My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me: Forty New Fairy Tales

My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me: Forty New Fairy Tales, edited by Kate Bernheimer and Carmen Giménez Smith, is a 2010 World Fantasy Award-winning book we chose for the KLBAC Speculative Fiction Book Club's April 2024 discussion. I don't have much time to write about it, but I wanted to write up some notes ahead of our discussion. The main feeling, overall, is "Dang, 40 stories on the same theme is way too many." It quickly starts to feel like a chore to get through than a joy to read. And like most collections, particularly themed, multi-author collections, the quality varies pretty widely.

There's also the general tone of the collection, which feels like: "People think fairytales are all sweetness and light (do we really?), but they're really dark and nasty and transgressive and abject with pathos, so we're going to beat you over the head with that for 40 stories. Buckle in for your punishment!" This collection feels like it has a chip on its shoulder, something to prove, and goes too far in correcting what it perceives as a mistaken impression about fairytales, turning them into things nobody wants to read or hear. I can get into grim dark dark daaarrrrrrkness, but for 40 stories?

With limited time to read, I skipped the intros. I didn't start skipping stories until I was most of the way through, and got over the feeling of duty to read every story. 

• "Baba Iaga and the Pelican Child" by Joy Williams: I enjoyed this. I have always liked Baba Yaga stories, and this is a rare one in which she's not the villain (I suspect there are more like that which have not been translated into English). However, it really sets the grimdark theme that doesn't really let up much at all.
• "Ardour" by Jonathon Keats: While this is based on "The Snow Maiden," I couldn't help but think of "Yuki Onna," which is not a surprise as I wrote a horror story based on the story. This was pretty good, though, of course, sad.
• "I'm Here" by Ludmilla Petrushevskaya: This is one I remember really liking, with more of a quiet sorrow than the more visceral, distressing stories feature.
• "The Brother and the Bird" by Alissa Nutting: Based on "The Juniper Tree," this is where the collection gets its title, and it has the oft-repeated theme of this collection, that of parents who destroy their own children in various ways. This is where I started to feel like reading this would be a real slog. 
• "Hansel and Gretel" by Francine Prose: This story isn't terribly Hansel and Gretel-ish, but it's an interesting if weird one. Indeed, I'd just about put it more as a weird-fiction story than a fairytale, and this is where I realized that not every story in this book would be written in a fairytale style.
• "A Day in the Life of Half of Rumpelstiltskin" by Kevin Brockmeier: Very weird, and interesting, but almost brain-twisting. We are asked to identify not only with the extreme weirdo who is Rumpelstiltskin, but indeed only half of him, as he navigates life in our real work with only half a body (split lengthwise).
• "With Hair of Hand-Spun Gold" by Neil LaBute: This is one that has no fantastic elements, but is still inspired by Rumpelstiltskin, about a boy who was seduced by his teacher, and now stalks her. 
• "The Swan Brothers" by Shelley Jackson: The source, "The Six Swans," is already a pretty grim story, with a girl having to cut off her finger and such, and this is a melancholy jumble of several versions of the story, or maybe of different stories, combined with performance art.
• "The Warm Mouth" by Joyelle McSweeney: And this is where I started asking myself, "Can I just drop this? Can I just skip this month's discussion? This feels grotesque for the sake of being grotesque. I don't want to read this book anymore." But I kept going. I do wish I'd just skipped this, though. Though if I'd read it by itself, I might have enjoyed it more.
• "Snow White, Rose Red" by Lydia Millet: Creepy non-fantastic story.
• "The Erlking" by Sarah Shun-lien Bynum: I seem to remember liking this better than the last few, but I can hardly remember anything about it.
• "Dapplegrim" by Brian Evenson: This I remember as "oh boy, more grimdark."
• "The Wild Swans" by Michael Cunningham: Nice and short.
• "Halfway People" by Karen Joy Fowler: Another Wild Swans story, and not blessedly short. It's all right, but nothing much else comes to mind.
• "Green Air" by Rikki Ducornet: This is inspired by both "Bluebeard" and "The Little Match Girl," but I also thought of "The Steadfast Tin Soldier" while reading it. 
• "The Mermaid in the Tree" by Timothy Schaffert: This one stuck in my head more than most, but it was still pretty abject, though in the New Weird style similar to writers like Kathe Koja. Though it was still quite unpleasant, it's one that'll live in my head more than nearly all these stories.
• "What the Conch Shell Sings When the Body is Gone" by Katherine Vaz: Another "Little Mermaid" story, this time mostly non-fantastic and drawing on some real-life mermaid performance history, which made me like it. (I have written about mermaids...) Melancholy but not disgusting, it's a story of a woman unable to find her voice as her husband cheats on her.
• "The Snow Queen" by Karen Brennan: Strange, and about my biggest fear: dementia. At least that's what little I remember of the story.
• "Eyes of Dogs" by Lucy Corin: I don't remember much of the source story, "The Tinder Box," but this does involve one of my favorite legendary tropes: dogs with huge eyes that stare at you. 
• "Little Pot" by Ilya Kaminsky: Not very memorable.
• "A Bucket of Warm Spit" by Michael Martone: Based on "Jack and the Beanstalk," this is where I decided I can skip stories without guilt. Not that I did for a couple more stories--after all, the next one is by Kelly Link, who I'd never skip. This one, though, I'd have been happy to skip. Overwritten, repetitious, tiresome.
• "Catskin" by Kelly Link: Not my favorite story by her by a long stretch, but still one of the best stories in the book. In her notes, Link says she purposely tried to write something unlike her other stories, and yes, this one is more fairytale than her usual magical realism.
• "Teague O'Kane and the Corpse" by Chris Adrian: I would have skipped this one, probably, if it were not so short. It's really not much more than a modernization of the source story.
• "Pleasure Boating in Lituya Bay" by Jim Shepard: The really interesting thing about this one is the events it's based on, the 1946 Aleutian Islands Quake (which caused tsunami all over the Pacific but particularly one at Hilo, Hawaii, that's described in the story) and the 1958 quake that created the world's tallest tsunami at Lituya Bay, Alaska.
• "Body-Without-Soul" by Kathryn Davis: Love, loss, sadness.
• "The Girl, the Wolf, the Crone" by Kellie Wells: skipped
• "My Brother Gary Made a Movie and This is What Happened" by Sabrina Orah Mark: skipped
• "The Color Master" by Aimee Bender: I quite liked this one, but damn I'm so sick of royalty and their stupid needs. I read it because the author was headlined on the book cover, and because it focuses on art and color.
• "The White Cat" by Marjorie Sandor: skipped.
• "Blue-Bearded Lover" by Joyce Carol Oates: Of course I'm not going to skip Oates. It's an interesting take on "Bluebeard," in that the woman submits herself and thereby manipulates him to survive and thrive with the psychopath.
• "Bluebeard in Ireland" by John Updike: I've read this one before. Updike seems like he's always going on about men vs women, and in this one the wife's feminism (which seems largely based on hating men) feels like Updike's take on feminism as some passing fad, but he's just as hard on the male main character as he is on the wife.
• "A Kiss to Wake the Sleeper" by Rabih Alameddine: Interesting "Sleeping Beauty" take, but just goes pretty over the top by the end.
• "A Case Study of Emergency Room Procedure and Risk Management by Hospital Staff Members in the Urban Facility" by Stacey Richter: Based on "Cinderella," it feels like the patient was somehow exerting a psychic fairytale reality on everyone else? Not really sure. 
• "Orange" by Neil Gaiman: Of course I didn't skip Gaiman, either. Interesting. Better than most. But confusing as it is only the answers to a questionnaire that we don't know the questions of. Might even reread this one.
• "Psyche's Dark Night" by Francesca Lia Block: skipped
• "The Story of the Mosquito" by Lily Hoang: Finally, some non-Western stories! And yet, still just OK.
• "First Day of Snow" by Naoko Awa: This felt like an actual Japanese fairytale, in the vein of Ogawa Mimei.
• "I Am Anjuhimeko" by Hiromi Ito: I tried to quit this one halfway through, but on skimming I saw that it has a Yamanba in it, and I figured I should go ahead and read it properly. This is kind of the epitome of what I got so tired of with this collection: dark, child trauma, and very stylized to the point where it's just not enjoyable to read. Some interesting connections to Japanese myth.
• "Coyote Takes Us Home" by Michael Mejia: And this is where I gave up reading. I know enough Spanish to get a few of the references and know that there are WAY more that I'm not getting. I love Coyote stories, though this one is more about the coyotes who take people across the border into the US. Interesting but a slog to get through. I decided I'd had enough of this book at this point.
• "Ever After" by Kim Addonizio: skipped
• "Whitework" by Kate Bernheimer: skipped

Rivers of London, by Ben Aaronovitch

I've been falling behind on these posts--I read whole novels faster than I can write short reactions.

So I'm going to wrap up several at once here. Recently I've reread the first four Rivers of London novels--all via audio--and also read the first two graphic novels for the first time. 

Fan art of characters from the series, from AgarthanGuide, here.

First, a reaction to the series as a whole: The Rivers of London series is also known as the Peter Grant series, and Peter is our point-of-view character in almost every story. (The novellas, short stories, and graphic novels sometimes feature other main characters.) Peter Grant is the mixed-race, bicultural son of a somewhat famous London jazz musician father and a Sierra Leonian housecleaner mother, and in the first novel he is just graduating from training as a member of the London Metropolitan Police.

In the course of things, he ends up displaying a talent for magic--which exists! It's not a huge secret, but it's not well-known. And the Met has a branch for dealing with the supernatural, but it consists of one wizard, Thomas Nightingale, who despite being over a century old looks to be in his 40s.

There's a lot of things I love about these modern-fantasy/police-procedural mysteries. The magic system is really good, and while I was imagining how to adapt it to a TRPG campaign, surprise surprise Aaronovitch and Chaosium struck a deal and produced an apparently very good TRPG game using the Basic Roleplaying System, which is exactly what I would have chosen. I really need to get a copy of that, even though I'll probably never be able to find a group of players. 

The audiobooks are mostly read by Kobna Holdbrook-Smith, one of my favorite narrators. He's pretty much perfect for these books, though when he tries to do a Scottish accent or a Southern US accent, the results are pretty laughable. But hey, he's otherwise amazing, and I can't do a good Scottish or even British accent either, so this Southern/Midwestern American can easily overlook it.

There are a lot of characters I feel affection for--Beverly Brook, Abigail, poor quietly suffering from PTSD Nightingale, Peter himself--but the one I always felt heartbroken over is Lesley May, the smart, pretty, funny colleague that Peter has a crush on, who [SPOILERS]

[just assume spoilers from here on, OK?]

through no fault of her own gets possessed by a ghost who just for a laugh totally destroys her face. She is saved by multiple surgeries and over the course of the next few novels regains the ability to speak, though really there's no way to restore her to anything like she was before. Her words slur, her skin needs special care to keep from splitting, her face frightens the normies. 

A few years ago, my wife lost most of her hearing. She had loved singing and listening to music, and now music had become ugly, incomprehensible noise to her, even with hearing aids. She was deeply traumatized, falling into a depression that I'm 100% sure would have been fatal if I hadn't found her the right doctor. I was terrified...I seriously thought I was going to lose her. It took well over a year to get to the point where she was out of danger, and a lot longer before she felt "ok." She may never fully come out of it.

Now imagine if it was your face, the way you interact with the world. Imagine if, just a little while ago, your face made people smile, and now it makes them recoil. Imagine it's not just a scar, or the gradual, inevitable effects of age, but a change at least as bad as an acid attack, in some ways worse, and all because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I can understand how Lesley gets recruited by an antagonist wizard who says he can restore her face to her. There's not many who wouldn't go to the dark side for that. But there are hints that it's more than that. Starting even with the first book, Lesley is gradually adopting a "rules and laws don't matter--we just have to do whatever we think is right" attitude, not just because of what happened to her face, but because the same ghost who hurt her also murdered a child that she couldn't save, and as she is disillusioned by Nightingale's occasional failure to follow procedures and laws because sometimes they just can't be applied to supernatural people (like that ghost). In D&D terms, one could say that Lesley goes from being Lawful Good to True Neutral. And she's not just trying to get her face back: she wants to stop Mr Punch, her ghostly attacker, from ever hurting anyone again by killing him. She's willing to aid a criminal to learn the power she needs to do that. And in gaining such power, someone who was helpless once becomes empowered to protect herself. Yeah, I don't blame Lesley a bit for wanting to become a powerful wizard, even if her motives aren't exactly pure, and even if her path requires her to do some bad things.

Witch King, by Martha Wells

Cover of Witch King

Like many, my first Martha Wells book was All Systems Red. It was after reading the first four Murderbot Diaries novellas (2017-2018; the rest hadn't been published yet) that I sought out Wells' earlier novels, starting with her second novel of the Ile-Rien Series, Death of the Necromancer (1998, a steam/magic-punkish riff on Sherlock Holmes from the point of view of Moriarty and his gang, who are the heroes, though the Holmes/Watson team is by no means the enemy, just worthy obstacles), and then its predecessor, The Element of Fire (1993, wheel-lock/faery-punk). I still need to read her Fall of Ile-Rein Trilogy (2003-2005) and the Books of the Raksura (2011-2017), as well as several more stories and books. 

But before reading more of them, I first was eager to check out her first fantasy novel since she started the Murderbot Diaries, Witch King (2023). And I was very glad I did. As a novel, and as (so far) a standalone, and with a character who is much more interested in the world, there is considerably more detail of the worldbuilding than in Murderbot Diaries. (The lack of such detail in MBD is something which some readers have complained of, but to me that worldbuilding is there, just largely out of sight for now. I have hopes that the streaming show will take a path most will not expect: instead of centering it on Murderbot as the short stories/novellas/novels do, make it a companion-piece and have it outside of Murderbot's rather narrow viewpoint. That will also avoid the problem of how so much of the story is MB's internal monolog, which is just about impossible to portray on screen.) Like her earlier fantasies I've read, it takes a "drop readers in the deep end" approach, explaining very little and counting on the readers to figure things out as the story proceeds.

In this world, there has been a terrible war--so terrible that the population is significantly reduced--conducted by invading, imperialistic sorcerers with far more powerful magic than the locals, but who are eventually defeated by asymmetrical warfare, coalition building, and intrigue. The main character is a demon who, summoned from the underworld, had become part of a nomadic family in the willingly given body of a daughter who had recently died, but in the process of the war and its aftermath has had to change bodies twice. This demon, Kai, has some characteristics similar to Murderbot: very powerful and deadly in combat, an inhuman viewpoint, mental-health issues, and a member of a somewhat dysfunctional but beloved found family. 

The story is told in two chronology streams, with chapter titles that indicate which stream. It starts with the Present, and Kai imprisoned with no memory of how that happened. Alternating chapters reveal the Past, when Kai was part of a family, just before the Hierachs' invasion rolls over his people.

As with Murderbot, gender and culture play an important role of cognitive estrangement. The book is just as queer as MBD, with same-sex romances, nonbinary characters, and characters like Kai who are one gender (male) in spirit but sometimes in a female body. As with the real world, the cultures have different gender expressions: the largest culture has men wearing skirts and women wearing pants, a strong enough expression that when Kai (in male body) takes off the skirt for freedom of movement, some of his companions are very distressed that they can see his legs through the feminine pants. And the Immortal Blessed (also powerful magic wielders, most of whom are allied with the Hierarchs) require men to wear their hair long, and women to cut it very short. These are of course part of the worldbuilding, but they also call into question the readers' beliefs of what is "proper," shaking the reader free of conventions.

I very much enjoyed this novel. It's quite different from MBD, but it also incorporates some of the elements that have made MBD work so well for me. It's not exactly set up to be the beginning of a series, but it's not closed off to that, either, and I wonder if we'll see more of Kai and his family.

Things I still need to blog: Rivers of London, Master and Commander, and Post Captain, the first few stories of The Unreal and the Real, the first stories of The Complete Stories of HP Lovecraft (all audio). Currently reading: The Unreal and the Real, Stone Blind, and Rusty Puppy. Oh, and the first 2 Rivers of London comics.)

The Raven Tower, by Ann Leckie

Cover art for The Raven Tower, Ann Leckie, 2019

I've had The Raven Tower on my TBR shelf for a long time, putting it off for ages due to work and other things that needed to be read. Since I also have Ann Leckie's 4th and 5th novels set in the Imperial Radch universe to read, I turned to this, her first fantasy novel, before those. (I read this in print.)

This is one of those fantasy novels that feels like a science-fiction novel--that is, the magic is as quantifiable as science, in many ways, as if the fantasy universe is just a normal, material universe with slightly different rules. In this world (which could be Earth), there are gods, which seem to come to being in various ways as part of the natural order. Some are much older than humans; some apparently even come from outer space. Humans have learned how to make contact with gods, how to teach them to communicate, and how to get them to help.

There are two point-of-view characters: The Strength and Patience of the Hill--a god older than life on land--and Eolo, a transgender man who is retainer to Mawat, a man of heroic stature and temperament, who is the son and heir of the leader of a nation, the Lease of the Raven--the Raven being another god. Mawat, a character much like Hamlet, returns home to find his father missing and the throne usurped by his uncle. Indeed, there are many Hamlet elements in the story, including an Ophelia parallel and a Rosencrantz and Guildenstern parallel. Also, the transgender nature of Eolo harks back to the male-only rules of the acting profession in Shakespeare's time, so that all female roles were played by men or (more often) boys.

Eolo's story is the investigation of what is going on, to set things right. Strength's story, on the other hand, covers vast stretches of deep time, much like some of Lovecraft's works, and yet it leads inexorably toward a collision with Eolo. Strength is a god who cares little for individual humans--until other gods treat them callously. Its story is one of learning to care for those humans who count on it, and then--returning to Hamlet--revenge.

A beautifully written book, unlikely to become a series, but I can imagine further stories set in the same world. Indeed, this would make a very interesting TTRPG campaign setting, in the vein of Runequest.

As with her Imperial Radch novels, this book examines how other forms of life might think, and also addresses other possible human cultures, and the effects of those human and nonhuman cultures encountering each other. Gender, too, is a theme--gender and the effects of culture on it.

I had the pleasure of meeting the author when she won the 2016 Seiun Award for Best Translated Novel (given for speculative fiction works translated into Japanese, presented every year at WorldCon by literature and culture scholar Dr. Tatsumi Takayuki).

Things I still need to blog: Witch King (in print); Rivers of London Master and Commander and Post Captain, the first few stories of The Unreal and the Real, the first stories of The Complete Stories of HP Lovecraft (all audio)

Foundation, by Isaac Asimov

Traditional Chinese translation with great cover featuring the author as Hari Seldon--appropriate, since Seldon, like all the smart characters in the book, is basically Asimov.

I first read Foundation 40 years ago. Like everything I've read by Isaac Asimov (and I've read a ton of Asimov), I found it rather dry and dull back then, and my tastes were much less discerning--back then I loved pretty much anything with a spaceship in it. This fix-up novel is basically a bunch of conversations where the smart character is the author's mouthpiece and the other characters exist just so the smart character can look smart.

Also, the very existence of women is not alluded to until 81% of the way into the book.* This being a society tens of thousands of years into the future, a reader could be forgiven for starting to seriously think that women have gone extinct (or abandoned the men like Entwives) in the book's setting, and that the interchangeable men--who all smoke and talk like 1950s American businessmen, and only two of whose names I can remember less than 12 hours after finishing the book--reproduce via cloning or something. Near the end of the book, a young woman appears and says nothing, but just looks mesmerized in the mirror as a piece of high-tech jewelry (made by men, I assume) makes her look pretty. A couple of pages later, the comedy-shrew-wife of a petty despot appears, and actually has a few lines just to make her be the awful harpy, and is immediately shut up by being given the same piece of jewelry. It doesn't keep her silent for long: she acts the shrew again for a page or two a couple of chapters later. And that's it for women in this book! I can't remember a single mention of children, either.

This is the problem with most classic SF: it may be interesting in a sort of anthropological tracing of influences and of bygone attitudes, but as literature, well, you can see why science fiction is still fighting to shed the prejudice that it's shallow, juvenile, and poorly written. Thanks a lot, John W Campbell.

Wow, women! Women who actually do things!

And how about the Apple+ adaptation? Well, it's MASSIVELY better--for one thing, women not only exist but play major roles in the show and in the narrative setting, and for another, there's a racially diverse cast of really talented actors who fill out the two-dimensional characters of the novel--but at the same time...saying it's massively better is not saying much. To be honest, I find the TV/streaming show ponderous, self-important, cold. It's beautiful. The cast are great. There's a great deal of imagination invested in it. But...it's still pretty dull. That's down to the writing and directing. The acting, the casting, the cinematography are superb, and just barely enough to keep me watching.

*I'm willing to admit there may have been some mention of them before that, or even a very vague allusion toward their existence, but if so, I missed it. And after noticing the total lack of female characters in the first few chapters, I was looking for them...and then looking for any mention at all, even indirect, that women existed.

The Future of Another Timeline, by Annalee Newitz

Spanish-language cover of the first issue of the "Death of Speedy" arc in one of the best comics of all time, Locas, by Jaime Hernandez (part of the Love and Rockets magazine by the Brothers Hernandez). Included here because Newitz's novel kept bringing Maggie and Hopey to mind, and I kept imagining the characters in The Future of Another Timeline as if drawn by Jaime Hernandez.

I've read plenty of nonfiction by Annalee Newitz, lots of stuff that they've edited, and some short fiction, and I've listened to their podcast with Charlie Jane Anders. But I hadn't read any of their novels! Well, I got to listen to and ask questions of Newitz at the 2023 VICFA online conference, and that reminded me how remiss I've been, so while they were talking, I surreptitiously got on Amazon Japan and bought the ebook of The Future of Another Timeline. I finished it a few days ago, and though I still haven't blogged some other books I finished before that (note to self: need to write about Rivers of London audiobook, The Raven Tower in print, the first few stories of The Unreal and the Real Vol 1, and starting my 8th circumnavigation of the Aubrey/Maturin series with Master and Commander in audio), I wanted to get this one down before it loses its freshness.

Time-travel stories are hard. Even harder, because there have been so many, is getting anything fresh into a time-travel story. That certainly one of the reasons Future of Another Timeline has shot up to be in my top-five time-travel stories. (Note: I do not actually make top-five lists. I have a really hard time putting things in order like that. My students often ask me "What's your favorite ___?" and I panic and go "Too much pressure!" and reply "Well, I don't know about my favorite, but right now I really like ___." If somebody on social media tags me with "name your top ten thingamajigs," I just ignore it or I'll end up with a migraine. So when I say "my top-five" I really just mean "I love this!") Fresh things in this story: For one, there are vastly ancient time machines, created when life was just starting on Earth, that humans have figured out how to work by tapping them in certain sequences, and thus for centuries there has been time travel, though an academically inclined society keeps a monopoly on it to prevent things from going totally crazy. The fact that a time traveller can go back to the late-19th century and people go "Oh, so you're a time traveller! So what's that like then?" is a charming change from all the "must keep time travel secret" of 99% of such stories. Also, I love the pre-human machines--were they built by aliens? By humans who somehow travelled back before the machines were built? Are they some result of a bizarre natural process? Nobody knows yet.

Another thing I love about this book is that it is unapologetically feminist, and portrays a time war going on between two factions: the Daughters of Harriet (who claim Harriet Tubman as their patron saint), and the Comstockers (basically Incels, who are trying to get the movement led by 19th-century anti-vice/anti-abortion misogynist activist Anthony Comstock to produce a timeline where women have no rights at all). As is revealed in hints through the early parts of the novel, Comstock's laws have already succeeded in a history where abortion is 100% illegal throughout the USA, and the Daughters of Harriet are trying to edit the timeline to get more freedom and equality for women (including trans and nonbinary people), when they come across the Comstockers' plan to edit the timeline to erase women's rights entirely and turn them into "queens" (breeders) and "drones" (workers).

I like how the language and ideas are very reminiscent of how Wikipedia works, particularly with "edit wars," something Newitz has much experience with and has written about. It really brings to mind how much we know of history, what is brought to our attention, and so on. How much do we know of the two most influential historical figures in this novel, Harriet Tubman and Anthony Comstock. I knew a fair bit about the former before I read, but hardly more than the name of the latter, but they're quite important to the history of the USA. Yet it's so easy for them to be "written out," and right now, erasing uncomfortable history is an obsession of the Far Right--the same people who complain endlessly about "cancel culture," something they have mostly made up from their own imaginations. Control of history is a powerful thing, and time travel serves as a powerful metaphor for that.

If I had read this book before Gamergate and the rise of the Far Right (which would have required a time machine as the book is from 2019), I'd probably have thought it a bit on the nose, and a bit hard to believe that incels could ever become that big of a problem. But today, anybody who finds it hard to believe in the existence of a feminist-vs-incel war needs to open their eyes. We are, to put it simply, already there, in an ideological struggle for equal rights, democracy, and liberty on one side and a gleeful romp toward a fascist dark age on the other. (That the second choice will also lead to an environmental collapse is just icing on the cake.) As a middle-aged white American man, I'm expected to be on the side of the majority of my fellow middle-aged white American men, but I am very much with my queer, intersectional-feminist environmentalist antifascist comrades on this issue. Some people reading this book might feel preached at, but at this point that makes as much sense as reading a book set in WW2 that says "Nazis are bad" and being mad that the author doesn't make it fair and balanced.

Still, those things alone do not a wonderful book make. Well, there's also excellent plotting and structure, but the best thing is the depictions of the main and supporting characters. I felt tears welling up twice at the traumas and the victories of the main characters. I always love a book where I fall in love with some of the characters, and I know that Tess and Beth and even Soph and Hamid will live in my imagination for years and years. And that is yet another success in this novel: That it can be both a big, overarching story of the war for human rights across history, and at the same time a focused, very personal story of a few characters, often teenagers oppressed by their society, who escape through backyard punk-rock parties and smoking...and, tragically, violence.

CWs: This novel has some very graphic violence, and abuse of women, trans people, and minors, including sexual abuse. None of it is there to titillate like some cheap action movie--it's all pertinent to the narrative and the characters. But some may want to avoid it for that.

Anyway, highly recommended. I have two more of Newitz's novels ready to read.

All Systems Red (Murderbot Diaries 1)

Is it possible to reread a book/series too many times?

Opening slide from a presentation I gave at VICFA 2023.

Probably. I might just get tired of it, and something I love might become something I'm bored with. Anyway, this time wasn't to reread. I wanted to finally listen to the audiobook all the way through.

This is the review I posted for All Systems Red on Audible UK:

I've reread the Murderbot Diaries several times. I love the whole series. And I just forced myself to listen to the whole audiobook of All Systems Red. Audible often has one of the books in the series available for free, and I've listened to most of them, but always quit and returned the book after the first 10-15 minutes because the narrator, Kevin Free, is (warning: personal opinion ahead that will anger some people) one of the worst audiobook narrators I've ever heard. (And I've heard a lot. I do a LOT of audiobooks, as I spend 3 or so hours a day walking.) Seriously, I would prefer auto-voice-to-text over Kevin Free. I'm not kidding. He's so bad at his job that it literally makes me angry.

But this time, All Systems Red was available free, and hey, it's just over 3 hours, so I decided to grit my teeth and do the whole thing, and try to see why so many people love his narration. Because many do, and that's OK, but...why?

Sorry, Free fans (and Mr Free, if you are reading this), but I still can't see it. His tone is off. He doesn't have a connection with the characters. Some narrators do voices for different characters, some don't, and Free definitely should not, especially women's voices. He makes them sound like a 1980s standup comic doing a "women are different from men" bit, all lispy. He's also inconsistent: the voices he was using for a character change over time--that's something new I noticed, by listening to the whole thing. So instead of improving my appreciation for Free by listening to the whole thing, I actually lowered my opinion.

After about 30 minutes in, I upped the playback speed to x1.2, then a few minutes later to x1.5. I normally never speed up an audiobook--I have a thing about wanting to listen to it as the narrator recorded it. I have to really want to get it over with fast, to do that. (And reminder: this is only 3 hours and 17 minutes long, and I still couldn't be done with it fast enough.)

I'm really hoping that the Netflix adaptation will be successful and that Tor or Netflix or someone will spring for a new audio adaptation, maybe with the star or even a full-cast reading (not dramatized, just a straight reading but maybe with each actor doing their characters' voices). Or, really, just with someone good as the reader. Murderbot deserves better.

I gave it Overall: 3 stars, Narration: 1 star, Story: 5 stars.

Expanding on the "doing voices" thing: I've thought about it more since I posted that review. Like, I listened to Rivers of London narrated by Kobna Holdbrook-Smith recently. He does voices. He has a much deeper voice than Kevin Free, and yet he manages to very effectively do women's voices without sounding like a joke. (The only voice he seems to have trouble with is Dr Walid, a Scotsman who converted to Islam and changed his name but still speaks with a strong Scottish accent, which apparently Holdbrook-Smith has trouble doing--fair enough, not many non-Scots people can do one without sounding ridiculous, so he's wise not to try.)