From the Podosphere: October 2008

October is traditionally the month for horror, culminating in Halloween, and Pseudopod serves up a suitably ghoulish set this month, beginning with Michael Savastano’s science-fictional “Spurling’s Virus” read by Ben Phillips. On a station where they are trying to find how to counter a deadly virus deriving from alien creatures, and which kills humans in a particularly gruesome manner, a man must avoid being infected. He discovers, however, that his role in this search is not quite as he had supposed. A visceral tale, with horrific, unpleasant detail that leaves one with regretful sympathy for the protagonist.

In “Radiodemonology” by John Medaille, a radiologist believes he can see a person’s soul in a chest x-ray. This is a neat but fairly innocuous idea that’s taken to new heights with wry, sharp writing and a truly splendid reading by Alasdair Stuart.

A particularly gruesome horror is that of the body rebelling against its owner—and when the process in question can be fairly unspeakable even in its normal manifestation, the horror becomes enhanced and immediate. The female protagonist in Florence Ann Marlowe’s “Periods” finds she is bleeding abnormally, and though the ending is not unexpected, its execution is deft and literate, which along with Damaris Mannering’s sympathetic narration makes for excellent body-horror. Recommended, especially to squeamish blokes.

“Furnace Room Lullaby” by Leah Bobet is a spooky story about a haunted furnace, with a haunting undertone of undefined guilt, hauntingly read by The Word Whore, but marred by far too intrusive sound effects. This isn’t the first time Pseudopod has experimented with sound effects, so one might expect it to be done well, but in this case the effects are not only too loud, obscuring some of the narration, but also redundant. If the writing is good enough, as here, the listener doesn’t need to be told what to see in his or her mind’s eye.

Stephen Owen’s “The Cellar” comprises several parallel narratives in different times, leaving the reader/listener to make connections between them. An old man inspects a house for sale; two kids challenge each other on a building site; a woman tells her husband what she thinks is good news. Ian Stuart’s professional delivery contributes added authority. That the inevitable connections between these narratives are skilfully undermined in the final paragraphs demonstrates the author’s mastery of the short form.

October’s Escape Pod begins with Will McIntosh’s “Unlikely” in which the logical fallacy post hoc, ergo propter hoc—“after this, therefore because of this”—is put to the test. Two unconnected people meet regularly for the simple reason that it’s been discovered that when they do, certain unrelated statistics appear to be affected. The idea that correlation indicates causation is a fascinating subject for science fiction, and the first person protagonist’s skepticism gives the story some amusing moments. But it turns out the story is actually a romance, and an enjoyable one, with the scant SF content taking third place behind the characters. As such, it’s a fun listen, with Stephen Eley’s narration hitting all the right nuances.

The “arties” in Jeremiah Tolbert’s “Arties Aren’t Stupid” are presumably artificial beings, rather than the result of some advanced genetic engineering, though it’s never stated. Told from the point of view of one of these arties, in an age when things in general appear to have been left to degenerate, this story is complete with its own youth-based argot, which makes it hard to follow, despite Philippa Ballantine’s clear and expressive reading.

“Navy Brat” by Kay Kenyon (read by Dani Cutler) is military SF set aboard a generation starship, where a young naval officer doesn’t share the quasi-religious veneration of their military founder, and is therefore ostracized. No longer on active duty, she is free to wander the ship and discovers something about their overall mission that leads to change for them all. Billed as “young adult” SF, this story is not particularly original in its themes, though its execution is competent, and resonates with recent reports of overt religiosity in the U.S. military.

The idea of artificial intelligences taking over the human race for its own good isn’t original, so “Resistance” by Tobias S. Buckell is covering established ground, though he puts a neat spin on a kind of democratic dictatorship. The political theme is well handled within a science-fictional universe, raising questions about the exercise of political power, and despite its length, the story is concise in its delivery (another of Stephen Eley’s workmanlike productions). Inevitably, there’s a good deal of expository dialogue, but it never seems like info-dumping.

PodCastle for October begins with the last of Peter S. Beagle’s quirky flash fables, “The Fable of the Octopus” read by Stephen Eley. In this enjoyable Miniature, an octopus ponders the great philosophical questions, with the aid of a sympathetic fisherman.

Eugie Foster’s* “The Tanuki-Kettle” (read by Tina Connolly) is an eastern fantasy in the style of a traditional fairy tale, where a pursued creature seeks refuge by shape-shifting into the form of a tea kettle. It’s engaging and charming, and not without incidental unexpected twists that give the story unusual immediacy.

Short and expressive, but obscure nonetheless, Karina Sumner-Smith’s “The Voices of Snakes” (read by Rachel Swirsky) appears to be the story of one woman and two snakes—plus a peripheral man, and a link with Greek mythology. Fancy writing, however, doth not a story make.

“Dead Languages” by Merrie Haskell is a well-written urban fantasy in which the use of a genuinely ancient scroll as a prop in an independent film-shoot precipitates the metamorphosis of ordinary people into the characters they pretend to be. Sharp and wry, this is a good listen despite its length, gaining added realism from M. K. Hobson’s expert reading.

In Kristine Dikeman’s sharply observed Miniature, “All Flee the Vocab. Quiz” (read by Alasdair Stuart), what begins as an observation on a bus goes on to deliver a deliciously mischievous twist.

“Grand Guignol” by Andy Duncan (read by Frank Key) is a period piece set in a French theatre specializing in gruesome melodrama. The fantasy aspect appears entirely incidental to the comedic drama of the story, which is involving and satisfying, and definitely not the usual fantasy fare.

Party conversations turn to the surreal in Vylar Kaftan’s “Scar Stories” as the family cat, the house, and a burned corpse join in the discussion. Weird, short, and engaging, in a “what if?” kind of way, this Miniature’s oddness is given an edge by Jack Mangan’s famously deadpan delivery.

“Colin and Ishmael in the Dark” by William Shunn is a good story with only a hint of fantasy, unfortunately marred by the choice of narrator. We have an extended conversation between a prisoner and his jailer, conducted in formal tones with precise language—indeed one of the story’s themes is the power of storytelling. But MarBelle’s diction exhibits some characteristics (such as dropping the final “g” from words ending in “ing”) that, though perhaps suited to a more colloquial story, only jar here.

Rounding off PodCastle’s stories for Halloween is Edgar Allan Poe’s “Cask of Amontillado” read by Cheyenne Wright, who gives a good impression of Orson Welles with a reading of quietly mocking menace. Like many of Poe’s stories (and, for example, those of H. P. Lovecraft and M. R. James), the horror is in the telling rather than the plotting, and it hearkens back to earlier times, when groups of eager listeners huddled round a crackling fireplace, all ears on the master storyteller.

Keeping with October’s emphasis on horror, I listened to two gruesome stories from Well Told Tales, the first being “Feeders” by Diana Kemp-Jones (read by Sonia Perozzi). This is a traditional horror tale that will likely make you itch, even as you continue to listen just to find out if it ends the way you know it must. A young couple, stranded miles from anywhere without transport, seek shelter in a ghost town. It can only end badly, and it does. Satisfyingly horrific, and rich in sickly, stomach-churning detail.

In “Folsom Pond Blues” by Doug Murano (read by J. B. Goodspeed), a man wakes up with his face frozen to a sheet of ice—he’s been ice-fishing with a friend. But things are not what they seem. This is indeed well told, by both author and narrator, with layers of complexity that go as deep as the freezing waters beneath the ice. Well constructed too, and a fitting choice for Halloween.

[*Disclosure notice: Eugie Foster is the managing editor of The Fix.]