Aliens of the Heart by Carolyn Ives Gilman

Aliens of the Heart is number 19 in Aqueduct Press’s series of Conversation Pieces and collects four works by Carolyn Ives Gilman. The series exists to present texts related to feminist SF, so while there are no accompanying essays or even introductions about how the editors saw these works in a feminist context, that they are part of the series affects the context in which they are read.

“Lost Road” first appeared in the Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction in 1992. It tells of Betty, who cares for her husband after he’s had a stroke, and of life in the very rural Midwest, an hour’s drive from the (still decidedly rural) town of Lost Road. The town earned its name due to an entrepreneur who placed a road on a map to encourage settlers—who arrived to discover no such development. It’s a wonderful image that complements the story’s premise, as Betty discovers a road with no exits and no houses.

The setup could easily create a fascinating horror story, and there’s a hint of that feel to this, but Gilman has created something quieter here, more subtle. There’s a theme of being trapped—by the rural surroundings, by her stroke-victim husband who no longer seems the same man she married, and of course by the road itself.

Given the context of the series, the reader inevitably contemplates the story from the viewpoint of feminism, but feminism, of course, is a word that means many things to different people. Those who are uncomfortable with the word may associate it with writing that excludes male readers, but that is not at all the case here. Instead, “Lost Road” may be considered feminist simply from its focus on the female character, acknowledging her situation without reactionary blame, presenting it as worthy of a story in itself. As such, while “Lost Road” is perhaps not as powerful as the other stories in this collection, it is an excellent opening to the conversation.

“Frost Painting” was first published in Bending the Landscape: Fantasy in 1996 and was included in the subsequent Year’s Best Science Fiction. Galena, an art critic, travels to Montana to search for Thea, an artist of ephemeral art and a former lover. Thea has joined a group—seen by others as cultlike—that claims to have encountered aliens, the Dirigo. In their isolated retreat, these artists paint the landscape…literally, turning the landscape itself, through paint and sculpture, into exquisite art.

To Galena, the group of artists seems like a hive mind where the individuals give up too much of themselves, giving up part of their humanity. To Thea, though, it is a sort of salvation the Dirigo offer, and maybe what they have to give up is what is broken about humanity. It is this tension, one not definitively resolved in either direction, that gives the story its power, as it asks questions about the nature of both art and humanity

Dominating this collection with nearly half the total page count is the novelette “Okanoggan Falls.” First appearing in the August 2006 issue of F&SF, it was also included in multiple year-end anthologies. In it, the eponymous Wisconsin small town faces forceful evacuation by occupying aliens, the Wattesoons, and Susan, the wife of the town’s mayor, attempts to save it through getting to know the Wattesoon captain, Groton.

The complex mixture of small-town life, rural patriotism and pragmatism, and the truly alien and yet understandable culture and outlook of the Wattesoons makes this a powerful story. To Groton and the Wattesoons, the humans’ complaints about justice are immature. The universe is not just, and they should accept that. But Susan shows Groton why acceptance is not the ideal approach, juvenile as it may seem. And by the end, Groton sees the human point of view. It doesn’t save the town—though the contrast between Okanoggan Falls and some of the neighboring towns in how the evacuation takes place is certainly a victory of sorts—but it offers a hint that things may improve for both the humans and the Wattesoons.

In a blog post on the Aqueduct Press blog, Gilman describes the story as an example of how women wage war. That may seem an uncomfortable claim at first—after all, the humans lose, or at least they seem to. In the short term. And this is where the conversation can continue, as the story raises questions and encourages readers to think about the nature of victory and how we perceive military success.

The final story in this collection, “The Conservator,” is previously unpublished. On its surface, it has a very different feel to it. The previous offerings were all strongly grounded in the milieu of the American Midwest and the characters Gilman presents, but the feel here is more archetypal, almost allegorical, though it does eventually prove to be set in a Midwest city. Part of that impression is due to the fact that the central characters are identified solely by their occupations: the Archivist and the Conservator.

The Archivist has summoned the Conservator to restore a crumbling map. This map shows the Mississippi River (though in keeping with the story’s tone, the river isn’t explicitly identified as such), but each layer of the map is different. The high acidity of the most recent wood pulp paper is destroying the map, but underneath are earlier types of writing surfaces, from handmade paper going back through birchbark and hide. The pictures change at earlier layers, the earliest ones showing the river as both a physical map and a spiritual journey, as it was seen by the people of that time. As more is revealed, the Conservator meditates on the question of the connection between the map and reality.

This fictional creation is itself fascinating and makes the story a delight. It is far from the first time someone has considered the connection between a map and reality, and even the Conservator recognizes this fact. But what makes this story resonate, in addition to the North American mythology, is the way the surface of the map is deteriorating, matched with questions of how our own world deteriorates, and the drive of the Archivist to preserve it at any cost. And yet, preservation itself may not be the right approach, for the map reveals as well how the river constantly changes.

Returning to the question of how this collection plays in the context of feminist SF, as I asserted about “Lost Road” above, these stories do not exclude male readers; like all good literature, they welcome every reader. They are distinguished as feminist primarily in their assumption that the stories of these (mostly small-town) women are worthy enough to appeal to readers regardless of their own gender (or geography). It’s a simple assumption on the surface, yet revolutionary in its own way, and a powerful piece in this series’ conversation.

Publisher: Aqueduct Press (2007)
Price: $9.00
ISBN: 1933500174