From the Podosphere: Escape Artists 2008 First Quarter Round-up

Before getting to this month’s reviews, I’d like to thank John Dodds for his care in piloting From the Podosphere since its inception. It’s a privilege to be taking over his excellent column.

In the coming months, I hope to highlight some diverse sources of short podcast fiction, but it can’t be denied that the main source of such material remains Escape Pod, hosted by founder Stephen Eley, concentrating on science fiction, and its horror-focused sibling Pseudopod, interchangeably hosted by Alasdair Stuart and Ben Phillips. And April sees the launch of another Escape Artists short fiction podcast, the fantasy-based PodCastle. So for this month only, I’ll concentrate on Escape Pod and Pseudopod, with a round-up of January, February, and March to bring us up to date.

January’s Escape Pod began with Neal Asher’s “Acephalous Dreams” read by Stephen Eley. Set in Asher’s “Polity” universe, this is a revenge tale that becomes a complex exploration of something approaching apotheosis. Not being familiar with the “Polity,” I found it a little dense.

Tony Frazier’s “Astromonkeys!” (read by Norm Sherman) is a superhero fantasy told with humorous panache. A plague of green monkeys needs to be eradicated—but they seem to be focussed on one particular comatose young person.

Time travel—a favorite trope of SF authors—is the main subject of “The Color of a Brontosaurus” by Paul E. Martens (read by Stephen Eley), both to the distant past and from the technological future. The style is straightforward and engaging, emphasizing the main character’s obsession. A fossilized bone from a modern human has been discovered in the same rock as a dinosaur, which leads to intense speculation about whether it’s a hoax, or if genuine, a time-traveler.

“Artifice and Intelligence” by Tim Pratt (read by Stephen Eley) is an interesting slant on the “singularity” idea—that AIs will become self-improving beyond humanity’s capabilities. In a world ruled by hyper-intelligent artificial beings, what would they find to do? Enjoyable and thought-provoking.

The first Escape Pod of February brings us Camille Alexa’s “Flaming Marshmallow and Other Deaths” read by Dani Cutler. It’s a teenage coming-of-age story, in a future when people are tested at age 16 by a machine that tells them how they will die. This absurd notion is brought down to earth by the actual content of the story, concerning parent/child relationships along with teen angst. Some aspects of growing up will always remain the same—whenever you grow up. A wry, fun story, typical of Escape Pod.

In “Friction” by Will McIntosh (read by Stephen Eley), an alien priest spends his whole life reading ancient scripture from a wall. Nothing must distract him from this single purpose. He must survive long enough to complete his reading and avoid being literally worn away by the friction of his movements. His singular purpose is interrupted, however, when a bird-like creature asks for his help. This is a symbolic story that doesn’t necessarily have to be realistic. It seems to be saying that one’s true purpose isn’t necessarily the purpose for which one trains.

Jeremiah Tolbert’s “Instead of a Loving Heart” is a slice of steampunk told from the viewpoint of an artist whose brain has been transplanted into a machine by a mad scientist. Said artist/robot is attracted to the mad scientist’s daughter, a jewel thief. The Nazis figure in the story as well, so we have a nice collection of standard characters, and Jared Axelrod’s narration is effectively understated, delivering a degree of pathos to counterpoint the surreality.

A. A. Milne meets Brian Aldiss in Ken Scholes’s “Edward Bear and the Very Long Walk” (read by Stephen Eley) with echoes of the Aldiss story, “Supertoys Last All Summer Long,” and strong references to Milne’s Winnie the Pooh. This particular children’s toy is called upon to perform a task beyond its design specifications.

Transhumanism is a sub-genre of SF that gets moderate exposure—and aquatic transhumanism seems to be its most popular sub-sub-genre. But Jeff Carlson’s “Pressure” (read by Graydancer), a story of a man who undergoes surgery to enable him to work underwater, had, for me, too much exposition impeding the narrative.

“Homecoming at the Borderlands Café” by Carole McDonnell was the first Escape Pod story of March, depicting mixed marriage in a racist future. Well written, with an excellent reading by Stephen Eley, this is social commentary where the SF aspect is incidental to the power of the narrative.

“Union Dues—All That We Leave Behind” by Jeffrey R. DeRego (read by Stephen Eley) is another in the series of stories set in the “Union” superhero universe. This one concerns a young man’s transformation from fat teenager into a hero with superhuman strength. But with the gain of superpowers, other things are sacrificed.

The longest Escape Pod story to date, Jeremiah Tolbert’s “This, My Body” is a steamy, sensual evocation of sex and food, concerning a genetically modified male prostitute-cum-priest who is bought by a rich man for his wife’s pleasure during her husband’s frequent absences. Superbly written and read with restrained relish by Stephen Eley.

“Behind the Rules” by Stephanie Burgis (read by MA in PA) is Escape Pod’s final story of March. When it becomes possible to substitute a clone for a person who is no longer available—for whatever reason—how will such substitution affect the relationship, if indeed it could be considered the same relationship? This story posed some interesting questions that were side-stepped in favour of a saccharine ending.

January’s Pseudopod began with “Garbage Day” by Russell L. Burt (read by Elie Hirschman), a tongue-in-cheek flash piece extolling the virtues of the garbage can. I thought I knew where it was going—and then it went just that bit further.

In “The Intrusion” by Joel Arnold (read by Ben Phillips), a violent encounter unleashes hidden passions in an adult tale of repressed sadism. Disturbing, but without the visceral detail beloved of so many horror writers, and more effective for it.

“Heavy Rains” by Andrew Nicolle is set in Australia and narrated by Amanda Fitzwater—disconcerting at first, as the first-person viewpoint character is male. The story itself is a traditional monster tale, effectively evoked, with the horror suitably impinging on the modern world, where legends of specific monsters still persist. In this case it’s the “Bunyip.”

“Blood, Gridlock and PEZ” by Kevin Anderson is a well-told and well-read (by K. J. Johnson) tale of an encounter with a crazed highway axe-man. There are neat parallels with the main character’s personal circumstances, but it’s not a particularly horrific story (discounting the threat of an axe in your skull).

I found “Tumble” by Trent Jamieson confusing. What is this? Contract killing in a fantasy setting? Magic and guns? Stylishly done and read with enthusiasm by Cheyenne Wright, but I found it unfocussed.

February’s Pseudopod opened with “The Mill” by Tom Brennan (read by Ben Phillips). Gruesomely medieval, this tale of coming-of-age mutilation is pretty disturbing. The horror of the ritual, involving millstones grinding away at the flesh of a forcibly restrained youth, is effectively delivered, but the motivation for the ritual is unclear. No doubt deeply symbolic, the story draws parallels with other ritualistic body modification carried out in the name of religion. Concise and oppressive, this one definitely provoked a shudder.

In Monica Valentinelli’s flash piece, “Prey” (read by Christiana Ellis), a bird of prey—the viewpoint character—encounters an animated severed hand. She attacks it, to her master’s displeasure, and she reacts to this displeasure by attacking him. At least I think that’s what happened in this brief vignette.

“Tales of the White Street Society” by Grady Hendrix is a superb tale of Irish faerie in period Manhattan, read with wry bravado by Alasdair Stuart. Politically incorrect on a grand scale, but hugely enjoyable, and my favourite Pseudopod story so far this year.

In “Merlin’s Bane” by G. W. Thomas (read by Ben Phillips), a book-collector needs to retrieve a book from someone who doesn’t want to return it. Much magical mayhem ensues, but the person who has the book is prepared to use all sorts of methods to retain it. It’s a kind of hard-boiled sorcery, laced with hot sex.

“In a Right and Proper Place” by Holly Day (read by Christiana Ellis) is a sad evocation of Alzheimer’s disease, as an old woman who shouldn’t be living alone invents new realities to take the place of the reality she can no longer grasp. Not the usual horror fare.

In “Secret Boxes” by Jerome Dent (read by Ben Phillips), a box contains the secret death of the universe, a death that seems to manifest through the person who opens the box. Maybe. Or possibly not—this is one of those cryptic flash pieces that displays a superficial sheen over impenetrable depth.

“Ice” by Heather Hatch (read by Elie Hirschman) is a chilling (!) tale of looming threat aboard an ice-breaker in Antarctica—cold hardship leavened with foreboding, in a modern version of Lovecraft, but without his overly expressive language.

March’s Pseudopod began with “The Closet” by Barton Paul Levenson (read by Alasdair Stuart). It’s a succinctly delivered flash piece about a young man looking for a particular type of closet. He seems to have very specific requirements, so when he makes a purchase, he must be sure of his decision.

“Votary” by M. K. Hobson (read by Dani Cutler) is a strange, dark fantasy illusion, ostensibly about a girl who helps her mother care for her father—who is some kind of literal monster. Heavy symbolism, perhaps, about the burden shouldered by caregivers, but obscure and unresolved.

“The Little Match Girl” by Angela Slatter is a concise, literate exposition—or confession, perhaps—of a young woman accused of witchcraft. This flash piece was well written and well read by Dani Cutler.

“It’s Easy to Make a Sandwich” by S. L. Bickley (read by Ben Phillips) is a short tale of a deli-worker whose daily repetitive routine, as he makes sandwiches to order, seems to prompt him to poison his customers. Though it’s well written, this is “maniac” horror where some degree of mental instability, or even madness, drives the plot. Consequently any actions—however outlandish—can be justified, which saps dramatic tension.

With “The Language of Crows” by Mary E. Choo (read by The Word Whore), we have unexplained horror in the form of crows that appear to communicate (the title is a clue). There’s a lurking threat to the various characters that’s well portrayed, even if the reasoning behind it is unclear.

Pseudopod’s final story for March is “Heartstrung” by Rachel Swirsky (read by Heather Welliver), a surreal fantasy in which a young girl is having her heart sewn literally onto her sleeve. It helps that her mother is a seamstress, and though the procedure is painful, the girl knows that she must undergo it—and the subsequent ceremony during which her father will slap her across the face in the presence of her assembled family—in order that she can become a woman. The layers of symbolism in this story are what make it horror—though I can’t help feeling it’s a bit too clever for its own good.

As usual with Escape Pod and Pseudopod, we are served a wide selection of different types of short SF, fantasy, and horror. While not every story will suit all tastes, the variety and quantity ensure there’s something for everyone. Standards overall are consistently high, and prices are as low as they could be (these stories are free, but donations are actively encouraged).