The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, April 2008

The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction is well known as one of the longest running venues for speculative fiction and as one of the “Big Three” print magazines for the science fiction genre, alongside Analog and Asimov’s. While the smallest of the three in terms of circulation, F&SF’s reputation for quality and the discovery of new talent is on par with any magazine. The April issue contains six stories, with contributions from some of the genres most respected individuals alongside those of relative newcomers.

“The First Editions” by James Stoddard opens the issue in an overtly fantastical manner, blended with a hint of horror. Jakob Mamolok is a businessman sourcing latching gears for his coat pin factory when he hears a rumour of a great collector of books in the locality. Tracking the rumour to its source, Jakob encounters Yon Diedo, an eccentric recluse who Jakob soon discovers is also a sorcerer. Yon Diedo proudly shows Jakob his immaculate collection of rarities before showing him the true wonders of his library. In a secret section are a collection of unique books that display only the names of their authors. Even while wondering at the origins of these mysterious objects, Jakob undergoes a magical transformation, and it is not until he finds himself open in the hands of Yon Diego that he realises the sorcerer has turned him into a book, just as he has turned hundreds of other people into books to add to his collection.

There are some truly effecting ideas in “The First Editions.” Each evening, Yon Diedo enjoys his collection by reading the life stories of his latest additions, including their most private inner thoughts and feelings, an utter violation akin to rape and the worst forms of mental abuse. The strong sense of horror this induces, contrasted with an unfolding story of hope between Jakob and his romantic entanglement, Janine Larouque, set up the potential for a very powerful story. But the second half and its climax take it in a less potent direction. Stoddard neatly ties up all his loose ends in the resolution—too neatly—unraveling the knot of tension the story had earlier tied. Instead of delving down into the utter horror such a complete violation would inflict on a human soul, Stoddard turns “The First Editions” into a light fantasy with a simple, moralistic outcome. It’s impossible to know how any person would react to being held captive by a psychotic madman and repeatedly violated, but it seems unlikely that they would be as apparently unaffected by the experience as Jakob Mamolok. This is still an entertaining story and well worth reading, but if it been allowed to plunge into the dark depths instead of paddling in the shallows, it could have been great.

Robert Reed is a fan favourite among the regular readers of F&SF, and the second story in this issue gives indication as to why. “Five Thrillers” follows the adventures and misdeeds of one Joseph Carroway from young manhood to old age and his climb to power, an impressive canvas to paint but actually, this is the least ambitious element of Reed’s story.

In a near future world, the young Carroway is one of a new crop of genetically engineered humans with incredible intelligence and physical prowess. Carroway is gifted, charming, heroic … and a pure sociopath. With the character of Joe Carroway, Reed is tapping into the character archetype familiar to most people through James Bond or more recently Jason Bourne. But Reed takes this character a step further by calling into question the archetype’s basic morality. Where Bond and Bourne’s ruthless violence is always in the service of a greater cause, Carroway’s is as much driven by his own selfishness and casual sadism. Reed cleverly keeps his protagonist’s morality opaque through the story’s conclusion—is Carroway just a ruthless egotist, or does he see the brutal realities of the universe so clearly that his is the ultimate morality? In this way, the story touches against the same questions of morality that populate the political landscape of our real world. To what extent can an immoral act—be it terrorism or torture—be justified if committed for a greater cause? In the story as in life, the reader’s answer to that question will be very much determined by his or her own perspective.

“The 400-Million-Year Itch” by Steven Utley is an equally ambitious if very different story. It is one of a series by the author published by F&SF since 2000, all built around a time traveling scientific research mission to the Silurian Age. Amy Cutsinger is the wife of the esteemed scientist who has long overseen the Silurian mission. As the saying goes, behind every man is a great woman, and Amy Cutsinger is that woman. After decades looking after her husband and facilitating all his great works with little reward and no acclaim, Amy is asked to be interviewed by a young journalist. This apparently innocuous event catalyzes the misgivings she has long suppressed and brings about the seven-year-itch that the story’s title plays upon.

This male/female dynamic must be a common one in the sciences, an area still dominated at the highest echelons by great men, most if not all of them married to great women. As such, Utley is writing a different kind of hard science fiction, one not so much about scientific fact but about scientific reality, the human dramas that underlie all great scientific achievements. That takes Utley into territory that some readers of hard SF will have little patience with but may be of interest to readers familiar with more literary forms of fiction. Not a great deal happens in the world of Utley’s story; instead, the drama unfolds in the thoughts and emotions of its protagonist, who spends much of her time drifting from one non-event to another with the occasional emotional outburst, much as unhappy people tend to do in real life. “The 400-Milion-Year Itch” is a stubbornly nonconformist story that is likely to frustrate as many readers as it pleases, but there is no doubting its ambition or the craft that has been poured into it. It should be read, even if you find yourself among the frustrated.

“The Fountain of Neptune” by Kate Wilhelm is among the shorter stories in this issue and, at first glance, also amongst the slightest. (SPOILER ALERT—it’s necessary to give away the ending to discuss this story, so stop reading if you don’t want to know.)

A woman in the prime of her life is diagnosed with a fatal brain tumor. She has no children and no husband. With only six months to live, she does what any of us might do—jumps on a plane to Rome to enjoy her last days with the world’s best wine, tastiest food, and handsomest waiters. But in Rome she happens upon a great mystery. Comparing photographs of Neptune’s Fountain in Piazza Navona, she discovers that the fountain is alive; the carved figures are slowly moving over the course of days. Returning to the fountain, she finds a gateway to another world and through it is guided into a glowing, heavenly afterlife. The End. But nothing is that simple in a Kate Wilhelm story. Doctors have told the woman that the brain tumor will cause her to experience hallucinations. Rationally, she cannot believe the miracle she finds at the fountain, but emotionally, she needs it to be true. In this simple story, Wilhelm tosses a question at the reader—is heaven real or just a comforting hallucination we dream up to make the reality of death less painful? It’s a difficult question, one that only the foolhardy will find an easy answer too.

“Render Unto Caesar” by Kevin N. Haw is a contribution to the emerging subgenre of virtual world fantasy. While virtual worlds have been a staple of science fiction for decades, they have only more recently become commonplace in fantasy fiction. Although virtual worlds like Second Life and World of Warcraft are creations of technology, the ways we choose to use them are dominated by the tropes of fantasy. WoW is possibly the best known fantasy world ever created, even outstripping Tolkien’s Middle Earth. But the relationship between these virtual fantasy worlds and the literary forbearers that inspired them is a difficult one. “Render Unto Caesar” takes its inspiration from WoW and the recent understanding of how virtual and real world economics might interact. Where it doesn’t seem to take much inspiration from is fantasy in written form. The story reads much like a casual skit tapped out on a WoW fan bulletin board. It has the kind of in-joke humour and disposable quality readers might expect to find in fan fiction rather than professional writing and compares unfavorably with stories that have tackled similar subjects, like David Barr Kirtley’s “Save Me Plz.”

“The Nocturnal Adventure of Dr. O and Mr. D” by Tim Sullivan is an absurdest meander vaguely reminiscent of Samuel Beckett in style if not in execution. Two characters identified only by their initials, the eponymous Dr. O and Mr. D, conduct an extended conversation on a wide variety of apparently random topics. They take a walk through some deep and consuming mists that may or may not have some symbolic meaning. They arrive at the house of Doris and her pet cat, Vishnu. Their conversation continues, then D and O leave.

There might be some deeper meaning here—a metaphor for death and the afterlife perhaps. Certainly Sullivan isn’t telling. Readers who enjoy a taste of the absurd and surreal might enjoy this journey, others will find Sullivan’s story and the style of writing impenetrable and unenjoyable. The story reads like an annotated movie script, with dialogue that might work coming from the lips of a skilled actor but sits badly on the page. The writing is peppered with imagery and description, but without a viewpoint character to colour our perception of these things, it takes a great leap of imagination from the reader to bring them to life.

Despite its weaker final third, the April, 2008, issue of F&SF presents a strong selection of speculative fiction. The contributions from Reed, Utley, and Wilhelm stand out in particular for different reasons, but all the stories seem linked by a shared ambition to create sophisticated speculative fiction that combines sense of wonder with real emotional resonance. If there is a downside to such ambition, it is that the complexity of many of the stories might make them inaccessible to casual readers, who without an in-depth knowledge of the genre may miss the point. But that grand ambition keeps F&SF out front as one of the leading publishers of speculative fiction within the genre.