Lone Star Stories #25, February 2008 (Fiction)

First up in issue #25 of Lone Star Stories is Ekaterina Sedia’s “The Disemboweler,” which begins by describing a series of cruel “murders” of cars in Glenn’s neighborhood. When Glenn’s Peugeot is disemboweled, he is determined to catch the culprit—and to understand the senseless crime.

If only the story were as simple as the recap. “The Disemboweler” fails the basic “Yeah, Right” test, foisting upon the reader—in the span of 3,500 words—appliances imbued with spirits of nature, a questing robot, and the ancient Etruscan art of Haruspicy, with little attempt to make any of these convincing or even plausible. Each new addition is carelessly tacked on; a basic definition is given and presumed accepted. Foreshadowing these concepts, justifying their existence, or examining their effects on the larger world is apparently deemed unnecessary.

This is something of a shame, because these concepts seem interesting and unusual and may have had great potential if they had only been fleshed out and made convincing. Instead, “The Disemboweler” feels like inventing a Mystical Orb of Tearful Energy and using it primarily to hammer nails into walls.

This reviewer found Tim Pratt’s “The Frozen One” to be a rather unfortunate story. It seems to have sprung from a sound kernel and aimed at a good goal, only to be inadvertently bludgeoned trying to get from inception to end.

A modern fable and duly presented as such, in it, The City guards itself against infiltration and attack by the insidious Halfway People. The setup is well-done, with a wonderful description of the deceitful Halfway People and a highly amusing recounting of the prophecy surrounding the Frozen One. That’s the good part. The bad part is that instead of actually finishing this tale, a visitor pops in to announce to the characters the moral of the story. The sudden lecture is presented in a manner that extinguishes any sense of immersion or belief and undercuts the entire point of telling a parable—you know, to have something that the story’s moral will be parallel to.

This stab at the heart of the story is only compounded by the framing element around the fable—a warning: “not from the future, from somewhere else,” basically stressing how unbelievably and crucially important this parable is going to be soon. These bits seem intended to establish the story as a parable and to make it more fresh and immediate. But between the lack of substance to these protestations, the extensive excuses and apologies included among them, and the flaws in the central story, what comes across is an attempt to artificially increase the story’s importance and relevance by having the storyteller wave his arms and shout “This story is extremely important! And relevant, too!”

“The Oracle Opens One Eye” by Patricia Russo is the issue’s saving grace. Jokla is made slave and caretaker of an elderly oracle in a remote cave. Jokla chafes under the oracle’s callous treatment of her, while dispensing the harsh truths of the oracle’s answers to supplicants. When the oracle falls ill, Jokla’s situation becomes ever more precarious.

The story is well-written, crisp, and clear, full of both intelligence and emotion. Oracles and prophecy are certainly a common staple in the genre, but a well-crafted, fresh look is always welcome, and “The Oracle Opens One Eye” does an excellent job at this. The conclusion is both surprising and satisfying, and all these add up to a fine, solid story.

Ziv’s Final Tally:
Ancient Etruscan Haruspicy: Yes
Kitty Genovese: Yes
Tentacles: A few
Supernatural Guidance: Oodles