

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