GUD #3

The theme of GUD #3 is Mechanical Flight. The cover, created by Zak Jarvis, shows parts of a model steam bat. What’s really cool is how on page 205 there are instructions on how to assemble the steam bat. It’s a neat piece of work and ties in with the aesthetic which strives to connect various art forms, thus creating Greatest Uncommon Denominator. Issue #3 is pretty hefty with more than 200 pages of stories, artwork, and poetry.

“The Isiola Monastery has sank into the sea.” These opening words to “A Song, a Prayer, an Empty Space” by Darja Malcolm-Clarke are the reason why Adan has chosen to return to Isiola. As he stands on the edge of the sea into which the monastery has sunk, we are given insight into his thoughts. There is more to Adan’s departure from Isiola many years ago. There is more behind his decision to return after abandoning his post as bishop.

When Adan meets up with one of the sisters from the monastery, we quickly learn that Adan’s leaving comes from his openhandedness when it comes to euchoi. From what I understood, euchoi is a coin which the people of Fachi purchase from the church, imbue with their prayers, and offer up to the euchomifier.

More than a vehicle of prayer, the church uses the euchoi to purchase water from the Hadez, a race that controls the desalination plant. In the years since Adan’s leaving, the price of water has continued to increase, and the Church is forced to raise the price on euchoi. However, a daemon has been stealing the essence of prayers from the euchoi. It is Adan’s task to track down and destroy the daemon.

There are some fine aspects to this story. The description of the euchomifier device into which the euchoi are fed is almost poetic:

Wishes, hopes, pleas resonate in metal as the euchomifier reworks them into the ephemeral fabric of Heaven, so God can see the images of the human tapestry.

There’s something intriguing about the idea of a god needing a machine to interpret humanity’s prayers, and I found the description of Adan’s response to the euchomifier reminiscent of how dedicated priests feel towards their duties in the church. Malcolm-Clarke has clearly spent time and thought in building this world, which feels very dense, complex and almost tangible. Yet for all its interesting and well-written parts, I felt quite distanced from Adan’s story. Perhaps, it’s too complex for the short form; perhaps it needs more rereading in order to appreciate that denseness fully. At times it seemed like so much meandering and wandering around. I did find the worldbuilding believable and imagine this would work well as a longer work.

Quite short and amusing is “The Dragon’s Thorn, Sword of Kings (& Fred)” by Idan Cohen. Fred, a present-day accountant, meets the Dragon’s thorn, Sword of Kings, etc. There’s not much of a plot here, and this reminded me of limericks I read when I was a child. Still, it’s entertaining.

“Attack of the Mennonite Paratroopers” by Ivan Dorin is another lighthearted read. The narrative opens with a bit of setting before getting down to business in the second paragraph:

I’m holding pen to paper and just beginning to feel inspired when I hear the crunch of a booted foot on gravel. I turn to see a stern-looking young man, dressed in combat fatigues but unarmed except for a large leather-bound Bible. He nods to me and lies down next to me on his stomach. Then he opens his Bible (to one of the Old Testament chapters-I think it’s Ecclesiastes) and, holding it open in his left hand, begins to read while doing one-handed pushups with his right.

This scene captivates not only our narrator, but the reader as well, as it gives us a hint that something unusual is about to happen. Dorin lives up to the promise of that scene, and the repartee between the stern-looking young man and our protagonist moves along at an entertaining speed.

“Facts of the Bone” by Tina Connolly is less lighthearted. While Jules is out checking on the eiddar, a poacher takes aim at one of the nests and dislodges her from her flycycle. As a result of her fall, Jules breaks her arm, blacks out, and returns to consciousness only to discover that her arm appears to have healed itself at an entirely wrong angle. At the hospital, Jules learns that she has an extremely rare bone condition, which explains why her arm has healed itself almost instantly, albeit at an angle. Her doctor proposes an experimental procedure to straighten the arm, but she is warned against flying again and to take precautions against breaking anything else.

Connolly gives us a heroine with whom we can empathize and care for. As Jules loses her struggle to maintain her mobility, we are brought to a surprising and poignant conclusion. Recommended.

“a father a son a disaffection” by S. A. Tranter is another short-short. It reads more like a slice-of-life piece and doesn’t seem to have a speculative element.

“Hunt of the I-Don’t-Knows” by Matthew Chad Weinman is another short-short. Two friends are in a forest being chased by the I-don’t-knows. There’s a lot of back and forth from “I don’t know” to “he knows.” There isn’t really much to sink your teeth into, but it’s told in a rap tempo that has a certain appeal.

It’s not really clear what “When All Is Forgiven” by Kelley A. Swan is about. There are hints of something dreadful, but then it could all just be a child’s imagination. Or not.

There’s beautiful detail to the illustration, “Clockwork Wings” by Kiriko Moth, an elegant black-and-white drawing that appeals to the imagination and follows through on the theme of mechanical flight.

Alex Dally MacFarlane opens “Chica, Let Me Tell You a Story” with: “I was a door, once.” There’s a magical feel to MacFarlane’s work, and its first, captivating lines make the reader want to sit back and become immerses in the images that rise out of the page.

One night a year I put down my poultices and many-scented herbs, my spindle and clumps of tangled sheep-hair, I covered my suntanned, pock-marked flesh with a dress of moonlight, and I opened.

How can I describe such a thing?

What follows are yet more amazing descriptions that lead the reader onward. To my disappointment, however, MacFarlane’s tale dwindles as it progresses and doesn’t live up to its promise. If you’re in it just for the pretty words, this might work better for you than it did for me. Unfortunately, I found myself saying: “Wait, wait. There must be more…”

“Think Fast” by Michael Greenhut is probably my favorite in this issue. David has a memory of his sister telling him to “think fast.” This is his last memory of her before she was murdered, and ever since, David has applied himself to “thinking fast.” Thinking fast allows him to travel back in time and correct mistakes or right wrongs.

Interspersed between present time and flashbacks, Greenhut compels us to empathize with David as he tries to think fast enough to track back and save his sister from her murderer. Told with heartbreaking innocence, this one will steal your heart. Highly recommended.

“Measurements” by Chad Brian Henry follows. Alan is building a flying machine because he wants to escape from the community. He takes Vera’s measurements and his own, and builds a machine to fit their dimensions. As it nears completion, Vera keeps gaining weight, far exceeding the dimensions the machine will tolerate, while Alan tries to compensate by losing weight. An interesting observation on human nature.

“Forgetting” by Nicole Kornher-Stace is an interesting piece. A pilot on a suicide mission goes skywriting for the first and last time. He thinks he is writing the words “forget me” in the sky, but because he lacks expertise, the writing comes out skewed and is read in different ways by different viewers. I enjoyed this one very much. Recommended.

I have a weakness for Aztec-themed stories, and T. L. Morganfield’s “Night Bird Soaring” punches all of my buttons in the right ways. It also helps that it is well written and engaging. Morganfield ensures that we empathize with her protagonist without beating us over the head with his troubles. Too, she successfully puts the reader into a completely different cultural ethos with “Night Bird Soaring,” which challenges our preconceptions about the way society and religion work in regards to life and death, duty and sacrifice. The conclusion is preordained (in several senses of the word), yet somehow uplifting, with a satisfying ending that sees the reaffirmation of the major themes (spiritualism vs. science and life vs. death to name two) Morganfield has been playing with throughout.*

There’s a war going on in “The Train” by Jason D. Wittman. Our main character, Katya, is reading her husband’s last letter to her. When she looks up, she sees him in front of her with a gun in his hand, seemingly intent on committing suicide. A struggle ensues in which Katya tries to wrestle the gun away. But all is not what it appears to be. Andrei (her husband) is not Andrei but rather one of the machinists who is involved in the ongoing war against the engineers. The descriptions are vivid, and it’s clear there’s more going on in this world than we are shown. An interesting read.

In “Flower as Big as the Sky” by Matt Dennison, Billy’s neighbor, Mr. Jones, is building a contraption that gives rise to neighborhood speculation. Mr. Jones doesn’t tell anyone what it is or what it’s meant to be. When Mr. Jones invites Billy to join him in putting the final touches to his project, Billy finally learns what it is that Mr. Jones is building. Billy’s extraordinary faith and belief in Mr. Jones is what transforms this from being a simple study of human nature into a tale of wonder and innocence. Delightful and moving.

“Counting Nuns” by Christian A. Dumais is a nonfiction piece. It’s quite engaging, and Dumais has a knack for turning a visit to the hospital and his fear for needles into something quite fun. Even if you’ve never had blood taken or been pricked by a needle, you’re bound to appreciate the humor and true-to-life inner dialogue Dumais presents.

In “Benkelstein and the Time Warp” by Evil Editor, Benkelstein and his wife are on their way to visit his mother-in-law. The exit they take has a sign that reads: “840,” and then below that, “Future.” Benkelstein tells his wife that they are on the road to the future and: “At this speed, I estimate we’ll be there in fourteen hours.” Mrs. Benkelstein is quite game, and for a while, there’s back and forth speculation about what sort of species takes over the Earth in the future. Will they be Klingons or Vulcans? What type of car would a Klingon or a Vulcan drive? When they encounter a bus on the road, Benkelstein concludes that the bus can only be occupied by Borg, and it is his duty to prevent the Borg from taking over the entire planet. The ride quickly turns bizarre but still retains a quirky humor that leaves readers shaking their heads and smiling.

In “The Great Big NOTHING” by Frank Haberle, we join “you” as you head out to a meeting with Kate. Who is Kate? Kate is the ex-girlfriend of your friend, and you are going out camping with her during the three days before a conference begins. Nothing really spectacular or out of the ordinary happens. It’s just you and Kate going out into the desert which probably is meant to symbolize how much man really wants to escape from all the trappings and the baggage of material life.

Tania Hershman’s “Splitting the Atom” is short and sweet. I can’t say much about it without giving it away. But you won’t want to miss this one.

Finding a Filipino poem in this magazine touches a responsive chord in me, and I was delighted to read words translated from my language into a language more accessible to readers everywhere. “In Every War” or “Sa Bawat Digma” by Jim Pascual Agustin is not about a fantasy world, and I was moved to see it here.

In “Soon You Will Be Gone and Possibly Eaten” by Nick Antosca, aliens have arrived on planet Earth and they are abducting humans. Sometimes, the abductees are returned, and sometimes they are found with half of their heads scooped out. Sabile is summoned by the aliens, and she leaves her partner behind to answer their summons. When she returns, her partner is baffled by the change, and he admits to feeling slightly jealous of the aliens.

Antosca writes beautifully. His prose flows effortlessly, and even the gruesome scenes seem graceful. In spite of the title, the grief Sabile’s partner feels upon his departure resonates as true. Recommended.

Persian on the Forty-Second Floor” by Keesa Renee DuPre hooks us with the opening sentence, and it sets the tone for the entire piece. DuPre spins the story with a voice reminiscent of the grimmer fairy tales of childhood, without removing the narrator from the confines of hard reality. Keeping both feet firmly planted helps paint a bleak but powerfully moving story of how adaptation isn’t always for the best, and sometimes society is simply a trap writ large. Stark wordplay helps DuPre illuminate the point, emphasizing the harsh yet simple nature of the world the narrator lives in. The conclusion, much like that of “Night Bird Soaring,” is foregone but appropriate and not in the least bit cliché (or if it is, it is so well crafted that it doesn’t intrude). It is the only ending that could have occurred, and any other would have been a saccharine cop-out. DuPre goes for the throat, and it serves her piece well.*

GUD offers not only a variety of fiction but also an eclectic mix of poetry. From the accessible to the avant-garde, these have one thing in common: a love for language and imagery that reachs down and touches to the bone.

[*”Night Bird Soaring” by T. L. Morganfield and “Persian on the Forty-Second Floor” by Keesa Renee DuPre were reviewed by Joshua Reynolds.]