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Paul Weimer Review: The Collected Stories of Roger Zelazny: The Road to Amber

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The Collected Stories of Roger Zelazny: Volume 6: The Road to Amber, Edited by David G. Grubbs, Christopher S. Kovacs and Ann Crimmins (NESFA, 2023)

Review by Paul Weimer: And so we come to the sixth and final volume of the NESFA Press collections of the works of Roger Zelazny. It is the end, but it has been prepared for, to quote the Fourth Doctor in Logopolis.

The amount of short fiction in these last years of Roger Zelazny is rather small. Both his health problems, and his focus on novels means that in terms of short fiction, this volume has the least of the six volumes in terms of short fictional material of the sort that has dominated the earlier volumes.

So let’s turn to that short fiction first. As the title, and people who know the bare outlines of Zelazny’s career can guess, this is the volume that collects all of the Amber short stories and other material that Zelazny wrote in and after the final Merlin novel of Amber. (There are a few other stories and works here as well, mind but Amber makes up more than half of the fiction in the book) Would these stories have been a springboard to a third series of Amber books? We’ll never know. Certainly, fan fiction writers and roleplayers (like myself) have used these stories as springboards and launching pads for roleplaying campaigns and other works. 

Are the stories of interest to a reader not steeped in Amber? Honestly (and I say this as someone who I think you all know is pretty in deep in this stuff), probably not.  The novels, as you know, feature Corwin (first series) and Merlin (second series) as singular points of view throughout their series. No breaking point of view, a strict close first person point of view. (In a way, the new enthusiasm for that in epic fantasy is, well, something Zelazny did decades ago)

These short stories break that convention. “The Salesman Tale” is from Luke’s perspective as he gets caught in Amber politics and makes a bargain with Vialle, Queen of Amber. “Blue Horse, Dancing Mountains” does return us to Corwin’s perspective, as he flees captivity in Chaos and gets mixed up in mysterious portents along the way. “The Shroudling and the Guisel returns us to Merlin’s perspective as he meets a childhood friend and deals with a extradimensional monster. “Coming to a Cord” is perhaps the most experimental of the lot, as it tells a story from the perspective of Merlin’s sapient artifact Frakir as they try to figure out mysterious events in the castle after being abandoned by Merlin.

 “Hall of Mirrors”, the last and final story, has Corwin and Luke team up in the titular portion of the Castle, with even more dire portents, and mixes in Flora (seen in Coming to a Cord) in the bargain. There is also a map, an unusual ficlet of Amber written in collaboration with Ed Greenwood, the unpublished prologue to Trumps of Doom (where Merlin walks the Logrus, and first gets the aforementioned Frakir), and an Amber questionnaire which answers some questions about the Amberverse. It’s a decent chunk of the book, but again, in the end, if you don’t know who Rilga’s three sons are (1), or know whose symbol is a lion rending a unicorn (2), then these stories and bits and bobs are, I am afraid, not going to be a hit for you. They don’t stand alone, and aren’t meant to stand alone. 

Fair enough. What else is here? More poetry (because the NESFA Press editors led by Kovacs have been so good as to sprinkle poetry from his entire career through the volumes). There are some interesting stories and curiosities as well. (Including an outline for what would become, with collaboration after his passing, the novel Donnerjack) 

Of particular interest may be the remainder of the Croyd Crenson Wildcard stories and matter that Zelazny did in his lifetime, completing the collection of that work began in volume five. We get the character outline, which has been invaluable for people using the character ever since (Croyd is very popular in the Wild Cards universe), and the stories “Concerto for Siren and Serotonin” and the final story he did for Croyd, “The Long Sleep”.

There is also a surprising amount of work around the story Godson, which is about the godson of Death, and his unusual power and abilities as a result. I would have thought that maybe Pratchett was inspired by Godson in the creation of Susan in the Discworld novels, but I learned after reading the Godson material that there is an old Grimm’s fairytale about Godfather Death that Zelazny and Pratchett are both borrowing from. In addition to the story Godson, here, there is also a play adaptation of the story here, complete.  The willingness of Zelazny to experiment and escape his own bounds by trying a play treatment of one of his stories just reinforces my conviction of his inventiveness and cleverness as a writer. 

One of Zelazny’s finest short stories, “The Three Descents of Jeremy Baker” feels like, upon rereading (I read it long ago but forgot most of the details), as it is an inspiration for a particular scene in Interstellar. The story, about the eponymous space traveler trapped near a black hole and his attempts to escape his fate, is funny, poignant and amusing. It also occurs to me that Baker’s final fate also might tie into an idea that Gene Wolfe used in one of his later novels. 

There is also the background and interstitial matter for Zelazny’s own attempt to do a shared world volume, Forever After. The conceit for Forever After is a good one–once the heroes have gathered all the magical geegaws, trinkets, tchotchkes and the like to defeat the Dark Lord (or Dark Lady, or Dark Being), what happens to them? Why are they found in such begotten places in the first place rather than gathered together? Zelazny’s idea is that having too many of the things in close proximity for too long turns out to be a bad thing. So, once the big bad is defeated, the magical artifacts have to be scattered all over again. And thus this anthology (which included David Drake, Jane Lindskold, Mike Stackpole and Robert Asprin) came to be. Zelazny provided the background and some interconnecting materials, the authors tells the story of the scattering of the artifacts again (and the consequences of doing so). It’s full of light fantasy humor (there is even a fight that is beat by beat a Three Stooges routine).  And the whole idea feels like a deconstruction of fantasy quest narratives that could be published today (Django Wexler’s How to be the Dark Lord and Die Trying feels resonant with Forever After)

And then there are the remembrances and elegies. I’ve not really talked about these much in length in the previous volumes, but it is here that they hit, and hard. In particular, I was moved by the aforementioned Jane Lindskold’s piece simply titled “Roger Zelanzy “, which tells the story of their relationship in Zelazny’s last years of his life. I found it elegiac, moving and beautiful. Gerald Hausman and Gardner Dozois also have remembrances in this volume as well. However, Lindskold’s feels far more personal and real, and vital, and perhaps essential. While reading remembrances and elegies is something I am not wont to linger over, this one, giving perspective to the end of Roger’s life from Lindskold’s perspective, is the exception that proves the rule for me.

 In some way, this volume, with those pieces, and the final pieces of Zelazny’s work, does make this volume both a wake and a celebration of life for Zelazny’s oeuvre. Certainly, the previous five volumes fit that role as well, but especially the early volumes felt more like an exploration of his earlier work, whereas where we come here, to the end of all things for Zelazny, it is a chance to read it to the end and think about, celebrate Zelazny’s work and his life, and mourn his too-early passing.

 This is where we think about Zelazny in the main, in the complete, in the whole. I’ve highly enjoyed this exploration of his oeuvre, from its passionate and wild beginnings, through his phases of work, and here to the end. The biographies, poems, interstitial matter, curiosities and more have kept the books fresh and interesting. These have been far from being a dogmatic “death march” through his work. The six NESFA Press volumes of the Collected Work of Roger Zelazny have been a joyous shadowshift, and sometimes a glorious hellride, through the multitudinous worlds of Zelazny’s work. The journey has been the destination, even as this volume evokes Nine Princes of Amber and Corwin and Random driving toward the city, worlds changing as they go.

So we come to the end of this book, and the six book series. (There is a seventh book that is strictly a bibliography, The Ides of Octember.) As for me on a personal note, now that I have completed the Zelazny NESFA Press volumes, I look to move on to another heart author with a sheaf of NESFA Press books, and another of my heart authors, Poul Anderson. 

So, to quote Corwin at the end of The Courts of Chaos:

“Hello, and goodbye, as always” 

Footnotes.

(1) Gerard, Caine and Julian

(2) Dalt, son of Deela and Oberon.  The character in my RPG scenarios and campaigns that players just love to hate.

Warner Holme Review: A Call to Cthulhu

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  • A Call to Cthulhu by Norm Konyu (Titan Nova, 2023)

By Warner Holme: This is an interesting spin on a few old pieces of art and artists that manages to entertain those who are either very and slightly familiar with the properties. It is a slim volume released by a comics publisher, though it is at least as much a picture book.

The basic narrative has the titular entity picking up his phone and getting verbally attacked with an entire narrative’s worth of earful about how the individual calling hates pretty much. Everything relating to Lovecraft and the fiction that the man produced. It does so step by step, not quite in order of writing but still burning up many of the man’s more famous works.

Almost all of the book is in verse, but the exceptions are rather notable. These include humorous quotations on the back from fictional creatures and individuals, as well as a full page biography of Lovecraft, quick summaries of a number of the man’s stories, and an even shorter piece on the author of this particular book.  They are all well written and work extremely well in context.

The book is told in carefully measured poetry of a sort that will be familiar to fans of Doctor Seuss. The rhyming scheme isn’t identical to that used by Theodor Geisel, but it is close enough to evoke him and that is a clear deliberate choice. Further while reminiscent in style, the content is obviously and noticeably different. This first becomes clear thanks to the simple subject matter however it continues on throughout in some detail with “You Suck Cthulhu!” on one of the last narrative pages.

The art, on the other hand doesn’t even begin to compare to that of the man, in no small part because the style is so radically different as to avoid comparison in the interest of accurate reporting. Instead it uses deep color contrast as much as shape to make the scenes and creatures stand out clearly on the page. Such contrasting images start on the cover where windows and stars are in white but the other imagery is in reds, blacks, grays and greens. The use of white as a contrast in particular is strong throughout with even the final page describing the notable flaws and influence of H.P. Lovecraft sporting a stylized portrait of him with pure white pupils and deliberate color runs and in a surprisingly accurate image relating to the man’s unfortunate weaknesses without breaking from the style.

And arguably, that’s a bit of a point. While Lovecraft was a deeply flawed human being even factoring in his times, the fact is that his work is hugely influential and known this volume illustrates the inescapability of the work of the man to fans of horror in particular and general fiction in general. For a small man who died young he had a long reach, and a late one.

Lovecraft fans are sure to enjoy this comic particularly, if they understand the man in question had flaws. While formatted like a children’s book in many ways. It’s not really recommended for the youngest and indeed, even if it wouldn’t offend, many of the elements would be less likely to entertain until one reaches an older and more experienced mindset.

Michaele Jordan Review: Orlando, a Biography

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By Michaele Jordan: Ready for a Blast from the Past?

Try Orlando, a Biography by Virginia Woolf.

I suppose I should admit up front that I didn’t care much for this book. But many of you might. The subject matter is provocative, the issue still timely, despite a 1928 publication date, and Ms. Woolf is  a truly splendid writer. Her descriptions in the lyrical passages take ones breath away.  Orlando, a Biography, by Virginia Woolf begins, appropriately, in about 1560 (No date is given – at least one commentator places the date as late as 1588.)

Why, appropriately?  At that time, Queen Elizabeth I, was also suffering gender issues. She was only the second English queen to rule in her own right, and her half sister Mary had not fared well in the job. She was always seen as a woman doing a man’s job, and felt a need to avoid the traditional definitions of a woman’s role: marriage and motherhood. Although the queen would never marry, lest a husband subvert her power, she took a great interest in handsome young men. This we know.

The book opens with the young Orlando throwing on some fresh clothes and tearing down the steps to serve the visiting queen. He kneels before her, bowing his head and offering her a bowl of rose water. 

It’s an odd moment, as neither can see the other’s face, and yet the meeting is all about her appreciation of his personal beauty. (There are also, not one but two, startling references to the queen’s yellow eyes — yellow eyes? Ms. Woolf usually keeps close to the known facts, but portraits and letters alike assure us the queen had dark eyes.) The queen is charmed, brings him to court, and showers him with gifts and honors. But when she spots him kissing a pretty girl in the corridor, she dismisses him from her service.

He remained in or near London until 1607, when a great carnival, or Frost Fair, was held on (not over, or next to, but on top of) the Thames, which was frozen to a depth of twenty feet. King James (who paid for the carnival as a public service) stepped out to see the porpoise frozen deep under the surface.

Orlando was there. And so was the ship which had transported the Russian diplomatic team, including the Russian princess, Sasha. Orlando saw the lady skating toward him across the ice, and lost his heart on the spot.

Sasha spoke no English, and Orlando no Russian, so they conversed in that most romantic of tongues: French. Soon they were madly in love, and planning to elope.

Orlando was so nervous and eager that he arrived for the rendezvous more than an hour early. He paced and fretted and, when midnight finally came, he counted each stroke of the church bell. And then it was midnight, and she had not come. He continued to wait for hours in the cold, pouring rain. The next day he saw that the ice had broken and the Russian ship had sailed.

He fled London and went home. What else could he do? He fell into bed and slept – deeply, as if in a coma – for a week.

 He lay as if in a trance, without perceptible breathing; and though dogs were set to bark under his window; cymbals, drums, bones beaten perpetually in his room; a gorse bush put under his pillow; and mustard plasters applied to his feet, still he did not wake, take food, or show any sign of life for seven whole days. On the seventh day he woke at his usual time . . . he showed no consciousness of any such trance, but dressed himself and sent for his horse . . . Yet some change, it was suspected, must have taken place [for] . . . he appeared to have an imperfect recollection of his past life . . . Had Orlando, worn out by the extremity of his suffering, died for a week, and then come to life again?

Many commentators assure us that at this point he was changed to a woman, but you will note that the text does not say so. (Just the opposite – that revelation remains a long way off.) His pronouns remained masculine. Whatever their gender, Orlando never made any comment on the change, and neither did anyone else; instead he remained in seclusion, wandering the corridors at night, bewailing the treachery of women and scaring the servants. 

So it was, and Orlando would sit by himself, reading, a naked man.

He read a lot – but then he always did.  He returned to his writing.  He had drawers and drawers full of his manuscripts. But his only work which seemed to matter to him was a poem he wrote in his boyhood, The Oak Tree. He invited writers to his home, and established writing circles. The writers he cultivated – and even gave pensions – took his money and badmouthed him, not just behind his back but in public print. Everything he touched turned to sludge.

Thus, at the age of thirty, or thereabouts, this young Nobleman had not only had every experience that life has to offer, but had seen the worthlessness of them all. Love and ambition, women and poets were all equally vain. Literature was a farce. The night after reading Greene’s Visit to a Nobleman in the Country, he burnt in a great conflagration fifty-seven poetical works, only retaining ‘The Oak Tree’, which was his boyish dream and very short.

Thirty? Assuming that he was in his teens when he first met the elderly queen (and so born around 1545), then he should have been in his sixties or at least his fifties if we go with later opening date. I’m guessing that it was not an error on Ms. Woolf’s part, but a reference to his failure to age.

He remained at home for some while, and come June, became enraptured with nature (as, I suspect, was Ms. Woolf, for she rhapsodizes at considerable length. She also includes extensive philosophical musings.)

King Charles (presumably the 2nd, as the first was executed) then appointed Orlando Ambassador to Constantinople. This was an indisputably male role, indicating that whatever their true gender, Orlando was publicly presenting as a man. While in Constantinople, he occasionally had women hauled up on a rope to his balcony window. He was awarded a Dukedom.

It is only now, at this late date that it is acknowledged what everybody has been waiting for. Orlando fell back into a coma – just as the Turks rebelled against the Sultan, and set the town on fire. There is a bizarre little scene of various feminine muses, prancing around and proclaiming that truth must be silenced.

The trumpeters, ranging themselves side by side in order, blow one terrific blast:– ‘THE TRUTH! at which Orlando woke. He stretched himself. He rose. He stood upright in complete nakedness before us, and while the trumpets pealed Truth! Truth! Truth! we have no choice left but confess–he was a woman.

For awhile, Orlando assumed feminine pronouns, and went to live with a band of Romani who declared her one of them, and taught her stealing and cheese-making. She went back to reveling in the beauty of nature, despite the disapproval of the Romani. Nor were they impressed by descriptions of her mansion back in England. She experienced a vision of green lawns, and decided to go home.

She put on women’s clothes, and wondered if it would be possible to swim in them. And began to chafe under the restrictions that bound women. And discovered she was still attracted to them. She started at the courtesies men offered her, but came to accept the attentions of the ship’s Captain. Once home she discovered she was party to numerous law suits.

The chief charges against her were (1) that she was dead, and therefore could not hold any property whatsoever; (2) that she was a woman, which amounts to much the same thing; (3) that she was an English Duke who had married one Rosina Pepita, a dancer; and had had by her three sons, which sons now declaring that their father was deceased, claimed that all his property descended to them. Such grave charges as these would, of course, take time and money to dispose of.

But her household – servants and animals alike – knew her and welcomed her home. She went back to her writing. The Archduchess from her past reappeared to her considerable annoyance.,ith the salver, and behold–in her place stood a tall gentleman in black. A heap of clothes lay in the fender. She was alone with a man.

Now, that I didn’t see coming. The Archduchess, or rather the Archduke, declared passionate love, claiming that he had been posing as a woman for years to get closer to Orlando, and begged her to run away with him to Romania. She was not impressed, and went to considerable pains (including dropping dead insects into his tea) to dissuade him.

What’s the good of being a fine young woman in the prime of life’, she asked, ‘if I have to pass all my mornings watching blue-bottles with an Archduke?’

He had barely departed – with promises to return – before she called a coach and set off to London, where she discovered that high society is boring.  So she tried to write some poetry, but spilled ink all over it. Then she found herself noticing people’s wedding rings. It seemed as if everyone else in the world was mated. She went for a walk. And walked and walked, until she tripped and fell.

A man, a Sea Captain on horseback appeared to assist her and within minutes they were engaged. He recognized her as a man, (although the courts had declared her female, unable to own property). She recognized him as a woman, for no clear reason. They married, (later it is mentioned she had a child) and he sailed off to the Horn. She discovered bookstores. Wandering around the city, she bumped into old acquaintances including that long lost first love, Sasha, now rich and fat. (No comment is made that she must have been as old as Orlando.)

So she went home – she was always going home, she was bound to the place. She was surrounded by swirling memories. And, once more she heard the bells toll midnight.

At this point, I should conclude with some remarks about what all this meant. But that seems so unnecessary. Perhaps back in 1928, when this book was written, the statement that a woman could do pretty much anything a man could do may have been startling, questionable. But not today.

And then there’s the movie. Although I am admirer of Tilda Swinton’s work, I found her utterly unconvincing as a man. The movie attempts to stick to the book, pecking at various incidents from the text, but cannot do justice to any of them within the minimal amount of time available. (The book is 300 pages long; the movie, 94 minutes). Plus, the movie was made in 1992, and, since Orlando is essentially immortal, it could not stop at 1928.  So World War II is squeezed in before the end, which included a tender lovers-in-bed scene, followed somewhat later by Orlando driving a motorbike with a child in a sidecar. I said above that I didn’t care for the book, but even so I gave it credit for excellent writing, and a solid point. The movie, however, was just plain stupid (in my not-in-the-least-bit-humble opinion).

Jennifer Stevenson Review: One Level Down

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  • One Level Down by Mary G. Thompson (Tachyon Press,  2025)

By Jennifer Stevenson: This I also swallowed at a sitting. It’s about women, it ends well, and it is science fiction, I guess, if stories about multiverses created by immense computers and about the computerized copies of humans who live in them are science fiction.

One Level Down set me off on a long train of thought about the difference between science fiction’s exploration of multiverse artifacts and the people who prefer to live in them, and the primordial soup of universes, or planes, as medieval and Victorian occult thinkers referred to them.

A major difference between these two sorts of universes is that the science fictional multiverses are man-made and man-managed for the profit of corporate interests and are, to all intents and purposes, “all in your head.” In Thompson’s story, the characters have chosen to feel pain but to be forever young and healthy, to feel hunger and practice agriculture but not to require food. Travel between multiverses is a matter of technology, a process discovered by humans in the late 20th Century whose discovery implies that our own universe, which we have taken for reality, whatever that is, is also constructed, artificial, mutable in many heretofore impossible ways, and far from singular.

The scientia of the medievals had a divine Designer who was not (in theory) focused on profits. Manifested by all nature, scientia was a seamless amalgam of all branches of human knowledge, interconnectedness, awareness, virtue, and love. Note the addition of moral components. The Victorians added a denser, secular overlay of Jewish mysticism, which focused on the exploitation of the five senses and their replication at higher and higher planes of energy, emotion, thought, and spirituality for the benefit of travelers between universes, or planes of creation. The Victorian and medieval alike required the traveler to attain mental clarity, sharp focus, firmness of purpose, and purity of intention before attempting travel between universes.

The primordial soup at its highest level, in Jewish mysticism, is a chaotic jumble of all forms, patterns, shapes, particles, waves; there is no time. Time is constructed as soon as we have bodies which have needs that expect effect to follow cause, and senses that irrevocably slice our perception into narrow layers of vibration: sight, sound, smell, taste, touch. The soup is everywhere, nor do we ever leave it. Even if we can become aware of all the soup, we perceive it, that is, organize it, in layers that correspond to our senses. The rest is outside our reality. That’s the point of having bodies. From the perspective of that soup, our bodies are a thought experiment in dissecting the soup into bits that will fit on a slide under a microscope.

Thompson’s heroine Ella has been physically arrested at five years old, but mentally she is 58. Her father, who signed the original contract with the corporation that owns the planet and the universe in which everyone around her lives, is a batshit megalomaniac. She likes some of the other people in their frontier community, but she wants out. As she learns about the version of herself who predated her – Daddy’s real daughter, who died at five when the colonists first arrived on this colony – and the fates of Daddy’s first and second wives, Ella discovers how fine are the splits between dead real Ella, herself (real Ella’s virtual copy), an Ella who escapes the colony and Daddy’s oppressive parenting, and an Ella who is re-downloaded as an offering to Daddy so that he’ll soften his tyranny over the other colonists and allow their virtual bodies to become pregnant with their own virtual children.

What is real? If we can create virtual copies of real people, then it follows that we also are on some level simulations, working out vast thought experiments to benefit the curiosity of unthinkable powers.

Thompson doesn’t go so far as to postulate those unthinkable powers. She leaves us somewhere in the middle, facing the choices we make: to do away with disease but keep pain, to live forever but be subject to deletion by system operators at higher levels, to live in a universe that’s a war game, or where the rivers flow with chocolate, or where we could do away with death and want only we don’t.

This is not where the science fiction of my youth would leave the reader. Those heroes would get into a teeny spaceship and, like Spock firing himself through that immense vaginal doorway to the point of origin, wrest the secrets of everything from the beyond. That stuff frankly bores me.

Thompson keeps the reader here, where we make the smaller choices that lead us down ever-bifurcating trousers of time. And like a good medieval scientist, she keeps our eye on the moral component.

Jennifer Stevenson’s Trash Sex Magic was shortlisted for the Locus First Fantasy Novel Award and longlisted for the Nebula two years running. Try her romantic fantasy series Hinky Chicago, which is up to five novels, her paranormal romances Slacker Demons, which are about retired deities who find work as incubi, or her paranormal women’s fiction series Coed Demon Sluts, about women solving life’s ordinary problems by becoming succubi. She has published more than 20 short stories.

Find Jennifer at the Book View Cafe blog, at the second row at fast roller derby bouts in Chicago, or on Facebook.

Paul Weimer Review: Written on the Dark

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  • Written on the Dark by Guy Gavriel Kay (Ace. To be released May 27, 2025.)

By Paul Weimer: Thierry Villar is a tavern poet, a writer of verse in dark inns and taverns, and is almost notorious within that sphere. So he is surprised when he is called to help gather information for the murder of a noble. What business is that of him? That’s not the circles he inhabits or frequents. And yet, the choice of Thierry and his immersion into worlds and with characters he might not have otherwise ever met hangs the fate of a King, a Queen, and a nation.

Such is the story of Guy Gavriel Kay’s Written on the Dark.

The novel is set in Ferrieres, in the “Two Moons” verse that many of his novels are set in, particularly lately (the duology based on Medieval China seems to be the only exceptions in recent years). Although he does not use a specific set of dating in his works, they do fall into a chronology that one can follow based on world events, and, also, the analogues and rhyming the events in the Two Moons verse has with our own world. With that in mind, Written on the Dark takes place roughly between A Brightness Long Ago and Children of Earth and Sky. The great city of Sarantium in the east has not yet fallen to the Osmali (although that does happen in the denouement of the book as we learn the final fate of characters). Batiara is still the Renaissance Italy analogue that we know from those two books–the scheming mercantile power of Seressa, the holy city of Rhodias, and many more.

But Written on the Dark switches the setting entirely. The novel is set in Ferrieres, which might be usefully compared to a 15th century French analogue. (A France that, importantly, has not yet absorbed its Burgundy-analogue.) Theirry lives in the city of Orane, roughly analogous to our Paris, with correspondences in geography and culture. There is even a huge holy sanctuary that is analogous to our own Notre Dame. But the genius of Kay’s writing is the rhyming and allusion and reflection on our history, rather than simple substitution.  Thierry gets wrapped up in the murder of a noble, and soon goes from tavern poetry to being witness and participant in an incipient civil war, as an ambitious noble wants to take the throne for himself from a King who is certifiably mad.

And did I mention that a peasant girl in the countryside dresses in armor and claims to have visions and a mission from Jad (God)? Oh, and that Ferrieres is being invaded by its neighbor from across a sea channel.

So you can see the historical furniture of what Kay borrows in this novel and remakes to his own purposes. Since the sequence of novels that began with The Lions of Al-Rassan, this has been the template and model and methodology that Kay has employed. Use these building blocks, turn twists and variations on the historical theme, and set loose his main character and those they encounter within it. There is a real sense, as always of the historical perspective, both on the personal and on the societal level.

There is a fillip to Kay’s writing that he employs numerous times, enough that you start watching for it.  It’s a brief pull back from the close third person into a no longer time bound omniscient third, as he relates what the effect of a seemingly small choice by the character will have on the years and decades of their life. We get that brief “zoom” of their fate, usually contained in less than a paragraph, spooling out a life in a brief moment, before returning to the main narrative. It helps show the warp and the weft of history in his novel, and it shows that history is the sum total of these smaller histories.  And he does it at the macro level when we see things from the past coming back to life. It’s clear to me that Kay was and is moved by the mosaics of Ravenna, the analogue of that mosaicist and his creation is detailed in The Sarantine Mosaic novels. And yet, this is yet another novel set in this world where a character encounters them, and is moved by them.

But let’s go back to Thierry Villar. Kay’s model for him is the medieval French poet François Villon. Villon for the uninitiated was a raconteur of a poet. Villon had lots of criminal connections, was involved with the underworld of Paris, got involved in a couple of robberies, published poetry, and eventually disappeared. His ultimate fate is unknown.  In the world of the Two Moons, Thierry is a tavern poet, a poet of the people, just like Vlllon in our own world. Like many other Kay novels, a very unlikely protagonist and main point of view, but that’s part of the genius of Kay’s work and writing.

 It is from this small acorn, to investigate what people that have seen of the murder of a Duke on the streets of Orane, that Thierry is swept up in intrigues and adventures. We learn much more about him and the current situation, the fact that his stepfather is in the church, that word of his poetry has reached noble courts, and the ears of those who apparently have supernatural powers (or do they?) As matters progress, we get a window into the true situation facing Ferrieres as a kingdom, and what role Thierry might play in it. Kay seems fascinated and loves to use these small moves, these small turns to divert mighty rivers of history. Kay’s history is not of how the great leader fought the great battle to do the Great thing, it is instead the small choice made by the leader three days before that, unbeknownst to anyone, turns the fate of the world. So, too, Thierry, caught up in the murder investigation, by chance, by a miracle of Jad¹, or the pen of the author, winds up influencing history, without realizing that is going to happen. But we, the reader, and Kay the author is very concerned about it and likes to show it.

I happened to read this book at the same time that I was listening to an audiobook of a Will Durant history, specifically as I was reading this the history of the era of Louis XIV, although not too long ago I had read earlier books that cover the historical analogues to Kay’s secondary world fantasy verse. I was struck time and again as I was listening to Stefan Rudnicki, the narrator, spill out Durant’s prose, that when Kay pulls from describing actual action and goes philosophical and reflective, as he did in the quoted section above, there is a resonance, a harmony between Kay’s reflection upon the history of his secondary world, and how it resonances back on our own world’s history.  One might almost want to say that the Two Moons verse is the Sun, and our World and its history is the moon, but in the multiverse of Kay’s work, both our world and the world of the Two Moons, are but shadows of another.²

That tiny fragment of the book, though, just shows one of the other reasons to read Kay’s work. The histographic nature of the text, the warp and weft of characters, the immersive nature of the Two Moons verse are all there and already seen. But it is his presentation, production and his language that is the real secret sauce to his writing, and what elevates it from merely excellent secondary world fantasy with only the bare hints of magic (again, lots of magic is a province of Fionavar, not here) It’s his prose.  (There are also some bits of poetry here, just like he did with the Under Heaven duology, but it is more European-style poetry).  Kay’s prose is transportative, be it describing Thierry trying to get information, or a deadly confrontation in a tavern, or his philosophical musings, Guy Gavriel Kay’s word choice and style are some of the best of any writer I’ve read, in any genre. I know of readers who wish writers to aim for styless prose, just to convey the ideas of the work. This is not that. Kay’s word choice and full investment in his world, characters, philosophy and story shine with a distinct voice that I find immensely readable, thoughtful and engaging. I loved to follow the adventures of Thierry, got a crush on the noblewoman poet Marina, and although I understood his motivations to begin with, I developed an irrational hatred of the antagonist, especially when he decided to cross a moral line for me. Kay doesn’t write simple and uncomplicated people, people are a mess of contradictions, and none are all good or all bad, and that prose makes it clear. Even the antagonist is given his due.

And it would behoove you, to give Kay his due, and if these words have moved you so, to give Written on the Dark a try. To your library, bookstore, website, do not tarry, but fly!

¹ For those uninitiated, Kay’s Two Moons world has rough analogues to Christianity (Worship of Jad, the Sun), Islam (Worship of the Stars, the Asharites) and Judaism (Worship of the Moons. The Kindath). They get along as well as they did in our own world and history.

² For those unfamiliar with Kay’s work, the world of Fionavar is the One True World of which all others are but shadows. Although he hasn’t done it recently, in some of his earlier works, he has made references and allusions to Fionavar. It’s his Amber, but he’s told that story and, instead, is much more concerned with other worlds instead.

Warner Holme Review: The One Ring: Moria: Through the Doors of Durin

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  • The One Ring: Moria: Through the Doors of Durin (Free League, 2024)

By Warner Holme: The One Ring: Moria: Through the Doors of Durin is a source book for the role playing game based on the work of Tolkien. Like others, it takes certain liberties, albeit in expansion terms rather than deviation. It is also a wealth of art and writing simply for a fan of the setting or fantasy in general.

Much of the book is devoted to a detailed description of the mountains and mines of Moria. This includes not only interior tunnels and chambers, and the terrain which they are underneath, but also the groups and individuals inhibiting these or vying for power over them. It is a large assortment and includes a variety of characters mentioned in the classic works as well as new individuals extrapolating from fleeting mentions. The descriptions of the internals of the mountains and mines are similarly fleshed out, explaining locations seen and going into more detail about ones which would have been assumed. 

There is material included which Tolkien probably wouldn’t have written himself, though it even feels fairly reverent.

One interesting aspect of this particular book comes from the assumption of familiarity. That is to say that the creative team is aware people playing might, and frankly most likely will, be familiar with certain twists like the meaning of the riddle at the doors and the nature of Durin’s Bane. While it treats them as their traditional nature throughout the book, it reserves some space to allow these to be changed if it is considered more entertaining (page 149 for the doors and page 62 for Durin’s Bane).

As an art book this is not the best volume one could get from Free League’s The One Ring series, but it is a good one. One of the chief flaws comes from the simple fact that page for page it has less of the large two-page color pieces that divide sections which the others sported. That said, the ones which are present are still most definitely beautiful. An evocative gloomy look at the doors in one frame to a stark and the illustration of the Balrog roaming in another both suit the book well. The latter even manages to do a decent job of keeping the wing question at least a little ambiguous, a nice Easter egg alone.

At the same time, the illustrations both major and minor continue contributing to the book as a beautiful and entertaining volume while not feeling overly reliant on the style of the films by Peter Jackson. Indeed the color and black and white illustrations of Durin’s Bane sport no resemblance to the version from the films which wouldn’t be acquired from the words of the original author. It is similar for most, if not all, of the other shared characters and places. Given the long arm those movies have had, any new interpretation separate from them is a greatly appreciated addition.

For fans of the game, this one cannot be missed. It is bursting with content that can expand on existing material, and in the process allows those involved access to a piece of the setting they have desired for some time. For non-gamers it is one of the higher interest books as well, including a lot new and wonderful art, some impressive expansions on classic Middle-Earth material, and clever thoughts on and categorization of earlier material.

Lis Carey Review: When the Moon Hits Your Eye

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  • When the Moon Hits Your Eye by John Scalzi (Tor Publishing Group, March 2025)

By Lis Carey: One fine day, when NASA is in preparing for early tests of the new moon lander for the Diana missions to return to the Moon, the NASA director gets word of an emergency with the lunar samples brought back from the Apollo missions.

Have they been stolen? No. Have they been destroyed? Not exactly.

They’ve turned to cheese.

The Moon itself, right now at quarter phase, is also looking mighty strange, with a much higher albedo than the gray, rocky world should have. Almost as if…it’s also now made of cheese.

It’s also quickly determined to be larger, at least in diameter. Large enough that even with the lower density of cheese, it’s still the same mass. So, no immediate disruptive effects on Earth, as tides and other effects remain unchanged. Although, the upcoming annular eclipse of the Sun will now be a total eclipse of the Sun.

Over the next month, we follow a variety of small groups, reacting to and coping with the sudden and inexplicable change in their own ways. 

NASA has to decide what to do about the test flight of the new Mars lander. Should the unmanned flight go all the way to the Moon and return, as planned, or only to low Earth orbit, instead?

The billionaire whose company designed and built the new Moon lander decides to exploit the confusion to fulfill his own lifetime dream. (Jody Bannon is not Musk; we know he’s not Musk because he hates Musk and Bezos both.)

A science writer whose first book has, well, flopped, is looking for a chance to recover from that, writes a book about the sudden change in the Moon and its possible scientific impact.

A minister at a small Evangelical church in the Midwest has to guide his flock through what this means for their faith–and reaches into unsuspected depths in himself.

Two rival cheese shops in Madison, Wisconsin, find themselves confronting, together, a mob that tips from shouting their confusion, fear, and anger at the Moon, to turning it on a more accessible form of cheese.

A variety of small stories, some funny, some charming, play out over the next month.

It’s a good little book, not up there with Scalzi’s best, but an enjoyable read nevertheless.

Paul Weimer Review: The River Has Roots

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  • The River Has Roots by Amal El-Mohtar (Macmillian Audio, 2025)

By Paul Weimer: Two sisters, Esther and Ysabel, the Hawthorns, devoted toward each other, living on the borderland of faerie. A love story, not so much as between Esther and her lover from faerie, but a love story of sisters whose bond cannot be denied. A retelling of a murder ballad, and rich and resonant resonances to stories of Faerie.

This is the story of The River Has Roots, by Amal El-Mohtar.

El-Mohtar has written shorter fiction pieces alone, before, and of course, who of us has not read, or at least heard of her collaboration with Max Gladstone, How to Lose the Time War. The River Has Roots is not an overly long work, it’s in the middle of the novella size. It’s so short that to justify the audiobook, the audiobook of The River Has Roots includes an unrelated story, “John Hollowback and the Witch,” which takes about an hour of the audiobook, which makes it 4 hours long in total.

It’s the audiobook of the book that I read, and I want to look at this as an audiobook first. As I already said, it is short, aurally as well as physically, which makes it a self-contained and densely rich story.  The audiobook is listed on Audible as a “Macmillian Audio production” and that’s true, this is not just an audiobook read by Gem Carmella.  As per the Audible page. “This program features music performed by the author and her sister, Dounya El-Mohtar with Amal and Dounya on harp, flute, and vocals; and songs sung by the narrator, Gem Carmella.”

So is it really an audiobook, or is it a production of the book? And is there a difference between the two that is meaningful?

Author Amal El-Mohtar. Photo by Chris Barkley

The actual text of the book does have excerpts from songs and music is an essential part of Esther and Ysabel’s story. So that is in the work itself. But the production as noted above includes music and the actual songs are sung by Amal herself. (Carmella does a really great job but Amal’s and Dounya’s musical singing voice is something else entirely, almost more faerie-like). In any event, the book is a transportative and immersive audio experience that helped me get through an otherwise dull and uninteresting drive across the Great Plains recently. When the road is endless and the landscape is utterly flat, listening to this audiobook was a certain cure from driving boredom and I was engaged and interested throughout.

But why do it that way?  Why not just read it as an audiobook? Besides the fact that they could, given Amal and Dounya’s musical ability, I think it is as an alternative to what the book has that the audiobook cannot have and that is the drawings and art in the book. The hardcover and ebooks have drawings and art throughout the book. Some of it is background and merely illustrative, some of it is distinctly plot related, such as a plot-important knot. The physical book is beautiful and that is something that audiobooks often lack (although there is no map in this one, the lack of a map also hurts audiobooks).

In the end, it’s a fair trade what they’ve done, to provide a different sort of wonder and magic in the audiobook as opposed to the print edition So, choose the print edition and get the art, or choose the audio edition, and get the singing and musical layering that makes it more than just a plain audiobook.  But of course, caveat emptor. If you prefer your audiobooks to be straight up readings from one author and hate full cast productions and audio dramas, then you are probably far better off with the print edition. Even aside from the songs and recitations, there is a fair amount of the use of that music to help set mood and setting throughout the book.

But what’s here? The story of Esther and Ysabel takes place in the village of Thistleford, on the banks of the river Liss. The river Liss flows out of the land of faerie (here called Arcadia) into the real world. And so magic. Grammar, flows out of faerie as well.  Drinking or immersing yourself in the river upstream of Thistleford in the direction of Arcadia upstream of two particular Willows is a very bad idea, it will inevitably change and warp you. But the power of Grammar is what helps bring the fortune of Thistleford as well.

So Thistleford is on the borders of Faerie, and those are always the most interesting of places, on the edge of the known and unknown, on the edges of the defined and undefined.  Borderlands are where interesting stories can happen, mixing magic and the mundane, the amorphous and the solidly real. The Modal Lands are a shifting, tricky place where you just might meet a powerful being of Faerie and fall into a love story (and a queer one at that).

Or fall into a murder ballad.

Ysabel, the younger sister, has a particular love for murder ballads, and while it is Esther who falls in love with a being of faerie (and vice versa) and precipitates the action, it is Ysabel’s love of murder ballads that is a seed that bears dark fruit further down in the story. For it turns out that this story is itself also a murder ballad, based on a real-life one, the “Bonny Swans” (or “The Two Sisters”).¹  The author removes the sisterly rivalry out of the ballad and transfers the murder to a different party entirely, and adds the faerie lover in the bargain. As a result, El-Mohtar changes this from a murder ballad of a jealousy between two sisters that ends in murder, into a love story between the two sisters that survives even death.²

There are other resonances as well. As is perhaps obligatory for any story involving lovers and faerie there is an element of Tam Lin here, as well. Readers who enjoyed the poetic nature of This is How You Lose the Time War will find a lot to love here in Esther’s story, even beyond the songs themselves.

The language is transformative and immersive (anyone who has read El-Mohtar’s short fiction will see that coming and yes, it works at longer lengths, solo). The bond between the two sisters and the world of Thistleford are depicted in a painterly style, after all, this is a place right on the border of faerie. It does seem to be in our real world, there are references to places like London, but the actual time frame is unclear. It might be that it takes place in the 17th or 18th century, as when the murder ballad in its modern conception was first written down.³  

As far as Arcadia, faerie itself, as always, less is more. How do you describe faerie itself, where reality and what one can count on can change at a moment’s notice? The amount of the story there is brief, like a very sweet bit of candle having too much faerie can be indigestible after a while. But the danger and perils of going past the modal lands and into Faerie are well known. Even at a young age, Ysabel and Esther are very genre-aware and know the dangers of the river, much less actually going into Arcadia itself.

But you, reader, should you spend 3 hours of your listening time (at least in the outside world) listening to this story? If you like Murder Ballads, or stories in the Borderland of Faerie, or want to be enchanted with the lovely immersive language that the author brings here, and if you not only tolerate but like productions of audiobooks that go beyond the straight-up reading of the book, then yes, go and journey to Thistleford and meet the Hawthorn sisters.

Just don’t drink the water upstream of the two trees.⁴

¹ The Lorenna McKennitt Song “The Bonny Swans” pretty much gives you the original murder ballad.

² Maybe there is something in the water, because Lucy Holland’s recent novel, Sistersong, also uses “The Bonny Swans” as inspiration for characters and plot.

³ Thistleford feels a lot like a certain village in a certain book in that regard that I will not name but involves a Wall instead of two trees marking the border to another land entirely. It exists in our world but has a half foot in the other, and you can go there, and cross beyond, if you dare and find out how.

⁴ And that reminds me of the Spring of Hippocrene in John Myers Myers’ Silverlock, which can transform you into a poet, a creator…but no, the water of the Liss upstream of the Two Trees is to be absolutely avoided.

Valentin D. Ivanov Reviews Books From Bulgarian Writers

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By Valentin D. Ivanov: And now for something completely different: Books from Bulgarian writers.

1. The possibility of a symbol: Surmounting the Carpathian Mountains, a novel by Georgi Tsvetkov, Publisher Erove, Sofia, 2024; cover Viktoria Videvska

This is a book for the lovers of Michel Houellebecq and Christopher Priest. Think of The Possibility of an Island or The Separation; and there is more than a touch of the narcotic delirium, so typical for Phillip K. Dick’s life and work.

What is this book about?

This is the most difficult question to answer. It starts as a story about freedom. A Hungarian officer, Lajos (names after the real life Lajos Kossuth), comes back from the New World to meet the Coburg – a thinly veiled figure that can be associated with the first post-independence Bulgarian king, a Saxe-Coburg-Gotha by origin (yes, he was appointed a king after a proper job search by the Parliament, for the lack of native Bulgarian nobility, exterminated during the five centuries of Turkish/Ottoman occupation). Lajos seeks military assistance to free his beloved Hungary from the Austrian rule.

This is where the interesting and unexpected part begins.

We discover that in mid-nineteenth century the oceans have risen, a large fraction of the dry land has sunk, and the European continent is cut with water ways – channels. There is no explanation why this happened, but the freedom-related symbols step back and symbols of ecological disasters step forward.

However, this is only temporary, another swift turn is awaiting the readers: the officers raiding these submarines, and pretty much every member of the dwindling European population take abundant daily doses of hemlock (yes, Socrates is mentioned) with devastating consequences.

Along the way we discover that the old continent has become a home of many Christian Abyssinians (this is hinted on the very first page). Parallels with today’s mass-migration are inevitable, but they are not simple and straightforward. Is this an invasion or a salvation expedition? The author doesn’t bother to slow down and explain. 

Instead, the readers are taken along with the characters on a Tolkienesque trip across continents into the hearth of Africa. It is a purifying journey that brings everybody to their roots, in some specific ways. Is this a symbol of a return to the origins and nature or to something else? 

Along the way the very nature of the reality is questioned by means of unreliable narration that smears the border between physical and mental. 

I mentioned here just a small fraction of this parade of symbols, but I am sure you get the idea – this is a novel about symbols themselves, about their nature and interpretation, as much about the story, its protagonists and their character development. If translated, this book will likely find appreciation among the lovers of literary speculative fiction.

Georgi Tsvetkov is a chemistry professor at the University of Sofia.

2. The great Bulgarian novel – abridged version: The Secrets of Middleville, a story collection by Emanuel Ikonomov, Publisher Argus, Sofia, 2021; cover and illustrations Dimiar Stoyanov – Dimo 

Many US writers sooner or later offer their own versions of the Great American Novel (intentionally capitalized!). There are even genre examples: 11/22/63 by King is one. The best of these books offer deep insights into the psyche of that country, the worst are nostalgic trips to the youth of their authors. This intro intends to place The Secrets of Middleville on a literary map that is understandable to a worldwide audience – this is a magical realism/urban fantasy version of the very same phenomenon.

There are two way to tell how great your country is. One is to show-and-tell the good things about it, the other – to vulgarize and degrade the other countries, so yours looks better in comparison. Needless to say, this collection takes the former path, with grace, humor and imagination, employing the tools of the speculative genre.

Strictly speaking, this is a mystery. The stories follow the life of a young police officer who gets assigned to the police department in a small country-side town in Bulgaria. Formally the twelve stories, spanning about 200 pocket-sized pages, describe his investigations that are just vehicles for his encounters with a Robin-Hood-like dragon, a beautiful faerie, a real extraterrestrial alien, a Bulgarian Lazarus Long. Some people in this magical town live their lives in different epochs at the same time and there are portal that led either to alternate realities or to distant lands inhabited by strange creatures. My favorite is another portal fantasy masked as a regular door of a regular pub – it leads to a special place where the local drunkards are though an unforgettable lesson. All this is written with many parables and allegories, often the readers are intentionally left to choose between the poetic and the realistic explanations of the events.

Of course, there settings and ideas have been used before, but the heart and the strength of the book is in the way the protagonist sinks in the local atmosphere of kindness and benevolence and how he grows into the wisdom and the patience of the town folk. The people of the town often take not the most effective or the most rational path, but the path that will help them to do most good.

Emanuel Ikonomov authored of tens of speculative fiction and mystery stories, he is a well known fan and publisher. Furthermore, he is well known promoter and supporter of the Bulgarian speculative fiction, to the degree that many of present-day SFF writers became writers because of the annual literary awards, he organized and sponsored two decades ago.

3. Steampunk WWI, Bulgarian version: Bluegrass, a collection by Petar Tushkov, Publisher Ergobooks, Sofia, 2021; cover Vasilena Georgieva

The collection offers eleven stories and a novella, written with a polished style that betrays the literary education and interest of the author. The novella, titled Vazev 1887, brought me to to this book. I had read and liked Tushkov’s dark alternative history novel Department I (deserves to be discussed as well) and given my own interest to this sub-genre I could not pass by a tale about an alternative version of the most prominent Bulgarian main-stream writer Ivan Vazov (1850-1921). Vazov himself did not shy off the speculative genre – he authored the first Bulgarian science-fictional short story in 1899, offering a glimpse in his views what an Utopian future for our country may look like.

Formally, the novella is steampunkish. The first pages expose us to a world that has advanced technologically faster than ours, but at a price – an earlier world war. Leviathan and its sequels by Scott Westerfeld may come to mind. Lovecraftian influence is also noticeable. However, Tushkov has other ideas. The fast-paced hundred or so page novella concentrates on the perception of the war and its consequences rather than on the actual acts of war. They are rather the background for bringing to the reader to questions about freedom and free speech. Conveniently, the real historic Vazov worked as a journalist and this is exaggerated to become his main activity.

As so many times in the Bulgarian history, the country finds itself on the losing side in this war. We have a sad joke about this: in WWI and WWII we were with the Germans, and they lost both wars, in the Cold War we were with the Soviet Union and they don’t exist anymore. We are with EU and USA now…

The described Sofia resembles Paris in 1940. Here comes the surprise – instead of harsh occupation measures, the invading Austro-Hungarian forces organize… a ball in the King’s Palace. Here the modern problems and the issue of manipulation come head to head with the idyllic and innocent sensibilities of the late nineteenth century. This move unleashes a painful sequence of events that ends with one unexpected twist about the personality of the people involved.

Despite the relatively short form of a novella, the author has managed to tell a complex story and to inhabit it with nuanced characters. The rich historic texture hints at research beyond Wikipedia. Finally, Vazev 1887 is a manifestation of a common tendency in the present-day Bulgarian speculative fiction to employ the history of the country and in the case of fantasy – its folklore.

Petar Tushkov is a prominent Bulgarian writer, editor and a fan. He has studied Bulgarian philology.

Disclaimer: I am a biased reader, I tend to see mostly the good and strong sides of the books I review, and to slide over their rough and poor places…

Warner Holme Review: The Corset and the Jellyfish

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The Corset and the Jellyfish by Nick Bantock (Tachyon, 2023)

By Warner Holme:  This is a book-length collection of the extremely short story subgenre known as drabble. 

Each story is illustrated, a delightful set that with the exception of certain choices made in designing the cover and interior are all also by the author. Each of these is placed on the page opposite the story it illustrates, allowing clear connection in the mind of the reader. 

Among the most appropriate illustrations is that for “Surrealist Chess” As it resembles nothing more than a pair of red and black playing pieces which have begun to twist and merge. Even a basic reading of the story will notice that the coloring of one set of pieces and it is white. However the nature of the rest of the narrative and the very title will make the difference in coloration seem only all the more appropriate rather than a discontinuous issue.

Sometimes the connection is not exactly clear, as is the case with “Looking Back.” Is this short piece comes early in the collection, and features an illustration of a figure with a bow and arrow on a hill pointing it towards a star. The short piece on the other hand gives an amusing look at the eccentricities of a professor of archaeology and her personal history. While one could argue for the historical context of an individual sporting a bow and arrow regardless, it still feels extremely odd as a choice

“The Rag Doll” has a more fitting illustration with a figure that isn’t exactly humanoid but couldn’t the less be the titular object. This short is very much in the more horrific area of tales in the collection, strange and weird with bad things happening. The fact that there is an arguable moral, and definite definite course of events might lead some to see it more like a fairy tale by Grimm.

Others like the lynching give very much a look at reality in its darker sense, With the brutal murder in the implied style of an individual of color for a non crime that may have served to be completely unrelated to his actions. Aside from featuring a visually dark figure, this one joins the collection with barely if at all involved illustrations.

None of this is, of course, to say that the illustrations are bad. If one enjoys the style of them they will likely enjoy most if not all of the weird little scribblings so carefully chosen throughout. Instead it is merely a notice that many of them will seem decidedly divorced from these stories they might be intended to illustrate. At the same time looking at them truly separately would be largely inappropriate, the various pieces having been selected for connection.

How well a reader will enjoy this book isn’t so much connected to their enjoyment of the ultra-short 100 word form it is constructed out of as it is the entire matter. Fans of the author are more likely to appreciate it than those who do not like him, of course, However while it retains the charm of much of his work it is very different in resultant effect. Curious parties would do well to check it out as it is a very short read However it is unlikely to convert anyone into lovers of the drabble art form.