6 Books with Fran Wilde

Fran Wilde is the award-winning author of A Philosophy of Thieves, out 30th of September from Erewhon Books. You can find her at her website, her Patreon, and on instagram and bluesky under @fran_wilde.

A Philosophy of Thieves: Robin Hood meets Parasite meets Six of Crows in multi-award winning author Fran Wilde’s thrilling, high-tech adventure heist wrapped in a futuristic fantasy where thieves are entertainment for the wealthy. Get your copy here.

Today she tells us about her Six Books:

1. What book are you currently reading?

LD Lewis’ Year of the Mer (April 2026). I’m reading it to blurb and — spoilers — I’m going to blurb it A LOT. This is a story that goes beyond a retrenching of The Little Mermaid, to explore deeper issues of generational identity, trauma, revenge, and anger. It has so much heart, and so many moments where my own heart is ready to crumble. I am so looking forward to seeing this book out in the world, wrecking havoc.

2. What upcoming book are you really excited about?

LD Lewis’ Year of the Mer, see above. 

AND Alix Harrow’s new book, The Everlasting (10/28).  I would read a phone book cover to cover if Alix wrote it. But The Everlasting has a mysterious book in it that is so rare it might not exist, which is absolute Fran-bait. And a female knight, and fiction vs. reality plot lines and I’m so here for it.

OH AND Will Alexander’s just-out book Sunward (9/16). What began as a short story for The Sunday Morning Transport has bloomed into a resplendent space opera with so many fantastic moving parts (and sarcastic intelligences) that I want to hug it and share it and then grab it back and hug it again. Do I feel a tiny bit like a book auntie on this one? Yes. Yes I do.

3. Is there a book you’re currently itching to re-read?

I love rereading Frances Hardinge’s books - this year it’s Unraveller that I want to revisit. 

4.  A book that you love and wish that you yourself had written.

Alix Harrow’s Starling House and Frances Hardinge’s Unraveller.  The prose in both, the awareness of relationships and the heart-strings that wrap around your throat in both as the main characters fall deeper and deeper into the plot. I’m so here for that kind of utterly immersive writing, and I can still hear the phrases and sentences I wish I’d written in both. 

5. What’s one book, which you read as a child or a young adult, that has had a lasting influence on your writing?

The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster and Natalie Babbitt’s Tuck Everlasting are two childhood books that have both had a lasting influence on my writing (each deals with adventures and fantasy, getting your wildest dreams, and setting out from the real world into a very different place). Oh and puns. Lots of puns. And whimsy.

6. And speaking of that, what’s your latest book, and why is it awesome?

My latest book is A Philosophy of Thieves and I think it’s awesome because: high-society performance heists, tactical ballgowns (with lots of pockets), industrial espionage, immortality, and many heists wrapped in a speculative trench coat. 

Thank you, Fran!

Read Paul's review of A Philosophy of Thieves here at NOAF.

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

Book Review: A Philosophy of Thieves by Fran Wilde

Fran Wilde’s A Philosophy of Thieves mixes a heist story, a found family story, and a nuanced and considered look at a post-climate-change future story into a readable combination

Roosala Vane lives a double life (at least double). She’s studying at great expense at an academy in New Washington, her technical skills blossoming and growing. In her world, she seeks to become a creator and designer and builder of printed objects (and also, a hacker).  But that is not her own identity. She is really Roo.

Roo is a member of the famous (and infamous) Canarvier troupe. The rich and powerful of this world have a particular game they like to play. They like to hire troupes of thieves to crash their opulent parties and steal from the guests and the estate. These hirings are carefully negotiated as to where and what is out of bounds, and the game is to try and catch the thieves before time runs out. The Canarviers are the best in the business. They don’t get caught, they stay within the contract, they are flashy and showy, and give the guests a good time. But times are tight and they have to take a tricky contract. One that will push Roo to the limit.

And, it turns out, Roo has an identity that she herself doesn’t even know...

Roo’s story is the heart of Fran Wilde’s A Philosophy of Thieves.

The heart of the book is Roo’s drives. She is the engine that keeps the novel going. We start off with a Canarvier heist, but things go wrong from the get go. The leader of the Canarviers, King, is captured. The Canarvier troupe is on the knife’s edge, and Roo not only needs a way to free King, but help keep the Canarviers solvent. And so she agrees to do a gig for Mason Graves and her girlfriend Evangeline Benford. The Benfords are rich and powerful, and the money for the gig could be enough to spring and free King on bail before he is shipped off to Alaska. So Roo is determined to get this gig to go off, get the money, free her mentor, and keep the Canarviers going.

This does not quite go to plan, and the novel delves into a rapidly rising series of improvises, plots, plans (including Mason’s) and the aforementioned identity that Roo is thrust into, very unwillingly. It’s not so much a heist novel as a post-climate-change technothriller that has strong worldbuilding and revolves around family and family relations, and the prices one is willing to pay for their ambitions and dreams.

I do want to say a few more words about Roo, no matter what name you give her. (More importantly, and a subtle point Wilde makes, it’s her for to decide how she names herself.) Roo is an extremely Wilde character that readers of her earlier work will find classic grace notes in. A relatively young woman, intelligent, clever, fierce in all the right ways. Sometimes self-doubting, but always loyal and determined to achieve her ends, which often revolve around her family and those whom she loves and protects. The very forward way Roo moves to try and meet her goals (which are so aligned with others, rather than herself) is endearing and sometimes painful. While we have a good sense of all the characters, especially the alternate POV Mason, Roo is where the heart of this book lies.

But it is the world, no surprise to anyone who has read more than one of my reviews, that really sucked me in and kept me turning pages. Yes, I was engaged strongly with Roo and her plight, struggles and adventures. (I only slowly warmed up to Mason; I kept seeing him as an adversary although he is much more *opposition* than *adversary* to Roo.) But it is the world that we see that is real and developed just enough for us to exert a playground of the imagination.

It’s a world after climate change has had its hammer blow. Seas have risen. Areas everywhere are devastated, to the point that even the atmosphere outside of domed or climate-controlled areas is detrimental to human health. There is a definite social and economic stratification of society in this world: Enclaves, Towns, and then the Skirts, which are definitely a drop in social class, and then the often poisonous and barely habitable regions outside of those. Crossing those regions is dangerous in and of itself, as we see a situation where a crossing goes wrong and leaves some of the characters in a salt flat where, if not rescued, they will absolutely die.

Wilde’s worldbuilding goes far beyond geography and goes into the implications of a post-climate-change world on things large and small. The loss of some of our cultural heritage as the seas rose, and the preciousness by which the rich hoard what they do hoard, is a particularly noticeable beat. And while this is a word of hacking and 3D printing, there are things that are hard and rare to come by. Natural foods like fresh blueberries are a treat only for the rich, grown in a greenhouse at high expense. And this is a world that is disconnected, too. We don’t get a sense of the grand politics (is there a United States still? *Maybe*), but not only are the city-states of this world seemingly semi-autonomous if not even more so (with a heaping side of corporate state politics), but getting to other Towns and Enclaves is mentioned as being difficult even for the ultra-wealthy Benfords.

It’s not something that is ever casually done. This leads more to the idea that this is a fragmented world, where Towns and Enclaves, with their Skirts around, are islands of civilization surrounded by devastation. While the rich and powerful are doing okay, those on more slippery rungs of the ladder need help. This is a society that the rich barely recognize as a society. And yet, while it is not the most pleasant of post-climate-change worlds, but it is one that Roo helps us be convinced is worth trying to save, rebuild and improve.

One interesting bit of worldbuilding and also a way to convey information is the in-world documents that pop up between chapters. Wilde’s excerpts from a digital magazine called Enclave and Towne provide board messages, private feeds, and more. It all feels a bit like Wilde has taken a page from Stand on Zanzibar, although the messages, articles and more are very much hyperlocal. Rather than trying to build out the world beyond the narrative (as we see in the Brunner novel), these documents review, reflect and comment on the action or action-adjacent items. It helps focus and direct the worldbuilding further to the plot and characters, and yet allows us the playground of the imagination that suggests there are plenty more feeds and channels like this we do not see.

I’ve been thinking about expectations lately, where a book’s logline or descriptive text do or do not match the reading experience. And so I want to quote from the promotional materials from the book:

“In these pages, you’ll find aspects of gaslamp fantasy complete with suave lords, charming rogues and high-stakes social events. You’ll find intricately planned and dangerous heists, brought together by a team of sniping but loving family members united around reclaiming their leader and father, King. And you’ll find astute interrogation of climate change and class in the tradition of our most esteemed science fiction.”

This all comes out nicely, except the phrase “gaslamp fantasy” kind of sticks in my craw a bit. Is it that we don’t quite have a good phrase for the kind of SFF that this book is a part of? There used to be, once upon a time, a phrase called “Fantasy of Manners” that was common in some corners of the SFF genresphere... back when it was in paper fanzines and maybe early newsgroups. It’s a mode of SFF that is very social- and class- oriented in nature, and often would deal with these strata of society in one form or another. Wilde’s novel definitely does this in spades, commenting on the very stratified society of her post-climate-change setting. There are a lot of scenes of intrigue, manners and social situations inside of those halls.

It’s not quite steampunk or dieselpunk; the punk is not there, but the aesthetic and feel are there. But can you have it outside of the time period?

The first time I came across this was in Walter Jon Williams’s Drake Maijstral novels, where a minor aristocrat/burglar in a galactic empire where Earth is conquered gets himself into some very funny situations, with social commentary to match. The feel is of this Fantasy of Manners throughout. Also recently, is work such as Malka Older’s Mossa and Pleiti novellas, which are set on space platforms orbiting Jupiter. While the nobles are replaced by academics squabbling and jockeying with each other, the “gaslamp fantasy” feel is there. Novels such as Everina Maxwell’s Winter’s Orbit also seem to partake of this sub-sub-genre. But again, can you have gaslamp fantasy set in the future? It’s not a gigantic niche of books, and gaslamp is the closest thing we have to a way to describe it. Gaslamp fantasy may almost set the expectations for the reader, but as a term for novels set out of period, it is a frustratingly incomplete and inaccurate term for novels such as Wilde’s. (A counterpoint: there ARE airships of a sort, even on the cover of the novel itself.)

Genre assignments aside, the novel does feel complete, deliciously done and recommended to all and sundry. However. the ending suggests a potential for future stories, and the back cover has #TheCanarvierFiles. Is there a sequel in the works? If so, I’d read it. Roo, once again, is a main draw, as is the world Wilde has built. I far more associate Wilde with her fantasy than with her SF, and this novel shows that I should recalibrate that association. More, please.

Highlights:

• The strong and abiding main character of Roo, and her struggles with identity, and her drives and needs.
• Vivid commentary by illumination of class, power, and wealth in a post-climate-change society.
• Come for the heists, stay for the worldbuilding.
• This Highlight approved by the Enclave and Towne, Stillwater Edition.

Reference: Wilde, Fran. A Philosophy of Thieves [Kensington Books/Erewhon, 2025].

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

Microreview [book]: The Book of Gems by Fran Wilde

The Gem Universe trilogy concludes with academic shenanigans and more talking rocks

This is the third novella in the intriguingly disparate Gem Universe series, in which the magical power held within gems in a particular valley shapes the rise and fall of different civilisations over centuries. The Jewel and Her Lapidary, the first book in the series, dealt with the fall of a monarchy built around the power of gems. The second, The Fire Opal Mechanism (review), is set a long time after and a long way away, in a city where human knowledge is under threat from a technology which destroys unique books and reproduces the information in them in a single, approved form. This time, the action is once again centred around an academic institution, at a point where society has effectively forgotten that "real" gems once held power and  built its technology around synthetic alternatives. The Valley where gems originated is now a marginalised backwater, its inhabitants nominally given ownership of their own cultural artefacts but subjected to outside study and interpretation of their history.

The action of the Book of Gems follows two women. Devina, or Dev, is a researcher and descendent of a Valley family, returning on a trip to locate her missing supervisor, who stole Dev's research and then disappeared after a series of increasingly fragmented and cryptic messages back to the university. Lacking support from her university and cautious about revealing her own family history, Dev soon meets with her cousin Lurai, who is trying to make ends meet running the Valley's main inn after the disappearance of her mother. Lurai's mother, it transpires, was hired to guide Dev's supervisor into the ruins of the Palace of Gems - which outside researchers are forbidden from setting foot in - and so the two women's goals quickly become intertwined, particularly as the gems themselves start making themselves heard. And so does the entity calling itself the Prince of Gems...

While this novella could technically stand alone, The Book of Gems really benefits from an understanding of the Gem Universe and the magic which Wilde has built up over the series. Even with the technological advancement over the course of the books, the Valley's gems remain fundamentally mysterious and unknowable: magical artefacts with their own voice, offering power which comes at an often horrifying price, demanding strict control from those who harness it. (In other words, the tropes are on point). It helps that we only see this world in glimpses, through novellas and shorter fiction, with the advancements between each story left largely unexplored. While I'm sure Wilde has the storytelling ability to pull off a longer novel in the Gem Universe, this is the type of world where catching glimpses creates a very... satisfying... sense of being unsatisfied. (I note, on rereading my 2019 review of The Fire Opal Mechanism, that I didn't feel this way then... but I do now!)

The Book of Gems also offers a sense of balance to the revolutionary upheaval that we saw in The Gem and Her Lapidary, and a literal excavation of the legacy that was buried in that book, although I am more ambivalent about the political direction here. Because the Gems are linked to the Valley, a location which has been subsumed and marginalised by the larger Republics which have come after, there's a direct link between their lost magic and the lost independence of the Valley itself. The direct influence of the Republic isn't present - not in the same way as The Fire Opal Mechanism, but the power of colonising forces is well represented through Dev's university, which sends researchers into the Valley to interpret the artefacts which its own people are tasked with digging up. That the university refuses to allow Dev, a descendent of the Valley, the status to pursue her own work, and maintained a system where her supervisor was able to take it from her without the intervention of any of her colleagues, is icing on the cake. It makes Dev more sympathetic, but the extractiveness of the institution is well established even before Dev (and Inara's) personal grievances come into play.

The alternative, however, is presented (alongside a gauntlet of increasing body horror) as a return to rightful monarchy, and that too feels... off. Perhaps this is the point at which the sparseness of the Gem Universe setting becomes a drawback rather than a benefit: it feels like the time we spend with Dev and Inara never quite gets us to a point of understanding how people in the Valley feel, other than a general disdain for their research visitors. While novella length is tricky when it comes to political deep dives, I would have liked to see more nuance behind the presentation of a returned monarchy and what that might mean for the Valley: sure, there is a cultural memory of Gems and a lost past which makes uncovering it attractive, but does the reality line up with that cultural memory? The Book of Gems glosses over that for what feels like an easier "Isn't reconnecting with one's heritage great" ending, and I don't think that does the rest of the book justice.

Still, this is a great series, and there's lots in The Book of Gems to enjoy, particularly if you derive enjoyment from squirming over weird magical body alterations and/or shitty academic practices. This series has been billed as a trilogy, and there's certainly a sense of completion here, but thhere's also short fiction in this universe so perhaps this isn't the last time we'll see the Gems and the Lapidaries of the Valley, and their creepy singing rock "friends". Perhaps they'll institute a more representative form of self-governance in our absence? You never know.

Reading the Hugos: Lodestar

Welcome to what is likely the final entry in Reading the Hugos this year. As I noted last year, from the perspective of a reader who is not plugged in the YA scene and isn't a YA reader, the Hugo nominators did a good job again this year.

I do always wonder about visibility and this award. How widely are Hugo voters reading in YA? I tend not to nominate much for the Lodestar for that reason (this year I nominated Catfishing on Catnet and Anne Ursu's excellent The Lost Girl), but that is also an argument that can be made for Graphic Story or, if we're feeling nitpicky, the entire ballot. The Hugo Award (and the technically not a Hugo Lodestar Award) is representative of the tastes and opinions of those Worldcon members who take the time to nominate and vote. That's part and parcel of the process, which I suppose makes this paragraph somewhat excessive.

This year I was only able to read five of the six finalists. I missed out on Deeplight, which is the second time I've missed reading Frances Hardinge for the Lodestar. This year I have a good excuse - I was reading all of Seanan McGuire's Incryptid stories included in the Voter Packet (oh, my heart after reading the last of the Johnny and Fran stories).

Let's look at the finalists, shall we?

• Catfishing on CatNet, by Naomi Kritzer (Tor Teen)
• Deeplight, by Frances Hardinge (Macmillan)
• Dragon Pearl, by Yoon Ha Lee (Disney/Hyperion)
• Minor Mage, by T. Kingfisher (Argyll)
• Riverland, by Fran Wilde (Amulet)
• The Wicked King, by Holly Black (Little, Brown; Hot Key)

Riverland: I haven't read much of Fran Wilde's fiction, far less than I would have expected given how well regarded her Bone Universe novels are (start with Updraft), but I have fairly consistently bounced off each story of hers that I have read. Whether it is The Jewel and Her Lapidary, "Clearly Lettered in a Mostly Steady Hand" or The Fire Opal Mechanism, I have a growing suspicion that I'm just not a Fran Wilde reader. That, no matter how good or how well regarded, these aren't the stories for me. It also means that I am unlikely to give Updraft a go, but that is a different point.

I had hoped that Riverland would be the book to buck that trend. It is completely unrelated to her Gem novellas, it's YA rather than strictly written for adults, it's a portal fantasy novel dealing with domestic violence. Riverland is beautifully written for those readers able to dive in and work their way through Wilde's storytelling. I know Adri gave Riverland 5 Stars on Goodreads, so there's at least one editor here who strongly disagrees with me on Riverland (this is not likely to be our only disagreement in this category) - but Riverland really locked down the idea that unless Fran Wilde is on an awards ballot I am actively reading for, I probably won't be reading more of her work. It is worth noting that this is written before I read any of the Short Story finalists, which does include a selection from Fran Wilde, so there's one more chance for me to connect with Wilde's fiction this year.

Dragon Pearl: Yoon Ha Lee's Machineries of Empire trilogy of novels are simply excellent. Each book was a finalist for the Hugo Award (as was the series as a whole), and justifiably so. I thought the series got better as it progressed, and it was pretty darn good from the start. I could not wait to see what Yoon Ha Lee would write next and what was next was Dragon Pearl, a YA novel from Rick Riordan's publishing line. A bit of space opera and adventure.

I absolutely love the idea of Dragon Pearl, of the novel's set up of a girl with hidden magic desperate to find and clear the name of her brother who is accused of desertion from the Space Forces. I loved how Min used her magic, how she cons her way into getting to the heart of what happened to her brother. So much of Dragon Pearl was absolutely delightful and weeks after finishing the novel I'm still thinking about the relationships Min made. Dragon Pearl is a wonderful novel of friendship.

That's what makes it so difficult to put my finger on why I didn't love Dragon Pearl as much as I expected. The individual parts are so excellent, but they somehow don't coalesce (for me) into a novel that reached the heights it should have. All the ingredients were there, the meal just didn't quite come together.

Minor Mage: I have much less to say about T. Kingfisher's Minor Mage, but it was an absolutely charming story of a boy who was training to be a magician but has far too much responsibility for his village compared to his age and training. Minor Mage is a quest story and I would have loved to have another hundred pages of it (Minor Mage is more a novella than full length novel). I look forward to reading it to my kids when they are older.

The Wicked King: When I wrote about The Cruel Prince as part of last year's Lodestar ballot it was my runner up, behind only the superb Dread Nation (The Cruel Prince placed fourth, Dread Nation was the runner up). Where The Cruel Prince was the first book in a series related to other books it did not require any familiarity with Tithe and the other Modern Tales of Faerie. The Wicked King, on the other hand, is the direct sequel to The Cruel Prince and if readers who don't remember the relationships in that first book will be at least half lost in this book, though Holly Black is a skillful enough writer that new readers will be able to keep up, just without some of the nuance.

I wrote last year that Holly Black is a master storyteller and that remains the case. The Wicked King is exactly the continuation of The Cruel Prince one might hope for, though this is not a series for the faint of heart or those who don't want bad things to happen to good people. Black does not pull punches.

Catfishing on Catnet: When Naomi Kritzer won a Hugo Award in 2016 for her story "Cat Pictures Please" (also a Nebula Award finalist) I assumed it was a one-off. "Cat Pictures Please" was a delightful story of an A.I. (artificial intelligence) who wants to help people and look at pictures of cats. Catfishing on Catnet is more than an expansion of that story, it's a complete reworking using that same central premise. Most impressively, it's seamless. Kritzer is not expanding a smaller idea into a shape it doesn't fit, she has a big idea that is bigger than just the one novel (good thing there's a sequel coming next year).

Catfishing on Catnet is a smart and warm hearted thriller that deals with internet privacy, personal identity and rights, friendship, stalking, and social networks - it is an absolute delight. In a category where some of the finalists don't quite work for me - Catfishing on Catnet is a favorite. This is as good as it gets.


My Vote 
1. Catfishing on Catnet
2. The Wicked King
3. Minor Mage
4. Dragon Pearl
5. Riverland



POSTED BY: Joe Sherry - Co-editor of Nerds of a Feather, 4x Hugo Award Finalist for Best Fanzine. Minnesotan. He / Him.

Reading the Hugos: Short Story

Welcome back to Reading the Hugos, 2020 Edition! Today we are taking a look at the six finalists in the Short Story category.

None of the finalists were on my nominating ballot, but I read fewer stories last year than I would have liked. I've read some of the authors on this year's ballot before, but Nibedita Sen and Shiv Ramdas are completely new to me and I'm not sure if I've read S.L. Huang before, but that is certainly going to change after reading "As the Last I May Know".

Let's take a look at the finalists.


“And Now His Lordship Is Laughing”, by Shiv Ramdas (Strange Horizons, 9 September 2019)
“As the Last I May Know”, by S.L. Huang (Tor.com, 23 October 2019)
“Blood Is Another Word for Hunger”, by Rivers Solomon (Tor.com, 24 July 2019)
“A Catalog of Storms”, by Fran Wilde (Uncanny Magazine, January/February 2019)
“Do Not Look Back, My Lion”, by Alix E. Harrow (Beneath Ceaseless Skies, January 2019)
“Ten Excerpts from an Annotated Bibliography on the Cannibal Women of Ratnabar Island”, by Nibedita Sen (Nightmare Magazine, May 2019)


A Catalog of Storms: When the weather is almost sentient and angry, the only defense is people who are willing and able to sacrifice their own lives by turning into a more soothing weather. "A Catalog of Storms" reads better than that description, but that's the best way I can wrap my brain around this story. There's a lot here to appreciate, but there's something about Fran Wilde's fiction that just doesn't grab me, just doesn't work for me. That remains the case with "A Catalog of Storms". I can see the emotional heart of the story, but it remains empty for me as a reader.

Fran Wilde is also a finalist for the Lodestar Award with her novel Riverland. Riverland was the winner of the Andre Norton Award and "A Catalog of Storms" was also a finalist for the Nebula Award.


And Now His Lordship: There are stories you appreciate for the craft rather than the execution and this is one of those stories. The ending of "And Now His Lordship Is Laughing" is excellent, it's exactly what the story needed and what the story was leading up to. Shiv Ramdas is telling a story of colonization, magic in the real world, and the cost of those colonized and used for resources. Set back in World War II, the story resonates today. I admire so much about the story, except for my desire to actually read it.

"And Now His Lordship Is Laughing" was also a finalist for the Nebula Award.


Ten Excerpts: Perhaps the story would not have worked so well if it was longer or fleshed out in a more conventional narrative form, but I really wanted more of this story. Sen rolls out the story in little disparate bits of academic commentary, moving through the titular bibliography and giving the story of the Ratnabar women more context and more heartbreak, though that heartbreak is suggestive from the beginning. "Ten Excerpts from an Annotated Bibliography on the Cannibal Women of Ratnabar Island" is exceptional.

Nibedita Sen is on the Astounding Award ballot for Best New Writer this year. "Ten Excerpts" was also a finalist for the Nebula Award


Blood is Another Word for Hunger: It should be no surprise that a Rivers Solomon story is as good as it is powerful, and "Blood is Another Word for Hunger" is exactly that.  It's a story of an enslaved woman taking her freedom by taking the lives of her captors, but it each of those killings which drives the story forward by birthing spirit lives. This isn't a post-slavery tale so much as it deals with the trauma of slavery and it is a trauma that doesn't end with freedom - regardless of how that freedom is attained. This is an unrelenting story, an excellent one.

Rivers Solomon is also a Best Novella finalist for The Deep.


Do Not Look Back, My Lion: This is Harrow's first story since winning the Hugo Award last year for "A Witch's Guide to Escape" and it's another banger. Tightly written, "Do Not Look Back, My Lion" is a heartbreaking story of love and loss, of duty and promises to family. The story is perpetually on the edge of a war, but is centered on a desire to not have one of the children marked to be a soldier. This is a beautiful story, raw with grief.

Alix E. Harrow's debut novel is both a Hugo and Nebula Award finalist for Best Novel. "Do Not Look Back, My Lion" was also a finalist for the Nebula Award.


As the Last I May Know: S.L. Huang looks at the problem of nuclear weapons and the deeper problem of how easy it is for a single person (with or without checks and balances) to figuratively push a button and destroy millions if not billions people. Those weapons still exist, but the cost of using them is exorbitant - the access code is embedded the body of a young girl and the personal cost of using those weapons is that President must murder that girl. "As the Last I May Know" is perfectly told, painfully told - and it is a stunning perfect story.


My Vote:
1. "As the Last I May Know"
2. "Do Not Look Back, My Lion"
3. "Blood is Another Word for Hunger"
4. "Ten Excerpts from an Annotated Bibliography on the Cannibal Women of Ratnabar Island"
5. "And Now His Lordship is Laughing"
6. "A Catalog of Storms"


POSTED BY: Joe Sherry - Co-editor of Nerds of a Feather, 4x Hugo Award Finalist for Best Fanzine. Minnesotan. He / Him.

Microreview [Book]: The Fire Opal Mechanism by Fran Wilde

Fran Wilde returns to the Gemworld in a bite-sized multi-layered time travel adventure

Cover Art by Tommy Arnold

What will the current era of fantasy and science fiction literature be remembered for, hundreds of years in the future? It's a question usually asked in a much shorter timeframe and in a cautionary context: just as most books, even the most beloved, of one or two or three hundred years ago have been forgotten, so our favourites from the current moment, as brilliant as they are, aren't like to stand the test of time. But for those who do archive and protect and study the speculative literature of our generation, what's going to stand out? The magic systems? The particular interplay of social themes and fantastic elements and what it says about what we are and aren't interrogating at a given moment? Maybe people of the future will admire the pretty covers?

The Fire Opal Mechanism, the second Tor.com Publishing standalone in Fran Wilde's Gemworld, has all of these features; while it would be meaningless and unfair to speculate on any specific book's longevity, the text's own treatment of the retention and transmission of information leaves plenty to chew over that's relevant to our own world as well. Set centuries after The Jewel and Her Lapidary, in a different part of the world, The Fire Opal Mechanism once again opens immediately before an invasion: this time, it's the university at which librarian Ania works which is being threatened by The Pressers, a political force which intends to democratise knowledge by destroying the elite universities in which books have to date been hoarded (of which the Far Reaches is the last). The Pressers have developed a mysterious technology which allows them to repurpose books into "Universal Compendiums of Knowledge", texts which constantly update themselves as they acquire new books. For obvious reasons not everyone is on board with the destruction of the world's unique and individual texts in order to create a single source of centralised information: books "are made to grow old, to grow, occasionally, wrong," as Ania's mentor tells us early.

Into Ania's desperate and futile hiding of some of the university's most valuable and interesting books comes Jorit, a thief who is seeking to steal and turn in some of the books hidden in the library for money to escape the Far Reaches - as she's done several times previously. Unfortunately for Jorit, she's quickly running out of places to escape to and after receiving some bad advice from a university student who turns out to be working for the Pressers, her plans quickly start to go sideways. Jorit and Ania end up trapped in the University as it's being blown up around them when a last method of escape presents itself: a clock mechanism powered by a long-forgotten gem, whose magic can send the pair back in time to try and resolve events with the Pressers before they begin. Events do intersect with the first book, but Ania and Jorit's story still stands on its own as an alternate entry point into this world.

The threat of the Pressers, and of the mechanism they use to print their "Universal Compendiums" - a mechanism which can literally pull ink from the pages of books and render them worthless - is truly terrifying, all the more so because it's a radical ideology which preys on genuine sympathetic desire. The use of the point of view of Xachar Oubliant, the student working for the Pressers, is used sparingly but to great effect, demonstrating how easy it was for this invading authoritarian force to manipulate the desire for knowledge and the frustration at the expense of university for ordinary people in the Six Kingdoms in order to make their case. At the same time, the printing press imagery - of a machine devouring unique books as its users blow up an ancient building around it - makes it viscerally apparent that this is not a sympathetic force, despite the complexity of the wider issue at play. Wilde makes the question of "who owns knowledge" into a compelling driving force with no easy answers while still making the Pressers and their machine compellingly villainous, and it's an impressive line to walk.

In The Jewel and her Lapidary, the valley of the gems and its everyday magical working is initially encountered through a travel guide written much later (though before Ania and Jorit's time), presenting a contrast between the desperation and immediacy of Lin and Sima's struggle and the lens of its impact on the far future, where the gems themselves have been forgotten. Through its time travel mechanic The Fire Opal Mechanism revisits that concept, almost demonstrating it the other way around: what is important in the past doesn't always link the way we'd expect to what's important in our own time. These scenes pack a ton of character- and worldbuilding and flesh out Ania and Jorit impressively in the time available, and their evolving relationship to each other and resolve to address the threat to their own time is fascinating to watch, though necessarily it all happens fairly fast.

Because the Gemworld is so dense and multilayered, spanning not just the contemporary Six Kingdoms but its historical states and the transmission of knowledge and the lens through which the present views the past, this is a book that demands careful attention, and it's the plot itself which - time travel shenanigans aside - gets a bit short-changed in the "how much is it even possible to fit into this length of book". There's nothing at all wrong with that, but it's important to note that what happens in this book is very much a vehicle for showcasing that worldbuilding and the characters' emotional responses to their own world, and those expecting a more action-packed "time heist" are probably going to be disappointed (plenty of other media has you covered on that front). The Gemworld also feels very indifferent to the actual "system" of its gem magic, except in the ways that they intersect with the themes of the books themselves; in another author's hands, there could no doubt be doorstop trilogies written about owning and using gems and managing the risks associated with their powers (go read with Jade City if that's a thing you want), but the focus is instead on how gems work in the fabric of human civilisation, even in an age where they've been all but forgotten.

The Fire Opal Mechanism is an excellent, thought provoking read, which delivers impressively on complex themes and worldbuilding while still offering a satisfying "underdog vs. unambiguously negative societal forces" plot. The Jewel and her Lapidary was one of my favourite stories of its length in the year it came out and if anything this story is a step up. I hope this isn't the last we see of the Gemworld and its complex, evolving history - regardless of how the future treats it, this is a series that deserves to be high up in your memory, at least for next year's awards.

The Math

Baseline Score: 8/10

Bonuses: +1 Worldbuilding that works in time, space and subjectivity!

Penalties: -1 So much worldbuilding excellence it almost makes a time heist plot look boring...

Nerd Coefficient: 8/10

OSTED BY: Adri is a semi-aquatic migratory mammal most often found in the UK. She has many opinions about SFF books, and is also partial to gaming, baking, interacting with dogs, and Asian-style karaoke. Find her on Twitter at @adrijjy.

Reference: Wilde, Fran. The Fire Opal Mechanism [Tor.com Publishing, 2019].

Microreview [book]: Ninth Step Station by Malka Older, Fran Wilde, Jacqueline Koyanagi, and Curtis C. Chen

Suddenly Derailed

Tokyo is divided. In the (somewhat) near future, an war with China leaves Tokyo with a Chinese occupation and US-led military peacekeepers. The police force has to contend with both as they go about their duty of upholding the law. Ninth Step Station follows detective Miyako Koreda and her newly assigned peacekeeper partner Emma Higashi as they solve crimes, learn to deal with each other, and try to douse some of the fires that could result in a renewal of the war.

Ninth Step Station is a Serial Box product, which means I got to read the first 10 "episodes" which I assume comprise a season 1. Each episode is approximately novella size.

This format worked well for Ninth Step Station. With a limited number of authors, the deviations in voice and tone between each episode were pretty much non-existent. Every now and then, a character would do something a little out-of-line, but I was pleasantly surprised by how well each story flowed into the next. This is a police procedural, like Law & Order: SVU in a slightly futuristic Tokyo. Each episode follows a new case, but this isn't the kind of thing you could shuffle up and put into any order. Actions in previous stories have impacts later in the series, which is a nice touch. The stories themselves range from a really intriguing mysteries to a little plodding but not terrible.

Where they've nearly lost me, and it remains to be seen if I'm still in it, is the ending of the last episode. It's really not an ending at all. It's like they've built up to a crescendo and then stopped. I had to ask for confirmation that my copy wasn't missing some final chapter or epilogue. I was really put off by how it ends because it doesn't end anything, neither the novella episode nor the novel season. I want this series to continue, but I also expect some satisfying conclusion to the 10 episode season, and I didn't get that.

As with most serialized media, there's a chance this thing never sees a season two and this particular series will suffer badly for it. It stops mid-sentence (figuratively), and I'll be really unhappy if it doesn't continue. But the build up to that non-ending is totally enjoyable. It's an exciting, complex weaving of many strands of plots across personal and national conflicts.

---

The Math
 
Baseline Assessment: 8/10

Bonuses: +1 Chinese detectives Liu and Wong are perfectly crafted scumbags.

Penalties: -2 WHERE. WAS. THE. ENDING?

Nerd Coefficient: 7/10 (an enjoyable experience, but not without its flaws)

***

POSTED BY: brian, sci-fi/fantasy/video game dork and contributor since 2014

Reference: Older, Malka, Wilde, Fran, Koyanagi, Jacqueline, and Chen, Curtis C. Ninth Step Station (Serial Box, 2019)

Reading the Hugos: Short Story

Welcome back to Reading the Hugos: 2018 Edition! Today we're going to take a look at the six stories up for Best Short Story!

Even though the skill it takes to write an excellent short story does not necessarily translate exactly for the skill it takes to write an excellent novel, and short stories are by no means training grounds for novel writing, the short story category here is absolutely building a reading list of authors I want to read more from.

I'm already well familiar with Linda Nagata's recent near future military science fiction novels (The Red Trilogy, The Last Good Man), but this might be the first of her shorter works I encountered. Rebecca Roanhorse has received all the nominations for this story, but I'm also excited for her debut novel Trail of Lightning (really). I should really read more Ursula Vernon. You get the picture.

Rather than more babble, let's look at the stories.


“Carnival Nine,” by Caroline M. Yoachim (Beneath Ceaseless Skies, May 2017)
“Clearly Lettered in a Mostly Steady Hand,” by Fran Wilde (Uncanny, September 2017)
“Fandom for Robots,” by Vina Jie-Min Prasad (Uncanny, September/October 2017)
“The Martian Obelisk,” by Linda Nagata (Tor.com, July 19, 2017)
“Sun, Moon, Dust” by Ursula Vernon, (Uncanny, May/June 2017)
“Welcome to your Authentic Indian Experience™,” by Rebecca Roanhorse (Apex, August 2017)


"Clearly Lettered in a Mostly Steady Hand": For some reason, I have bounced off Fran Wilde's Hugo finalist stories. Last year was "The Jewel and Her Lapidary", which took two reads to even appreciate. This year "Clearly Lettered in a Mostly Steady Hand" is the story I struggled with most. It is a more of an art exhibit than it is a straight up story. You, the reader, are being led through a museum of atrocities but that perhaps the real atrocity is you, the reader.

"Clearly Lettered in a Mostly Steady Hand" becomes increasingly horrifying as the story goes on, and Wilde is very effective in delivering a disturbing experience for the reader. I appreciate what she is doing, but at the same time, it's not something I really appreciate in fiction, either.


Carnival Nine: More of a straight forward story than "Clearly Lettered", "Carnival Nine" is a story of family and sentient clockwork automatons whose lives are determined by the number of "turns" remaining in their main spring. It's a touching story of the sacrifices parents can make of their dreams for their children and how meaningful those sacrifices can become. Thinking about my own children, it isn't that my dreams are truly sacrificed, it's that my priorities have changed and so have some of my dreams. That's ultimately the story of "Carnival Nine", which is what the last line gets at. "My life had been different from the adventures I imagined as a child, but I made the most of the turns I was given, and that's all any of us can do."

I like what "Carnival Nine" is about, and I certainly appreciated it as a story more than "Clearly Lettered", but it still was not a favorite or something I expect to revisit any time soon.


"Fandom for Robots": So, the original sentient AI discovers fan fiction and gets involved in the fandom for the anime Hyperdimension Warp Record. On its surface, "Fandom for Robots" is exactly what it seems to be - an AI learning about fandom, about shipping characters, about writing fan fiction and commenting on other stories. But, I wonder, is there a point here where Prasad is also talking about how fanfiction gives a greater opportunity to marginalized people to see themselves in stories where they are otherwise excluded? Is Prasad telling a story about how fanfiction can build community and inclusion?

"Fandom for Robots" was a lot of fun to read, but it's a better story when I'm reading a bit deeper into what message may be baked into an otherwise basic story of an AI discovering fanfiction.


“Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience” is a complicated story that seems, on its surface, fairly simplistic. Jesse works for a virtual reality company that sells “authentic Indian experiences” for (generally white) tourists looking for their idea of “authentic Indian” rather than anything that might resemble the real thing, as if there were a singular real experience to be had anyway. So, the experiences are more cinematic and theatrical and pop cultural and anything that smacks too heavily of realism tends not to sell well to the public.

There is an interesting resignation to Jesse’s character. Some of his peers are angry and disgusted (while still accepting this is the job they need to do), but Jesse goes along fairly passively. I suspect there are multiple layers to this story that I’m unlikely to grasp, being a white male on the cusp of middle age, but from what I’m able to see the idea of cultural identity is being addressed in fairly original and important ways. Jesse’s identity seems tied up in the popular tropes of what an Indian is, while his wife recognizes that he is an Indian because he is, in fact, an Indian. Then, there’s the white man who may have some distant heritage seeming to come in and take everything away from Jesse, perhaps for not being “Indian enough”. I’m not sure if that’s a right reading of the story. “Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience” gets a bit weird the deeper it goes and Roanhorse examines the difference between Jesse and “White Wolf”.

The story is told in second person perspective, which puts me (if not the generic “reader”) in the position of wondering if maybe we’re also getting Jesse’s “Authentic Indian Experience” as much as we’re being told the story on the surface. “Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience” is an excellent story as also is the kind that puts the reader on notice that Rebecca Roanhorse is an author to watch out for.


"Sun, Moon, Dust": I am reminded how much I enjoy Ursula Vernon's short fiction. I should really make a point to reading more of it. "Sun, Moon, Dust" features a farmer given a magical / possessed sword by his warrior grandmother on her deathbed. The story I expected is that the farmer would take up the sword, embark on some quest, learn to be a warrior and standard fantasy tropes. That just seemed to be the set up Vernon was giving us, except everything about "Sun, Moon, Dust" is a subversion of that standard epic fantasy.

Sometimes a farmer just wants to be a farmer. Allpa, the farmer, knows who he is. He's not seduced by the sword's ideas of fame and valor and violence. Rather, it is his gentle humanity that gives a lesson to the spirits bound to the sword about who and what they may want to be. "Sun, Moon, Dust" is an absolute delight.


“The Martian Obelisk” is a bleak, bleak story that is ultimately about and laced with hope. This is what happens after the slow apocalypse, after the climate change and the rising seas and the wars and the viruses without cure. There are small pockets of humanity on Earth living in relative civilization because of proximity to particular cities that came through okay, but the inference is that most everyone else is not. There’s nothing left to do for the people who remain on Earth and the attempted colonies on Mars have all failed. Susannah has spent the last sixteen years of her life gradually (and remotely) building a monument on Mars, the titular obelisk.

What I most appreciate about "The Martian Obelisk" is that the story begins as a massive futile gesture of defiance into the void, but it ends with ultimately the smallest but most important of gestures of hope and kindness. It ends with the reaching out to help another, even at the cost of Susannah's dream of tilting at windmill with her obelisk. Nagata's story is powerful and moving.


My Vote:
1. The Martian Obelisk
2. Sun, Moon, Dust
3. Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience
4. Fandom for Robots
5. Carnival Nine
6. Clearly Lettered in a Mostly Steady Hand


Our Previous Coverage
Novel 
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POSTED BY: Joe Sherry - Co-editor of Nerds of a Feather, 2017 & 2018 Hugo Award Finalist for Best Fanzine. Minnesotan.

Reading the Hugos: Novelette

Welcome to another edition of Reading the Hugos! Today we're going to take a look at the Novelettes, a category which none of the stories I nominated made the final ballot. Of course, this is as good of a time as any to note that I only nominated one story (Matt Wallace's "Small Wars") and the odds were not in my favor.

I'll get a bit more into this when I talk about the specific story in question, but Novelette is the only category this year which includes a finalist from the Rabid Puppy Slate (see here for the slate and the impact) put there with the sole purpose of the slaters being dicks and attempting to embarrass Worldcon and people who care about the Hugo Awards. I almost described this as a "troll job", but the Rabid Puppies, but I didn't want to gild the lily. They're being dicks, and deliberately so. Most of the Rabid Puppy nominations were self serving: Castalia House works, authors, editors, blogs, and friends of the movement. Then, there are some works that could have (and perhaps would have) made the ballot without any help: China Mieville, Neil Gaiman, Deadpool. Finally, there is Alien Stripper Boned From Behind by the T-Rex, by Stix Hiscock - because the Rabid Puppies just can't have enough dinosaur porn when they decide to urinate in someone else's pool because they just can't let some things go.

Anyway, on to the stories!


Alien Stripper Boned From Behind By The T-Rex, by Stix Hiscock (self-published)
“The Art of Space Travel”, by Nina Allan (Tor.com, July 2016)
The Jewel and Her Lapidary, by Fran Wilde (Tor.com, May 2016)
“The Tomato Thief”, by Ursula Vernon (Apex Magazine, January 2016)
“Touring with the Alien”, by Carolyn Ives Gilman (Clarkesworld Magazine, April 2016)
“You’ll Surely Drown Here If You Stay”, by Alyssa Wong (Uncanny Magazine, May 2016)


Alien Stripper Boned From Behind By The T-Rex: It isn't quite fair to talk about Alien Stripper Bone From Behind by the T-Rex as to how it relates to a story on the Hugo ballot last year, but in this case I think it is pertinent. Last year the Rabid Puppies were were responsible for getting Chuck Tingle's Space Raptor Butt Invasion on the ballot in the Short Story category for no better reason than they wanted to embarrass the folks who care about the Hugo Awards by nominating science fiction dinosaur porn. It mostly backfired due to Chuck Tingle's delightful response and continued trolling of the Rabid Puppies (though the story remaining on the ballot will be a stain on the history of the Hugo Awards). So - they tried again this year with more science fiction dinosaur porn and once again managed to get it on the ballot. This isn't award worthy science fiction by anyone's definition. I could make an argument that in the other categories the Rabid Puppies managed to place a finalist, they do honestly think the work is strong and worthy, but given that they've repeatedly stated they don't care about the Hugo Awards, I know that's not necessarily the case. But this, this is another stain on the Hugo Awards because in twenty years when people who have no idea who the Rabid Puppies were or why they possibly mattered for a blip of time look at the past finalists to see what people thought were some of the best stories of 2016, "Alien Stripped Boned From Behind By The T-Rex" will be there. I don't know that it is bad story for the erotica it is intended to be. I'm not the audience for it, so I can't judge it on its own merits in its intended sphere. But as a science fiction story and a finalist for the Hugo Award? Sigh.

No Award: As a general rule, I use No Award in a very surgical manner. I understand that not every work is to my personal taste and that simply because I do not like something does not mean that it is inherently bad or unworthy of a Hugo Award. I may prefer that something else would win and that a particular work was not on the ballot, but again, that does make the work bad. Unfortunately, there are also instances where my subjective view is that the work is so bad that it is also objectively bad and unworthy of receiving (or being considered for) an award. There may also be examples of a work being so bad it comes out the other side and is somehow entertaining.  In both of these instances No Award will be used.

The Jewel and Her Lapidary: I had previously read The Jewel and Her Lapidary as part of my reading of all everything put out by Tor.com Publishing and, as short as this is, I put the book down after only a few pages. Nothing about the tone and the writing connected and it felt like a complete waste. Had I left it there, this would have been listed behind No Award. Given a second chance, I appreciated the story a whole lot more. I think my failed first attempt was a situation of picking up the book at the wrong time. This time was better, though not nearly on the level of any of the other legitimate finalists on this ballot. I don't quite understand the adulation for The Jewel and Her Lapidary.

Touring with the Alien: Want to take an alien on a road trip? How about an alien that is intelligent, but not conscious? How about with the alien's translator, who is human but is also almost a separate species? There's a lot of cool stuff in this story and it was a near thing whether I was going to place "Touring with the Alien" just above "The Tomato Thief" or just after. What I most appreciated about "Touring with the Alien" is how the alien was treated as something completely "alien", as something completely other an incomprehensible. It also helps that because of this, we are always left wondering if perhaps the aliens really is conscious and making more nefarious plans and is using humanity.

The Tomato Thief: The world needs far more Grandma Harken in it (she was also in "Jackalope Wives". "The Tomato Thief" lives on the voice and the character of Grandma Harken, a woman who has seen and done it all and she's had enough of whoever is stealing her tomatoes - except discovering the culprit opens up an entirely different adventure where Grandma Harken tries to improve someone else's situation. It's a journey through a fascinating mythology. Vernon's writing is so smooth and her command of Harken's voice is so strong that every moment spent with Harken is an absolute delight. I could have happily spent a full novella with Harken.

The Art of Space Travel: This is a story of family and history and one woman finally understanding who her father is. Some thirty years after a failed manned mission to Mars, a second mission is about to launch. Two of the astronauts are staying at the hotel Emily works at. The Mars mission is more of a framing device for the story, but it forms the a push for Emily to think more deeply about her family's past. Her mother was an investigator for the tragedy of the first mission and she wonders if her father might have been one of the astronauts who died. But, perhaps that is just the wish for one's father to be more important and to have had a better reason to have stayed away. "The Art of Space Travel" may be light on speculative elements, but it is a simply excellent story.

You'll Surely Drown Here If You Stay: With only nine published stories to her name I do not hesitate to say that Alyssa Wong is one of the best short story writers working today. "You'll Surely Drown Here If You Stay" puts a stamp on that burgeoning legacy. This is a story of the West, of the desert, of a deep friendship, of identity, of family, and of an intense magic that draws visitors from out of town with questionable intentions. With Wong's note perfect prose and storytelling, the reader is drawn in deep to this raw and tense story. This is the best story in an overall strong category.


My Ballot
1. You'll Surely Drown Here If You Stay
2. The Art of Space Travel
3. The Tomato Thief
4. Touring with the Alien
5. The Jewel and Her Lapidary
6. No Award


Our previous coverage:
Novella 
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POSTED BY: Joe Sherry - Co-editor of Nerds of a Feather, 2017 Hugo Award Finalist for Best Fanzine. Writer / Editor of the mostly defunct Adventures in Reading since 2004. Minnesotan.