Fledgling is Ms. Butler’s foray into the vampire-novel genre. The main character–also the narrator–is Shori, a young vampire who survived a vicious attack on her family that left her very much injured and suffering from amnesia. The rest of the story details her fight to save her family, and her re-learning of what exactly she lost by not remembering the rest of her life.

I probably should have been tipped off by the quote from Gerald Jonas of the New York Times on the back of the book, saying that, “[Butler] never asks easy questions or settles for easy answers.” Since I was not, and being that I know I’m not the only person who wouldn’t want to be blindsided by this, I should mention that Shori, the main character, is 53 years old in actuality, but looks like she’s ten or eleven. Before we learn that she’s fifty-three, she engages in consensual (on her end, at least; it might be considered ‘dubious’ consent on his end) sexual activity with a 23-year-old man. He doesn’t know she’s actually fifty-three, either.

Now, again: she’s fifty-three, and more importantly, she’s a vampire, who are in this mythos an entirely different species that may have evolved simultaneously with humans on Earth. (They call themselves the Ina.) It’s perhaps ridiculous to apply my moral code to them, but of course, Butler intended this discomfort. It’s intended on multiple levels; Shori makes almost everyone in the story uncomfortable for many, many reasons.

She’s actually an experiment in genetic engineering: the Ina want to be able to go out in the daytime, so they are experimenting with including human DNA along with theirs. Shori has human DNA that makes her shorter than most of the female Ina. She’s also dark-skinned–that is, her human DNA is from a woman of color. Some of the older Ina are not sure she qualifies as a proper Ina. She’s also precisely at the stage in her development where she’s starting to make sexually-mature male Ina uncomfortable because they crave her as a mate (in a sort of Lolita fashion, only actually biologically explainable). She makes humans uncomfortable because she is stronger and faster than they are, and in some cases makes them uncomfortable because they desire her even though she looks like a child. Basically, no one is comfortable around Shori, and why should Ms. Butler let the reader be any less unsettled?

Ms. Butler uses this book to answer the question of what are the Ina, through two major methods: Shori’s amnesia, and Shori herself. The amnesia allows her to be told things she probably should already know, and thereby the reader can learn these things. We learn history, language, and basic societal structure this way. Shori herself provides for more metaphysical questions: is someone who doesn’t look like how we expect, maybe because of some DNA changing or manipulation, still a member of that group? The Ina are largely tall, thin, pale white people. Shori is thin, but short and dark, and it is actually at least partially her looks that cause the conflict.

This is actually the first book I’d ever read by Ms. Butler, which is a shame, and I’ll definitely be looking for more. Her writing style has been described as spare, and that’s certainly true, but that doesn’t mean that she leaves any words out. It was an easy read in terms of language, but a little difficult in terms of questions raised. This is a vampire book, I think, that would definitely be interesting to those who don’t like vampire books commonly, but I’d definitely say it’s for older YAs and adult readers due to the need to handle the sexual content in a mature fashion. 5/5 stars.

The plot’s pretty simple: Vulcan is having a debate over whether to stay in the Federation or leave it. Spock, Kirk, and McCoy have been called to Vulcan to assist in the debates on the side of staying in the Federation (obviously) but Sarek, Spock’s father and the Vulcan Ambassador to the Federation/Earth, is called to speak on the side of withdrawing from the Federation.

For fanpoodles of the new movie, please remember that because this is based on ST:TOS, Vulcan is intact, Amanda is still alive, Spock isn’t dating Uhura, and other random things one may not know about due to insufficient exposition to TOS prior to the reboot. However, there are funny bits if one is aware of the developments in canon post-1988(this book’s publication date). Sarek’s age was a bit off; the discussion of First Contact (between the Vulcans and Terrans) bears no relation to the movie First Contact; there’s some stuff in ENT about when the Surakian Vulcans came into control that, well, didn’t happen; and no one was quite sure what Dr. McCoy’s middle name is. (Fans found out in the sixth Star Trek movie that his middle initial was H.; canon doesn’t have an actual full version for it, but it sure isn’t Edward. Memory Beta says it’s Horatio, which is pretty much as bad as Tiberius. At least it’s pronounceable.)

Half the book, though, isn’t about Our Heroes and their debate, although the debate is reasonably lively and interesting. The alternate chapters are the Michener-like description of the entire history of the planet and sociology of Vulcan — well, confined to about 100 pages. At the beginning, it’s pretty slow, especially for those who aren’t huge fans of the Clan of the Cave Bear-like settings. (Like me.) Towards the end of the interludes, though, as the debate is heating up, we get things we recognize: Surak, the founder of the dominant school of Vulcan thought by the 23rd century, and Sarek and Amanda’s love story, which is particularly nice to see,

Ms. Duane’s conception of Amanda is, thanks to the time difference between when Spock’s mom first showed up (the late ’60s) and when the book was being written, significantly more interesting. In the TV show, she was a schoolteacher — but, well, really, how does a schoolteacher become an ambassador’s wife? Well, by not really being a schoolteacher; in this novel, she was one of the most important researchers for the Universal Translator working with the Vulcan language.

Of all the characters in the story, James T. Kirk is easily the least interesting. Despite his xenophobia (well-documented in TOS), it’s Dr. McCoy who shines in this story, with his dedication to the cause, lively debate, and zingers. Kirk mostly seems to be an adjunct to fill the gap between Spock and McCoy. Spock, of course, is the titular character and quite active, but he seems to be more useful as a symbol than anything else. He is one of the bridges between the two worlds, being half Vulcan and half Terran. He’s also . . . well, something more important, but then we’re getting into true spoiler territory.

Overall, I’d recommend it, if one is only going to read on Star Trek book. (What a coincidence — I’ve only read one Star Trek book.) It’s fairly well-written, although I’d avoid it if one doesn’t like long, philosophical narration (not data dumps) and a lot of historical data. Clearly, if one isn’t at all interested in the history of Vulcan, this won’t be terribly interesting. If one is looking for something more like an actual episode of TOS, with phaser fights and Tholian webs and Kirk seducing the green chick, this is not that book. The main conceit is a debate. (Fittingly, the friend who recommended it to me is the person with whom I coach middle-schoolers in debate.) Debates, while probably rousing in person, don’t make for high-action stories. And yet I liked it quite a bit and feel confident in recommending it. The audio book was read by Leonard Nimoy himself, in case one prefers those. 4.5/5 stars.

(1) ST:TNG = Star Trek: The Next Generation, and ST:TOS is Star Trek: The Original Series. DS9 is Deep Space 9; VOY is Voyager, and ENT is Enterprise, in case anyone cares and didn’t already figure it out.

In the beginning, there was a brave young first officer named Kirk — George Kirk, thank you very much — who realized that he was in a no-win situation, and ordered the entire ship evacuated, including his wife who was pretty much in the process of giving birth at the time. Fast forward to twelve years later, and we see the baby — James Tiberius Kirk, after his grandfathers — has already started a life of rebellion and general James Deanishness. Eight or ten years later, after a bar fight, a Starfleet officer named Pike convinces the young Jim Kirk to join the academy. Three years later, while there, Kirk is on the verge of getting thrown out when a situation requires a good deal of the cadets to be used on ships, and via subterfuge, he gets onto the USS Enterprise (NCC-1701). Will they survive this situation?

Trekkies would already know by the time the first ten minutes of the movie are over that this is an alternate universe, being that in the regular timeline, Kirk’s father did not die at that time. Everything that happens after that is therefore a new canon, and the standard complaints about how the phasers didn’t match don’t so much apply. (Although I hardly think that will keep people from commenting.) Some things are different, although most remain pretty damn similar. I think the alternate-universe idea was dragged in just in case there were little differences that they had not foreseen — well, and also to allow the deaths of a couple characters that couldn’t happen in the original timeline. Otherwise, so much of the story could be said to be explicating the story that was behind the original five-year mission.

For example: the Spock/Uhura romance (which, of course, is the talk of the town) was, according to many, hinted at in ST:TOS (he teaches her to play the Vulcan lyre at some point, I guess) but that Spock is somewhat more reserved than new!Spock. (I liked it a lot, by the way. It felt believable, given that new!Uhura was intended to be the brainiest character there, other than Spock himself.) So many of the other characters have exactly the same personality — especially the ones we see in only one or two scenes (Scotty and Sulu, for example). Even Kirk is essentially the same, despite having grown up without a father (he does have a stepdad, though). He and Dr. McCoy become friends on the shuttle launch off to Starfleet Academy, and within a very short period of time, McCoy has managed to say, “Damnit, I’m a doctor, not a ___!”

Regarding the acting, I thought that Zachary Quinto did a marvelous job as Spock, as did Zoe Saldana as Uhura. Those two, as well as Simon Pegg, thoroughly managed to inhabit their characters and remake them anew. Some other actors didn’t do as good a job; I do not know whether it was because of the script or their general acting ability. Occasionally McCoy, as much as I loved him, appeared as if he were playing DeForrest Kelly playing McCoy, rather than just playing McCoy. John Cho didn’t show up enough for me to be able to differentiate him from George Takei (other than, you know, being Korean instead of Japanese), but his scene with the sword was pretty damn awesome. Kirk, I must say, was probably my least favorite character in the movie. Chris Pine didn’t have the charisma that William Shatner has — say what you will about his acting ability, but the man has charisma — and the script didn’t allow for anything particularly lovable about Kirk. Without the charisma, he’s basically a bad-boy slacker with a pretty face and no other redeeming qualities, and that didn’t particularly engage me. In some ways, I felt the story could have been a little more explicitly about Spock (put the Spock-birth scene back in, please!) and it would have been a better movie.

There were a few things about the movie that bothered me. Why on earth did Pike make Kirk first officer, if he’d basically been brought aboard the ship illicitly and was about two seconds from getting kicked out of the academy? Even if his father had been the subject of Pike’s dissertation (also, apparently it’s Dr. Capt. Pike), that doesn’t mean that Kirk should have been first officer. Second — spoilers ahoy — why did they give Kirk captain status at the end of the movie? I would think he would deserve not to get kicked out of the academy, primarily, and perhaps a lieutenant status if they were feeling particularly generous (i.e., skipping ensign). Third, there was a scene with a smallish, Ewok-like alien who was actually a full member of Starfleet, but the humans around him kept treating him like, well, an Ewok, or cross between a child and a dog. Considering that in order to have that insignia on his uniform the small alien dude would have had to graduate the Starfleet Academy, same as the rest of them — oh, right, Kirk hadn’t even graduated yet — why were they treating him so poorly? It implied a sort of racism with which I was not comfortable at all.

Overall, though, I loved it. I’m really looking forward to future installments — I’d like to see how the actors can grow in their roles. So many parts of the movie were put in to establish the new actors as the characters we all know and love — the catchphrases and the miniskirts, for example — and I’m very much expecting that they can lose those trappings in the next film. Hopefully these new actors and the new franchise will be able to grow into their own branch of the Star Trek tree. 3.5/5 stars.

The stories include: “Wolf Night,” by Martha Wells; “Seasonal Work,” by Nina Kiriki Hoffman; “Janet, Meet Bob,” by Gavin J. Grant; “The Great Conviction of Tia Inez,” by M. Thomas; “Angels of a Desert Heaven,” by Marguerite Reed; “The Disembowler,” by Ekaterina Sedia; “A Night in Electric Squidland,” by Sarah Monette; “Thread: A Triptych,” by Catherynne M. Valente; “The Frozen One,” by Tim Pratt; “Dragon Hunt,” by Sarah Prineas; “Manuscript Found Written in the Paw Prints of a Stoat,” by Samantha Henderson; “Giant,” by Stephanie Burgis; “When the Rain Comes,” by Josh Rountree; “The Hangman isn’t Hanging,” by Jay Lake; and “The Oracle Opens One Eye,” by Patricia Russo.

First, I have to talk about the high quality of the PDF. I’m assuming it’s a direct copy of the insides of the book, and I’m very happy when e-books look just as good as the print form. Mr. Marin (or his book designer) used drop-caps (big letters at the beginning of each story that go below the base of the first line), a lovely font, and pencil or charcoal drawings at the beginning of each story. Each page has either the name of the author or the name of the story, depending on whether it’s a left or right page, and overall, it was definitely a pleasure to read. I wish more e-book publishers would take such care with their e-books as designers do with their print volumes.

The title of the anthology is a bit misleading; not all the stories are set in Texas. Actually, I can’t think that any of them are. A few are set in the Southwest, and a couple are set in the Old West, but those who might be a little bit put off by the idea that it’s a book of stories set in one location need not worry. However, of those that were set in the Southwest, some were my favorite. What I felt was the most substantial story in the book — and incidentally my favorite — was “Angels of a Desert Heaven,” by Marguerite Reed. It involves a young, moderately self-destructive musician who apparently has been chosen in some way by the Native American (Indian) powers, and the woman who is trying to help him with his situation. The story’s emotional depth was breathtaking, and I hope to read more by the author in the near future.

Other stories were certainly interesting and of note; another one of my favorites was “The Disembowler,” which took on the relationship between souls, machinery, and human beings. I thought the setting was wonderful, and I quite enjoyed the resolution. I also really loved the first story, which actually is set in the old west. It was the perfect story with which to open the anthology, I think; it grabbed me and entertained me quite a bit. Sarah Monette’s club-set story had a good setting, interesting characters, and a great plot. Were she to try a modern-set fantasy story, I would be very excited to read it. “Dragon Hunt,” one of the rare secondary-world fantasy stories in the collection, had some interesting twists to it, and although I’d never heard of the author, I’ll be on the lookout for more of her works.

In short, this is a lovely, varied collection of stories by some well-known authors and some not-so-well-known ones, and I’d highly recommend it for any speculative-fiction reader. There is much to discover, and each story — as well as the actual physical collection itself — is a pleasure to read. Well done, to the editor and publisher, as well as each of the authors. 5/5 stars.

Elena Rostova — now Helen Roston — was a Russian orphan, but she joined the military and eventually was selected as the best candidate for a top-secret experiment, in making a supersoldier-spy. One of her primary qualifications was that she has psychic abilities. The supersoldier part included intense physical and mental training, and the spy part included virtual reality and clairvoyant training — which they call bilocation. Her mentor in this is a man she doesn’t meet; in the virtual-reality world where they see each other, she has designed his avatar. They are very attracted to each other, but will she ever find out his real-world identity? And will the experiment that is her life succeed?

This book is the first half of a duology, the second volume being Virtually Hers, and while it ends in a place that does bring a decent amount of closure, it’s obvious that it’s only half the story — even without the cliffhanger ending. This duology is also not the first in the overarching series, as there’s an impression of a lot of backstory — a romance between two secondary characters, for example, and little explanation as to what the different super-secret agencies do. However, I didn’t find it overwhelming — I found myself able to get into the story without needing to know exactly what the acronyms stood for, and the various personal relationships between Elena and other characters weren’t confusing at all. It did make me want to read the other books, though.

I have to admit, I had a bit of a problem with the alpha-ness of the hero. Obviously the heroine could match him, having been the perfect choice for the supersoldier-spy over a bunch of men, but he wanted to control too many aspects of her life. Helen already had everything in her physical reality controlled by the constraints of the experiment, but the hero (he is nameless for a large portion of the book) wanted to control her mind as well. It didn’t seem necessary, most of the time; it actually seemed like he wanted to control her for his own, personal, mostly sexual reasons. He admitted that he was very turned on by strong women, but he didn’t seem to want her to be a strong woman while they were together. There were a few scenes when he administered a drug to her that left her aware and able to speak but not in control of her body from the neck down, and that drug creeped the living hell out of me. However, those who are interested in the clash of two very strong wills and those with a taste for very, very alpha males will probably find that this book fits the bill.

Those reading for the science-fictional aspect will discover that a lot of her science is firmly based in reality; in addition, she has a number of skeptics among the minor characters. They point out that what the characters are discussing is, well, fantastic, and on the verge of unbelievable. On the other side, we have the nameless, faceless bad guys who are also using the same technology, but in ways that are significantly less ethical than the carefully-monitored experiments of the good guys. I thought that Ms. Low did a remarkable job of embedding so many points of view regarding the technology in her story; she also had different narrators who each had strong, unmistakeable voices. I liked Helen quite a bit, as well as those characters who were thrown in for humor breaks, and overall she did an admirable job of keeping the book read-in-one-sitting exciting. Romantic suspense fans who enjoy super-alpha males will be demanding more, and fortunately, Ms. Low has already provided. 4/5 stars.

M is for Magic is a collection of his already-published stories that he put together for children; the title, as he says in the introduction, is after Ray Bradbury’s similarly-collected (already published and picked for children later) works with titles such as R is for Rocket and S is for Space. The titles include “The Case of the Four and Twenty Blackbirds,” “Troll Bridge,” “Don’t Ask Jack,” “How to Sell the Ponti Bridge,” “October in the Chair,” “Chivalry,” “The Price,” “How to Talk to Girls at Parties,” and “Sunbird,” as well as “The Witch’s Headstone,” which is an excerpt from The Graveyard Book.

I have one major issue with this collection, which has nothing to do with Mr. Gaiman himself or his writing: the packaging. This is a 260-page collection, printed with large fonts and large margins, with a juvenile title (what child is going to recognize the homage to Bradbury?) and a non-descript cover. Overall, if I’d just picked it up, I’d say it was intended for middle-grade readers (grades 4-8ish, ages 9-14). Having actually perused the contents, though, I can say that it should be intended for YA readers (grades 7-12ish, ages 12-18). Many of the stories allude to sex or anatomy, and while I’m willing to forgive a fair amount of violence because he states that many of the stories are horror stories, I don’t think most fifth-graders would even be interested in the story about a guy hoping to get lucky with a girl at a party who turns out to be an alien.

If this collection was intended for YAs, I assume it would look more like Charles de Lint’s Viking-published collection, Waifs and Strays. There are more stories, in smaller fonts; not only does it take up more space, but the cover was done by the same person who does most of his adult covers.

In any case, as an adult, I found the contents generally delightful. Mr. Gaiman as usual manages to include diverse themes, interesting character types, and odd-twist endings. One of my favorites was the story entitled “Sunbird,” about an epicurean club that is convinced that they have eaten everything that there ever was to eat. Their descriptions of which foods they preferred were quite amusing (apparently fruit bat tastes like sweet guinea pig), and I liked the interplay of the five different club members. And no, actually, the epicurean club does not decide to practice cannibalism. That would be far too simple for one of Mr. Gaiman’s stories.

The excerpt from The Graveyard Book, which was published as a sort of standalone short story in 2007, was quite interesting, but I think even if I didn’t know that it was part of a longer work, that I would have suspected. There was too much backstory — too many hints of what came before and what would come after. Of course, it did whet my appetite for reading the full version, and although I do agree a bit with Stephen Colbert that on first blush the story doesn’t sound like a children’s story, I figure I should at least give it a chance. Some children are quite capable of handling levels of horror that many adults don’t care for (see: how many children start reading Stephen King in elementary school), and after all, I’m not actually in the business of censorship.

The other stories are quite interesting as well; each had a quirky interpretation of fantastic or fairy-tale elements that I’ve come to associate with his works. I did find the choice to end the book with a poem a little strange. It was the same poem that was included in A Wolf at the Door, and the only poem in the collection. Being that it was at the end and after the longest work in the book, I found it incredibly easy to skip. As a reader, I thought the book would have ended more strongly if it would have ended with “The Witch’s Headstone.” Overall, though, adults and horror-minded YAs should enjoy this volume very might, and might immediately choose to follow it up with The Graveyard Book. 4.5/5 stars.

This collection of short stories includes apparently 41 of his biggest and best tales, ranging from one of his first published works (“Deep Without Pity”) to three stories that had web debuts within the last couple years (“Straws,” “Golfing Vietnam,” “Fear Itself”). The tales range from a couple of punk westerns, a few pulp-type stories, straight-up science fiction, ultra-short literary fiction, a few that were intended for men’s magazines, and, of course, a few tales about rock ‘n’ roll. I won’t list all 41 titles, as that would take too much time, but interested readers can haunt the Sub Press website until they post the table of contents. This book will be published at the end of November this year.

Three of the stories are connected, as they are all about a Vietnam vet P.I. named Dan Sloane. Not many of the rest have characters that travel between stories, although there are many themes that resonate through his work. Mr. Shiner even comments in the author’s notes for a story called “Jeff Beck” that “[i]f there’s such a thing as a typical Shiner story, this is it: a magic wish that doesn’t work out; a troubled marriage; rock ‘n’ roll; and a big dose of working-class angst.” Quite often, elements from his own life story (there’s a giant autobiography on his website) show up in his stories. The story “Match” nearly happened; the main character in his novel Glimpses has a father who died the same way that Mr. Shiner’s father did. Many of his characters have unhappy marriages (he went through two), as well. One story — “Kidding Around” — is actually about someone else’s family, a writing student of his. (He obviously wrote the story with her permission.)

The last story in the book, “Lizard Men of Los Angeles,” Mr. Shiner describes (in his author’s notes on the story) as his favorite of all the stories he’s written. It’s a pulp-type story commissioned originally by Joe Lansdale, set in 1934 Los Angeles (obviously), and including Aleister Crowley, spontaneous human combustion, a stage magician and his beautiful assistant, a former child star turned ingenue, and, of course, lizard men. I loved the tone of the story; in fitting with the pulp sensibility, it was definitely tongue-in-cheek, and yet serious at the same time. I suspect that I need to read more pulp fiction, or at least the modern homages to pulp fiction. I’d really love to read more about Johnny Cairo and Mrs. Lockhart, although I doubt that any more is forthcoming.

Overall, this is an amazing collection; I would definitely recommend it for fans of his other works, and fans of short fiction such as John Crowley, Jai Claire, and even Charles de Lint, although his tone is not nearly as gentle. There’s something for nearly everyone, and while there are often violent and unpleasant events and even quite a few unlikable characters (or at least hypothetically unlikable ones), overall there’s enough to balance the novel. There’s even a children’s story, “Mark the Bunny,” which has some obvious socialist overtones, and although I wouldn’t recommend the collection as a whole for children, the story’s really hilarious for adults. 5/5 stars.

The titles of the stories that I reviewed are as follows, with a short description:

“Autumn’s Country” (Asian-set story about arranged marriages and the possible results)
“The Dancer’s Gift” (Dark secondary-world fantasy about destructive empathy)
“Through the Obsidian Gates” (Sort of an Orpheus-in-the-Underworld story, but with Mayans)
“Obsidian Shards” (Aztec death priest fights crime!)
“The Lost Xuyan Bride” (Alternate-history Dashiell-Hammett type mystery)
“The Dragon’s Tears” (Asian-set death, riddles, and [obviously] dragons story)
“Beneath the Mask” (Aztec death priest fights more crime!)
“Sea Child” (Secondary-world fantasy with high cliffs and dangerous waters)
“The Naming at the Pool” (Different secondary-world fantasy, with different riddles and changes of identity)
“Weepers and Ragers” (Future-set science fiction with melting brains and murder)
“For a Daughter” (Literary flash fiction about China’s one-child policy)
“Citadel of Cobras” (Hermits, forests, and magic)
“The Triad’s Gift” (Novella-length story about riddles, losing one’s kingdom, and nagas)

The first story I read was “Autumn’s Country,” and while it was interesting, I wasn’t that enthralled. I read on, though, and discovered her Aztec stories. The main character of these tales is Acatl, a death priest, who somehow gets roped into investigating crimes. I love what are essentially gumshoe tales set in fantasy lands (some of Terry Pratchett’s qualify, as well as Tamara Siler Jones’s Dubric Byerly novels), and this was, in addition to being a mystery, a great fantasy land. I don’t think that Central and South America have been mined nearly enough for fantasy. Not only does Ms. de Bodard make great use of it as a historical kind of world in this story, but she uses the trappings of the empire to make a more current fantasy story.

That story (“The Lost Xuyan Bride”) is set in an alternate reality where China, Europe, and the Aztec empire (called Mexica) share North America. the Europeans (“Americans”) have the eastern chunk, the Chinese (the Xuyans) have west of the Rockies, and the Mexicans have the south. There’s a great deal of xenophobia, especially the Americans; the main character had the misfortune to fall in love with a Xuyan woman, and he was nearly put in jail for it. This story is also a detective tale; it starts out with the traditional beautiful woman coming into the office to ask for help, and the private investigator almost refusing the case. It’s a little longer than some of her other stories, and probably the best of them so far. Her website indicates that she will be publishing many more stories in this world, and I look forward to it.

The other stories have various settings which, while all quite detailed and impressive, are perhaps not quite as appealing to me as her alternate reality. I do admire her breadth of settings, and if she were to choose to write a novel, I very much hope it would be set in the alternate reality. However, if she continues writing short stories, I would not be in the least disappointed. Her character types are rich, as well — while most of her main characters seem to be male, they aren’t one-dimensional in the least, and most aren’t even the least bit similar to each other. Even the detectives don’t resemble one another at all. In short, I’d recommend searching out her works, and I very much hope that she wins the Campbell, so a publisher will take a chance and put out a collection of her short works. 4.5/5 stars for the group.

Nanagada is a smallish continent on a world that has been populated by people who used to live in the Caribbean on Earth, several hundred years ago. They share the continent with the Azteca, who are obviously of Central and South American heritage. The Nanagadans worship the Loa, and the Azteca the Teotls. Of course, they have major differences, and these erupt in a full-blown invasion at some point. John de Brun, a fisherman and sailor living towards the southern part of the land, is apparently the man of the hour — two men are looking for him, both to get the codes for the Ma Wi Jung, whatever that is. But John de Brun has no idea what they’re talking about, because he’s got amnesia prior to about twenty years ago. Can the Nanagadans survive, and will John live?

Being that Mr. Buckell is from the Caribbean and I am not (despite our shared Ohio residence), I can only assume that his characters’ dialect is based on a Caribbean speech pattern. It’s very consistent and fairly musical, and quite easy to read. The characters all seem to look and act in a Caribbean fashion — worshiping the Loa, who are the gods of vodou (voodoo); fishing and sailing; having hair in dreadlocks. It was definitely a different world from the standard speculative fiction realm, and I thought it was quite well-done and revelatory. I’d definitely love to see more well-done novels written in a Caribbean-type setting, whether it’s historical or futuristic, like this one.

John de Brun, our main character, has a hook for a hand, and a lot of backstory. We don’t even find out about the majority of it until nearly the end of the book. Because of that, he’s kind of fascinating. Two of the men going after him — Oaxyctl and
Pepper — are actually even more mysterious. We don’t really get a lot of explanations until the very end, and even then, we’re left to imagine some. It actually works, in this case. There are a lot of different narrators — everyone mentioned in this paragraph, plus John’s son Jerome, and Dihana the Prime Minister (female) — so a lot of the suspense is maintained through dramatic irony. It’ll probably take Mr. Buckell ten more books to explain everything we need to know about these characters, but I never felt as if I’d missed something — just that there was more yet to be revealed.

This book wasn’t exactly to my tastes. As I mentioned above, his worldbuilding and characters are superb and the plot was well-done, but I didn’t enjoy reading it. Unlike some other fiction I’ve reviewed on here, though, I know the fault lies with me and not with Mr. Buckell. I’m fully capable of realizing that this is a well-written book. The science part wasn’t too hard, and the war-and-politics plot felt strong and I agonized with some of the decision-making. I did wish that there were more female characters — we had one and perhaps a half, if you count some incidental mentions all together as a second partial female character. I would still definitely recommend it, unless one is looking for a lot of strong female characters. 4.5/5 stars.

Butterfly St. Cyr — actually named Saint Butterflies-are-free Peace Sincere — is a stardancer darktrader, or a smuggler starship captain. While making a deal, she unfortunately manages to get involved with a fight between some other darktrader-types and a hellflower — a member of the alMayne family of honor-bound mercenaries who command a significant amount of political and financial capital. The hellflower, unfortunately, turns into a bad penny, and she gets into all sorts of trouble — which, of course, she can’t deal with, being that not only is she an illegal immigrant from an Interdicted World, but she owns a Library — an AI that is completely prohibited by the Imperial law. Will she survive, and what about the hellflower?

The book is written sort of from two different points of view. The majority of the story is told in first person from Butterfly’s point of view, and she thinks and speaks in the slang of her time, peppered with words that are sort of Spanish and French. Butterfly can speak three main dialects, of which Interphon is the standard language and the one she speaks the least well. Mostly we hear what she calls ‘patwa,’ or what we would call patois — a mishmash of different languages, jargon, and colloquialisms. Fortunately, it’s quite readable, but it takes a moment to get used to, the same way that Cockney and Scottish accents and dialect do. There are also interludes from the point of view of the Library, who is named Paladin, and he thinks and speaks in very correct English, to the point of occasional scientific exactitude. It’s rather refreshing.

Butterfly’s time is far enough in the future that human beings from different planets have differentiated at least slightly into different races. The alMayne ‘hellflower’ character is thirty-something alMayne years, which is 14 standard years, and at that age he is (I believe) legally and physically an adult. Butterfly is rather much older — she says that she’s more than halfway through her alloted years, according to her race, which made me assume she was in her late thirties. In addition to differences between human races, there are the nonhuman characters (Butterfly calls them ‘wigglies’) which vary from fur-covered to various things that current humans would call ‘aliens’ (more bug-like).

There’s a lot of backstory that is merely alluded to; at some point in the past, Earth-type humans apparently declared all women nonsentient creatures to keep them ‘safe’ from being contaminated with radiation that might harm their breeding capacity. There were also various technological wars, and then a time when groups of planets decided to pay the Empire a lot of money to be left alone. At 260-ish pages, there’s no way that Ms. Shahar had enough time to get into all the implications of this. However, it’s the first book in a trilogy, and there are many pages left to explore this quite-interesting world that she created. I found Butterfly engaging enough that I will confidently dive into the next volume (which, fortunately, I already own). 4/5 stars.