The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, June 2008

P.E.Cunningham’s “Monkey See” in the June, 2008, Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction is a lighthearted heroic fantasy tale, complete with wizards, magic, and of course, a talking sword. Ji is a Zhindi warrior. Whilst investigating a potential threat to the Emperor, she arrives at an apparently abandoned village, only to find it populated with monkeys. Attacked by one of the few humans in the village, Ji’s talking soul sword is stolen, and she is herself turned into a monkey. Ji has to recover her sword and uncover the secret of all this monkey magic. There is a strong Asian flavor throughout and a brand of humorous storytelling that regular watchers of anime or martial arts movies will recognise well. It’s interesting to see the increasing influence of these forms over genre fiction, and Cunningham may be a writer to watch for readers drawn to this style of fantasy.

Ted Kosmatka provides a noirish hard SF thriller in his story, “The Art of Alchemy.” John and Veronica are employees of a multinational steel company who become caught up in a shadowy web of intrigue when they are shown a new nano-filament wire that threatens to make steel obsolete. While there is more than a nod to Arthur C. Clarke and The Fountains of Paradise, the clear and overwhelming influence of this story is William Gibson. Similar in style and structure to Gibson’s early stories of corporate crime, “The Art of Alchemy” is however, a story that will not please all Gibson fans equally. Both Gibson and Clarke told stories that used scientific insights-be they nano-filamet wire or virtual worlds-to deliver deep insights into the human condition. Unfortunately, “The Art of Alchemy” doesn’t rise to that level. Kosmatka attempts to weave some depth of character and emotion from the relationship between John and Veronica, but it falls rather flat. Ultimately, this is a story about nano-fillament wire and business conspiracy, and while that will be interesting for some readers, it isn’t a universal enough theme to put “The Art of Alchemy” on shared footing with the sources that influenced it.

“Litany” by Rand B. Lee follows Rafael Anderssen, a stranger arriving in the town of La Llorona on what we soon learn is a mystical mission. What we also soon learn is that Rafael Anderssen is a gray-eyed man. In fact, Raphael Anderssen’s gray-eyedness is so important that Lee chooses to repeat that Raphael Anderssen is a gray-eyed man in almost every paragraph. After the first dozen mentions of the gray-eyed man, the reader has it pretty firmly fixed in their mind that Raphael Anderssen has gray eyes. The remaining two or three hundred references to Rafael Anderssens gray eyes grow exponentially more annoying with every occurrence. This might seem a petty point to haul a story up on, but it is symptomatic of a string of frustrating issues that undermine “Litany,” including long, redundant descriptive passages that do little to create atmosphere or sense of place and a floating point of view that watches the story like a film camera but never puts us inside the characters. The story itself draws heavily on the imagery of Catholicism and other religious tropes, so readers particularly drawn to these elements may still find “Litany” appealing.

The mysterious Al Michaud returns with “The Salting and Canning of Benevolance D.” Clem Crowder is a man with a haunting problem. The ghost of the Silent Woman has taken up residence in his fishhouse and has no intention of leaving. In desperation, Clem looks up Professor Buckminster Stebbins, soon to be former chair of parrot…I mean parapsychology at Banebridge University. Along with sidekick Dunky, the trio sets out on a caper to evict the spirit from the fishouse, to general amusement and good humour. Michaud tells a witty and engaging tale in a style that falls somewhere between Terry Pratchett and China Miéville. The story is packed full of cheap gags and successfully avoids any particularly deep meaning, which is all for the good. “The Salting and Canning of Benevolance D.” probably won’t transform your political or philosophical worldview, but it might send you out looking for more Al Michaud the next time you want a chuckle.

Robert Reed provides a characteristically original and memorable story with “Character Flu,” albeit a shorter one than his other recent offerings. What happens when the idiots in the interactive industry lose control of a new nanotechnology designed to harness the human brain as the next gen computer games platform? Well obviously it creates a highly infectious disease that spawns thousands of whole and complete human consciousnesses in every human brain on the planet. And yes, there is a cure, but of course, someone needs to tell all these new souls that their time is limited… Its difficult to criticise Reed when he invents such original ideas seemingly at the drop of a hat. If you are looking for high concept SF, a Robert Reed story should be your first port of call.

In “Fergus” by Mary Patterson Thornburg, Jill takes her new cat, Fergus, to visit her longtime friend, Eileen. The cat’s name incites a deep response from Eileen, who once had a child named Fergus. Eileen proceeds to tell the tale of of her lost child, and a mystery unfolds in this telling. But as one might expect, a supernatural element rears its head as we slowly discover that Fergus may not have been an ordinary child. “Fergus” doesn’t break any new territory, but is a nicely execute mystery that dips into themes of loss and grieving. Thornburg understands the story she is telling and maintains the tension well, although people familiar with the structure of similar stories may begin to see the twist ending coming long before it arrives.