PARADOX AND PARADISE

Another reason this column is special is that we’ve rounded up quite a feast of short fiction for your delectation, including some re-visitations of past Great Fiction Brand winners, and a look at a brand new print pub with a special agenda.

PARADOX magazine recently launched its maiden issue and the pub promises to offer a wide range of material, of both the specialized and eclectic variety. The pub is tastefully edited with a streamlined layout, accented by a spattering of very good black and white illustrations (including classic pieces by Goya and Gustave Dore).

Strong non-fiction pieces like Greg Beatty’s salient and superb, “Models of History in Science Fiction”, an interview with historical fiction writer, Kevin Baker, and a brief but spirited book review column by Editor Christopher M. Cevasco round out the eight, varied selections of fiction, giving the pub a very solid editorial template for future issues.

What seems a bit less certain is the proffered pattern for fiction. The difficulty arises out of Editor Cevasco’s ambitious inspiration to offer a pub that specializes in expertly detailed historical stories, but that also reserves a number of pages for speculative permutations such as fantasy, science fiction, and horror. Cevasco offers an interesting response via his opening editorial to those who might doubt his melding of two distinct, if sympathetic, genres: “both attempt to convincingly transport the reader to a time and place impossible to visit in the flesh”.

This is true, but one wonders whether the stubborn distinctions regarding desired destinations among readers will prove a blessing or a bane to PARADOX.

The lead story is Rita Oakes’ Napoleonic-era adventure, “By Bayonet and Brush”. This piece is Oakes’ first fiction sale and as such, it is a robust and impressive debut, indeed. Track one of a debut pub is an important occasion. You may remember that I found track one of the now defunct pub, 3SF, a bit timid. Here, Editor Cevasco has committed to the opposite strategy, boldly sending a rookie to take point and simultaneously leading off with a narrative tone of rich, historical allusion.

Though the setting of, “By Bayonet and Brush”, is clear from the opening paragraph -- we are in the Aragon region of Spain during Napoleon’s invasion to install his brother, Joseph, as King -- there is some ambiguity as to why this particular story had to be told in such a specific, exotic setting. The historical details and specificities feel somewhat gratuitous, and might even seem obtrusive to some readers.

On the other hand, Oakes writes with a clean, proletarian prose style which when blended with her exotic and meticulous historical detail provides a gritty, thematically purposeful voice for her essentially simple tale of revenge. The story’s protag, a gay corporal named Eduard Saint-Amiens, is an intriguing fellow who shoulders his soldier’s ennui through the aftermath of a particularly gruesome ambush by Spanish partisans against a handful of couriers under his orders.

Oakes polishes her “métier triste" theme to a poignant, existential shimmer and it is easy, if not unavoidable, to read this tale as a cautionary fable of how wars to depose indigenous governments can lead to ruin. I couldn’t shake off the realization while reading this story that American soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan are at this very moment facing circumstances not so different than those portrayed in the story. “By Bayonet and Brush”, is a noteworthy “first-story” both for Oates and PARADOX, keying in not only with the pub’s editorial manifesto -- but elucidating some of the most crucial, real world events of the present through an intimate illumination of the past.

Lady E. had a particular fondness the issue’s next story, “Icarus, His Father, and the Giant, Green, Tentacled Thing That Fell From the Sky”, by Robert J. Santa, one of five speculative selections in issue #1. In addition to having a very, uh, inspired title -- this tale of child abuse and extraterrestrial retribution is complimented by a very striking black and white full-page illo by Chris Whitlow. Robert J. Santa is a prolific writer and a good one. His story, “Dragonslayer”, won an Honorable Mention in SFReader.com’s First Annual Fiction Contest. However, he sometimes acquiesces to the predictable in his tales and “Icarus”, despite its well-woven prose and convincingly limned characters falls a breath short of excellence.

The Icarus of this tale is not the Icarus of Mythology. The use of the name is ironic, doubly so due to the story’s inclusion in a magazine that celebrates the marriage of historical and speculative fiction. In a way, Santa has constructed an authorial herald for the more eccentric avenues opened by Cevasco’s editorial vision. Here, the archetype of Icarus as an abused child meets the classic sci-fi archetype of the wrecked spacecraft in a story that admirably blends grim seriousness with an almost playful prose style. The friction between the action and Santa’s style of describing the action propels this fable-like piece to a swift, poetically just conclusion. An able scribe, Santa pays off all the expectations raised by his title and the story’s rising action. Many readers will undoubtedly emerge intoxicated from the denoument -- but a hardened reviewer like me saw it coming from the opening scene.

“The Chalk Giant”, by Ian Creasey impressed me a bit less. Though the story begins quite promisingly (set under a giant’s enormous chalk penis), Creasey loses touch with this fertility ritual tale about halfway through and never recovers. The story’s main characters, a young “hip” couple who’ve failed to conceive a child after much effort, are likable and Creasey manages to give a convincing sense of youthful marriage with both joy and tension well represented. Unfortunately, the end of this tale simply falls apart from my point of view. Also rocky is the “confrontation” scene between the story’s protag couple and a strange couple that appears under the chalk phallus to simultaneously pursue some May Day magic. Creasey writes quite well, but his dialogue and plotting in this one could have stood a bit more revision.

Our favorite story from issue #1 is Wendy A. Schaffer’s, “Grail Knight”. This, of course, is a speculative piece -- but it’s also an “historical” piece in the sense that the prose and plotting of the tale are so respectfully reminiscent of Sir Thomas Mallory’s, “Le Mort De Arthur”, that one has the distinct feeling of tradition and almost “factual” sense of the story’s mythos. What’s more, this piece is another “first sale” and I, for one, am quite intrigued by Wendy A. Schaffer’s writing skills and imagination.

What’s great about Schaffer’s tale is that she integrates all of the reader’s expectations for an Arthurian tale -- and then promptly stands all of these preconceptions on their heads. Schaffer’s deft, complex, and sympathetic portrayal of Author’s bastard son, Mordred, is without a doubt one of the most creative inversions of a traditional villain into tragic hero that I’ve read recently in short spec. fiction. Also commendable is Schaffer’s plotting, which preserves the capriciousness of the traditional Arthurian narratives. The storyteller’s voice is pleasurably effective, being contemporary in flavor, but evocative of the powerful, ancient voices that preceded her. Her inversion of time-honored symbols such as the Holy Grail, and of deep-seated archetypical figures such as Arthur and Lancelot are astoundingly creative and sophisticated. Should Schaffer turn her hand to a novel length project in this same mythos, I’d be first in line to get a copy.

So, that’s half the stories in PARADOX #1, and a fair representation, we think, of the issue’s contents, though we’ve stressed the speculative aspects more strongly than the historical. It’s a pub well-worth purchasing. At fifteen dollars for a year’s sub: three print issues and one online pdf download, you will certainly get your money’s worth and more. We look forward to seeing how Editor Cevasco’s vision for the pub will evolve over time. Moreover, we’re excited to see an editor who’s willing to include stories that break barriers and take risks, especially from writers publishing their first stories!

As mentioned, WEIRD TALES is celebrating a birthday. Now an official octogenarian, this venerable print pub still excites with almost every issue and the editorial staff has spared no effort to make the 80th anniversary issue special.

With stories from Gene Wolfe, Tanith Lee , Keith Taylor and Thomas Ligotti, this is like an all-star jam from WT alumni (and Firebrand Great Fiction Brand winners) and we guarantee your satisfaction with the performances, overall. Unfortunately, the one slightly disappointing piece was Keith Taylor’s latest Egyptian story, “The Company of the Gods”, a prequel describing how the Archpriest Kamose chose his God. The story is well enough written, but an overabundance of exposition and passive narration mars the ultimate impact of the story, an unusual circumstance for Taylor in this series.

Ligotti’s contribution, “Purity”, is a brooding, Poe-esque alchemical tale, that’s both quirky and creepy enough to satisfy the “weird” aspect of WT’s creative agenda. Ligotti pens some quite memorable characters, particularly his cynically rational Father figure, whose basement alchemical experiments form the central speculative symbolism of the tale and propel its poignant and bitter narrative theme of classicism, patriotism, and psuedo-Marxist irony. Without a doubt, Ligotti’s prose is polished and cunningly smooth. This is fiction of a very high caliber and the theme of “working class” intellectualism of the piece is both refreshing and a potent compliment to the issue’s best story, “Blood Chess”, by Tanith Lee.

Yes, vampire fiction is much overproduced and there is more bad stuff than good. In fact, many of you probably don’t even want to read a review of a vampire story. Well, if you skip this review you’ll be missing a lot.

Tanith Lee is one of the most lucid and technically accomplished short speculative fiction writers in the world. “Blood Chess”, her contribution to the 80th anniversary issue is, like her last contribution to WT, “In the City of Dead Night”, a masterpiece. At all levels, from the story’s seamless shifting from one character point of view to another, to it’s darkly political and poetic fulcrum, and its graceful, lyric style, “Blood Chess”, is as finely polished selection of neo-gothic prose you’re liable to happen upon, ever. The story also happens to be a richly textured piece thematically as well, weaving an incarnation of the vampire theme as an allegory of “class struggle”, a permutation recognized long ago by literary critics in connection to vampire fiction, one that first caught my interest via Maud Ellmann’s brilliant introductory essay to Bram Stoker’s “Dracula”, featured in the Oxford University Press “World Classics” edition.

Lest the mention of “class struggle”, allegory, and vampires start to put you on the nod -- let me hasten to a description of the story’s central metaphor -- an ancient outdoor chessboard, which is a ghostly remnant of a decadent bloodsport once practiced by vampires, now as abandoned and decadent as the vampires’ lineage itself.

A quote from Lee’s exquisite prose, read with the political concepts in mind, will yield an insight into the story’s brilliance: “There were no pawns for humanity was all made of pawns, as far as the Scaratha were concerned. Here, the Scaratha hunted each other over the squares, which then were kept vivid with paint. A knight might take a queen, a queen a priest, as they pleased. Physical figures performed these actions. Deliberately always, the wrong moves were educated into the Scaratha young, so they should learn to break all the other rules of the world.”

The story proceeds through a well-paced and suspenseful plot to a fitting climax and resolution. The connotations of entitlement and decadence are expertly embedded within the rich language, lifelike characters, and plot of the story. Far from being obtrusive or heavy-handed, the tale’s theme resonates with a fine, melancholic harmony. Even if you don’t like vampire stories, this is a must-read piece of fiction, stunning in all aspects from tip to tail.

Lady E. handles our free fiction selection this column, “Growing Pains” by Mary Soon Lee from the new, sinister-at-light-speed site, MARS DUST.

I think MARS DUST is a fun and promising website. There’s a lot of content, including pages of goth-models, interviews, and reviews. So far, the fiction I’ve read there hasn’t been anything extraordinary. That was until I read Mary Soon Lee’s “Growing Pains”. This story is a great sarcastic farce on the theme of parental madness and the dating preferences of teenage daughters. How does Michael Hobbs -- described as “a pacifist, a vegetarian, and a firm believer in equal rights for aliens” -- respond when he catches his daughter Amanda in bed with her xeno-sociology professor? Never mind that, the whole world’s going sex-fetish-crazy, you’ll just have to read the story to see how a conservative liberal like Michael Hobbs deals with it. This is a very funny story, and just the right length to read online.

Our G.F. Great Fiction Award Brand winner this column is, once again, Tanith Lee! As out first repeat winner, we offer a double-bow of gratitude to Ms. Lee for consistently enthralling us with her words. Speculative Fiction should exert a magical influence over the reader. If you have any doubt about this fact, read, “Blood Chess”, and have your doubts permanently banished.

With so many of our Great Fiction Brand winners publishing great work and so many new print pubs arriving in our mailbox, we have no doubt that despite the recent hurdles of distribution and circulation rates, speculative fiction of the highest order continues to be published -- much of it available for free. Far from being in decline, speculative fiction writers continue to create masterpieces and editors find a way to get them published. For anyone who cares to take a good look around out there -- it’s a reader’s Paradise.

Until Next Time,

Daniel E. Blackston

Firebrand Fiction Reviews: all content © 2003, Daniel E. Blackston