Video Game Review: Mass Effect Legendary Edition

Sometimes you can go back home

In 2003, Canadian developer BioWare released Knights of the Old Republic—a real-time RPG based in the Star Wars universe. BioWare was a relatively young studio at the time, having only released a few licensed Dungeons & Dragons properties (Baldur's Gate I and II and Planescape: Torment). Knights of the Old Republic took the basic formula and applied it to a Star Wars setting, resulting in an instant classic that is widely considered to be one of the best licensed games ever made.

A sequel was guaranteed, but BioWare Project Director Casey Jordan and lead writer Drew Karpyshyn had bigger ambitions. Parent company Electronic Arts farmed the sequel out to Obsidian Entertainment. While much of the studio focused on the original action RPG Jade Empire, Jordan and Karpyshyn started work on an ambitious new project. That new project would build off their licensed games, but in an original science fiction setting.

Mass Effect released in 2007 as an Xbox 360 exclusive. It was an instant hit for Microsoft's console, selling 3 million units and an additional 1 million for the later PC release. The sequel, Mass Effect 2, was an even bigger hit. By 2012, the trilogy had surpassed 10 million units sold across all platforms.

Mass Effect introduced gamers to a galaxy where humans have recently joined more established species in a sort of galactic confederation, but where fast-multiplying humanity's role in the galaxy remains highly controversial. In the first installment, a series of mysterious attacks on human colonies leads one of its most accomplished soldiers, Commander Shepard, to uncover a vast conspiracy led by an ancient AI that threatens to destroy the galactic order.

The later games continue Shepard's quest to save the galaxy from the Reapers, a cybernetic species of sentient ships that reappear every 50,000 years to "harvest" all organic species that have discovered FTL travel. As the series progresses, Shepard and his crew discover more about the Reapers and their purpose, culminating in a denouement that polarized gamers upon release, but which —as I'll argue below— deserves re-evaluation.

The Mass Effect series introduced or refined a number of gameplay elements that are commonplace today. It may be hard to remember, but third-person shooters were not that common in 2007. Mass Effect took the over-the-shoulder shooter formula pioneered in games like Max Payne (2002) and Resident Evil 4 (2005), refined it from a gameplay perspective, and then added spells (i.e. biotic and tech powers) that, borrowing from Knights of the Old Republic, could be triggered in real time or via a pause menu. The effect was so visceral and elegant that nearly all Western RPGs deploy some variation on Mass Effect's gameplay mechanics.

Mass Effect's true genius, though, is its story. Avid readers will note that the central plot —plucky gang of heroes unlock wisdom of the ancients to defeat existential threat to civilization— is a fantasy cliche. On top of that, there are elements of nearly every successful science fiction media franchise blended into Mass Effect: Star Wars, Star Trek, Firefly, Dune, Alien and so forth. In this case, though, the medium makes a difference. After all, books, film and television are all passive media, where you are the observer to the events portrayed; in video games, by contrast, you are an active participant in the events portrayed—and your actions have the potential to shape how the story unfolds.

Mass Effect was not the first game to give players meaningful choices that could alter the shape of the narrative in significant ways—Knights of the Old Republic, for example, famously gave you the choice of becoming Master Revan or Darth Revan. But Mass Effect links your choices in earlier games to outcomes in the final chapter. It is, to my knowledge, the first series to do so, and the effect is as striking today as it was when the games first came out. It is epic in a way no game before —and few since— can credibly claim to be.

The games are also frequently moving and emotionally resonant. Character deaths, romantic relationships —even friendships— provoke deep feelings in ways I often experience with books and films but rarely, if ever, with games. And the choices you have to make are often painful, pitting what you know in your heart is right against what is most expedient in the fight against an existential threat.

Remastering a Legend

In recent years, game studios have looked to remakes and remasters of old titles to bolster sales in an era of spiraling costs and lengthening development cycles. These come in two basic flavors: (1) remakes, i.e. new builds of old titles that often make significant changes to gameplay; and (2) remasters, i.e. new releases of old titles with upgraded graphics and little else. Mass Effect Legendary Edition fits squarely between these poles.

Mass Effect 1 and Mass Effect 2 are clearly remasters, with upgraded graphics and little else. That works just fine for Mass Effect 2, the most loved and best reviewed chapter in the trilogy. But leaving Mass Effect 1 as is feels like a missed opportunity. The game is still fun, but the gameplay feels clunky and antiquated in a way the later chapters do not. BioWare could have married its excellent story to the more developed gameplay mechanics of Mass Effect 2 and 3.

Mass Effect 3, on the other hand, does include some significant changes. There's no multiplayer component anymore, and the method of building war assets to fight the Reapers has been both simplified and streamlined. It is also easier to get the "good" endings, which if you'll recall is the singular reason Mass Effect 3 isn't as revered as the middle entry in the series.

The reason why the ending rankled so many fans is the same reason the endings to Battlestar Galactica, Lost or Game of Thrones rankled so many fans: you've invested a lot of time in something and then you get a conclusion that is rushed, unsatisfying, or just out of left field. And in this case, there's no save from a few hours prior that you can go back to—if you screwed up certain decisions in Mass Effect 2, then you're going to have a very hard time getting the ending you want in the original version of Mass Effect 3.

While that's still true now, the path to the good endings isn't as fraught as it once was—and you also have the benefit of decision-tree guides to help you set things up right for the final episode. For some, this will still be an intolerant rupture in the suspension of disbelief; for me, the decision-tree guides are a convenient tool for getting me where I want to go. And getting there completely recontextualized Mass Effect 3, a game I had decidedly mixed feelings about after my first playthrough way back when.

Like many, I have always thought of Mass Effect 2 as the best entry in the series—and it's still an excellent game. But on replay I'm struck by how much more I like Mass Effect 3. Building war assets is by far the most fun minigame in the trilogy, while most of the annoying tasks from the previous chapters have been removed.

What Mass Effect 3 does best, though, is capture the feeling of a galaxy at war—a war in whose outcome you have a major stake. Mass Effect 1 and 2 are variations on the D&D companion quest, which any RPG fan has played a multitude of times. Mass Effect 3 takes this format and repurposes it: now Shepard has to build a coalition to take on the Reapers, enter key battles in that war and, eventually, execute the final push. Decisions are meaningful and often fraught, and character deaths are frequent and moving, while the narrative as a whole is brisk and visceral. You feel heavily invested in outcomes that are beholden to actions you have taken at many points over the course of the trilogy.

Mass Effect 3 also benefits from the simple passage of time, in the sense that its story about rogue AI and the struggle to reconcile synthetic and organic life just feels more… well… topical. What passes for AI these days is not really: ChatGPT or Gemini can't think, after all; they just process data. But are we that far off from true artificial intelligence? That may not be fully clear yet, but we are definitely at the point where we need to start thinking hard about what happens when we cross that rubicon.

Mass Effect 3 provides a surprisingly sophisticated discussion on the topic. It doesn't spoon-feed you the answers, but gives you the tools for navigating your own thoughts and feelings through the decision tree. Without spoiling it, there is one decision deep into Mass Effect 3 that is particularly fraught—especially after certain assumptions seeded through the first two games turn out to be false. I made my choice and, in the process, began to think more deeply about my own views on sentience and the rights of sentients. I'm still processing those decisions in ways I did not the first time around (more than a decade ago).

At the end of the day, the Mass Effect trilogy is a rare masterpiece of triple-A gaming, one that absolutely deserved this loving remaster. It would have been better served by more significant changes to Mass Effect 1, but it still works well enough as is. Highly recommended for series newbies and old hands alike.

Highlights

• Mass Effect: Legendary Edition remasters the classic trilogy for nostalgics and new gamers alike
• Mass Effect 2 still plays like a classic, while Mass Effect 3 is vastly improved
• However, the decision to remaster, rather than remake, the original Mass Effect is a missed opportunity

Nerd Coefficient: 9/10.

POSTED BY: The G--purveyor of nerdliness, genre fanatic and Nerds of a Feather founder/administrator, since 2012.

Review: The Apothecary Diaries

An appealing fantasy mystery dealing with difficult issues of gender and class through the eyes of a young apothecary

There’s no such thing as a perfect anime, but The Apothecary Diaries comes close. It is a balanced series that’s charming without being sappy, edgy without being nihilistic, and a show that has truly mastered the art of the super-slow-burn friendship/romance. In the last year, we have had the exhausting intensity of heavy hitters like Jujutsu Kaisen and Attack on Titan as well as a profusion of intensely romantic or adorable anime such as My Happy Marriage, Spy x Family, and A Sign of Affection (all of which are enjoyable). The Apothecary Diaries stands out as an appealing choice for those who want something completely different: clever crime writing, complicated puzzles, and a pair of lead characters navigating upsetting situations with wit and pragmatism as they unravel mysteries both around them and about each other. But, overall, the show succeeds thanks to its smart, savvy, sarcastic protagonist, Maomao.

The Apothecary Diaries is set in a fictional, ancient land ruled by an emperor. Maomao is a clever, educated seventeen-year-old girl living with her apothecary father in an area known as the pleasure district, home to fancy brothels where time with brilliant and gorgeous courtesans can be purchased for a high price. In a town known for beauty and pleasure, Maomao is a girl obsessed with poisons and drugs. Her life takes a turn when she is kidnapped and illegally trafficked to be an indentured servant at the emperor’s palace. Despite her plan to keep a low profile in her new environment, she soon gets drawn into palace intrigue when the emperor’s children (by his various favored concubines) become critically ill. Maomao is able to quickly solve the mystery, anonymously warn the concubines, and quietly get back to her menial tasks. But there’s another super-smart resident of the palace, the ethereally beautiful guard/eunuch Jinshi, who, like Maomao, is more than he seems. Jinshi tricks Maomao into revealing herself as the secret hero and promotes her to a job more suitable to her intelligence. As a result, Maomao is called on to solve a series of mysteries including poisons, murders, arson, and ghosts. But the show’s biggest mystery is the truth about Maomao and about Jinshi. The pair are alternatively allies, enemies, and cat-and-mouse competitors.

Jinshi is one of the palace guards assigned to protect the emperor’s four favored concubines, who each live in their own lavish households around the palace. Jinshi’s main power is, ironically, his incredible beauty, which constantly has men and women swooning. He is able to mentally manipulate others into complying by just looking at them (like a Jedi mind trick), creating a “glamour” effect. However, Maomao is immune to his charms and eyerolls him whenever he tries to control her. She acknowledges Jinshi’s astonishing beauty, but considers it a waste of DNA since he is a eunuch. Or is he? Jinshi is smart enough to know Maomao can help solve the crimes occurring in the palace and soon figures out that she can’t resist a mystery, especially if it involves poisons.

Despite their great character chemistry, Maomao is the primary reason the show is so memorable. Her arms are covered in self-inflicted wounds from her poison experiments. She is incredibly insightful and knows how to read a room, whether she is scrubbing floors with other scullery maids or standing in front of the emperor. She is willing to secretly rebel, manipulate allies, and sneak around to investigate when needed. But she knows enough to remain artificially subservient in public, often bowing her head and blandly repeating catchphrases like “I am but a humble servant” when she’s annoyed, especially at Jinshi.

On the surface, the show is a puzzle box mystery where each episode builds on the others. Viewers gradually realize each successive mystery is connected to the next one and to the two main characters, who are more than they seem.

Beyond being a clever crime drama in a gorgeous historical setting, The Apothecary Diaries delves deeper into difficult questions of gender, exploitation, and self-determination. Every episode has a written disclaimer reminding viewers that the characters are fictional and are not based on real people or true events. It’s an interesting warning about the troubling content wrapped in comedic banter. The emperor’s four favored consorts are given labels (such as “Virtuous,” “Pure”) and lavish households, but their worth depends on the ability to deliver an heir. The courtesans in the pleasure district are paid to entertain men who ultimately aspire to buy them out. Maomao, who has intentionally avoided the courtesan path to pursue medicine, ends up kidnapped and sold to the palace as a slave. In a poignant scene, she dismissively tells Jinshi of her illegal enslavement. Tears trail down his face as he is horrified to realize that her presence is not voluntary indenture but a crime. Maomao tells him to wake up to the reality of how women and the poor are treated. Despite all this, the show emphasizes feminism in the face of objectification. In one episode, a trapped concubine finds an unorthodox way to free herself and reclaim her independence. In other episodes, the alluring courtesans who helped raise Maomao and the submissive ladies in waiting at the palace all support and protect Maomao when she needs them.

Maomao’s pragmatic, emotionless affect reflects the need to steel herself against the shallow, manipulative world around her. The only thing that makes her truly smile is the chance to test out poisons or solve a mystery. She is the heroic center of the story, but she is surrounded by appealing side characters, including the mysterious Jinshi; the kind concubine/consort Gyokuyo; Gyokuyo’s cadre of humorous, doting ladies-in-waiting; Jinshi’s clever bestie Gaoshun; and the love-struck palace guard Lihaku.

The Apothecary Diaries has been a breakout favorite for anime fans looking for something new. If you are new to anime and looking for a manageable, gateway show, this favorite on the Crunchyroll streaming service is a great intro. Its relatable characters, clever mysteries, and hilarious and heartbreaking stories make it one of the best shows in recent years.

Nerd Coefficient: 8/10

Highlights:

• Humorous and heartbreaking
• Difficult themes on gender and class
• Clever puzzles and likeable characters

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

Review: For Love of Magic by Simon Green

A myth about understanding why we love myths—a metamyth, if you will

Fantasy is a genre built on myth. That is what J. R. R. Tolkien was quite explicitly doing with The Lord of the Rings, and in traditional Western fantasy the myths of Western Europe are reinterpreted in any number of ways. In non-Western fantastic literature, the same is done to the mythologies of a variety of other cultures. Here, that concern is made more explicit than most fantasy, of any tradition, in Simon Green’s novella For Love of Magic.

For Love of Magic starts off with what appears to be a fairly standard urban fantasy setup: a magical painting has begun to cause problems in a museum in London, and His Majesty’s government calls in the freelance magic hunter to solve the problem. This opening scene alone is inventive, if not the most original, by virtue of it involving our esteemed magic hunter literally walking into the painting and forcing what’s on the other end into a shape that is more amenable to the non-magical world.

But that is only the opening salvo of a barrage of interesting magical set-pieces. Our protagonist is rapidly sucked into a war that has lasted for eons, between those who want to see magic gone and those who want a better coexistence between the magical and the mundane. This war has suddenly escalated: the opponents of magic have now found a way to travel through time, trying to erase that which made magic meaningful—to erase myth, to erase heroism and whimsy. Our protagonists simply cannot allow that.

It is here that For Love of Magic begins to really shine, as it sets out to interrogate the meaning of myth. That is why you find yourself sent back in time to Roman Britain, where you meet Boudica, as well as King Arthur and Robin Hood, among other figures of British mythology, not quite as you remember them, because time has done a number on how we perceive them. These were men and women, all too human, as Green stresses, who have become something else as time marched inexorably on, becoming the heroes, myths, and legends of British culture, and those of its former colonies.

Green is willing to show heroism become a burden, not so much literally as metaphorically through the incursions of the time travelers. These are people who have become special in a time when their Lord-knows-how-many generations of their descendants have passed on, with their own long lines of descendants likewise. They have become pawns in a war far more literal than what we call ‘culture wars,’ a conflict that truly deserves that title over the role of magic in human society. They are burdened with the vicious arguments of their progeny, but unlike the cold and silent statues of our day, be they in Bristol or Charlottesville, these heroes get to speak back and fight back.

The action in this slim little volume is well depicted, never bogged down in the minutiae that can tank a good action sequence. Green’s writing is brisk when it needs to be in these dynamic scenes, and tender when it needs to be among some of the character moments, be they concerned with romance or with the gravity of the situation. It is a style, indeed a combination, that feels properly heroic, with the gravitas that such a story naturally needs. Green never lets the story feel puny.

If anything, I’m disappointed this book wasn’t longer. There are many more British legends he could have gone with. The last one he depicts, while written by a British author (although not within Britain), struck me as a very odd choice for this sort of book, and some of the setting of that story is brought to Britain in a way that feels odd. Indeed, it’s a format that could have made for a much longer book, and part of me really wants to read that book (I can think of at least one British literary legend in the public domain that wasn’t in it, and frankly I was surprised that this figure was omitted). I don’t know whether Green is planning any sequels, but he really should be, for there are so many directions this story could go. There are other British myths, but also myths of other countries (his Wikipedia page mentions he studied American literature in university, in addition to British literature). Indeed, I daresay this novel could set up a whole shared universe like that of the late Eric Flint’s 1632 series.

For Love of Magic is a book that is not particularly original in a number of elements, but makes up for all of that in its bold use of intertextuality and its investment in understanding why its audience reads stories like this. It is fantasy that doesn’t just crib from mythology, but engages with and even probes these stories for why they became myths. It is a fantasy that is in many ways more self-aware than its contemporaries, and is all the better for it. Now only if Green could write another one…

Nerd Coefficient: 7/10.

POSTED BY: Alex Wallace, alternate history buff who reads more than is healthy.

Reference: Green, Simon. For Love of Magic [Baen, 2023].

Nerds of a Feather 2024 Hugo Packet and Introduction

The Voter's Packet for the Hugo Awards will be released shortly and made available to all members of Glasgow Worldcon. As is traditional, Nerds of a Feather has put together a compilation of what we feel represents the best and the breadth of our collective work published in 2023. While the purpose of the Voter's Packet is to help eligible voters make an informed decision when casting their ballots, we are also making the packet available to all of our readers who may want to take a look back at what we did last year. 

Below, you can find Adri's introduction to the Voter's Packet followed by the Table of Contents with links to each of the essays, reviews, and features we included.

If you'd like, you can download the entire Voter's Packet and take Nerds of a Feather on the go:

• PDF
• epub

Introduction

How do you begin an introduction to a seventh year of Hugo finalist work?

Perhaps you start by acknowledging that seven, to many people, is a bit magical. From seven sins to seven chakras to seven wonders and, of course, the destiny of that seventh son or daughter in the fairy tale, seven is an excellent number for things that are a bit… special. It’s a lot of items - more than a handful! - but you can’t put them equally into smaller categories, so you just have to step back and take in the whole seven-ness of it all. Magic.

Seven Hugo nominations. Wow. Being relevant and recognised as a fanzine (did you notice there are seven letters in “fanzine”? coincidence?) for the best part of a decade is beyond an honour: it’s an absolutely humbling vote of confidence from our readers. Out here, long after the heyday of the blog (yet somehow before the universal acceptance of blogs being legitimate fanzines), our team are out here putting words of criticism, analysis, conversation and pure nerdy joy onto www.nerds-feather.com, because we love doing it. (seven letters in “feather” as well…) That we are still finding our audience means more than we can possibly say. Thank you. 

As always, we’re on the ballot in excellent company, both old and new: Black Nerd Problems, Idea, Hugo Book Club Blog, The Full Lid, and Journey Planet are all fantastic publications and it’s a delight to be recognised alongside them.

In house, our editorial team has grown in the last couple of years: along with our founders G and Vance, and our senior editors Joe and Adri (that’s me!) we’ve got a day-to-day editing dream team of Roseanna Pendlebury, Arturo Serrano and Paul Weimer helping Nerds of a Feather keep our schedules packed and our dreams on track. (seven editors, you say?). Paul is also recognised on the ballot for Best Fan Writer this year, and we wish him all the luck! This zine has always been a labour of collective love, and especially through the ups and downs of the last few years, it’s teamwork and mutual support that keeps the lights on for creative endeavours like ours. Our spectacular international flock of writers in 2023 (2+0+2+3 = 7) was Alex Wallace, Ann Michelle Harris, Chris Garcia, Clara Cohen, Dean E.S. Richard, Elizabeth Fitzgerald, Haley Zapal, Joe DelFranco and Phoebe Wagner, and the only way we could ask for a better team is if we found some sort of cloning device and made more of them. 

Also, several of us are from, or based in, the UK, so it’s particularly exciting to be recognised at a Scottish Worldcon (7 letters in Glasgow). Shout out to our fellow British Hugo nominees across all the categories!

2023 was a fantastic year for Nerds of a Feather: we nearly broke our all-time record for most pieces published in a single year (315!) (3-1+5 = 7) and took home a collective IGNYTE award for best critic, reinforcing our belief that we’re writing work that’s important to us and to our readers. As well as our packed schedule of reviews, essays and interviews, we also ran a new project in 2023 after taking a year off in 2022, as Star Wars Subjectivities (7 syllables) ran a series of essays and roundtables taking another look at this ever expanding nerd classic. In project lead G’s own words:

This project will follow a somewhat different format than our typical special modules. We will not be providing dossier-style reviews that present opinions with supporting evidence to make an argument that aspires to objectivity. Rather, we will lean into the subjectivity of our opinions with nakedly partisan feelpieces. Sometimes these will take the form of love letters or furious rants; sometimes they will be more measured. The point, ultimately, is just to be honest about how we feel, as individuals.

It’s no easy task putting together the highlights of a bumper year, but we hope this packet will guide both new and returning visitors through a few of our flock’s favourites from the year that was. Organised into five categories (it would have been seven, but we put together the packet before I came up with this bit), we’ve got a little bit of everything from everyone who wrote for us last year, so you can get a taste of what we think makes Nerds of a Feather so special. Of course, if you want more, it’s all available for free, as long as our hosting lasts, at www.nerds-feather.com: our chronological sidebar should make it easy to find the 2023 posts which are under consideration for this award.

As well as being magical, seven is, of course, also a lucky number for many, and I’d be lying if I said we don’t hope it’ll be lucky for us. But regardless of what the voters decide, we’re proud and humbled and super excited to be here on this seventh Hugo journey. Thank you for having us again, voters.

Table of Contents

Section I: Literature Reviews
Review: The Faithless by C. L. Clark

Review: The Mountain in the Sea by Ray Nayler
The October Daye reread: A Red Rose Chain
Review: Mammoths at the Gate

Microreview: The Jinn-bot of Shantiport by Samit Basu

Microreview: Gods of the Wyrdwood by R. J. Barker

The Wheel of Time reread: A Crown of Swords

Section II: AV Media Reviews
Asteroid City lays bare the scaffolding of narration
What's In An Adaptation: A Sapkowski Fanatic Watches Netflix's The Witcher

Film Review: The Creator

Review: Suzume

Spider-man: Across the Spider-verse Review

Review: Barbenheimer

Festival View - Intense Science Fiction Short Films of 2023

Section III: Conversations/Interviews
Adri and Joe Talk About Books: 2023 Hugo Award Finalists

Rereading The Old Kingdom series by Garth Nix

6 More Books With Premee Mohamed

Adri and Joe Read the Hugos: Novel

Section IV: Commentary
Lindsay, Leckie, and LeGuin: A century of pronouns and gender in SFF
The Writer's Guild of America is On Strike

Our Retellings are Dull: the Problem of the Modern Mythical Reimagining

So... let's talk about the 'Tok

Section V: Star Wars Subjectivities

On Andor Translating Theory into Community Action

Hello There, General Kenobi

The Empire Strikes Back

The Mandalorian

TIE Fighter video game (1994)

Review: The Road to Roswell by Connie Willis

A first contact with a place we’ve seen many times before

I think we’re at a point when even making fun of Roswell conspiracy theories is itself a cliche, so tired and worn that little town in New Mexico has become in the years since what is in all likelihood a weather balloon crashed there in 1947 (even if it was several miles out of town and closer to nearby Corona—it becomes almost a supernatural version of Tours/Poitiers or Bull Run/Manassas). It is, most often, a reminder of how far science fiction has come, both in and of itself and within the broader constellation of American culture. It is consigned to the great storage room of our genre’s past, looked at in amusement and wistfulness on occasion, but rarely taken out and displayed to the world in its own right, and never entirely thrown away as we want to keep some sense of the past (I’m tempted to compare this tendency to the Cairo Genizah, although nothing so literally sacred is involved). However, Connie Willis has taken Roswell out for a spin once again, in her 2023 novel The Road to Roswell.

Your protagonist is Francie, a reasonable, normal American thirty-something woman (I’m guessing the age here but it strikes me as plausible) who is going to her friend’s wedding. This friend has had a long string of peculiar boyfriends, many of whom have been conspiracy theorists or other whackos of that general nature. Francie had thought that her friend was finally going to settle down with a normal, well-adjusted man who happened to like the desert, hence the wedding being in that famous town in New Mexico. Hoping against hope that it is mere coincidence that the annual alien festival is in town, she is disappointed to learn that, no, her fiancé is yet another conspiracy theorist. Francie accepts she’ll grin and bear it, eventually, after trying to talk her dear old college friend out of it, but the wedding is in the UFO museum. Francie goes out to her friend’s car to get some festive lighting, and is stunned to find in that car not only the lighting, but an actual, living, honest-to-God alien.

What follows over the next four hundred-ish pages is a delightfully weird, thoroughly entertaining road trip story through the odder side of Americana, blended with 1950s-style alien abduction story, and sprinkled with classic Western films for seasoning. This is a book of many genres, and Willis handles it all dexterously, as if spinning plates on sticks, never dropping them, never even letting them wobble.

Francie is the perfect sort of protagonist for this wacky and wonderful story. She is deeply, profoundly normal—not normal for science fiction fans, normal for the American mainline culture (at least that of the educated class). She isn’t too keyed into all the science fiction tropes that Willis is playing with. Some stories have protagonists who approach the weirdness of their worlds with a certain familiarity, a sort of self-insert for the people who write science fiction. Not so here. Francie only has familiarity with any of this through osmosis, through the most popular, mainstream speculative fiction, and as such sees all this with not exasperation but with genuine bewilderment, not unlike the protagonists of those old 1950s films. In this way, Willis makes all this old stuff new again, and sees how it works.

The vastness of the American West plays a role here. To those of us in cities, such massive expanses feel spectacularly alien (perhaps this is why they have so often been the sets for science fiction movies, then and now). It is here Willis makes both humans and nonhumans feel equally alien to one another. It is this particular juxtaposition of character and setting where a truck stop feels bizarre and the glittering Las Vegas strip feels like something from another planet.

There’s also a large engagement with the Western genre, although in a way that is hard to discuss without ruining the magnificent experience of letting the reader find out for themselves. This alien is being introduced to America, in all its peculiarities and foibles (but nothing much more grave than that, being a relatively light-hearted work), and it is bemused, as many foreigners are. This fish out of water is flung into the frontier mythos, and misinterprets things through that lens, to comical and profound effect. I’m not sure whether Frederick Jackson Turner would be proud, but he would certainly have some thoughts, quite possibly strong ones.

And another point that is hard to discuss without spoiling: the nature of the alien. This is a very interesting creature, on Earth for interesting reasons, and one who learns to communicate in interesting ways. It is this special form of communication that interacts with this panoramic West in ways that drive the plot forward, leaving what may once have been trite feeling fresh and new. This is helped by Willis providing it with interesting characters, Francie foremost but by no means alone, to play off of.

There are only a few defects. One is a relationship between two characters resolving in the end in a way that felt oddly rushed (there’s another such example, which feels out of nowhere, but very in character, so I was fine with it). The other big one is a throwaway reference to Native Americans and their tangential role in the plot (and I mean very tangential) that felt rather othering in that old SF way. One could object to a sanitized portrayal of the American West here, those indigenous to that land most of all, but that runs into problems of tone that I’m not sure could be elegantly squared.

While those missteps should be acknowledged, The Road to Roswell is a fun read. It’s the sort of science fiction that reminds us why we fell in love with the genre in the first place, and more broadly, perhaps more importantly, shows us why our ancestors fell in love with it. This is a novel that unrepentantly dusts off old tropes and takes them for a spin. I encourage you to enjoy the ride.

Nerd Coefficient: 8/10.

POSTED BY: Alex Wallace, alternate history buff who reads more than is healthy.

Reference: Willis, Connie. The Road to Roswell [Del Rey, 2023].

Review: The Book of Clarence

A unique, irreverent, genre-mixing dark comedy wrapped around deep messages on race and class

The theatrical trailer for The Book of Clarence left me feeling confused and a little uneasy about seeing the film. Was it an alternate history, a comedy, a parody, a tragic epic drama? Was it an allegorical Black social commentary, fantasy/sci-fi, religious, anti-religious? After seeing the film, the answer to all of these questions is: yes. There was so much going on in this story. The quirky presentation style is so unique that it’s hard to know who the target audience is. But sometimes weird is good.

The story is set during the last year of the life of Jesus. Yes, the Jesus. Jesus is a popular local celebrity in the area (due to his legendary miracles) but initially he remains mostly offscreen and is barricaded by an entourage of disciples. Clarence is a local hustler, but with a good heart. He gambles, sells drugs, drag-races chariots, and takes care of his ailing/aging mother. When his ill-gotten debts catch up to him and the local mobster threatens to kill him, Clarence hatches a scheme to make money by taking advantage of Jesus’s popularity as the Messiah. At first he tries to join the disciples but is immediately rejected by them, including his twin brother Thomas (yes, the famous doubting Thomas) so Clarence is prevented from any access to Jesus. Then he gets a better idea. He decides to con people into believing he is a miracle worker to get money.  Clarence enlists his best friend Elijah and recently freed fighter Barabbas to help with the scheme. But things take a turn when the occupying Roman military catches up with Clarence leading to an unexpected encounter with the real Jesus. The additional twist in this film is that, other than the occupying Romans, every character is Black.

The film is initially a parody of classic Bible epics such as Ben Hur or The Ten Commandments, using ironically epic background music, dramatic chariot races, and even 1960s-style gold-framed title pages in between the major acts of the story. On the other hand, it is also fantastical. The drugs Clarence smokes with his friends cause them to temporarily float in the air with their bodies turning and spinning, gravity-free. When Clarence gets an idea, it materializes as an actual light above his head. The fantastical special effects are a surreal juxtaposition against the retro epic vibe.

At first, the feel of the film is epic and historical but also slightly comical/absurd. However, the film eventually dives into the true nature of belief, loyalty, and morality. Although the people in his community have a range of spiritual beliefs, particularly as it relates to the Messiah, Clarence seems to be the only one who doesn’t believe in any form of God or spirituality. However, he is willing to use the existing belief systems to achieve his goals by being a con artist and pretending to be an alternate Messiah. In a dual role, LaKeith Stanfield plays both Clarence and Clarence’s twin brother, Thomas the apostle, who has abandoned everything, including their ailing mother, to follow Jesus. Thomas despises Clarence’s petty criminal behavior, even as Clarence has devoted himself to caring for their mother. Thus we have the set-up of religious piety versus cynical pragmatism that permeates the film.

The best character in the film is Clarence’s best friend/sidekick Elijah. Elijah is open-minded about his beliefs, but also comfortable running scams and being loyal to Clarence and their bestie, chariot racer Mary Magdalene. In a pivotal scene, Mary Magdalene has been accused of adultery and chained to a wall to be brutally stoned to death. Elijah intervenes to protect her, risking his own death, but he cannot free her from the chain. Clarence is nowhere around and death seems imminent for Mary and Elijah until the real-deal Messiah shows up in a quietly jaw-dropping, Marvel-worthy scene.

The set design and costumes of the film are outstanding, making you feel transported to the ancient Jerusalem setting that has been reimagined for the story. The film also benefits from a strong cast reinterpreting classic characters, including Mary, the Mother of Jesus (hilariously played by Alfre Woodard), John the Baptist (David Oyelowo), and an irritable Pontius Pilate (James McAvoy). We also get quirky new characters played by Babs Olusanmokun from Star Trek: Strange New Worlds, Caleb McLaughlin from Stranger Things, and an almost unrecognizable Benedict Cumberbatch who takes the film to new irreverence as an accidentally mistaken version of Jesus.

All these strange, quirky characters revolve around Clarence as he tries to make a better life for himself and prove himself worthy of his ill-fated love interest Varinia (Anna Diop). LaKeith Stanfield leans into the cynical, skeptical, onscreen personality he has used effectively in prior fantastical films like Sorry to Bother You, Haunted Mansion, and even Get Out. Despite his cynicism, Clarence has enough cliched character growth to make some positive societal choices for others, even as he still scams those around him. Clarence continues to pursue his fake Messiah miracles with growing success until he finds out the true cost of the path he has chosen. Then the film takes a serious and dramatic turn into a violent exploration of racism and classism. We think we know what is going to happen, but the final crucifixion scenes subvert both traditional narratives and cynical new viewer expectations.

The Book of Clarence throws many important social justice themes and philosophical questions at viewers who may ultimately feel overwhelmed and disoriented by the irreverent and quirky delivery style. The trope of the lovable rascal with the heart of gold is quickly subverted into an ultimate theme of “mess around and find out.” It’s been a long time since a film completely bewildered me in such a good way. This movie is not for everyone. But, if you have an appetite for quirkiness and a tolerance for explorations of hard truths wrapped in an allegory, The Book of Clarence will give you a great deal to think about.

Nerd Coefficient: 7/10

Highlights:

• Weird and provocative. Not for everyone.
• Quirky subversive messaging.
• Strong performances by the lead actors.

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

Review: The Borgia Dove by Jo Graham

The second in a historical fantasy series centering about Giulia Farnese, mistress to Cardinal Rodrigo of the Borgia family. Yes, that Borgia family.

The first book in Jo Graham’s series, A Blackened Mirror, introduced us to the upbringing and early life of Giulia from a historical fantasy perspective. While the actual woman in history is her basis, Graham leavened her upbringing by making her a virginal (and kept deliberately so) seer, and used in magical rites amongst the scheme of factions seeking control of the Papacy in late 15th century Italy. That book ended with Giulia firmly as the concubine of the powerful and alluring Rodrigo Borgia, a man whose ambitions are to become the next Pope.

The Borgia Dove continues this story.

The year is 1492. Columbus has just started to sail the ocean blue, but has not yet reached the Americas, but he will, in a couple of months. What is also going to happen in even shorter order is Pope Innocent III is going to die. Rodrigo, now in his early 60’s, sees this as his last and best hope to become Pope. Giulia, as his mistress, wants to help him, not only because he is her lover, but the humanist side of the Church is far more appealing to her than the more traditional and conservative factions led by Rodrigo’s enemy Cardinal Della Rovere. But no longer a virgin, Giulia no longer has magic powers, and so to help Rodrigo, must cultivate other forms of power to help him succeed in the Conclave, and survive the deadly politics of 15th century Rome.

And so a story is told.

You probably have heard of the Borgias before, and may have seen, for example, the Showtime series The Borgias, with Jeremy Irons as the titular character. Giulia Farnese is an important secondary character in that series, even as it focuses on the Borgias more directly. Here, by making Giulia the primary focus, we get a look at events that are covered in the premiere episode of that series, but with Giulia’s perspective.

With Giulia as the focus, we do get Rodrigo as a major secondary character, as well as other Borgias and the other major characters in late 15th century Rome. Yes, the infamous Lucrezia Borgia is here, but she’s a 12 year old girl. She’s curious, bright, intelligent, and devoted to her father’s success. She is, at this stage in her life, nothing like what her infamy brought her. Also note the aforementioned Showtime series definitely aged her up. She also is, in this novel, most definitely Giulia’s protégé. Giulia may only be eighteen herself (again, the show aged her up), but she provides a female role model for Lucrezia. And their interactions are among the most delightful in the book.

Also, let’s talk about the fantastic elements, since the book does provide more than a patina of historical fantasy that Graham started in the first book. For while she may not think she is a magical “Dove” anymore, Giulia soon learns that while she thought she was finished with magic once she became Rodrigo’s lover, magic, and the higher powers, are not finished with her. Both those who would support her, and those who would seek to tear her down.

It’s a very sensual and sensuous book, and readers of Graham before are not going to be surprised by this. Not just sexual and carnal pleasures, mind you, but the entire world is brought with all the senses in mind. We get to feel, to smell, to taste, to see and to touch the late 15th century Rome that Giulia inhabits. The charm of having breakfast with a friend, spreading soft cheese over bread. The deadly darkness of the streets of Rome at night. The elegant seductiveness of a dance and a party. And much more. Graham’s writing brings us into Giulia’s world, life, passions and desires in a fully immersive way.

There is a lot of talk in SFF circles these days about romantasy: fantasy with a strong romance focus and theme. Although this novel does not claim that title, I think that this novel definitely would qualify for those looking for such work. Giulia is plainly in a romantic relationship with Rodrigo and considers him the love of her life, quite loyally so. Time and again, people outside her think she is in it for the money alone (the simony of the Borgias is portrayed as being part and parcel of the times and is not judged too negatively thereby), and Giulia insists, to others and to herself that she is not. And indeed, we see opportunities where Giulia could, if her heart was truly for gold and not Rodrigo, where she could “feather her own nest” and she does not take them.

Yes, some readers may find it distasteful that Giulia is indeed a third of Rodrigo’s age, and indeed, that does get brought up in the book as well. Graham shows this as a meeting of minds as well as hearts and souls. Together, on all three strands, she depicts Giulia and Rodrigo coming together, the Dove and the Bull (The Bull is a symbol of House Borgia). It may be a May-December romance, but the author makes it believable and more importantly, sympathetic to the reader.

And Giulia is a person a lot of readers can relate with. She’s curious, intelligent, loves to read, and seeks out books. Not just magical books, as part of the fantastic elements of this novel, but just books in general, in a world that Gutenberg has not yet set aflame with his invention. Giulia loves literacy, thought and that way of transmitting knowledge and story and that love comes across the page to us. One could easily imagine sitting to a lunch with Giulia and discussing Plutarch, Dante, and more. The novel is also full of allusions and references to books and writers for the savvy reader to discover.

Graham has done an excellent job here in making The Borgia Dove a standalone novel even as it builds on the life of Giulia and her upbringing from the first novel. While I would never want to turn you away from reading the first book, if you wanted to start the series here (perhaps you are a fan of Jeremy Irons’ portrayal or the whole very cut and thrust life of the Borgias), or just have limited time, I think you completely and utterly could begin here. Unlike the first book, which takes place over a number of years as Giulia grows up, learns who and what she is, and gets plunged into matters, the focus of this book, time-wise, is much narrower. Much of the book takes place during the week or so of that Papal Enclave that, spoilers for 500 years ago, will make Rodrigo into Pope Alexander VI. But what Giulia’s story brings to a story already told is her, female perspective, and the secret magical history of those who would oppose and cast down Rodrigo, and what Giulia must do, and is willing to do, in order to preserve her lover’s life, power and position.

Given the complex richness of Giulia’s life, and of course now the whole Borgia project, I look forward to what Graham will do in the third volume. I think it will be a challenge, since as hazy as history goes for most people, the Borgias are a name that still involve a lot of negativity and while the first two books have focused specifically on Giulia and kept people like the young Lucrezia in minor roles, going forward with the series means Graham will have an uphill climb in further changing people’s perceptions of Rodrigo, Lucrezia and the rest. I look forward to seeing how she takes on this challenge.

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Highlights:

• 15th Century Rome and Papal Politics strongly on display
• Giulia Farnese is a captivating character to capture your heart and mind
• Sensuous and immersive writing to bring you into Giulia’s world.

Reference: Graham, Jo, The Borgia Dove, [Candlemark and Gleam, 2024]


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