Journeys in the Winterlands Reviewed in the SFX Blog!

And they say some very nice things about it:

This is the reason why these three work so well, because each one is built in or on the foundation of the last. That, in turn, highlights the genius of these stories and of having three authors work on them in unison; the stories mirror the survivors, building on what’s gone before and turning it into something new but still completely human. This isn’t just a book of stories about how the world ends, it’s a book of stories built like they would be after the world has ended, scraps of information and memory tied together with determination and hope. Something wonderful, just visible in the snow.

The reviewer, Alasdair Stuart, is also very generous in his praise of The Last Stand of Edward O’Malley:

It’s a story about being broken and what happens after it, the moment where you realize the very worst thing that could happen to you has and you’re…still here. That sense of peace, of serenity is something that post-apocalyptic fiction almost never captures and it’s done with real delicacy and grace here.

Couldn’t have asked for a better review!  All three of us are very proud.  Read the whole thing here.  And, in case you’ve put Winterlands on your reading list and lost the link, you can pick up a copy here.

The sky above the frozen Arctic is painted with a rainbow

Arctic pic from here.

Erm, Captain Picard… Where’s the Loo?

I don’t want you to come away from this with the impression that I’m obsessed with defecation. It’s just that, in all my years of watching TNG, I don’t think I ever saw anyone go to the loo.

Captain Picard stands on the bridge of the Enterprise, gesturing to Riker, standing behind him.

I’m Picard. This is my Number One. We don’t have Number Twos on this ship.

Don’t you think that’s kind of weird? We see them fulfil the other necessities of life: eating; sleeping; social contact. We, in fact, have entire plot lines which revolve around them. And the plasma relays burn out on a weekly basis, but the plumbing is always perfect. You never hear of a ruptured sewage pipe on G deck when they take devastating fire from the Borg. Where the hell does the Enterprise even keep its toilets, anyway?

It’s one of those things that, once you see, you can’t unsee it. Almost no one in modern spec-fic goes to the loo. Entire civilisations thrive without a single toilet.

When I’m world-building, it’s these kinds of things that I need to think about. I need to think about how a culture’s psychology and morality is going to be reflected in the way they deal with the necessities of life.

In our culture, we take a dump in the most valuable resource on Earth, pull a handle and don’t give it another thought. Someone else’s problem, right? That’s pretty telling.

On the Enterprise-D… I dunno. They must be horrified by their bodies. Utterly, utterly repulsed. You notice how all their medicine is very clean, doesn’t involve blood or cutting. Doesn’t, in fact, involve touching the body in any way in most cases.

If a writer fails to demonstrate they know how the culture in their fiction deals with its crap, it feels akin to failing to demonstrate that they know where they get their food from. It’s a pretty damned fundamental flaw. I’m not expecting a song-and-dance routine, just half-a-sentence to let me know that they know.

I’m not saying I’m going to throw a fit if Into Darkness or the next Interzone doesn’t have at least one toilet scene. I’m just saying, well… once you see it, you can’t unsee it.  Almost no one in spec-fic goes to the loo.

Let’s Kill Another Trope

There’s a recurring theme in fantasy and science-fiction: there is something sacred about death. Blurring the line between life and death, usurping and dethroning death, will lead to Bad Things. The hallmark of evil is the defying of death. I once read someone describe Darth Vader as a walking coma patient, and what happens when he turns back to the light? He accepts the ‘natural’ death he’s been denying for so long.

Darth Vader stares at the camera, his outstretched fist clenched

You underestimate the power of homeopathy… and overestimate the value of scientific evidence. I am truly evil.

It’s odd, really. Defying death is an obsession for our culture. Not just CAT scans and laser keyhole surgery, but even down to central heating and surgically sterile food. All to make sure we can live safe, comfortable, long lives. We cling to life with the rabid obsession of Gollum and his precious.

I’m not sure what the word is for my worldview, but I despise the notion of ‘natural’ and ‘unnatural’. There are fundamental laws which describe how the universe works. These laws apply to every single thing in the universe. Everything, from bunny rabbits living in a woodland paradise, to smog-filled cities of broken-backed worker-slaves, obeys the same rules. The process of childbirth and genetic engineering, the movements of the tides and nuclear bombs, a mother’s love and genocide. All the same rules. If something is possible, it is natural. If something is not possible, it’s entirely academic because it’s never going to happen. And if it does happen? Then our understanding of the universe is clearly wrong and we need to change it.

A bald mouse in a petri dish, with a human ear growing on its back

Natural as fook! Of course, I’m not saying it’s not incredibly creepy

So why should death, and the ‘cheating’ of death, be a hallmark of evil? Cheating death is possible, so it’s natural. The universe doesn’t give a shit. Karma is not going to appear from no where to deliver Terrible Consequences if you’re a walking coma patient, or if you make sure you take your vitamins every day. Poke death in the eyes–sell your soul, splice your DNA, drink the alien goo. It’s all natural.

Of course, when you accept that nuclear bombs are as natural as bunny rabbits, you’ve got to accept a few other things. Like Plant Earth really doesn’t give a crap about us. We can cover the whole planet in thick clouds of smog, boil ourselves in our skins and turn Earth into a second Venus. Mother Earth will be all like, ‘meh, it took you thousands of years to find the slight bruise the K-T ‘extinction event’ left on me’. But the human race… well, we may be given a few last moments for regret. Whether defying death will help to produce the kind of environment and society we want to live in is another matter.

I guess I’m just sick of the ‘defying death must lead to Terrible Consequences’ trope. It’s overplayed, and it’s just plain wrong. And considering the obsession we have with defying death ourselves, it’s incredibly hypocritical. Let’s have a little truth in our fiction, eh?

Picture of Vader from this Cracked article.  Creepy mouse-ear shot from here.

The Long Road Home–Now Available!

Sweet Mercy, moar Foxie!

This week has been something of a shocker.  Journeys in the Winterlands and Shadows that Scratch at Frosted Glass came out last Friday, and today you can finally buy a copy of The Long Road Home in eformat for a mere $1.49.  That’s around 95p if you live in Britian, or 1.11 Euros for those in the Eurozone.  I’m not sure about the rest of the world, but 95p in the UK will buy you a bag of posh crisps (like Tyrells), a king-sized Mars Bar, a normal Mars Bar and a packet of gum…  It’s not the kind of money you’d worry about spending in a supermarket.  You’d just throw it in your basket on a whim or vague fancy.  So don’t worry just because it’s online and not a tiny thing in a whole basket of shopping.  Treat yourself!

In a snow-covered landscape, a lone humanoid figure contemplates the buried skyscrapers, the falling snow, and the dead body half buried

The planet of Rheged is covered in meters of snow, and the natives are getting ready to hibernate for the winter.  In a seedy, cheap part of town, a human is found dead.  Murdered.  Rembik tai Pilas has three days to find out who killed the human and why, and the future of his whole society is resting on the answers.  Unfortunately, Rem and his partner are social outcasts, and all paths seem to lead back to his girlfriend.  Why, of all the people possibly, did Rem get told to investigate this?  And why does the dead human start to haunt Rem?  And how is the one person in all of their society who can be lied to, the one person how has always been on the outside of his society, the one person no one else wants to deal with, going to fix all of this?

Encounters Magazine #6, Out Now and Featuring Shadows That Scratch At Frosted Glass

It’s good week for camp Foxie. Winterlands came out yesterday, and I very much hope you’re enjoying your copy.

If you want some more amazing fiction for your weekend, you can purchase Issue 6 of Encounters Magazine, which features my story, Shadows That Scratch at Frosted Glass.

Juna captains a small trawler, working the deep space dust clouds for hydrogen ions.  She has problems with the companies buying her catches squeezing her out the market, she has problems with her first mate Adele, and she has problems with her son.  But none of those problems compare to those of her sleepers, the people who lend their sleeping minds to the on-board computer so the trawler can take a short cut through dreamspace and travel thousands of light years in just a few weeks.  Something has noticed the sleepers, something greater than anything their minds can hold.

Encounters 06 Cover_web

“There’s good fishing around Seventeen,” Alex said. He leaned over the table and lined his shot up. “I heard skipper say she’s been going there for years.”

“And I’ve slept for her the whole damned time. I’ve requested dozens of transfers and I’ve been rejected dozens of times.”

Louisiana finished her drink, turned around, leaned over the counter and mixed herself another.

The eight ball cracked into the corner pocket. “I heard Seventeen was haunted,” Alex said.

“That’s what they said, before I was assigned here. I laughed. Haunted? That’s a child’s word. But Seventeen is a dark place. When I sleep there, I am not myself. I am possessed by something. I am in my body, but I do not control it. It is like being a puppet for God, and God is an old, old thing. Humanity is nothing to it.”

He glanced up at Louisiana. She watched him carefully over the rim of her glass.

“Maybe if I’d been sleeping there for four years, I’d unplug too,” he said.

A sleeper who believed in ghosts was a liability, and no one would hire a liability. It was a dangerous confession.

She traded him in kind.

“I feel it when I’m awake sometimes,” she said. “It watches me. Like a shadow on the wrong side of frosted glass.”

She watched him, worried she’d said too much. If he ruined her, it was one less person he had to compete against for work.

But then he nodded, and she saw the fear in his eyes.

He understood.

Issue  6 also features fantastic fiction from Robert Mitchell Evans, Thomas Canfield, Steven L. Peck, Wade Peterson, Jeff Barr and Harry F. Kane.  So don’t you dare say you’re not getting value for money!

Journeys in the Winterlands: Now Available!

Yes folks, it’s finally happened. You can purchase Journeys in the Winterlands through the Vagrants Among Ruins site, in your choice of electronic formats (£2.00) or good old-fashioned dead-tree (£4.00).

Three pictures imposed over each other: the Celtic triple spiral; the Ouroboross; and the chi rho

But what is this ‘Winterlands’ thing, Foxie? You’ve not mentioned it before!

The Winterlands anthology started as an exercise in collective storytelling. Allegra wrote the first story, and passed it along to the next writer to do with as they saw fit. Through the writing and editing process, we worked together to build a world, to create characters, to make something greater than the sum of us as individuals. We are all very, very proud of what we’ve achieved.

It started with Callista, a lonely figure crossing the icesheets that now cover much of Europe, searching for her mentor. The permanent, global aurora borealis has driven most of humanity mad and those who’ve kept their sanity fight the frozen desert, and the once-human Affected, just to survive. But stories have spread and breathed hope back into Northern Europe. A hero has arisen, has fought the ice and the Affected and reminded people that humanity endures, and it thrives, regardless of hardship. Because of hardship.

And if Callista can find him, maybe she’ll refind hope, too. Maybe the horrors of the Affected cities, of their steam-driven machine-men, of their towering harvesting machines that pluck human beings like ears of corn, maybe they won’t be so haunting. And maybe she’ll realise that searching itself is an act of hope, that it’s enough to reignite hope in others.

What did Allegra, John and myself do with the seeds Allegra sowed? Well, there’s only one way you’re going to find out…