Paper Cities: An Anthology of Urban Fantasy, edited by Ekaterina Sedia

Paper Cities: An Anthology of Urban Fantasy is an eclectic collection of fantasy tales set in cities. The selections range from the highly literary to more straightforward adventure. While not every story appealed to me, there are several that I enjoyed, most of those for their use of language and fantastic invention more than their storytelling. Still, there is a little something here for everyone. This ambitious, innovative anthology is edited by Ekaterina Sedia, whom I interviewed for The Fix this month.

The first offering is “Andretto Walks the King’s Way” by Forrest Aguirre. Set at a faire near the royal castle, several characters depict the oncoming of plague: Andretto the dwarf jongleur, the king, the spoiled prince, Ilyan the bear trainer, a dying prostitute, and various soldiers. Told in an unconventional style, this story was difficult to get into at first. Many short sections comprise the narrative, ranging anywhere from two sentences to a couple hundred words, which makes it move in fits and starts. The descriptions are deft and colorful, but the omniscient style keeps the reader at a distance. Interesting but not as powerful as it could have been.

If you want a definition of avant-garde literary myth in fiction today, look no further than Hal Duncan’s “The Tower of Morning’s Bones.” While there is a story here, I think, this is really more or less the author playing around with language, calling upon his vast erudition and arcane knowledge. Everything has its place, and this collection is certainly that place, but I can’t help but wonder if Duncan went too far. Consider:

Fire. He had dreamt of fire: a fierce firmament in the deep structure of the afterworld, a flux of flash in an ocean system of eddies and currents, waves and tides, splashes and ripples, the simple quarternity of colour complexified into chiaroscuro.

The last phrase is an interesting though overly elaborate way of saying “making all colors into various shades of gray.” Which is how this story is to be read, interpreting the highly complex, ornate language to discover what the author is trying to say. Also, Duncan’s use of alliteration is interesting, but he repeats this device (and others) too much for my taste, drawing undue attention to itself—though I imagine that’s his whole point. He’s determined to be individualistic, idiosyncratic, a writer with his own distinct vision. But if my word count is correct, this is slightly over 7,000 words, and the rich texture becomes too much. I enjoyed this overly complicated story but primarily for its use of language a la the James Joyce of Finnegans Wake. It can be viewed as either beautiful, ecstatic song or the height of literary pretension. I’m ambivalent and found it to be both.

In “Courting the Lady Scythe,” Richard Parks tells of Jassa, son of Noban, and his desire to win the love of the Lady Scythe who operates the execution machine for those condemned to die. After watching her execute three men, Jassa goes to the Storytellers, who send him to a cave where he finds Aversa, who tells him of Somna’s Dream that reshapes the world. Given a medallion, he returns to the city to discover he’s been betrayed. This is a compelling tale in which Parks explores his metaphysical musings.

Cat Rambo’s “The Bumblety’s Marble” is a magical piece set in and beneath the city of Tabat. After leaving the bookstall, Doolia is given a marble by an exquisite creature known as the Bumblety. Soon she trades it for food from a fish dealer, only to be confronted later by a boy named Dion. He offers a reward to help him get the marble back. The next morning, they go to the fish dealer’s home near the woods and are told that the marble was lost in the woods while capturing a winged piskie. After falling down a hole in the forest, Doolia learns that Dion is an underdweller, one of the undead, and that the marble contains his mother’s heart. This is a simple yet elegantly written tale that Rambo renders with concise prose strokes that bring the magical city to life. My favorite of this collection, as it has an energetic story, well-drawn characters, and a lucid, literary style.

Jay Lake tells a triptych tale in “Promises: A Tale for the City Imperishable” From the world of his The City Imperishable series, the first section is entitled “Girl,” about a young waif fearful of Sister Nurse’s scourge. “Little Mother” is the second, about the girl much later giving birth, while the third is entitled “Big Sister,” bringing the tale to its climax. Lake’s fine prose makes this story come alive with both character and setting. A good introduction to the world of his novels in the series.

In Greg van Eekhout’s “Ghost Market,” a man goes to a market under a bridge to make a purchase. Eventually, he encounters an old, childlike man sitting on a Coleman ice chest. After a bit of dickering, he purchases the supernatural “item” that he came for. This is a short-short so I don’t want to give too much away, but the ending worked and answered most of my questions. Gritty, dark, and well-done.

Cat Sparks tells a powerful tale on another world in “Sammarynda Deep.” Miriyam arrives in Sammarynda looking for her old lover, Orias. In this city, denizens achieve their “honour” in odd ways, some by self-mutilation—one woman named Jahira has hideously torn her right eye from its socket to achieve hers. It’s the time of the great water joust and the atmosphere is festive. The title refers to the Glass Rock in the ocean which devours any light that touches it. Divers once leaped from the rock into the ocean and surfaced forever Changed.

This is a fine story of an interesting people and an excellently depicted world. My only problem was that the POV began with Miriyam but, toward the end, switches to Jahira’s. I’m sure Sparks had her reasons for doing so, but I thought this could’ve been handled better instead with a round-robin POV throughout to the sudden shift at the end. That would’ve made the story longer, perhaps, but it would’ve given it more symmetry and made the switch not so jarring. Regardless, I found “Sammarynda Deep” quite enjoyable.

“Tearjerker” by Steve Berman is the latest of his Fallen Area stories where reality has “fallen to the wayside.” In the dilapidated hotel run by the Grace hags, Gail ministers to Brennan, a little girl who sheds addictive tears, and Alexander, an emaciated man who speaks by scrawling words that appear on his skin and is being kept as a keepsake by the sister hags. This world is populated with the Talented anthvokes and openers, the Afflicted, the tearfreaks, and the Normals. Berman’s writing is descriptive and his world finely depicted, but not having read any of the previous stories, I was left puzzled by much, despite information I goggled on the Internet. The essence of the story is comprehendible, but I felt like an outsider looking in throughout most of the story. I’m not sure how successful “Tearjerker” is as a standalone piece, but it did make me want to someday start at the beginning of the series to discover how this bizarre world came into existence. No one can accuse Berman of not having a fecund imagination.

Despite Stephanie Campisi’s rather bland title, “The Title of This Story,” her naming of this piece is apropos. It entails a religious book to be named that is written in a dead language and the encounter between the academic Regent (an onomastician) and a boy to accomplish just that. This is a slow-moving piece, heavy on description, and while the characters do come alive, they are overwhelmed by a narrative that excessively delineates the world around them. Interesting, but despite the germane ending, I was left thinking this was more of a vehicle for Campisi to show off her stylistic brilliance. She writes with intellect, purpose, and a true artistic flair, though I found her treatment of this story ostentatious and pedantic. While this pedantic style fits with the subject matter of the story, for me, it’s overdone. For my taste, this 5,000-word story could have been cut by a third, as very little happens in it. Still, Campisi is an interesting young writer with a bright future ahead of her, and I look forward to seeing more of her work.

Mark Teppo’s “The One That Got Away” entails four businessmen sitting around at their favorite bar telling of their great unicorn hunt. The narrative switches back and forth between the bar scene and the hunt, but I found the style uneven. Each opening to most of the scenes is some of the finest writing I’ve seen in a while—adroit, descriptive, imaginative—but the characters didn’t work for me as these men banter back and forth about interoffice sexcapades and how old they were when they lost their virginity. Superb writing in places, but the story and the characters aren’t clever enough to match the prose.

Paul Meloy’s “Alex and the Toyceivers” is the first chapter from his upcoming novel set in the same world as his British Fantasy Award-winning story “Black Static,” which tells of the struggles between the Firmament Surgeons and the Autoscopes. Normally, I’d cry foul that this isn’t a short story included in a collection of such, but this opening is so riveting I couldn’t help but love it. Alex is beginning his casual day when a creature on tall stilts and another on a trampoline attack his cottage. Soon, he makes his way, with his cat, Bong, to his friend Hemog’s place up the way. There, more Toyceivers attack. Meloy knows how to hook the reader, and if he can maintain this throughout the novel, the reader is in for a wild ride.

In Vylar Kaftan’s “Godivy,” Jared is vying to become CEO while a stripper cum mermaid serves espresso from her nipple before he returns to his office to copulate with his photocopier. As a flash piece this works with its fast-paced quirkiness that casts light on the inhuman corporate world. Amusing.

“Painting Haiti” by Michael Jasper concerns Claudia, an immigrant from Haiti living in Raleigh, North Carolina. An artist struggling to survive, she’s left one violent country to deal with the street violence that’s taking the lives of those around her. Claudia’s now-deceased grandmother haunts her as a paint smudge that keeps reappearing on her hand. Surreal in a lucid way, this story captures the nightmare that Claudia suffers through. A well-told tale with a visual arts sensibility.

Ben Peek creates a grim yet interesting world in “The Funeral, Ruined.” Linette, damaged emotionally and physically in the war against the Empress and her Children, is planning a funeral for Anthony. This story fits in well with the theme of this anthology, taking place in the imaginary city of Issuer where the crematoria ovens dominate the horizon and fill the city with ash. Told in a combination of straight narrative and epistolary form, the story picks up steam despite its slow beginning. Peek may have been trying to do establish mood with the lethargic opening, but it’s not until halfway through that any dialogue appears and the story gains momentum. Though “The Funeral, Ruined” failed to hook me immediately, I found much about it to like, and it is a memorable, morbid world spun from the author’s imagination.

Kaaron Warren tells a dark fantasy in “Down to the Silver Spirits.” A group of childless couples, each desperate to conceive a child, is told that if they venture down into the dead underground city of Cairness, they can conceive immaculately. Supposedly, the parents of the past flooded their city to murder their children, and the spirits of these children still haunt that ancient place. This is a fast-paced tale with characters who come alive, but I found the story’s premise preposterous—which is sad, as the author succeeds on just about every other level of storytelling. True, this is a fantasy tale, and I suppose I’m expected to suspend my disbelief, and I’m sure there are couples out there who want to conceive a child so badly they’d do almost anything, but still… Would you want a child so desperately that you’d risk bringing a fey monstrosity into the world? One that wasn’t really your own? Why not adopt? These questions are never really explored except in fleeting passing. This might have worked if the characters had been in more contention with one another about the risks involved, but the characters are gung-ho and merely looked like chess pieces the author manipulated to reach the inevitable climax. The drama is enticing, but these infelicities ruined the story for me.

Darin C. Bradley’s “They Would Only be Roads” is a emo-scenster tale with a cyberpunk feel. Prester is struggling monetarily to survive in a world of charms and computers where magic and technology coexist. With the aid of his pc familiar, aLan, and his ex-girlfriend, Taylor, Prester goes up against the Levites to procure the charms he needs. This is a vividly descriptive story with a distinctly modern feel. I enjoyed the atmosphere more than the plot, while finding its hip sensibility well rendered.

Jenn Reese’s “Taser” didn’t work for this reader. Told in the idiomatic lowbrow cant of a young thug, it portrays a single encounter of a gang doing a brutal act. The nameless protag does come to a moral conclusion at the end, but I didn’t care enough for any of the characters for it to matter. I’ve enjoyed Reese’s works in the past, but this isn’t one of them.

David Schwartz fuses dreams with reality in “Somnambulist.” Judy’s husband, Donald, has just died, and his spirit now inhabits a squirrel. Much of this is backstory about their life and travels, but soon it leads to the morgue where Donald’s body rests. It becomes clear that Judy is not in love with her husband, but what does she want now? This is a fairly short story that’s practically all narration. The writing is expressive and makes up for the lack of an energetic plot. Still, it concludes with a revelation into Judy’s character that is satisfying.

Anna Tombour’s “The Age of Fish, Post-Flowers” was a difficult read. Not because the language is recondite or demanding, but because the first person narrative rambles. There is a great wall surrounding the city to contain the flooding, and there are orms in the wall—the fantasy element. If this story lacks anything, it would be drama. There are characters: the narrator, George, and Julio, but they never came alive. Perhaps other will enjoy this, but I found little to care about as it read more like nonfiction or at least fiction heavy on infodump.

Much like William Faulkner’s “A Rose for Emily,” Barth Anderson uses the unnamed narrator representing the town (or city wharf in this case) to narrate “The Last Escape.” The Scarab is an escape artist, handcuffed and trapped Houdini-style while bets are placed on his possible escape. A plague is ensuing, and the Scarab is in contention with the Brotherhood itself. This is a deftly written tale, but I never could relate to any of the characters or conflict enough to care much, and I’d attribute that largely to the author’s POV choice. While the description is colorful, more is required for me be moved or persuaded.

Catherynne M. Valente’s “Palimpsest” concerns the eponymous city. Told in a combination of first person and second person, Casimira owns a factory that has been passed down to her from generation to generation, a factory that stamps out vermin with its molds. The language is exquisite, but like a few of the other stories in this collection, I found little to care about. The world comes alive with meticulous detail, but the distancing and frigid handling of the characters made me shrug. Others may feel differently.

Publisher: Senses Five Press (April 2008)
Price: $10.17
Trade paperback: 288 pages
ISBN: 0979624606