Book Review: Interstellar Megachef by Lavanya Lakshminarayan

A frothy, funny and amusing SF novel... that has an undertone of far more serious and thoughtful ideas than you might well think.

Saraswati has a problem. Her cooking career on Earth has cratered and she’s desperate to get back in the game. Her answer: illegally immigrate to the planet Primus, the center of human culture and society in the galaxy and get on Interstellar Megachef, the premiere cooking show broadcast to multiple star systems. If she can win the competition, she will be poised to reclaim her position and show off her ability once and for all.

Things... do not go to plan.

Saraswati’s story is one of the two backbones of Interstellar Megachef by Lavanya Lakshminarayan.

The author hooks you in, with a book that looks and starts and has the outward appearance of a frothy and funny book. When I first heard about this book, saw the cover and started reading it, the book looked like it was going for Great British Bakeoff in space... or, to use genre comps, Catherynne Valente’s Space Opera meets Cat Rambo’s You Sexy Thing. Cooking... in spaaace, with a lot of fun and frivolity. A light read that I was going to devour with the relish of eating a dessert. 

The book has that, from the get go and throughout, don’t get me wrong. Saraswati’s arrival on the planet Primus and her efforts to get to the show are played up in high comedy. She has a cute digital intelligence companion. There’s a meet cute with a high powered executive (our second point of view character, Serenity Ko). Saraswati seems to be doing things all so well. She gets to the show, and starts cooking. 

And then the narrative, and even the book changes. It happens early so I am going to spoil it: she loses badly, and is the first chef eliminated, and it's not even close. Her practices (like cooking with fire, and with whole vegetables) are considered by the Primians to be barbaric, backward, dangerous and basically “primitive Earth human being Earth human”. Saraswati is devastated, but determined to not let it get her down. In the meantime, Serenity Ko’s latest venture in her space of virtual reality simulations has not gone very well either, and she has been given the equivalent of a two week sabbatical from work. She’s determined to get back in the game, too. We start with two main characters knocked down, but not out, in the first round.

And so while the rest of the novel shows how these two come back from their disasters and defeats (and wind up becoming reluctant and unexpected allies and partners), the novel keeps up the frivolity and fun, but starts seriously layering and bolstering the narrative and the worldbuilding with some serious thoughts about the nature of food. About cultural imperialism, dominance and where culture is from and what it is good for. About the roles and expectations of families, of society, of the power of found families. The author, while keeping the frivolity and tone often light and as easy to consume as a frothy glass of spiced eggnog, at the same time engages with some serious and important questions. She doesn’t even ask this only of the audience but the characters themselves, particularly our POV characters Saraswati and Serenity, face a lot of questions, confrontations and thoughts. It gives the whole book a whole deeper level that you would not expect if you just looked at the cover. (This is definitely a case of the cover being utterly deceptive). Don’t get me wrong, I had a lot of fun and reading pleasure diving into this story. But it was the thought provoking questions, both asked and unasked, and some of them not answered at all, that really brought the book home for me and to me. 

Lakshminarayan does this in a couple of ways. We learn things about Saraswati’s background that change and alter the narrative that we saw at the beginning. The author does it subtly at first, and then comes in with the “wham” of a spicy reveal or a turn in the plot and narrative that caused me to reassess what I’d learned about her so far. Saraswati’s history and background are far more complicated than we are led to expect at the beginning. So too, in a slightly lesser key, is Serenity Ko, whom we find has a background and a family tree that, when the reveal happens, is like the bloom of a flavor on one’s tongue that you didn’t notice before, and changes the entire meal in one bite. The gear shifts in going from subtle to unmistakable and back again are an excellent showcase of the author’s writing talents.

Next, the author raises these questions in the context of the narrative itself. Primus is the center of food and other human culture across the galaxy (Earth is a backwater in this day and age). Primians consider their culture, especially their approach to food, premiere and without reproach and supreme. And we get to learn, from both Serenity (as an insider who knows nothing about food but all about the history) and Saraswati (who knows food but not the cuisine of the planet) just what Primian food is all about, and why it is important to the culture of the planet. But it goes beyond just food, although food is the center. We get a whole view of Primian culture in general, human but different, evolved, changed. But it is in the reactions to that culture, and people’s considerations of their past, and their present, and the future of Primian cuisine... and culture that the author is asking some very pointed questions about our own society in the same vein. The lines are awfully easy to draw and we get a lot of food for thought, as it were, as the narrative unfolds. And there aren’t easy and pat answers, either, a real signifier as to the complexity of the narrative, and the situation on Primus... and our own modern day world as well.

Finally, the author brings this together with the culminating project that merges Saraswati and Serenity’s storylines. I don’t want to go into too much detail on this one, its an audacious idea that merges their talents. But it is an idea that brings up ethics and cultural questions, raised by other characters and also will be in the mind of the reader. It is a far cry from the light and frothy beginning at the start of the book, and the culmination of the project and ambition is left deliberately not clear and definitely ambiguous. The book is first in a series, and we left at sort of a stopping point but definitely in media res for the full narrative. I was left, though, with a lot of questions and thoughts about how I approach food, especially food from traditions not my own. In the delivering of a tasty and appealing work, Interstellar Megachef has unexpected, and very welcome, depth to it.

But let me say again, throughout and with all of this complexity, depth and richness of the SF narrative, the book is a pleasure and fun to read, not just in the beginning. There are moments of real tenderness, of high drama, and definitely of comedy. The novel is entertaining and a fantastic whirlwind of taste sensations throughout, and the sensory detail will make you hungry, even if little of this food is actually real. I tore through this book with the verve of me digging into a rich hot dish after a long day’s trek with photos, filling, sustaining and delicious. Interstellar Megachef is a fantastic work of speculative fiction and has, as I have thought about it after reading, firmly seated itself as one of my favorites of the year without question. 

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The Math

Highlights:

• Fun and frothy tone and start develops into wonderful complexity of narrative and theme
• Rich and decadent worldbuilding that ties into characters, location, family and cultures
• Excellent and immersive writing that brings the flavor of the narrative to your palate.
• Does not finish off in a neat and single serving. 

Reference: Lakshminarayan, Lavanya, Interstellar Megachef, [Rebellion Publishing, 2024]

POSTED BY: Paul Weimer. Ubiquitous in Shadow, but I'm just this guy, you know? @princejvstin

Film Review: Wicked, Part 1

Real world social commentary wrapped in memorable show tunes and a classic, fantastical setting.

First came L. Frank Baum’s classic children’s book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the story of Dorothy, a girl who gets blown from Kansas by a cyclone into the fantasy world of Oz. The book was made into the classic film, the Wizard of Oz starring Judy Garland as Dorothy. In Oz, Dorothy meets the beautiful witch Glinda who sends her to Wizard of Oz so that he can get her back to Kansas. In her quest to get home, she defeats the wicked witch of the West and forms friendships with three allies, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion. However [spoiler alert] the wizard turns out to be a fraud with no magical powers and in an ironic twist, her companions who consider themselves to be defective and lacking, all turn out to be strong and capable despite their external deficits.

After The Wizard of Oz, came various musical versions of the story including, The Wiz, a primarily Black cast retelling of the story featuring R&B songs like When I Think of Home and Ease on Down the Road. The hit film version of The Wiz starred Diana Ross, Michael Jackson, Nipsey Russell, and other superstars. Later came the Gregory Maguire’s novel Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. This time the story of Oz is told from the point of view of the story’s original villain, Elphaba. In this version, Elphaba is mistreated, well-meaning, exploited, framed, and ultimately understandably angry. She also has a fraught friendship with Glinda the good witch in the original version of the story.  The novel inspired the musical, Wicked, featuring a tragic hero, tortured friendships, and iconic songs that never quite leave your mind. The Tony winning Broadway musical is the inspiration for the 2024 feature film musical starring Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande as Elphaba and Glinda, respectively. After more than a century into existence, Oz has been through many interpretations.

What contemporary audiences often want is a complex character study. People are seldom just bad or good. They are the products of their experiences and they act based on the reality of their world view and their lived experiences. Wicked, Part 1, tells us the story of a child, Elphaba, who is unloved because of her skin color (green) and feared because of her strength (magic). Despite this she grows to be resilient with a mix of compassion and cynicism. While escorting her younger sister Nessarose (Marissa Bode) to the wizard school, Shiz University, Elphaba’s magic skills catch the eye of a professor (Michelle Yeoh), so Elphaba also ends up enrolling in Shiz to develop her powers in the hopes of one day meeting the magical Wizard, the powerful leader of the land who can grant any wish. Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) is stuck rooming with the self-absorbed and intensely popular, Glinda (Ariana Grande) who is the opposite of Elphaba’s reticent, outcast vibe. The two initially dislike each other but over time they become friends after each offers the other an unexpected act of kindness. The arrival of the handsome and charismatic prince Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey) creates a love triangle with Glinda and Elphaba. Meanwhile Elphaba’s younger sister Nessarose is attracted to the Munchin student Boq (Ethan Slater) who is not-so-secretly in love with Glinda. But the main external conflict is the oppression and racism against the talking animals who have been part of society for ages. Elphaba discovers a plot to wrongfully imprison them, cut them off from their homes and employment, and take away their ability to speak. Her determination to speak out against the injustice puts her in conflict with those in power and strains her friendship with Glinda. The film is only part one of the musical so it ends with much of the conflict unresolved. However, the story ends on an inspiring note as Elphaba and Glinda struggle with their respective choices.

If you are familiar with the musical, none of this is new material. But, while the film manages to stay true to the stage show, it also brings startlingly sharp observations of current issues of racism, social oppression, and political manipulation. When Elphaba is stared at because she is green, Glinda expresses hope that they can solve her skin color problem. Elphaba irritatedly rebuffs the suggestion and a man in Glinda’s entourage defensively declares that “I don’t see color.” The fact that Elphaba is played by a Black actress, particularly makes the message resonate.

As the story progresses, Elphaba and Glinda uncover political intrigue involving the innocent talking animals as pawns. Later the talking goat history professor, Dr. Dillamond (voiced by Peter Dinklage) warns that “you ignore the past at your own peril.” When you see Wicked, you can easily talk for hours about the current societal references in the story. The film has sharp content and excellent acting from Cynthia Erivo as the determined Elphaba and Ariana Grande as the good-hearted, but hesitant to act, Glinda.

In addition to the unexpectedly thoughtful and timely plot, Wicked delivers exactly what audiences want in a musical: stunning sets, gorgeous dance numbers (and costumes), and iconic songs (Popular, One Short Day, and Defying Gravity) that will make you want to play the soundtrack then entire way home from the theater. Cynthia Erivo is perfect as Elphaba, playing the character in an understated but bitingly cynical way. Ariana Grande is adorable as an onscreen embodiment of Barbie from Barbie and Elle from Legally Blonde, as she moves from confident and self-absorbed to compassionate, conflicted, and ultimately overwhelmed. The film also has nods to Wednesday and Enid from the Netflix series Wednesday. The only real problem with this film is that it is Wicked, Part 1, which means that we only get through the first half of the story in this rendition. However, it is so well done and ends on such a high note (literally and figuratively) that this story of the rise of an unlikely hero ultimately feels satisfying.

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The Math

Nerd Coefficient: 8/10

Highlights:

• Sharp social commentary
• Stunning sets and performances
• Poignant, sing-a-long fun

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction-writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

Book Review: The Dark Between the Trees, by Fiona Barnett

 No number of completed risk assessments can keep you safe.

Cover design by Dominic Forbes

As an academic myself, I love books about academics going on adventures, but for the same reason I’m also hyper-alert to misrepresentations about academia. My teeth itch every time a book blithely assumes that the bulk of our job responsibilities are teaching; that we have ‘summers off’ (hah!); that it’s a straightforward matter to get a ‘new job’ at ‘the local university’; that a normal age for a new professor is 25 (hah, try 40!); and that field trips are wild jaunts into the unknown (oh god, the paperwork!).

What The Dark Between The Trees manages to do is provide everything that any horror writer who's ever dabbled in the Ivory Tower could dream of – drama, danger, discovery, mystery, magic, beasts and witches and unholy mysteries that lie well beyond the reach of any scholarship or human comprehension – while also getting the nature of academia exactly right.

Dr Alice Christopher is a historian, who has always been fascinated by an event that took place in Moresby Wood during the English Civil War in 1643: the ambush and defeat of a troop of soldiers, of whom a third were killed and the rest fled into the woods. Only two came back out again, and only one survived after to tell a chilling tale of impossible landscapes and shadowy monsters. Now, after decades of trying to find funding to do a proper on-the-ground investigation of this location, Alice has finally secured a very small grant, sufficient to lead a very small research team on a very small trip to explore the spot. With her come her PhD student, Nuria, weeks away from submitting her thesis; two members from National Parks department, and a representative from the Ordinance Survey. That last is quite important because maps of Moresby Wood are hard to come by, and the two that do exist -- one from 1731 and another from 1966 – don’t agree with each other. (For the avoidance of doubt, this is foreshadowing.)

The narrative proceeds across the two timelines. Alongside Alice’s team, we get interspersed paragraphs following the troop of soldiers, starting with their desperate retreat into the woods. The events of the two groups parallel each other: They each camp under an enormous oak tree in a clearing; they each wake the next morning to discover that the tree is gone. They try to make their way out of the wood, and instead find that the geography is changeable. They tell stories about local legends associated with the woods: a family of charcoal burners who went in and never came out; a monster named the Corrigal, whose nest lies in the heart of the forest. Their unity becomes fractured, riven by doubts in the leadership – an internal stress exasperated by existing battle wounds (for the soldiers), or the failure of GPS equipment (for the researchers), and the terrible weather (for both). Then people start disappearing and dying mysteriously, perfectly fine one moment, and the next moment gone – or, worse, cut in two with no warning beyond a shimmer in the air. (I should mention – there is a lot of blood in this book.) 

Things progress from bad to worse, until eventually . . . well, let’s just say that a book with centuries-separated timelines and a creepy forest that seems not to worry about reality and sanity has options when it comes to allowing those timelines to interact. 

The plot and world-building (well, Forest-building) are largely vibes-based. The details of why Moresby Wood is so weird are never really clarified; the strangely veiled identity of those ambushing soldiers 1643 goes unrevealed; the eventual fate of many of the characters remains ambiguous; and the nature of the mysterious shimmer that slices people in half is left as an exercise for the reader. And yet, oddly, these narrative choices didn’t leave me unsatisfied. In the same way that trying to render something as incomprehensible as Moresby Wood compatible with a mere map only betrays a fundamental misunderstanding about its whole deal, trying to render something as misty and vibey as The Dark Between the Trees into a concrete set of events and actions also misses the point. It’s not that kind of book. Read it for the experience, not for the story.

But also, read it for the pitch-perfect rendition of UK academic research. This level of accuracy  can only come from someone who has been there. Take, for example, the PhD student Nuria. Her second supervisor is an academic nemesis of Alice’s, which means that any time Nuria disagrees with Alice, her opposition is seen in the light of a larger feud that really has nothing to do with her. (This type of thing absolutely happen: A PhD student in my programme had to avoid taking certain classes to satisfy her coursework requirements because they were taught by her supervisor’s extremely toxic ex-spouse, both of whom, bafflingly, still remained members of the same department.) Or take the other three members of the team, who represent non-academic ‘stakeholder’ project partners: yes, the involvement of the Ordinance Survey works well to support the plot point about disagreeing maps, but it also reflects a growing pressure in UK academia to demonstrate ‘impact’, or a demonstrable benefit or change that one’s research can effect outside the university context. I can just imagine Alice writing her ‘Impact and Knowledge Exchange’ section of the grant bid now: In partnership with the Ordinance Survey, this project will prove vital to supporting the badly-needed modernisation of existing maps of the Moresby Wood area. Currently, the most recent map is half a century old, and ...

And then, of course, there are the risk assessments. Because, as every University insurance administrator knows, if you’ve filled out the risk assessment, then nothing bad will happen! I can only hope my next research trip does not bring me near Fiona Barnett, because somehow I doubt the University of Glasgow’s SafeZone App is going to prove sufficient to protect me from her vision.

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Highlights

Nerd coefficient: 7/10, an enjoyable experience, but not without its flaws

Highlights:

• Vibey vibes

• Unfathomably scary Woods

• Historical mysteries that do not illuminate the present

• Pitch perfect academics

Reference: Barnett, Fiona, The Dark Between the Trees, [Solaris 2022].

CLARA COHEN lives in Scotland in a creaky old building with pipes for gas lighting still lurking under her floorboards. She is an experimental linguist by profession, and calligrapher and Islamic geometric artist by vocation. During figure skating season she does blather on a bit about figure skating. She is on Mastodon at wandering.shop/@ergative, and on Bluesky at https://bsky.app/profile/ergative-abs.bsky.social 

Film Review: Gladiator 2

Long, messy, violent, and exceedingly silly, Gladiator 2 is a still an entertaining sword-and-sandals epic. 

Has anyone checked in on Ridley Scott lately? The man is 86 years old, and to quote the musical Hamilton, "Why are you [directing] like you're running out of time?". Fresh off of last year's bloated and deeply strange Napoleon, Scott's Gladiator 2 asks the question, what if we remade the original but added CGI monkeys and turned the acting quality down by about 50%? 

Before we dive in, remember that the original Gladiator won FIVE Academy Awards in 2001, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Russell Crowe), and Best Supporting Actor (Joaquin Phoenix). The movie had a chokehold on the American public, which I think may be attributable to the brief love affair we also had with Russell Crowe, who from 1999 to 2001 received three consecutive Academy Award nominations. 

First, a brief and fascinating detour into how we got this sequel

Soon after the success of Gladiator, plans were quickly made to start drafting a follow-up script. Ideas changed hands several times until Nick Cave — yes, that Nick Cave — was commissioned to draft one. It involved Maximus leaving purgatory and being sent back in time by the Roman gods to kill Jesus Christ and prevent the inevitable spread of Christianity. Maximus then gets cursed to live forever and fights in major battles for the next 2,000 years, which is essentially just a rip-off of the Casca: Eternal Mercenary series of novels by Barry Sadler. 

Surprising no one, this Cave script didn't go anywhere (Stephen Spielberg actually put the final kibosh on it!) and the idea of sequel dwindled for a decade until Scott revisited the idea and finally settled on David Scarpa, who he worked with on Napoleon, to write script for Gladiator 2. 

Wait wait, I also have to talk about Ridley Scott for a second

Scott is perhaps the only director I can think of who, for nearly 50 years, has made countless successful films with no overarching directorial signature. Wes Anderson, Hitchcock, Tarantino, De Palma, Burton — odds are you can name some recurring themes or styles in their oeuvres. This holds true even if you're not a real fan! That's how indelible directing style can be. 

Meanwhile, Scott is over here bouncing around from Alien to Thelma and Louise to GI Jane to Gladiator to the Martian to House of Gucci. The only thing I can think of is that the man is dedicated to creating compelling stories on-screen. His movies are very likable, for lack of a better word. They're also compulsively watchable. In his old age, Scott's also gotten very, very good at pure spectacle. Even though Napoleon is a bit of a slog, the sheer scope of the battle scenes alone are worth watching. 

Okay, on to the plot as best I understand it

Maximus is dead, to begin with. But it turns out Lucius, Lucilla's son (Lucilla is also the daughter of the former emperor Marcus Aurelius and was the sister of Commodus), is actually the son of Maximus. After the events of the first film, she sends young Lucius off to what appears to be Egypt for safe keeping. But even that's not safe, so he eventually flees to another part of northern Africa and lives as a simple farmer/warrior, taking the alias Hanno. 

Rome eventually comes calling, however, in the form of an army commanded by Acacius (Pedro Pascal). During the battle, Lucius's wife is killed. This is meant to evoke the same sort of gravitas as Maximus' entire family dying, but it just doesn't hit the same, though he swears vengeance on all of Rome and General Acacius in particular.

Lucius is taken as prisoner, and ends up fighting before the slaver/gladiator trader/plotter Acrinus, who promises Lucius the head of Acacius if he keeps fighting for him in the Colosseum.

Meanwhile, there are two evil twin-emperors of Rome, Geta and Caracalla. Hanno/Lucius fights his way through many battles in the Colosseum, including baboons, rhinos, sharks, and the Preatorian guard. His mom, Lucilla, realizes who he is. Also her boyfriend is Acacius, and turns out he's a actually good guy who hates what Rome has become and is planning to overthrow the twins. He gets caught and captured, however. Lucius discovers this and takes up his mantle and organizes the Roman troops upon the eventual death of the twins. 

You know what, none of this makes sense as I write it down. It's too complicated, and for no good reason. You had to be there. The gist: a man is angry and he has lots of fights. Lucius is actually the secret son of Maximus and Lucilla (which is odd considering how much Maximus tells us he loves his wife and OTHER son in the first movie). There are weird, debauched, and scheming politicians in Rome. A monkey gets named Consul. There's sharks in the Colosseum. Paul Mescal has incredible thigh muscles. That's all you really know to know.

The things that work

Now's a good time to remind you that, despite its flaws, I had a blast while watching this — it's entertaining, gruesome, sprawling, and visually stunning. Seeing vast legions spread out upon the plains outside of Rome was incredible. 

But is this movie at all accurate to Roman history? Of course not! I like to think of it as historical fantasy. You take bits of inspiration from the past — many of these characters existed, it's true — and then just say, "fuck, it we ball!" It's a fun world to visit if you can get past the glaring anachronisms in every other scene.

The standout performances are Denzel Washington (he steals every scene he's in, and his acting is so sublimely natural and devious that it's almost awe-inspiring to watch) and Joseph Quinn (he matches Joaquin Phoenix's demented emperor vibe to a T). They are unhinged, wild, and perfectly cast. 

The opening naval battle/attack scene is breathtaking, and you really feel the deplorable might of Rome's imperial ambitions. Every fight scene, in fact, is superbly choreographed, and the foley editor really put in overtime on this one. It's a loud, crunchy, bone-crushing, blood-spurty feast for the ears.

The things that don't

Guys, I just don't like Paul Mescal. He doesn't have the charisma or charm to pull off main character energy for a role like this. Also, his character spends half of the movie resisting Rome and rejecting his heritage, then in one single scene he reconciles with his mother to reclaim his birth right. This, in my opinion, is harder to believe than sharks in the Colosseum (I say this in my head in the same cadence as the "they did surgery on a grape" meme).

And while I do love Pedro Pascal, he is stiff in his performance of General Acacius. I was, frankly, shocked by this. He's usually a great actor, but I suppose wooden dialogue like "No...more...war" doesn't exactly give him much to work with.

Finally, there are CGI baboons in Gladiator 2 that look like something out of the Hercules TV show from the 90s. I'm guessing they blew most of the budget on eye makeup and 10,000 cloaks.

Final verdict

It's a fun romp in the theater, but it's not a serious movie by any means. I will probably watch it again for the sheer epic-ness of it.

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The Math

Baseline Score: 6/10

Bonuses: Denzel Washington puts on a hell of a performance, and is pure gold. Joseph Quinn as the evil Emperor Geta impresses. Production design, as per usual, is breathtaking, and the Scott manages to capture a new look at the breadth and scope of Ancient Rome.

POSTED BY: Haley Zapal, new NoaF contributor and lawyer-turned-copywriter living in Atlanta, Georgia. A co-host of Hugo Award-winning podcast Hugo, Girl!, she posts on Instagram as @cestlahaley. She loves nautical fiction, growing corn and giving them pun names like Timothee Chalamaize, and thinking about fried chicken.

Book Review: The Immortality Thief by Taran Hunt

A thick, chonky SF heist novel set on a very deadly setting: a derelict spaceship orbiting a star that is about to go supernova

Sean Wren has a problem. He’s a small-time thief and smuggler, but he’s finally been caught. As one of the few people who understand a now dead language, he’s been put on a mission he can’t refuse: to go and board a spaceship. However, this spaceship has been derelict for hundreds of years, and is orbiting a star ready to go boom. And Sean soon learns that his is far from the only mission headed to the ship. What could be so important on such a ship to attract such interest in a dangerous place? Oh, only the secret to immortality...

This is The Immortality Thief by Taran Hunt, the first in a series of books about Sean and his world.

The Immortality Thief is a book that grabbed me from the premise and setup from the world go. Future setting, science fiction (as opposed to actual space opera) on a spaceship, a countdown and relentless upward pressure on its protagonist—the book did a lot of the work in preparing me to accept its world. There is some tension in that, while this has some of the features of a SF heist novel, it also alternates pulse-pounding action sequences with a lot of time spent in buttressing its world. The action sequences make me think of games such as Dead Space, and given the monsters and traps the characters face, my mind cast back to that game (about exploring an abandoned spacecraft) time and again.

A lot of the novel’s chonkiness occurs with the worldbuilding that Hunt puts us into. Hunt has a fond use of flashbacks, helping develop both the world and also (as we shall see) the character of Sean. This is a far-future world set in a galaxy (although we start in a solar system, we spend time on one spaceship and that’s about it) that is on the edge of wary conflict between humans and the alien Ministers. We get a lot of character development of Sean as we find out the details of his history with the Republic, the alien Ministers, and just why he can speak and read the dead language that makes him invaluable for the mission. With aliens included, the world Hunt paints and portrays here feels something like the Cold War series of Dan Moren: two powers not quite ready to start shooting, but the forces pushing them in that direction are stronger than those keeping them in this wary peace.

For all that we stick to Sean’s point of view throughout, there is a lot of development of the other characters from Sean’s perspective, more than just their backstory tied to the worldbuilding. Once things have gone to pot and we shake out to our main characters of Sean, Indigo, and Tamara, the novel really picks up. These are as uneasy and untrusting a trio of protagonists as one might ever find in a heist novel, but the twin goals of trying to find the Philosopher Stone data and trying to survive a very deadly spaceship force them to, if not trust each other, work together. While we get to know Sean the most (via the flashbacks), we do also get revelations on Tamara and Indigo that flesh them out and complete our trio.

Sean is a very unlikely hero and not the kind of person you expect to be front and center, especially without backup on his side. He is absolutely bad at using force, and every time he tries, it goes sidewise. He is intelligent, knows a lot, is a good thief and smuggler, but force is not his strong suit. He’s also witty, snarky, and sometimes his mouth gets him into more trouble than he can actually deal with. If this is the sort of protagonist that appeals to you, then you are going to like The Immortality Thief a lot. Tamara (and especially the alien Indigo) are much harder to read; they are much more inclined and capable when it comes to force, as one might expect, but both of them show well drawn aspects that refract and reflect our protagonist.

And I could see how the relationship between the three could have taken well worn paths, but Hunt avoids taking the easy course at every juncture. Their relationship as they grow is prickly, difficult, complicated, and (even given a Minister) all too human.

The derelict spaceship itself, with its own alien and horrible creatures, traps, confusing layout, and other dangers is an immersively dangerous setting for Sean, Indigo, Tamara and everyone (and everything else) that they meet. If you want the literary equivalent of jump scares on a dark night in the fall or winter reading, Hunt has some scenes for you! The scenes when our protagonists face yet another dangerous and horrifying problem that threatens to overwhelm them (leavened with the lighter moments of worldbuilding and travel) is an excellent, if long, pacing for traversing the ship. And the characters themselves can’t forget: that star is due to go supernova any time soon.

The novel does go into a strange and unusual shift toward the end, as the Philosopher Stone and its secrets are finally in grasp. It’s a little more surreal, certainly less of an action novel and much more speculative in its nature. It was a bit of a gear shift that took some getting used to, and I was wondering where Hunt was going with this. However, the “runway” of the previous chonkiness in the book was good preparation for Hunt to go much more speculative and a bit of weird in the climax of the action.

One last thing I want to mention in discussing this book (I have obscured a lot of details on purpose; there is a great joy and discovery in figuring and seeing how Hunt puts her world together) is how she ends the book. This IS the first in a series, but Hunt manages to pull off an ending that can satisfy people who want a one-and-done bottle episode on the derelict spaceship. But it also has an irresistible sequel hook in its last paragraphs. The Immortality Thief is whole and complete and you will enjoy what you read, this chonky experience. But there is a lot more story to tell in this universe, especially from that hook. I feel Hunt really has hit that sweet spot between single book and opening a series really well.

I look forward to the continuation of the Kystrom Chronicles (named for Sean’s hometown) and seeing where Sean and his companions go in a rich and interesting universe with a deep backstory and an intriguing future.

Highlights:

• Strong primary character with an excellent pair of protagonists he is unwillingly teamed up with
• Really interesting and deep worldbuilding, an immersive and deep experience
• Excellent and sometimes rather frightening action beats

Reference: Hunt, Taran. The Immortality Thief [Rebellion Publishing, 2022].

POSTED BY: Paul Weimer. Ubiquitous in Shadow, but I’m just this guy, you know? @princejvstin.

Anime Review: Frieren: Beyond Journey's End

Gorgeous, slow-burn, adventure storytelling that takes a unique approach to building unforgettable characters

Among the likely contenders for Anime of the Year is relative newcomer, Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End, a story of a bored, eternally youthful elf mage, who begins her next adventure after completing a ten-year heroic quest with three friends. Despite the seemingly simple premise, the storytelling style is so clever that the basic journey narrative subtly becomes a unique psychological and emotional introspection as the characters progress through various adventures. The initial slow pacing and absence of feelings from the protagonist gradually evolve into intense adventures and a poignant, time-reversed exploration of the psychological connection between an indifferent, bored, immortal mage and a joyous, charismatic, but very mortal hero.

Frieren is a youthful, white-haired elf mage. She is not only incredibly powerful using magic; she is also essentially immortal, having been alive for centuries. But what sets her apart in the narrative is her personality. She is confident and curious but not really passionate about most things (except for finding new spells and grimoires (magic books)—then she becomes child-like). Prior to the start of the story, Frieren joins a party of heroes on a ten-year quest to defeat the demon king. The group consists of Frieren, the mage; optimistic young Himmel, the heroic fighter; quirky, wine-loving Heiter, the priest; and strong, reliable dwarf, Eisen the warrior.

The anime begins at the end of their quest, when the four heroes return home after vanquishing the demon king. Initially, we aren’t given much backstory context about the demon king or why he needed to be vanquished. That detail is mostly beside the point, apparently. The heroes return home to much fanfare, celebration, and even monuments in their honor. However, the four remain contemplative of their time together. Frieren moves on without sentiment and without much of a future goal.

Years later, she encounters an aged but still joyous Himmel just before he dies of old age. She also encounters a much older Priest Heiter who asks Frieren to mentor a magically gifted orphan girl he has sheltered. The child, Fern, progresses under years of tutelage and Frieren reluctantly becomes attached to her. Later, the also long-lived Eisen, the dwarf warrior, gives Frieren his apprentice, a teenaged boy named Stark. Her new crew begins to resemble the original heroes’ party as they eventually pick up a priest (with his own complications) and deal with a range of obstacles throughout their journey, including monster attacks, vengeful elven mages, dangerous dungeons, political intrigue, personal grief and loss, and the inevitable tournament/competition arc, which adds a slew of new and intriguing side characters, including some semi-likeable antagonists.

Frieren has elements of many iconic journey stories, including Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, Dungeons and Dragons, and the tear-jerker anime (which I loved), To Your Eternity. The show takes a clever approach to showing us what life is like for a near-immortal like Frieren to interact with short-lived but ultimately beloved humans. Many of the key human characters age dramatically between meetings with Frieren, and even though the time seems short to her, we see that it is catastrophically impactful to humans. On the other hand, in her new journey, Frieren must become a mentor to the talented (and quietly opinionated) orphan Fern and later to the insecure boy Stark as he finds his own inner, as well as external, strength.

In her interactions with her two young apprentices, we see the way time slows down for Frieren. After gradually recalling lessons from her journey with the original heroes’ party, she begins to see the world in a new way. She ironically bonds with her old teammates long after they are gone and, in the case of Himmel, she seems to be slowly falling in love with him decades after he has died. It’s not romance in the traditional sense, but it is emotionally gorgeous and incredibly, poignantly sweet. Instead of being or feeling tragic, her moments of post-death connections feel like a celebration.

That is the true strength and uniqueness of the show: the way it celebrates kindness and thoughtfulness without becoming morose or overly sentimental. Frieren herself remains aloof, irritating, funny, and quirky. There is only one time where she truly breaks down and sobs, and it is a showstopper moment for the series. This is when we realize the show isn’t really about this thousand-year-old elf mage; it is about all of us, humanity, in this current moment. Can we choose bravery, kindness, strength, thoughtfulness, and compassion in the face of terrible circumstances or in the face of the relentless pull of ordinary, everyday life? Frieren reminds us that everything we do matters, and everything we do will be remembered long after our journey ends.

Nerd Coefficient: 8/10.

Highlights:

• A quietly powerful study of the human condition
• Unusual pacing mixed with lots of action
• So many appealing characters in a unique storytelling format

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

Film Review: Time Cut

A weirdly addictive slasher, murder mystery, time travel homage to old-school Disney Channel Movie storytelling

Do you remember what you were doing in 2003? Flip phones, low rise jeans, bright pastels, Kim Possible and Lizzie McGuire. It’s weird to think of 2003 as retro or historical, but for the purposes of this story, it is. Time Cut is a time travel, coming-of-age, slasher drama that takes viewers on a nostalgic tour of the early 2000s while trying to solve a teen’s violent murder by a mysterious serial killer.

The story opens in 2003, with a prologue introduction of the triggering incident: the murder of popular high schooler Summer Field (Antonia Gentry). Summer is at an unauthorized party to de-stress after the murder of three other close friends. While she’s there, a creepily masked killer finds and kills her outside of the gathering. Then the story skips ahead to 2024, when Summer’s younger sister, teen-aged Lucy (Madison Bailey), is living in the shadow of her death. Lucy was conceived after Summer’s death to be a replacement daughter. However, her parents preserve Summer’s room as it was when she was murdered in 2003. Her parents are trapped in twenty years of grief and, as a result, they are simultaneously overprotective and emotionally distant with Lucy.

Lucy stumbles upon a time machine hidden away in the same place her sister was murdered. The time machine is inexplicably just sitting there in a public location, barely out of view. She inadvertently triggers the machine and accidentally ends up in 2003 just a few days before Summer’s murder. Lucy gets a chance to meet her long-dead sister and see the reality of who Summer truly was rather than the idealized version portrayed by her parents. While there Lucy meets brilliant and nerdy Quinn (Griffin Gluck), who becomes her confidant, she meets Summer’s inner circle of obnoxious, self-absorbed bullies, and she gets caught up in the serial killer chase while trying to solve the murder mysteries and trying to get back home. As is often the case in stories like this, viewers will need a willing suspension of disbelief, not for the fantastical elements, but for the practical ones, such as why the time machine is so easily located and how Lucy is surviving financially in the past.

Time Cut feels like an old-school Disney Channel movie (except done as a slasher film with time travel elements). The film leans heavily into the post-Y2K teen drama style of acting and storytelling. Summer is the popular girl with one quiet friend, Quinn, whom she exploits. Summer and Lucy bond over teen angst, and Summer, bewildered by Lucy’s boxy 2024 pants, decides to give her a fashion makeover, complete with upbeat movie montage music. The sweetness of the time-loop sisters’ budding friendship is contrasted with Summer’s intense obsession with remaining popular. As a result, she is complicit in the cruelty of the bullies against Quinn, despite their longtime friendship; she’s willing to use Quinn to cheat on her homework; and she hides her feelings for her friend Emmy. The cutesy teen elements are also deliberately contrasted with the ongoing threat of the serial killer and the succession of violent, on-screen murders. Fortunately for the squeamish, the gore is kept to a minimum, and some (not all) of the scenes are cut away.

The film does a surprisingly good job of keeping viewers guessing until the very twisty ending. Time travel films always ask the same questions about whether we should change the past and what will be the fallout from doing so. Time travel stories, like vampire stories, typically have a universal set of rules that can’t be broken without consequences. Time Cut opts to acknowledge, and then do away with, some of the traditional time travel rules. As a result, we never quite know what to expect as the characters navigate the murder mystery they are trapped in.

Time Cut does not always have the best storytelling. There are plot holes, inconsistencies, and story elements that will require a willing suspension of disbelief. But, despite these shortcomings, it does manage to be confusingly addictive all the way to the end. And it provides a healthy dose of turn-of-the-century nostalgia.

Nerd Coefficient: 6/10.

Highlights:

• Low gore
• Twisty plot
• Nostalgic appeal

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction-writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

GUEST POST: Joseph Brant Interviews Chinese Horror Authors in the SINOPHAGIA anthology

Today Joseph Brant interviews Xueting C. Ni, Chu Xidao and Hong Niangzi about writing horror and their recent anthology Sinophagia

Cover by Alyssa Winans

Xueting C. Ni has been extolling the virtues of Chinese cultures to the geek community since the mid 2000s, hosting tea tastings and Wing Chun demos at anime conventions, publishing articles on China’s traditions, emerging popular cultures, both on her own website, and for major media such as the BBC and RTE. She writes nonfiction books which have covered mythology and the growth of internet fiction in China, as well as collecting, editing, and translating (a set of roles she refers to simply as “curating”) genre fiction for a Western audience. The latest of these, Sinophagia, was released worldwide on September 24th, from Solaris Books.

We managed to sit Xueting down, alongside Chu Xidao (a pen name meaning Knife-Loving Chu), and Hong Niangzi (The Red Lady), both contributors to the book, to ask them about the project.

Ms. Chu, Ms. Hong, your works are all very popular in China, and are beginning to be translated for the West. Ms. Chu, I know you had work in The Way Spring Arrives, which Ms. Ni was also featured in, but for those of our audience who have yet to discover you, what can they expect?

CX: I’m a writer from the generation that grew up during the transition between traditional and internet literature. As a student, I was educated in the traditional classics, but when I was beginning to write for the general public, it coincided with the explosion of China’s internet age, and I found homes for my work, not just in magazines and anthologies, but on forums, blogs, and literary websites. I was getting instant feedback from my readers. At university, I studied pop culture, and particularly found its dissemination of narratives interesting. This is definitely present in my creative work, which combines my interests with the changing times. Even though I write fantasy about ancient or imagined worlds, the themes are unique and the issues are eternal, and I hope I’m reflecting the current psyche of the public.

XN: She’s not just famous for horror, though. She’s well known in China for qihuan (fantasy) and wuxia (martial arts fantasy) works, and also, she’s just released a new licenced novel based on the Assassins Creed games, set in the Tang Dynasty.

HN: Well, I’m a woman born in 1981 in a remote mountain village in the Chinese province of Hunan, whose culture venerates witchcraft and spirits. I grew up with no television or radio, and there were frequent power cuts, so our main entertainment was lighting a fire in the house to keep the cold out and listening to the older generation telling us scary tales. Many of these stories became the inspiration for the horror works my readers have loved. I’m so happy to be translated into different foreign languages, and for these fireside stories told in our village to make their way out of China and be enjoyed across the world.

Xueting, after the success of Sinopticon, many people were clamouring for a Sinopticon Volume 2. What made you pivot to horror?

XN: As an eclectic reader, I have always read across genres. As I said in a previous interview, science fiction reflects the hopes of a nation, and horror reflects its fears. I think that both of these facets are important to explore, particularly in such an unusual and rapidly developing society as China. I can also see that, after what the world has been through in the current decade, it really needs the darker genres right now to work through some of those experiences and emotions, and the popularity of horror attests to that thought. China has produced some excellent pieces of horror both traditionally and in the contemporary times (although it may not like to see them as such) which I feel the Anglopsphere would enjoy and benefit from. Sci-fi, horror, wuxia and crime, these are genres I have always been drawn to and are particularly important to me.

We’ve recently heard a lot about science fiction in China, but not modern horror. Why is that?

XN: Part of the reason is in my previous answer: what horror represents is not what China likes to present to its people or the world. After a mini-boom in the 2000s, there was a slew of trashy works exploiting the profitability of this type of storytelling that gave the genre a bad reputation, as well as tragic copycat killings that happened around the same time as the Death Note incidents in Europe. These resulted in a ban that went on for a decade, discouraging many writers and eventually, filmmakers, that persisted for a while. There seems to be a rather polarised view of horror in China. The traditional zhiguai or chuanqi, records or tales of the strange that are often quite atmospheric and employ the supernatural to explore a range of social and societal issues, these are treasured but not seen as horror. What is seen as horror are the stories with the jump scares and torture gore. Part of the aim of this anthology and the talks I’m currently touring is to try and merge these two concepts and elevate the genre to the literary status it deserves, on par with others, because, just like them, it seeks to explore the depths of the human experience.

HN: Science fiction novels gained a lot more attention in recent years because they express advancements in technology and imaginings of the future, which resonates with the social psyche in this age of rapid development, whereas horror literature in China is usually associated with superstition as well as the supernatural. Even modern horror isn’t free from this stereotype. Moreover, I don’t think there’s enough translated works out there to enable foreign readers to appreciate China’s excellent horror tradition, which is an immense shame, because Chinese horror writing is often entangled with its millennia-old cultures, it depicts the intuitive foresight of an ancient Eastern civilization on human nature, reincarnation, fengshui and cosmology in the modern times. It’s mysterious and bizarre, but also splendid and magnificent.

How difficult is it as a woman to write in the horror genre? Do you think it is harder in China than it is in the West?

CX: I feel the genre is very well developed. I’ve seen plenty of dark suspense magazines, and the best-selling novels have all been thrillers. And online, the genre is booming.

XN: I think the use of those terms demonstrates the issue China has with horror. A lot of writers don’t want to be associated with it at the moment. They prefer the term xuanyi, “doubt and suspense” or dark mysteries. If you euphemise something or avoid it altogether, then it comes under the danger of erasure. I was not aware of this euphemism at first. When I was initially putting together this anthology, quoting the terms for horror (kongbu and jingsong) to some publishers and agents, I stuck out like a sore thumb. Some publishers choose to assume I was soliciting for work and tried to assess me for translating their fantasy titles. Some authors backed out of the project altogether; others ignored the messages of this mad woman. I got sent some works that were suspenseful rather than horror. At the moment, it is hard for writers in China, especially women who want to delve into social horror, because very often a lot of their experiences are not seen as disturbing, and should be.

HN: Another challenge, especially in China, is the majority of horror fans are men, who tend to be bolder and want more thrills, so trying to engage them with female perspectives is no easy matter. On the other hand, appealing to female readers with love stories that are full of gore can also be a big challenge, as they tend to like sweet romances. Relatively speaking, the Western horror tradition is more established and more diverse, and female writers have a firmer foothold in the landscape. Yet, these challenges are what compels me to keeping breaking through the existing frameworks, to explore ever more unique, creative ways of storytelling, to grip the reader’s attention from the start with a marvellous sense of suspense, and thus to win their recognition and support.

Hong Niangzi / The Red Lady / 红娘子

Hong Niangzi, you have a huge following in China, especially with your Seven Colour Horror series. You yourself present as a “Colour-Coded Horror Heroine.” How much do you feel your persona is part of your success, especially in the age of social media and net novels?

HN: In the age of social media and internet novels, an author’s personal image definitely plays an important role on the propagation of their works and their success. The “Red Lady” persona I created for myself is closely associated with my work, and aims to provide the reader with a vivid and memorable symbol. With the seven colours I am representing seven kinds of emotions. It is a quick way of conveying the essence of the stories I intend to express, and my self-image, with its scarlet nature, represents my fiery passion, like a nüxia of ancient China.

XN: That’s the classic swordswomen of martial arts fantasies.

HN: In this way, I not only improve the interactions I have with my readers, but attract more attention on social media. Personal image and style of work combine to create a unique brand, and definitely give it more of an impact.

What do you think is the biggest difference between Western horror and the Chinese tradition?

XN: The biggest difference between Chinese and Western horror traditions seems to hinge on broad concepts such as delineation and pacing. The earliest Chinese concepts for gui, which is usually translated as ghost, actually had crossovers with divinity. It’s not until later that gui became associated with supernatural beings that cause harm, and morality. There’s even a place in the cosmos for spirits in the modern Chinese consciousness; they are not intrinsically frightful. Where Western horror may delineate more between the natural and the supernatural, for the Chinese, the horror is generated when taboo boundaries between the living and the dead are crossed. Chinese storytelling also has a different pacing, a four-part structure rather than the traditional Western three, and Chinese horror articulates yet a further variation on this. The pacing is something that reviewers and readers of Sinophagia have already picked up, and feel is an element that makes the works thrilling for them.

CX: China has had a tradition of “shamanism” since ancient times, and Taoism has its share of spells and charms to drive away evil spirits. Domestic thrillers pay more attention to karma. An individual’s death is not the end, and there is still the divine punishment of evil. Beyond that earthly conflict between good and evil, there is also divine justice, which focuses on roles within society. Western horror seems far more influenced by psychology, religion and the gothic aesthetic. Tropes like multiple personalities, the apocalypse, vampires and homunculi, etc. Behind the fear, there is often a complex psychoanalysis to be carried out, with more focus on the individual.

Chu Xidao / Knife-Loving Chu / 楚惜刀

Ms. Chu, what inspired you to write horror, and how does it interact with other genres?

CX: Horror comes from an inner fear, a fear of loss, which is then caught and recorded with a pen. I then combine it with fantasy, and add a little bit of interpretation outside reality, with impossible, imaginary scenarios, to dissolve that inner anxiety.

Do you think a country needs to be comfortable to write horror, or in hardship?

HN: The creation of horror literature is closely linked to a country’s social environment. In a comfortable environment, people are more likely to lean towards psychological horror and explorations of the supernatural; as their basic needs are being met, they can turn their attention to the experience of mental-related thrills. In hardship, horror novels usually reflect social problems or survival anxiety, manifesting in a more direct, radical expressions. I think different environments give rise to different types of horror literature, but whether in comfort or hardship, it’s possible to write compelling horror stories.

CX: No matter the circumstances, as long as humans experience death, there is parting, loss, and fear, and from that, violence and horror are born.

XN: Definitely. But I think that a country needs a certain amount of comfort to write horror. It would be ghastly to wish hardship upon any country. But literature is reflective by nature, and when reality is the very stuff of nightmares, it’s hard to find the space to reflect. Those nightmares don’t just go way after they occur. Decades after the Resistance and Cultural Revolution, writers like She Congge and Nanpai Sanshu are still reflecting on those recent collective experiences, and it’s important to do so. Contemporary experiences are more fragmented, and those who find themselves in horrific situations may not be in a position to tell their story, but horror writers like Yimei Tangguo and Zhou Dedong could and would, with their empathy and imagination. The roots of human fear are somewhat timeless, and often period settings can be effective frameworks to examine current or recurring concerns. This is why I loved working on Xidao’s piece Immortal Beauty. By retelling such an iconic classic tale as Pu Songling’s Painted Skin, it examines women’s objectification by society and individual fulfilment, issues that keep cropping up because they never seem to be resolved.

Sinophagia offers a mix of styles. Supernatural stories, folk horror, and stories that stray into science fiction and fantasy. Ms. Chu, are there any other stories in the collection you particularly enjoyed, or authors you’re glad the West is discovering?

CX: Death of Nala offers a brief glimpse into such a multifaceted dilemma and is a story that really gripped me by the heart. Xiaoqing, who wrote The Shanxiao, has been a long-time friend of mine, and I’m so glad to see her writing included in this collection. She’s always been an author who writes about love in such a sly, seductive way, and can always make the reader’s heart flutter.

Ms. Ni, you’ve written in particular about how difficult it was to get the broad mix of stories you wanted in this collection. What were the biggest hurdles and triumphs?

XN: One of the biggest hurdles was getting authors and agents to come forward with their stories, given horror’s bad press in China. Once I’d convinced the agents that this contemporary horror anthology was a vanguard that presented a valuable opportunity, it took them a long time to reach the writers I wanted. This led to some nail-biting moments as my schedule rolled on. For the authors I had to reach out to myself, I could stalk them in a friendly way and hope they wouldn’t think I was a madwoman and just ignore my messages. Luckily, a few of them did not. Once submissions started flooding through, the other biggest hurdle was trawling through the gore and misogyny to find solid gems beneath—I could see the exploitative approaches that gave horror a bad name. And I also had to specifically request works by women to address the gender imbalance in the pile, and to deal with some male contributors who demanded certain terms or for the collection to feature their works only. I could hardly believe it when it started to come together; it felt like a miracle or the workings of the dark forces, take your pick. One of the triumphs is all the love I’m already seeing for the stories in this collection.

Ms. Ni, one problem about writing about “horrible things from China” is that it may add fuel to the fire of Sinophobia in the west. Was this something you considered when curating this book?

XN: This was something I had anticipated, after some Sinophobic readings were somehow made of the title of the last collection Sinopticon, and the worsening geopolitical situation around us, the flak from which I myself have not been free at author events. We picked the title of Sinophagia for its memorability and the creepy feeling it evokes, in the sense of devouring, but also as an ironic comment on the fear of Chinese and Asian eating habits that had been rife over the last few years because of COVID reportage. Unfortunately, we were still unable to totally avoid Sinophobia from one of our promotional collaborators, who stated as an “appeal” of the book “the horrors of living in China.” I insisted we dropped them, though it was incredibly stressful during an important stage of the book’s journey. It felt even more important to get through these hurdles and put the proper representation out there for the contributors, myself and my heritage.

Ms. Chu, your story is about beauty, and violence, and power—themes you return to repeatedly. What is it about these themes that work so well together?

CX: This piece was inspired by the classic ghost story from Pu Songling’s Strange Tales from a Studio, Painted Skin, which terrified me for most of my childhood, and the original title of the story, 红颜未老, comes from a song that was written by Chow Yiu Fei for Sandy Lam. A woman waits for her lover, looking and looking for him, but he’s a bad person. What she’s lost, she takes back for herself. It seems to be a love song, but it’s not quite. The human heart is a more complex thing than just love, but all we can see is what’s on the surface. This question reminded me that after I finished this, I wrote a story series called This Phantom Life, about a plastic surgeon who helps her employers change their fates by changing people’s faces. It seems to be a common theme in my writing, wanting to explore beauty and the violence hidden behind it, and the way they both affect human relationships.

Xueting C. Ni / 倪雪婷

The West has such an established idea of China, the supernatural, and the legacy of Pu Songling, but this collection also features a lot of modern settings, with very modern characters and mechanics. Are you actively trying to update the idea of horror in modern China?

HN: I’ve always experimented with combining modern settings and traditional horror, to create new styles in the narrative. In this way, I hope to break that rigid Western view and propel Chinese horror towards the international stage. Confucian ethnics and Daoist principles play an important role in my stories, and still give cultural depth to modern horror, but the modern setting enables the reader to feel immersed in the fictional environment. A modern setting also allows for more innovative constructions, which I believe allow Chinese horror to be better represented.

What sort of horror stories do you like personally? What do you read for your own enjoyment?

CX: I love thrillers. I watch Hitchcock movies, and adaptations of Agatha Christie novels. They give me just the right level of chills. Horror films are a bit too much for me, so… maybe I just need a good proportion of beauty within my thrills. I loved Punchdrunk’s Sleep No More. Aside from those, I like reading Japanese speculative fiction, especially Eichi and Kotaro Isaka.

HN: I personally enjoy stories that combine psychological horror with supernatural elements, especially works that delve into the weaknesses of human nature and social problems. I tend to read Western horror, like the Cthulhu mythos, and Stephen King, but I also like to read Chinese tales of the strange, such as Pu Songling’s Strange Tales, Ji Yun’s Notes from Yuwei Cottage, China’s County Records, and also works like Investiture of the Gods, from which I can absorb traditional horror elements that feed my creative writing.

XN: Interesting what Xidao says about beauty and thrills. That’s how I found Immortal Beauty; whilst there’s certainly a sense of horror to the story, I also loved translating the beauty of the embedded cultural elements. I grew up with Chinese tales of the supernatural, and classic European gothic literature such as Dumas, Radcliffe and Wilkie Collins, so shapeshifting demons in caves and trapped but spirited female heroines will always have a special place on my shelves. Jump scares can be overwhelming for me, and creepy tales I find far more impactful than slashers and gore. And I think tales like that, Susan Hill and Shirley Jackson’s works, always stay with you long after you finish the story. Hammer village horrors and films like Get Out are also a favourite, along with China’s urban legends. I agree with Hong Niangzi about needing to return to those Strange Tales too. In my research, not just for this book but my lectures and talks, I’m always surprised by how creepy they still are, even by today’s standards.

What is the one question you’ve never been asked in an interview that you wish someone would?

HN: I’ve been hoping that someone would ask me, “What first motivated you to write horror?” so I could reveal my inner motivations as an author and my passion for horror literature. In fact, what originally motivated me was wanting to bring those fireside tales, that I had heard as a child, to the world. Ancient stories passed down for centuries, stories that gave me insomnia, and the sense of dread that inspired in me, as well as the insight into the shining qualities in human nature. Through the external shell of horror, I hope to lay bare the complexities of human nature and dark side of society, and rouse more readers to contemplate their own destinies.

CX: I'm so delighted we’ve got the chance to introduce readers in the West to China’s dark suspense and this sort of dark history. So thank you, Xueting and Solaris. But, at the same time, whilst we've had many great works of horror and suspense come from the West, including film, television, novels, and games, there has been a section of those stories dealing with “the mysterious world of the East” as alienating and fearful, because of the cultural differences and barriers between them. We hope that Sinophagia will interest more readers in Chinese culture, bring people closer to each other, and encourage more excellent publishers to participate in projects like this and bring Chinese thrillers to life in different languages.

What else are you currently working on? Where can we see more of your work once we’ve finished Sinophagia?

CX: I’m continuing to write my fantasy works, set in the floating continent of Jiuzhou. Skylight and Cloud Shadows is the story of an avian man helping his friend take revenge and infiltrate the inner cadre of a league of assassins. I’m also working on a sequel to This Phantom Life: The Legend of The Cherished Night, which is the story of a young boy who learns incantations and spells as he roams the world. When I started the series, my own son Maike was ten, the same as the protagonist. But now he’s 15, and my character has aged far slower, so I feel I’ll have to pick up the pace. I hope I can finish these, and maybe they’ll be published in English. I’d love you all to read them.

XN: I’m working on a nonfiction book on the culture of wuxia fiction, a horror lecture and a few SFF translation projects. My translation of Whale Ocean, which is a scifi by Nanpai Sanshu (also featured in Sinophagia) will be published in Strange Horizons’ Samovar. So lots of exciting things to come, and I’m still regularly turning out articles on my site, but yes, next projects already lining up and ready to go…

HN: At the moment, I’m planning the next novel in the Seven Colour Horror series, and expanding it into a grander fictional universe. The next one I’m writing will be associated with the colour yellow. To me, it has always represented sadness, nostalgia, and the past, so within these tonalities, I want to write a story about the past, that is full of sadness and longing, to commemorate my late grandmother. I hope that she’s doing very well in another world, and occasionally thinks of me. After Sinophagia, readers can continue to find my new works on my personal website, social media platforms and major internet publishing platforms. I’m also planning to introduce more translated works in English, so that more international readers could get to know my work.

Chinese inkwash painting by Qi Qing, inspired by Immortal Beauty, by Chu Xidao

Sinophagia is now available as paperback, ebook and audiobook.

Joseph Brant is a writer and editor who has worked on everything from esoteric mythology and pop culture to stories about dolls, monsters, and gender norms. He’s run Goth Nights in Beijing and has over 200 plush bats. Find him on Bluesky as @Macula.bsky.social.