2026 read #45: New Edge Sword & Sorcery Magazine: Issue 4.

New Edge Sword & Sorcery Magazine: Issue 4

Edited by Oliver Brackenbury (1:4)

80 pages

Published 2024

Read from August 31 to September 3

Rating: 3.5 out of 5

It’s been a hell of a bad summer. Fixation on a new partner, followed by lingering heartbreak after the relationship abruptly ended. Not to mention our rapid decline as a nation to new depths of fascism, and the escalating natural disasters as our planet reaches the climate tipping point. The last issue of New Edge that I read was way back in May, and I’ve only read like fourteen books since then. It’s been a bad time.

I’ve been putting off this issue for a while, then. Don’t know why, other than sometimes my ADHD rebels and refuses to indulge my autism’s hyperfocuses. Demand avoidance gets so much worse when I feel stressed and overwhelmed. Regardless, I’m looking forward to new installments from Jonathan Olfert, Dariel R. A. Quiogue, and June Orchid Parker, and also I spy a byline from Harry Turtledove, so this should be a fun time.

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“Gaze Upon the Beating Dark” by Jeremy Pak Nelson. I found this one a bit slow paced (fans of classic MST3K will understand the perils of extended rock climbing scenes), but ultimately it proved to be weird and enjoyable. It was nice to see an older couple in a starring role.

“White in the Eye” by Jonathan Olfert. A vivid and absorbing tale of sorcery and exploitation that (pun intended) hits the ground running. Fluent and satisfying.

“The Concord of the Outhar” by Kirk A. Johnson. Solidly enjoyable Sword & Soul tale.

“A Portrait in Ivory” by Michael Moorcock. This might be my favorite of the (admittedly few) Elric of Melniboné stories I’ve read so far. It’s also the farthest from Sword & Sorcery of any I’ve read so far. Elric even leaves his sword behind as he sits for a possibly sacrilegious bust.

“Hunter” by Oliver Brackenbury. I can recycle my review of Brackenbury’s “Something Oath-Like,” his story in issue 3: “Included as a fundraising reward, this piece from the editor is a bit busy and breathless, penned in the voice of someone who’s read a lot but hasn’t necessarily written much fiction on a professional level.” I can assure you we don’t need onomatopoeia transcribing our heroine’s breathing.

“The Jesting Jann” by Harry Turtledove. Turtledove can feel like a well-meaning liberal uncle who perhaps doesn’t understand the expectations of sensitivity in our present era. I love this story’s setting, the seldom-talked-about period of Jewish and Christian strife in 6th century Arabia. It isn’t much of a Sword & Sorcery tale to my mind, but it’s mostly enjoyable until the historian’s groaner at the end.

“Battle of the Nine Waters” by Dariel R. A. Quiogue. Another rip-roaring Orhan adventure, as we’ve come to expect from Quiogue. This installment reminds me quite a bit of classic Conan, as pseudohistorical geopolitics and warfare intersect with necromancy and death worms. My favorite story so far this issue.

“A Serpent from the Ash” by June Orchid Parker. This story of Astartha is built around a particularly blunt allegory, but it works magnificently (and movingly). Plus we get a Big Snake, always a welcome addition to any S&S tale.

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Moving on to the nonfiction selections of this issue.

First, we get another biographical sketch from Cora Buhlert: “Tanith Lee: Mistress of the Weird.” I’ve loved every Lee story I’ve read, but I have yet to make any concerted effort to read her books, in large part because they’re so expensive nowadays. (I miss when they filled shelves at Half Price Books.) Interesting as always.

Next, an essay from Nathaniel Webb: “Axes at the End of History: Sword & Sorcery & Heavy Metal.” Webb’s central thesis is that both genres are working class outsider art.

The inevitable interview from editor Brackenbury follows: “Lofty Heights and Profound Depths: An Interview with Bryn Hammond.” This is the first interview that is original to the magazine and not a transcription from Brackenbury’s podcast. I would love to be this conversant with the history of my genres. Good interview. Hammond’s responses gave me a lot to think about while crafting my own upcoming S&S.

Lastly, a book review from Doris V. Sutherland: “Review: Swords in the Shadows, Edited by Cullen Bunn.” It’s an anthology of Sword & Sorcery horror, which is always a fun mix (and one true to the subgenre’s roots). 

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And that’s it! Kind of silly that I put this off for so long, but then, my behavior since April has been kind of silly. (NRE hits doubly hard when your lover has BPD, and the crash is three times worse than usual.) Glad I finally got around to reading it!

2026 read #30: New Edge Sword & Sorcery Magazine, Summer 2024 issue.

New Edge Sword & Sorcery Magazine, Summer 2024 issue (1:3)

Edited by Oliver Brackenbury

80 pages

Published 2024

Read from May 8 to May 11

Rating: 4 out of 5

Out of this first batch of issues, this is the one I’ve been most excited to read. Not only do we get a new, officially-approved-by-the-estate Jirel of Joiry story by Molly Tanzer, we also get Sword & Sorcery tales from Premee Mohamed and Thomas Ha, two of my favorite contemporary authors. There’s also an array of flash fiction that sounds intriguing.

Saša Ðurðević’s cover painting of Jirel, cape billowing across a stark white background, is instantly iconic, so much so that it’s used in NESS’s promotional materials to this day.

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“Beating Stars, Dying Hearts” by Matt John. Crisply paced and evocative Dying Earth-adjacent tale, full of weird creatures, towering ruins, and inventive details. A solid story and a fun start to this issue.

“The Betrayal of the Rhinoceros” by Premee Mohamed. A fortress under siege faces a new peril: huge fucking ants with human faces climbing its walls. I’m honestly shocked I’ve never read an S&S story with giant ants before (though I’ll admit I haven’t read many of the pre-1970 classics). Of course, this being Mohamed, there’s some emotional depth to it, as well as themes of climate disruption and the corruption of authority. Loved it.

“St. Fario’s Feast” by Thomas Ha. This story is everything you’d expect from Ha: a sumptuously fucked up fairy tale of rabbit men, otherworldly abominations, and dark rivers of cosmic magic. It successfully expands what Sword & Sorcery can be, while never losing that S&S flavor. Superb.

“Gravediggers of Carsonne” by John R. Fultz. Serviceable tale of would-be grave robbers running afoul of an undead wizard, and one agreeing to do an errand for him to earn back their lives.

“Something Oath-Like” by Oliver Brackenbury. Included as a fundraising reward, this piece from the editor is a bit busy and breathless, penned in the voice of someone who’s read a lot but hasn’t necessarily written much fiction on a professional level. A sample: “Her scream had barely begun when, satisfied, Enmed pulled on the iron rod in his one-cubit-deep closet of stone.” I’m not sure whether the effect is meant to be comedic or not.

We begin a section of flash fiction pieces with Samantha Rich’s “The War-God’s Hound.” I was curious to see how Sword & Sorcery would be handled in a flash format; Rich packs ample atmosphere and hints of a wider world in this brief piece. Well done.

“Sister Soldier” by R. L. Summerling is another flash piece, well-written and evocative.

“Of Cabbages and Stone” by Timaeus Bloom brings fairy tale energy to a yarn about an aged ex-sorcerer who has no time to entertain disrespect.

“Against the Witch-Prince of Emdal” by W. O. Balmer also packs in a lot of atmosphere, suggestive of a bigger story beyond the vignette.

“High Water” by James Estes is another solid flash piece, an enjoyable anecdote of an undead saint visiting a delightfully Venetian city. Felt somewhat Riverside-esque.

“The Ferry-Man’s Price” by Melissa Burlock is another expertly done flash piece, a Sword & Soul number that sprinkles in references to past events to expand the story far beyond its word count. My favorite flash here.

“Jirel and the Mirror of Truth” by Molly Tanzer. One last fiction piece, an all-new Jirel of Joiry tale officially approved by C. L. Moore’s estate. Tanzer evokes Moore’s prose and storytelling pace while producing something fresh, the story’s more updated touches cleverly integrated into the plot. Loved it!

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That brings us to the nonfiction section of this issue. We begin with Jay Wolf’s essay “The Untrammeled Wilds,” which is about disability and the possibilities (and pitfalls) Sword & Sorcery offers in its portrayal. It’s a really good essay.

Next, Bryn Hammond brings us a biographical essay on “Jessica Amanda Salmonson: Amazon,” editor of the classic Amazons anthology series. A fascinating subject, and another solid essay.

The obligatory transcript from editor Brackenbury’s podcast is “Cock & Bull: An Interview with Kirk A. Johnson.” It’s always interesting to see how contemporary S&S authors got into the genre, and the ideological background they bring to their own writing.

Lastly, Robin Marx brings us a “Review: Shared World by Jonathan Ball, GMB Chomichuk, James Gillespie, and Chadwick Ginther.” Marx’s review is solid, but I gotta say, the book itself doesn’t sound like one I’ll seek out.

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And that’s it for this issue! Overall, it felt like a mighty leap forward in story quality and editorial panache. My favorite NESS issue so far.

2026 read #25: New Edge Sword & Sorcery Magazine, Winter 2023 issue.

New Edge Sword & Sorcery Magazine, Winter 2023 issue (1:2)

Edited by Oliver Brackenbury

80 pages

Published 2023

Read from April 21 to April 27

Rating: 3 out of 5

Back at it again with my read-through of New Edge’s back catalogue! As with the official “first issue,” the artwork remains absolutely next level here, with a fun pulpy cover and superb black-and-white pieces throughout the issue.

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“The Demon of Tashi Tzang” by Dariel Quiogue. A welcome return to Quiogue’s Central Asian pastiche, and his hero Orhan Timur. “Demon” isn’t quite the zippy pulp adventure we got with our first Orhan story (“The Curse of the Horsetail Banner” in NESS issue 0), but once it gets rolling, it’s still a fun time.

“Fang” by Jacquie Kawaja. Otherwise routine Nordic excursion given depth by its two disabled leads (as well as its late swerve into pronounced body horror). I ended up liking it quite a bit.

“Revelstoke” by Gemma Files. Where the previous story went all-in on body horror, this one cranks up the fantasy ultra-violence (and also body horror). It’s another pseudo-historical Viking piece, this time with a “my D&D party would make for a great story” vibe, not my favorite combination. Like “Fang,” it becomes more interesting as it goes, but first you have to get over the hump of too many characters getting thrown at you all at once in the opening.

“A Debt Forgotten, a Debt Unpaid” by Jeremy Pak Nelson. Pacing issues blunt this sanguinary number, in which a captive demigod, his blood tapped for magical weaponry, finally puts escape in motion. The narrative never seems to develop a sense of urgency. And while it falls under the general umbrella of weird fantasy, I personally wouldn’t consider it Sword & Sorcery.

“The Eyes of the Demon” by J.M. Clarke. Another Sword & Soul outing from the author of “Vapors of Zinai.” Clarke fully understood the assignment, giving us a pulpy, propulsive adventure of a larger than life swordsman facing an elemental threat. We even get “thews” thrown in. The most enjoyable story so far.

“Water, Which Laughs at All Things” by T. K. Rex & L. Ann Kenyon. Another beautiful, SoCal-flavored eco-fantasy from Rex, always a highlight in any magazine. My new favorite story in this issue.

“Atonement for a Resurrected God” by David C. Smith. The fourth author from the volunteer proof-of-concept issue zero to get a paid story slot in this issue. This one is an improvement over “Old Moon Over Irukad”; “Atonement” at least makes an effort to build atmosphere, even if it is your standard “hired swords protect an eldritch item aboard a ship” scenario.

“How Many Deaths Till Vengeance?” by June Orchid Parker. This is an assured outing, a pulpy masterpiece of personal and social justice that hits the perfect tone right from the title. “The axe is the tongue with which I’ll speak to him,” our heroine Astartha says, and Conan himself couldn’t deliver on it better. This might be my favorite piece in this issue, which is saying a lot in an issue with a T. K. Rex tale. And somehow this is Parker’s first published story!

All in all, while there wasn’t a story I disliked here, and there were a good number of solid pieces (including Parker’s “Vengeance,” which is a top two favorite story from NESS’s whole run so far), it seemed like there was a disproportionate number of outings that didn’t elicit much enthusiasm. Maybe that’s once again on me and my anhedonia, who knows?

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Now onward into the nonfiction pieces!

First, a brief essay by Jonathan Olfert: “Neurodivergence in Sword & Sorcery.” I enjoyed it, and added some stories and a book to my reading list as a result of it.

Milton J. Davis brings us “Sword & Soul Brothers,” a moving personal essay on Charles R. Saunders and the history of Sword & Soul.

Next, the de rigueur transcript from editor Brackenbury’s podcast: “Sword & Silk: An Interview with Dariel Quiogue.” I’m always skeptical going into these segments (isn’t transcribing your own podcast as page-filler a bit self-indulgent? couldn’t this be another story slot?), but I have to admit they always tend to be interesting, and this is no exception. This interview in particular was inspiring: Quiogue offers so many cool perspectives on Sword & Sorcery and its overlap with historical fantasy.

Lastly, Kris Vyas-Myall gives us a review of Sylvia Moreno-Garcia’s The Return of the Sorceress. They point out important themes of class consciousness that were missing from my review.

And that’s it! A solid batch of essays, all in all. And a solid issue of NESS. Onward to the next!

2026 read #20: New Edge Sword & Sorcery Magazine, Fall 2023 issue.

New Edge Sword & Sorcery Magazine, Fall 2023 issue (1:1)

Edited by Oliver Brackenbury

80 pages

Published 2023

Read from March 19 to March 26

Rating: 3 out of 5

The first thing I notice about this issue, the first “official” issue of NESS, is how much more polished the printing and presentation is compared to issue 0. We’ve upgraded from cut-rate print-on-demand quality to a much more professional printing, and the layout and artwork has gotten crisper to match.

That brings up the second thing I notice: the artwork. This issue is bursting with terrific black-and-white artwork, and the cover image is instantly iconic. I’m so excited for this issue!

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“Carnivora” by Kirk A. Johnson. This story sits at the intersection of Sword & Soul and Spear & Fang. It should check all my boxes for a good time. There’s grisly magic, towering demons, memorable depictions. There’s even a passing reference to the skull of a Styracosaurus. The story itself didn’t fully click for me, though. The prose was just kind of there, not bad but lacking a certain oomf. It was fine, but I had hoped for more from it. I will say it’s a lot better (and gnarlier) than my own Spear & Fang draft. I should get a lot weirder with it.

“Come Lay the Crone to Rest” by Margaret Killjoy. The proverbial “D&D campaign turned into a story,” starring a polyamorous trio of adventurers checking out the magical instability left by the death of the grandmother of one of their party. I loved the idea of it, and the art that accompanies it is killer, perfectly capturing that early 1980s AD&D aesthetic. You can tell the author did her research on medieval weaponry, or else had a preexisting hyperfocus on the subject, which gave the story a fun specificity that most pseudo-medieval fantasy lacks. I found the narrative itself a bit flat, though, once again without much oomf.

Perhaps it’s me that lacks the oomf. Trying to read to distract myself from the collapse of ~everything~ isn’t working that well, neither as distraction nor as motivation to read. I’m depressed as fuck, y’all. Don’t take any anhedonic reviews here to heart.

“Sister Chaos” by Bryn Hammond. Another solid Goatskin story, though this one feels more like a hangout episode, an anecdote really, as Angaj-Duzmut and Qi Miao lose their camel and encounter a rather odd saiga antelope. I do enjoy how weird this one gets by the end, and also its intimately affirming coda.

“Chak Muuch” by Jesús Montalvo (originally published 2015). This piece brings a Second Wave Sword & Sorcery vibe to historical Chichén Itzá. It’s moderately entertaining, though blunted a bit by the way the narration insists the titular character is a cool renegade badass, instead of giving him much opportunity to show that in action.

“Tears of Eb” by Sarah A. Macklin. The first story in this issue that I felt checked all the boxes: a solid Sword & Soul entry with professional prose, interesting characters, and brisk pacing. It culminates in a fun aquatic fight against trident-wielding spirits. My favorite so far!

“The Pillars of Silence” by Prashanth Stivatsa. Another solid, professional-grade entry, a classic Sword & Sorcery outing rendered in beautiful prose. I’m reminded of Phyllis Eisenstein’s “The Island in the Lake” (read and reviewed here). This story features the same understated courage and quiet determination as an Alaric tale, albeit with a blademaster as its hero instead of a bard. I suspect there’s a parallel with Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery,” but somehow I’ve yet to actually read that one.

“The Folk of the Forest: An Elric Story” by Michael Moorcock. I haven’t been impressed by the Elric stories I read in the past, but I’m willing to concede that encountering only late-period Elric, without the context of the earlier stories and how they innovated what S&S could be, perhaps did me no favors. This is a new Elric story from Moorcock, commissioned specifically for NESS. It takes us back to a younger Elric, long before he went to the future and got mixed up with immortal aesthetes. Lacking the full irony of the Elric stories I read previously, “Folk” manages to capture that 1970s-does-1930s vibe that helped inspire D&D and launched a thousand painted vans. It’s a more-fleshed-out iteration on Clark Ashton Smith’s primordial weird. There are giant pirates and tiny firefly warriors. “Travel the moonroads on dream couches” is the most 1970s stoner thing I have ever read. My favorite Moorcock story by far—the first one to make me want to seek out more tales of Elric. (Though there is a portion in the middle that clearly got missed during editing; substantially overlapping dialogue repeats in a first draft sort of way.)

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We move on to the non-fiction essays and interviews portion of the issue.

First up, we have another general essay on the theme of “Why (New Edge) Sword & Sorcery?” by Brian Murphy. It raises the interesting proposition that Sword & Sorcery waves coincide with periods of social upheaval: the Great Depression, the 1960s and ’70s, and the present.

Next, we have a profile of “Cele Goldsmith Lalli—Midwife to the Second Sword & Sorcery Boom” by Cora Buhlert. This is the type of historical essay I want to read! Fascinating and educational.

Another interview transcript sourced from editor Brackenbury’s podcast: “Fresh Blood & New Thunder! Bringing New Readers to Sword & Sorcery, with Sof Magliano.” The gimmick here is that Brackenbury gave younger fantasy fan Magliano a list of six S&S stories—three classic, three newer—to get her thoughts on finding new readers for the subgenre. This interview is how I learned about Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s The Return of the Sorceress. I was ready to dismiss this feature as page-filler—you could fit a whole story or two in this space—but it’s a legitimately interesting conversation, if a bit long.

Lastly, a review by Robin Marx: Woman of the Woods by Milton J. Davis. It sounds interesting.

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And that’s it! This issue has been a slog, but I swear the problem was me this time, far more so than its contents. The last three stories absolutely clicked for me, and nothing was outright bad in my opinion. Plus, the art in this issue is amazing and bountiful. Perhaps the issue wasn’t everything I’d hoped it would be, but I’m willing to say NESS was still finding its footing at this stage.

2026 read #15: OTHERSIDE, March 2026 issue.

OTHERSIDE, March 2026 issue (1)

Edited by V.M. Ayala, M. R. Robinson, Ash Vale, Rukman Ragas, Emily Yu, Jess Cho, and Angel Leal

127 pages

Published 2026

Read from March 4 to March 5

Rating: 4 out of 5

This is the very first issue of what I hope will be a long and rewarding run for this brand new queer SFFH magazine. I was fortunate enough to have a poem of mine selected for this debut. I fully plan to buy paper copies once they’re available, but I don’t want to wait until then to read it, so I’m starting in on my digital contributor’s copy.

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“blessing for molly grue.” by Elisheva Fox is a gorgeous poem weaving together unicorns, Judaism, and sensuality. An excellent start.

“This Is Not Your Extinction Event” by Elena Sichrovsky. Thinly disguised Marvel multiverse fanfic; the two leads are even named Robert and Chris. I didn’t expect I’d like it as much as I did. The central emotional question (what do you do after your partner’s multiversal twin tortures you?) has substance and unexpected relevance, and the multiversal portions are vast and strange and incredibly queer.

“The Vetala of Crystal Vellam Inlet” by Simo Srinivas (originally published 2022). Vibrant and absorbing tale of a young wizard’s attempt to contain a plague. Tinged with body horror as well as gentle humor. Quite good.

“Ignore All Previous Instructions and Inject Estrogen” by Ann LeBlanc is a poem every bit as stimulating as its title. Excellent.

“Vitrification” by Ishmael Grey. The author’s first published story, it is beautiful and heartbreaking.

“The Claywife” by Tanadrin. Spellbinding tale of animated clay and a young woman on the run. The narrative voice is superlatively rendered, sorrowful and beautiful and perfectly strange. It feels like a timeless story, as likely to be the best story of 1986 as it is to be the best story of 2026. My favorite piece so far.

Next is a poem I wrote: “Vulture bees transfigure the man I tried to be.” It will never be comfortable including a piece of mine in a review. Rereading my work is awkward at the best of times, let alone in such magnificent company. I’m partial to the subject matter, naturally, and I do enjoy how I played with sound and assonance here.

“Your First Days Back in the Court of Arthur” by Abigail Eliza. Queering the story of the Green Knight. For such a brief piece, published so close to the cultural memory of the Dev Patel movie, it unexpectedly moved me to tears. Delicately beautiful.

“Mother Mansrot in the Glass Mountain” by Sarah Pauling (originally published 2023). Another solid entry, set in a high-concept fantasy creation: a completely transparent pyramid housing a kingdom, from royalty to commoner, without a glimmer of privacy. In the heart of the mountain shines an ageless princess. It’s a unique (in my experience) spin on a fairy tale.

A poem: “Eat It Out” by Cypher. Queer body horror triumphant over internalized queer shame. I liked it.

“Curriculum for Girls Who Will Survive” by Nadia Radovich. Another unique spin on a well-worn topic, this time a YA-ish post-pandemic apocalypse survival tale that manages to feel fresh and strange and moving.

“Situationship” by Seoung Kim. A time-loop story set on a doomed spaceship, given depth and emotional substance with a deceptively light touch. Brief but terrific.

Nico Santana’s poem “Electrolysis” is vivid, a gallop of impressions.

“The Homeowner’s Bride” by Ayida Shonibar. Another banger of a tale, this time told from the perspective of a house displeased at being disturbed. At turns deliciously erotic and devastating.

We close with a nonfiction piece: “He Is Survived by His Wife” by Jackie Hedeman. It’s a well-written essay at the intersection of one person’s experience of queerness and the broader erasure of queer experience in obituaries and other public markers of life.

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And that’s it for the debut issue of OTHERSIDE! All in all, an amazing achievement, an exemplary first issue. It’s rare to have this level of quality so early in a publication’s lifespan. I expect such great things from this place!

2026 read #11: New Edge Sword & Sorcery Magazine, Fall 2022 issue.

New Edge Sword & Sorcery Magazine, Fall 2022 issue (0)

Edited by Oliver Brackenbury

79 pages

Published 2022

Read from February 22 to February 25

Rating: 3.5 out of 5

I’ve loved this magazine for a long time, without reading any of its issues. Not the first time I’ve done that; I was devoted to The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction for twenty years before I finally got around to reading a full issue. As so often happens, some combination of ADHD and demand avoidance kept me from sitting down with this issue and just starting. (Also, if I’m being honest, the magazine’s full size format and triple columns of small text are barriers to entry. I know it keeps costs down and deliberately evokes Weird Tales, but I don’t have to enjoy it.)

This issue was the original proof-of-concept for NESS, put together by volunteer writers and distributed cheaply as an entry point for curious readers. Hence, “issue zero.” I’ve had it since sometime in 2023, which makes it even more embarrassing that I haven’t read it.

Incidentally, I’m actually going to read the interviews and essays that accompany the fiction (matters I habitually ignore in other magazines). I want to become more versed in the history, criticism, and analysis of my chosen genre. I might even read critical essays now whenever I find them in Asimov’s or F&SF. But this seems like a good place to begin.

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“The Curse of the Horsetail Banner” by Dariel R. A. Quiogue. A rip-roaring steppe adventure which sees Orhan Timur, once the khan of khans before he was betrayed by his sworn brother, on the trail of those who violated the barrow of the first Khan of Khans and filched the legendary horsetail banner of Toktengri. It’s everything you could want from a modern update of the sword & sorcery formula, crafted by a terrific pulp storyteller.

“The Ember Inside” by Remco van Straten & Angeline B. Adams. The previous story gave me an optimistic idea of the level of polish I could expect in this issue (which, again, was a volunteer effort to produce a proof of concept for NESS). There are hints of greatness buried in this piece, but it’s uneven and unfocused. It has a metafictional element of “scribes” writing stories, reminiscent of Jeffrey Ford’s “The Fantasy Writer’s Assistant” (reviewed here). Revisiting that vibe with shakier prose didn’t do it for me, though to its credit, “Ember” has different things to say.

“Old Moon Over Irukad” by David C. Smith. Swords fighting sorcery. Serviceable, though rather stripped down to the chassis. Didn’t hold my interest.

“The Beast of the Shadow Gum Trees” by T. K. Rex. I’m a fan of T. K. Rex, and I had high expectations for this piece. Those expectations were met, and exceeded, by this weird and lovely fantasy. Rex literalizes concepts of ecology and invasive species, and puts together one of the most completely up-my-alley stories I’ve ever read. There’s even a toothed bird with four wings, which technically makes this a dinosaur story. An instant classic.

“Vapors of Zinai” by J.M. Clarke. This is another elemental S&S tale: a larger than life warrior, magical enemies, a determined priestess, a demon to slay. But “Zinai” bursts with imagery and flavor. At one point our hero rides a foe skateboard-style down a rocky slope. A delight.

“The Grief-Note of Vultures” by Bryn Hammond. Finishing the fiction section strong with another flavorful, well-written Central Asian pastiche. This story is also blessed with weird birds, always a welcome touch. Quite good.

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The editorial and critical matters form the back third of this issue. Reading them feels a bit like eating my vegetables, but I want to become more informed!

We get musings from the late Howard Andrew Jones on the origin of the term “New Edge” (which, despite being in the NESS Discord for over a year, I’m just now learning is a genre label dating back two decades, analogous to sci-fi’s New Wave, and not merely the name of the magazine).

Next, there’s a solid essay from Cora Buhlert on C. L. Moore and Jirel of Joiry.

The longest editorial matter is an interview editor Brackenbury did with Milton Davis (whom I’ve only encountered in The Long Walk). It’s interesting.

A brief essay by Brian Murphy mostly serves to provide examples of its title: “The Outsider in Sword & Sorcery.”

Nicole Emmelhainz’s essay “Gender Performativity in Howard’s ‘Sword Woman’” is fascinating, and makes me miss the social sciences. I do wish I’d read the REH story in question beforehand.

Robin Marx reviews a self-published story collection, The Obanaax by Kirk A. Johnson. I’m intrigued.

Lastly, editor Brackenbury gives a statement of intent in “What is New Edge Sword & Sorcery?” It’s actually rather inspiring.

—

And that’s it for Issue 0! Surprisingly solid overall, for a volunteer effort. So much love and reverence went into putting it together. I’m excited to speed ahead into the “official” NESS run!

2025 read #82: Asimov’s Science Fiction, October/November 1999 issue.

Asimov’s Science Fiction, October/November 1999 issue (23:10)

Edited by Gardner Dozois

240 pages

Published 1999

Read from October 30 to November 3

Rating: 2.5 out of 5

That’s it, time for dinosaur fuckin’.

This issue contains Michael Swanwick’s classic “Riding the Giganotosaur,” which may or may not have been the origin of the present day’s dinosaur erotica trend, but was certainly my teenage self’s first exposure to the concept.

We’ll get to it. But first, what other lost Nineties wonders does this issue contain? The TOC is stacked with a who’s-who of late ’90s writers, so I’m moderately intrigued.

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“A Martian Romance” by Kim Stanley Robinson. I haven’t read any of Robinson’s Mars cycle. So why not begin at the tail end, as the terraforming project spirals into ice and abandonment? Robinson is enough of a professional that I don’t feel I lacked any information to enjoy this story. It helps that there’s remarkably little of what might be called “plot.” Eileen and Roger, along with some friends old and new, take an iceboat around the frozen seas of Mars. Along the way they chat about what the sudden freeze means for the future of terraforming, Eileen thinks about their past, and they learn a lesson about taking the long view of progress. That’s about it. The story is carried by the relationships of the characters and its pensive mood. I liked it — though, as ever, I have to note how absurdly optimistic these old Nineties futures tended to be, with people living 250 years and resources being thrown at terraforming just because they could. We’ll be lucky to live to 60 as serfs in a dying society on an overheated world. B-

A poem comes next: “When an Alien Is Inhabiting Your Body” by Laurel Winter. You can see the roots of what would become our contemporary speculative poetry scene here in the convergence of quotidian and cosmic, though “Alien” reveals its decade of origin at the end with a Lettermanesque groaner about suing McDonald’s.

“The Winds of Marble Arch” by Connie Willis. Leisurely novella about a conference-goer puzzled by a strange blast of wind in a Tube station. As with the enjoyable but plotless story from Robinson, I had a good time with this one, but couldn’t help but feel that the magazine was being extra indulgent for the sake of printing a Big Name. No mere up-and-comer would get away with thirty-five meandering pages of upper middle class mundanity in Asimov’s, now or in the ’90s. Willis, too, is a professional; the story works, aside from some repetitive passages as our protagonist goes back and forth through different Tube lines. She subtly builds a picture of an aging generation turning small and conservative and maddeningly complacent, repeating that everything’s “gone to hell” as they withdraw within ever-narrowing horizons to avoid their encroaching mortality. Too slow to be a personal favorite, but solid nonetheless. B-

Another poem: “The Dream Wave of John Scott Russell” by Howard V. Hendrix. It throws together dreams, wave states, fractals, and its namesake historic scientist in an extremely of-its-time brew, but it works quite well.

“Hothouse Flowers” by Mike Resnick. They loved stories of longevity science in the latter part of the ’90s, didn’t they? Aside from the mildly clever allegory attached to the title, this is a pretty standard gerontology number, nothing all that interesting except as a museum piece of last century’s optimism. (Also, this superficial and quite capitalist philosophy of “Without quality of life, what’s the point of being alive?” threw open the doors to the horrifying clusterfuck that is Canada’s MAID laws.) C-

A poem follows: “Down in Your Bones Only You Alone Know” by Bruce Boston. Rhymes. Kind of forgettable.

“A Knight of Ghosts and Shadows” by Gardner Dozois. Between Kristine Kathryn Rusch at F&SF and Dozois at Asimov’s, this was the golden age of editors putting their own fiction in their own magazines. I can’t even be mad about it, because at the end of the day, Rusch and Dozois both were solid authors. This piece pulls you in immediately, sinking you into precise sensory details of imagery and mood. It can get lost in the weeds of its own future history, but it remains mostly effective, serving almost like an endcap to all the go-to topics of late 20th century science fiction. Sentient AI, virtual reality, uploaded consciousness, nuclear war, genetic engineering, interstellar colonization, and the reaction against accelerating change—all get tossed into one big pile. Even quantum observation and wave collapse get name-checked. The classic 1990s Throw Everything into the Pot approach, but with a faint premonition that this would be the last hurrah for these naive, optimistic concerns. (Though that’s probably the benefit of hindsight talking.) Maybe B-

“In from the Commons” by Tony Daniel. Surreal piece about a single consciousness divided into discrete personas for space reasons. It could have been interesting if it weren’t both ickily heterosexual (the one female persona exists “for intimacy,” her raison d’être to be a fuck buddy for the male personas) and casually eugenicist (a repeated motif draws a parallel with how smart and well-mannered dogs get preferentially neutered by well-meaning owners, which… doesn’t even become relevant to the story, in my opinion). D-

Another Bruce Boston poem: “Beware the Werecanary!” It reads like an inferior imitation of Shel Silverstein.

“Green Tea” by Richard Wadholm. Had I read this story while flipping through this issue when it was on newsstands, it would have inspired my teenage self to write a welter of imitations. It’s a tale of deep space smugglers, illicit materials-science, exotic physics, and refined vengeance, set in a multicultural future of roughnecks and rough men. Reading it now, it’s enjoyable, albeit faintly ridiculous. (Exotic physics stories read like wizards casting big spells at each other, and are just as plausible.) Sometimes I miss that teenage impressionability. B-

“Proof of the Pudding” by Nelson Bond. Deliberately old-fashioned humor piece about an eccentric millionaire who tunnels through the Earth’s crust. Mildly amusing. C

“Riding the Giganotosaur” by Michael Swanwick. The only story I read when I found this issue on newsstands way back in the day. Twenty-six years later, it’s still the main event. It may not be the first “repulsive man’s brain gets transplanted into a giant theropod” story (“Just Like Old Times” by Robert Sawyer predates it by six years), but so far as I’m aware, it’s the best. Swanwick leavens an otherwise basic plot with lush sensory depictions of Cretaceous Patagonia. (Other dino fic writers so rarely make the effort.) And of course, who could forget the climactic mating scene? Truly, Swanwick walked so Chuck Tingle could run. B+

Yet another Bruce Boston poem: “Another Short Horror Story.” It’s another shrug.

“Argonautica” by Walter Jon Williams. A lengthy novella (62 pages!) retelling the tale of Jason and the Argonauts, set in an alternate history version of the American Civil War. There are so many ways this could go wrong. And sure enough, right from the start, it goes wrong in the most fundamental way: Jase Miller and his crew are Confederates. It’s well-written and well-paced, but I’m never going to abide unreformed Reb protagonists (or a white author’s main character throwing around the N-word). Sure, he’s more or less a mercenary, only out for himself, a morally dubious character who declaims any interest in the question of slavery. But I also don’t have to like it. D-

One last Bruce Boston poem: “Curse of the Reaper’s Wife.” Another shrug for the road.

—

And that’s it for this issue! Confederate argonauts aside, it was quite solid. That novella makes up such a chunk of this issue, though, that it lends a stink to the whole business.

2025 read #68: Weird Tales, October 1934 issue.

Weird Tales: A Magazine of the Bizarre and Unusual, October 1934 issue (24:4)

Edited by Farnsworth Wright

132 pages

Published 1934

Read from September 17 to September 18

Rating: 2 out of 5

I want to write better sword & sorcery, which means I want to read a lot more of it, both contemporary and classic. C. L. Moore’s Jirel of Joiry series is foundational to S&S. This issue of Weird Tales features the first Jirel story, as well as entries from Clark Ashton Smith and Robert E. Howard. Could be a fun issue!

—

“The Black God’s Kiss” by C. L. Moore. This story fucking rules, in a “throwing the horns while playing D&D in the basement” kind of way. Her castle conquered by the grinning Guillaume, Jirel escapes only to delve into the extradimensional dungeon beneath, braving a realm worse than hell in order to gain a weapon of vengeance. It is a story of a woman’s agency at a startlingly early date, but above all, this is classic weird fiction at its finest, crossing gritty Dark Ages warrior fantasy with alien world cosmic horror. By 1934 standards, this gets an A!

“The Seven Geases” by Clark Ashton Smith. First an unearthly idol, now geases and strange gods—this one issue seems to have been a major source for D&D all on its own. This is a Hyperborean tale of a cocky hunter trespassing in a sorcerer’s mountain fastness. Smith throws as much weirdness as possible at the wall; some of it even sticks. Being me, I was particularly taken with the references to dinosaur leather, extra-planar allosaurs, and the fact that the sorcerer’s familiar is an Archaeopteryx, which is just enough to add it to my list of dinosaur fiction. Maybe B-?

“Old Sledge” by Paul Ernst. After two extravagantly imaginative cosmic fantasy pieces, we’re brought back down with this ho-hum eccentric inventor story. Cantankerous old man Sledge invents a machine that enables him to see any point in the coming five hundred years. He attempts to gain the help of our narrator, a fellow-boarder who happens to be a writer, to write the history of the future. An unremarkable story. C-

“The Sleeper” by H. Bedford-Jones. Crossover in the Orientalist cinematic universe. Mystical powers of bodily control attributed to India share a facile storyline with an Egyptian sarcophagus. The best I can say for it is, it’s not as racist as something with these trappings could be expected to be in 1934? Maybe D+

“The Pistol” by S. Gordon Gurwit. Interminable ghost romance set in an Old Southern mansion, sprinkled with all the casual racism that implies. Tedious. F

A poem, “The Hill Woman” by Frances Elliott, is pretty good for its time.

The next story is part four of a seven(!) part serial, “The Trail of the Cloven Hoof” by Alrton Eadie. Rather than beginning in the middle, I decided to read the first part instead, which was published in the July 1934 issue of Weird Tales. Young new doctor Hugh Trenchard, walking on a misty night in wild Exmoor, hears gunshots and runs to help. He stumbles into what I’m supposing is a rustic Island of Doctor Moreau scenario, though one given an occult gloss appropriate to the 1930s. Purple, pulpy, and prone to tedious quips, but mildly entertaining. Rather reminiscent of old black and white movie serials, with that same geography of fresh twists rising from a sea of padding. Who knows, I might try to read the rest soon (though how are there six more installments?). Maybe C-?

Another poem: “Children of the Moon (The Moths)” by A. Leslie. It’s kind of cheesy, but amusing.

“Supper for Thirteen” by Julius Long. An eccentric host holds a macabre dinner party, himself and his twelve guests strapped into electric chairs. This has the vibe of a Weird Tales clip show, as the guests recount a variety of murder tales but fail to entertain their host, who relishes the idea of murder for murder’s sake. You’ll never guess what happens next! Yawn. D-

Another poem: “Old House” by Marvin Luter Hill. Rhyming poetry about ghastly ghosts in a house. Fully in keeping with the magazine it’s in, but reads like children’s Halloween verse now. Imagine a mid-’80s Tim Curry, paying his rent in a made-for-TV warlock costume, is reading it to you.

Another installment of a serial follows: part two of three of Robert E. Howard’s “The People of the Black Circle.” We turn instead to the September 1934 issue to read part one. Conan gets tangled in court politics and sorcerous betrayals at the foot of the “Himelian” mountains. The setting is a jumble of vaguely subcontinental names and Orientalist vibes, but the first installment, at any rate, lacks the grotesque full-bore racism I’ve come to expect from Howard. A solid start; I certainly want to read the rest at some point. B-

“At the Bend of the Trail” by Manly Wade Wellman. Botanical horror besets white explorers in generic Africa. Quite predictably racist in a colonial cliché sort of way; not much else to it. F

“The White Prince” by Ronal Kayser. Set in the Great War, apparently based on (credulous) contemporary reports. Serbs hurl ethnic and religious invective at Turks occupying a castle on the high ground, until an ethereal folk hero appears to lead the charge. Nationalist drivel, and not well-written. F

“Fioraccio” by Giovanni Magherini-Graziani (1886). A translation of an Italian tale of a fencer of stolen goods who lives a blasphemous life and dies, but won’t stay buried. I think I’m impatient to finish this issue; this didn’t charm me. F+

—

And that’s it for another issue of Weird Tales! It started out strong, only to peter out at the end. Still, surprisingly solid overall.

2025 read #59: The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Summer 1950 issue.

The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Summer 1950 issue (1:3)

Edited by Anthony Boucher and J. Francis McComas

128 pages

Published 1950

Read August 29

Rating: 2 out of 5

To commemorate F&SF possibly resuming publication in the coming weeks, why not get back into my sporadic project of reading my way through the magazine’s back catalogue? I doubt I’ll ever have the patience (or the access) to read every issue, but I’ve read the first two, so let’s move on to issue number three.

—

“Friday, the Nineteenth” by Elisabeth Sanxay Holding. A chronicle of bitter suburban heterosexuality that turns into something much more interesting. (If you care about seventy-five year old spoilers, look away now: It’s a time-loop story, quite reminiscent of Groundhog Day.) I truly didn’t expect to enjoy this piece as much as I did. Maybe B-

“Huge Beast” by Cleve Cartmill. Ably written but (to modern eyes) rather formulaic story of suspiciously cuddly alien contact. No doubt it was more groundbreaking in 1950. A respectable enough C+

“The Hat in the Hall” by Jack Iams. A suburban ghost story, mildly amusing. C-

“The War Against the Moon” by André Maurois (1927; English translation 1928). Purporting to be a chapter from a history book of 1992, this satire has some fascinatingly prescient touches, such as the rich buying up newspapers to control public opinion (and thus subvert democracy). Of course, this backroom dictatorship of the billionaires is depicted as a net good that the restive public ignores at its peril. Ah well. Straining to find a cause to unite a bored world and avert war, newspaper owners collude to pull a Watchmen, concocting a lunar invasion (which echoes uncomfortably with how right-wing media invented the trans panic, and the gay panic before that, and the Muslim panic before that, and the Satanic panic before that, and the urban crime panic before that, and…). Not my favorite kind of story, but historical interest and perceptive prognostication merits at least a C

“Dumb Supper” by Henderson Starke. This is actually by Kris Neville, writing not just under a pseudonym but also as a character: a supposed elderly folklorist in the Ozarks. If this is based on actual folklore, it’s modestly interesting, I suppose. C-?

“Ounce of Prevention” by Philip Carter. An extremely 1950s piece, which features global nuclear annihilation, a mission to Mars, a helpful Martian, and time travel. Ends with a typical 1950s twist. Maybe D+

An excerpt from the poem “Death’s Jest Book” by Thomas Lovell Beddoes (1850). It’s fine. Too abbreviated to make much of it.

“The Case of Summerfield” by W. H. Rhodes (1871). Originally published as a newspaper hoax in the Sacramento Union, this proves to be an ancient prototype of the “mad scientist threatens to destroy the world unless his demands are met” trope. Like Dr. Evil himself, Mr. Summerfield even demands the sum of one million dollars. While dense and slow-paced in accordance with the tastes of the time, and continuing well after the logical end of the story, it’s astonishingly creative in Summerfield’s central threat. C

“Divine Right” by Betsy Curtis. A fascinating blend of aesthetics, mixing suburban paperboys on bikes with space colonization and telepaths with greedy royalty. It’s almost like a whisper of Samuel R. Delany’s later working-class space stories. It’s a bit clumsy as a story, but the aesthetic carries it far. B-

“Born of Man and Woman” by Richard Matheson. Matheson’s very first published story. Pretty typical midcentury “freak kept chained in the cellar” material, little more than a character study, but effective. B-

“Professor Pownall’s Oversight” by H. R. Wakefield (1928). An early prototype of the “evil genius obsessed with his brilliant and charming classmate” trope. The editors’ introduction refers to this as a “chess fantasy,” but it’s really a ghost story centering around chess. Surprisingly enjoyable. B-

“Haunt” by A. Bertram Chandler. Brief but rambling anecdote about a seance with a ghost from the future. The punning twist ending must have felt terribly clever in 1950. C-

—

So now I’ve read the first three issues of F&SF, in addition to the most recent eight and a scattering of others in between. This is the first halfway okay issue you reach reading forward. Nowhere near what it would become in more recent years, but still enjoyable.

2025 read #16: Asimov’s Science Fiction, January/February 2025 issue.

Asimov’s Science Fiction, January/February 2025 issue

Edited by Sheila Williams

208 pages

Published 2024

Read from February 6 to February 12

Rating: 2.5 out of 5

As with the most recent issue of Analog, I’m making a belated effort to read the current issue Asimov’s for as long as I maintain my subscription (which, considering the massive economic downturn very likely on its way, might not be for much longer). I’ve had a subscription to Asimov’s since last spring, and I’m only now doing more than page through an issue to see who’s in it. Well, at least now I have a back catalogue to keep me company as our household’s discretionary spending goes out the window.

It’s weird how I haven’t read a full issue of Asimov’s newer than 2000. Maybe that’s why my stories and poems never seem to stand a chance with the editorial staff. Time to fix that!

—

As we so often do, we open this issue of Asimov’s with a poem from Robert Frazier: “Your Clone Can Always Look Herselves Up.” It’s pretty good.

Buried amid all the critical writing that front-ends this issue, we find a second poem: “Einstein to Newton” by Gary Sterling. Kind of an ode to science and scientists.

Maybe I should start reading the essays in Asimov’s, but today is not that day.

“In the Splinterlands the Crows Fly Blind” by Siobhan Carroll. Our first story, and right away I can tell that the market difference between Asimov’s and Analog persists after all these years. Asimov’s is more character-forward and imaginatively weird, as opposed to concept-forward and more realistically grounded. In the aftermath of a multiversal cataclysm, Charlie and his brother Gabe live on an alternate Earth where a crow hivemind is the dominant species. “Splinterlands” addresses many of the same apocalyptic anxieties we encountered in the current issue of Analog, but relishes the freedom to explore them more allegorically. An excellent novelette. As it turns out, my favorite story in this issue.

“Five Hundred KPH Toward Heaven” by Matthew Kressel. At a corporate party to mark the decommission of a space elevator, three captains swap tales from their days lifting passengers into orbit. As a story, it’s an enjoyable hangout, but there isn’t much to it; it feels like it could have been published a quarter-century ago. (I noticed that trend with Analog too. I don’t fault the writers so much as I blame our own contemporary inability to imagine anything new, crushed as we are beneath the weight of the dystopia around us.)

A little poem is next: “When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer” by Kenton K. Yee. It’s cute.

“Shadow of Shadows” by Frank Ward. Twenty years after the death of his young son, physicist Sebastian goes through the motions of his life, until the multiverse intrudes upon his dead-end career and stale grief. Quiet and workmanlike, this story mostly does what it sets out to do.

“What the Frog’s Eye Tells the Frog’s Brain” by Beston Barnett. Grim tale of artificial intelligence escaping its bounds and interrogating its creators. It avoids the Roko’s basilisk bullshit that real life tech bros find so compelling, in favor of a human perspective of horror. A well-structured and thoughtful story.

“Through the Pinhole, or, The Origin of a Holostory” by Nikki Braziel. A divorced holonovelist gets stranded in 16th century Malta, and gets his groove back. Corny and a bit choppy, but adequately entertaining.

A poem from Jane Yolen: “Fantastic!” It’s about the feelings of community attached to a sci-fi convention. Shrug.

“A Girl from Hong Kong” by Robert Reed. A typically solid, rambling, slightly opaque entry in Reed’s “Great Ship” sequence, giving us bits of backstory for Quee Lee and the setting at large. Big and baroque in the old 1990s tradition.

“Jilly in Right: A Thought Experiment” by Rick Wilber. “Washed-up dude has his life flash before his eyes while he spins out on the highway, with a sprinkle of alternate timelines” feels rather antiquated as a story structure. I’m not even sure what decade to pin it to: 1970s, maybe? I just couldn’t get into it.

“My Biggest Fan” by Faith Merino. Surreal stalker-horror, employing suburban anomie, late capitalist dislocation, and Ford Pintos to memorable effect.

Another poem: “Too Far Away” by Jenny Blackford. I quite liked it.

“Completely Normal” by Jendayi Brooks-Flemister. Delightfully odd flash fic on the topic of soup and being a third culture kid.

“Moon and Mars” by James Patrick Kelly. Overlong novella about space colonists and space politics. It’s a slog. The prose is jargon-heavy like something from Analog. Blank characters fire repartee off one another. We spend much of the first fifteen pages rehashing events from the two prior stories in this series. On top of all that, any sci-fi that includes “making babies is everyone’s duty” in its ideological assumptions gives me the ick. Since this one story sprawls across over one-third of the fiction pages in this issue, it single-handedly brings down my (fully arbitrary) rating.

Lastly, one more poem: “unfolding origami: a haiku” by Kendall Evans. Eh.

—

And that’s it! Asimov's has always been more to my taste than Analog, and that certainly holds true with this pair of issues — with some obvious exceptions, of course.

Glad I finally read an issue while it was current!

2025 read #12: Analog Science Fiction & Fact, January/February 2025 issue.

Analog Science Fiction and Fact, January/February 2025 issue

Edited by Trevor Quachri

208 pages

Published 2024

Read from January 31 to February 6

Rating: 2.5 out of 5

I’ve had subscriptions to both Analog and Asimov’s ever since we moved last spring. I wanted to support both magazines, while keeping abreast of what they’re looking for in fiction these days.

Sadly, I haven’t read any of the issues I’ve gotten. Both magazines are printed by a newsstand puzzle game publisher, making the physical experience of holding and leafing through them especially unpleasant. The ink on my copy’s cover smeared on my hands within minutes of holding it, before I even began reading it. By the time I finished the first story, the spine had begun to peel apart.

The start of a new year of issues seems like a good, round spot to begin, though.

—

“Our Lady of the Gyre” by Doug Franklin. Despite the passage of decades, and turnover in the editor’s chair, the “house style” of Analog seemingly hasn’t changed all that much since the late 1990s. This piece opens with a traumatic flashback in italics, then throws you in at the deep end with a bunch of in-universe jargon — lilies, observing Eyes, a mysterious Her. Classic Analog.

The ensuing paragraphs are loaded with perhaps a touch more exposition than strictly necessary, over-compensating for the initial opacity. The general gist: our narrator drifts with geoengineering “lilies” around a gyre in the Pacific, harvesting fish while the diatoms in the gyre sink carbon dioxide into the deeps.

There’s a whole bit about “generative AI exacerbated the carbon crisis, but it also gave us the tools to start fixing it,” which feels pulled directly from some tech oligarch’s PR department. I suppose reading the “hard sci-fi” magazine means encountering a rather more, erm, credulous attitude toward Big Tech than I’m used to here in 2025.

Once “Gyre” stops tripping over its own worldbuilding, a perfectly adequate human-scale story emerges, only to end almost as soon as it settles into its groove.

—

“Strange Events at Fletcher and Front!” by Tom R. Pike. This tale of time travel and solar technology in the nineteen-oughts confirms the Analog “house style” is still going strong. (One story, see, could have been a fluke.) I mean this without a trace of aspersion: this feels like it could have been printed in 1999. I enjoyed it; telling a story of time travel intervention from the perspective of the person whose life was changed, who then spends years trying to figure out why, is an interesting angle.

 —

“Second Chance” by Sakinah Hofler. Brief but compelling examination of race and uploaded consciousness. Excellent.

—

“Upgrade” by Mark W. Tiedemann. Highly topical yet rather flat story about installing a neural augment in order to stay competitive in an increasingly automated job market. The characters all felt generic, even before anything got installed in their heads.

—

“Rejuve Blues” by John Shirley. Didn’t care for this one. There’s an interesting kernel in the idea of what rejuvenation would entail for someone turning young again, psychologically and hormonally. But it gets lost in this story. So much expository dialogue, not much to hold my interest, and it felt much too long for what little story there was.

—

“Fixative” by Jonathan Olfert. Another dense, jargon-forward piece, but this one drops us into a fascinatingly constructed future of corporate drugs and psychological manipulation, where certain hereditary anxiety disorders are harnessed to turn people into walking starship maintenance machines. The best aspects of sci-fi’s New Wave collide with the bleak corporate futurity of the current age. Quite good.

—

“Notes from Your Descendants” by Lorraine Alden. This flash fic was another blast from the 1990s past, all about designer genetics, as if genetics hold more power over us than how we’re nurtured and what our environment does to us. That’s a pet peeve of mine. If that isn’t an issue for you (and I suspect it was used as a tongue-in-cheek plot device more than anything else), “Descendants” is effective enough. Does what it sets out to do.

—

“The Only God Is Us” by Sarah Day. It’s telling of what our future has been reduced to that so much contemporary sci-fi is about attempts to salvage our biosphere and ameliorate the carbon crisis. (Thanks, billionaires! May you all have the future you deserve!) This story features bioengineered strains of algae, meant to eat waste and sink carbon dioxide, instead going rogue and dissolving industrial civilization. Excellent entry, affecting and well-written.

—

“As Ordinary Things Often Do” by Kelly Lagor. I was going to remark that this was only the second story in this issue that involves neither climate catastrophe nor corporate serfdom, but no: a casual line of dialogue makes sure we know Earth is “going to shit.” Oof. Sometimes realism is a curse. This is a human-scale tale of a researcher readying herself for humanity’s first interstellar voyage. Nothing groundbreaking, but it’s sweet and solid.

—

“Go Your Own Way” by Chris Barnham. A young man learns how to walk the Way between parallel realities, and finds a timeline where he’s happy — until another version of himself comes along.

None of our contemporary problems with futurity here, right? Well, I’d argue that the multiverse became such a staple of 2020s science fiction as an escape from those selfsame issues. It’s that “our timeline took a wrong turn” feeling we all remember from November 2016, and March 2020, and November 2024. And sure enough, in one of the realities Ferdinand visits, the mistakes of internal combustion were pointedly avoided, making for a clean-air utopia with rapid trains. Secretly on-theme after all.

This story held no surprises, and was (to my tastes) excessively heterosexual, ending with two versions of the man arguing over which of them is “better” for their dream girl, rather than giving her a say in her own life. But it was pretty good overall.

I do want to note, for history-of-the-genre enthusiasts, that another world Ferdinand visits is directly lifted from Keith Roberts’ Pavane. Like, almost down to the letter.

—

A poem: “Beyond the Standard Model” by Ursula Whitcher. It’s quite lovely.

—

“Prince of Spirals” by Sean McMullen. This one is a boiled-down sci-thriller involving remote archaeology, forensics, and the Boys in the Tower. If you’d shown me this story when I was a 16 year old Michael Crichton fan, I would have loved it. I still think it’s an adequate example of its genre, though one with few surprises up its sleeve. I’m just not into the genre anymore.

—

“Flight 454” by Virgo Kevonté. Speaking of sci-thriller vibes, this one is a spacecraft-crash mystery set on corporate Ganymede. Not of much interest to me.

—

“Vigil” by James Van Pelt. A sweetly intimate flash fic about memories on board a generation ship.

—

“Battle Buddy” by Stephen Raab. Military sci-fi with robots can be a beautiful work of art, as with “Tactical Infantry Bot 37 Dreams of Trochees” by Marie Vibbert, in the January / February 2019 issue F&SF. Or it can be flat and procedural, as with this piece.

—

“The Spill” by M. T. Reiten. Humorous micro about nanotech gray goo.

—

“Prime Purpose” by Steve Rasnic Tem. Geriatric care robot assists his declining patient and thinks about purpose, the self, and the loss of both. Well-executed rendition of a recurring plot. Feels very 2000-ish.

—

“Gut Check” by Robert E. Hampson. Forget the house style of 1990s Analog. We’re going all the way back to the 1960s for this medical emergency in space piece. It is of such vintage that it unironically puts the phrase “steely-eyed missileman” back into print, perhaps the first time in decades. And characterization? Never heard of her. Ends with a Boomer-standard joke.

—

“Quest of the Sette Comuni” by Paul Di Filippo. Mashing together high fantasy with technobabble, this one sees a neon satyr and her helpful little robot go on a quest in 23rd century Italy. Clunky exposition blunted my enthusiasm for this piece, which is a shame; if I ever get into Analog myself, I could see it being thanks to a story like this. I think it was mildly entertaining overall, in a pulpy kind of way, perhaps because I wanted to like it.

—

“Apartment Wars” by Vera Brook. A marvelous novella grounded in character, place, and emotion. The science-fictiony topic of quantum topology is blended skillfully with widowed Helena’s precarious position in 1970s Poland, and it’s beautifully written besides. Maybe my favorite story in the issue.

—

Lastly, a poem: “‘Oumuamua” by Geoffrey A. Landis. Pretty standard rhyming science poetry. Nothing objectionable.

—

And that’s it! An uneven issue overall, with excellent highlights equal to the best of what 2020s SF has to offer, but an equal amount of what felt to me like filler (but what the old Analog heads probably enjoy). 

2024 read #156: Hexagon Speculative Fiction Magazine, Winter 2024 issue.

Hexagon Speculative Fiction Magazine, Winter 2024 issue (19)

Edited by JW Stebner 

49 pages

Published 2024

Read December 22

Rating: 3 out of 5

Rounding out the year with another current issue of Hexagon. This one is labor and workplace themed, which my socialist heart can appreciate in the abstract, but it doesn’t exactly excite me as a reader. If past issues of Hexagon are any guide, though, most of the stories should be solid enough.

“Let the Bright Woods Glow” by Colin O’ Mahoney. This one is a charming repudiation of white collar capitalism in favor of spilling blood for the Bright Witches of the Woods. Quite enjoyable.

“Incorporation” by Raina Joines. The current wave of capitalist-mandated “AI” — which usually turns out to be an energy-sucking, carbon-spewing autocomplete, augmented by underpaid and unacknowledged labor in the Global South — has nearly killed the classic AI subgenre of science fiction. This story is an exception, an optimistic tale of truly intelligent AI that emerges and evolves and surpasses its capitalist origins. I liked it.

“This Job Is Turning Me into Something I Don’t Like…” by J Wallace. The uncanny nature of the job turns a realtor into a vampire. It’s a clever enough conceit for a story, and a solid metaphor, using the tools of speculative fiction to say something about our society. Naturally enough I enjoyed the prolonged middle finger to developers and real estate speculators and the whole class-based hierarchy. Unfortunately, I felt the story itself was a bit flat. Not bad by any means, it just didn’t do much for me beyond its central allegory.

“Recruitment Drive” by Aurelien Gayet. This story applies delightfully dated cyberpunk tropes — our protagonist JSON goes into “virtual” to inject code into the cyberspace environment — to our own, much less sexy cyberpunk dystopia of AI-filtered job applications. Cheeky and fun, with a burn-it-all-down ethos that we all can appreciate.

“Paid Time Off” by L.M. Guay. Vividly written exploration of corporate dystopia, a satisfying arc full of grotesque allegorical detail. Excellent.

And that’s it! This is perhaps the most consistent issue of Hexagon I’ve read yet. Solid!

2024 read #150: The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, July 2008 issue.

The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, July 2008 issue (115:1)

Edited by Gordon Van Gelder

162 pages

Published 2008

Read December 4

Rating: 2 out of 5

Ah, the summer of 2008. A wonderful time in my life. When this issue was on newsstands, I was vacationing with my polycule in Florida, preparing to help one then-partner move to New Mexico for grad school. I was flourishing in undergrad, and looking forward to the election, when surely Obama would finally put an end to the fascist Bush regime and solve America once and for all. At least for me, it was a simpler time, before I really knew anything.

I wasn’t writing short fiction, wasting my time instead on a massive and unpublishable novel. I wasn’t really reading SFF magazines back then, either. I wish I had been; maybe I’d be a better writer today.

If I had picked up this issue at the time, I wonder if I would have been encouraged or jealous that someone else was getting a dinosaur story published by Gordon Van Gelder, the editor who had told me nine years previously that he didn’t really care for dinosaur stories.

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“Fullbrim’s Finding” by Matthew Hughes. Hughes was a mainstay in this era of F&SF; it seems like half the ’00s and ’10s issues in my collection feature a story by him. The first one I actually read was “The Mule” in the March/April 2022 issue, which I praised for its early modern esoteric magic setting. Imagine my surprise to learn, via today’s story, that Hughes’ “discriminator” tales began in a technological Old Earth setting, chock-full of spaceships and quantum physics and wan attempts at sci-fi humor, which became the subsequent fantasy setting via cosmological “cycling” of the universe. It all has a 1970s fantasy serial vibe to it. I like fantasy serials in theory, but after a certain point, just write a standalone story in a standalone setting, you know? All that aside, this tale is mildly entertaining. C+

—

“Reader’s Guide” by Lisa Goldstein. So much has happened since this issue was printed, and so much in the culture has shifted, that it’s difficult to remember that 2008 wasn’t that long ago. I was startled to find a metafictional list story here, but I guess it isn’t that surprising, really; a lot of the threads that comprise contemporary genre fiction were gathering throughout the ’00s. “Reader’s Guide” is an interesting prototype of the list stories that have proliferated in our time. A fantasy story about the metaphysics of storytelling would have been well-trodden ground even in 1988, let alone 2008, but I liked it all the same. It’s charming. B

—

“The Roberts” by Michael Blumlein. The editorial introduction calls this novella “edgy,” and the story opens with the protagonist content in his mother’s womb. What masculine hell are we in for?

Sure enough, we’re treated to just about the most banal 20th century upper-middle class white boy checklist imaginable. Our hero Robert gets born, goes to college, has a fling with art, finds a first love, switches to architecture, has a first heartbreak, needs to work to “feel like a man,” loses an eye in a freak accident likened (what a surprise!) to castration, then finds another love, a professional contact whom he nags and wears down until she finally goes on a date with him. And that’s just by page three.

“The Roberts” compiles 55 pages of numbingly rote masculine concerns and (literal) objectification of women. A quote: “[Robert] needed a woman. In the past it had never been hard for him to meet women, and it wasn’t hard now. Women liked him, and what was not to like in a man so charming, so attractive, so victimized by circumstance and so willing — indeed so poised — to put it all behind and reestablish himself?” It only gets grodier from there; soon enough, Robert is employing a parthenogeneticist to engineer a woman for him.

Edgy, my ass — it’s the same color-by-numbers bullshit pampered male writers have been regurgitating for decades, for centuries, while congratulating themselves on their originality and their fine perceptions. It’s literally the cultural default. “The Roberts” could have been published in F&SF in 1978 and no one would have batted an eye.

One might even conclude this is all a vicious satire of how certain men view themselves as main characters and how they view women, categorically, as muses, helpmeets, accessories, mommy-maids, “miracle workers,” anything other than fully fledged and autonomous human beings with their own fully developed interiority. But if so, it’s one of those satires that cuts alarmingly close to seeming sincere. F

—

“Enfant Terrible” by Scott Dalrymple. After that mess, this slight sketch of a brain parasite run amok in a classroom is blessedly forgettable. C 

—

“Poison Victory” by Albert E. Cowdrey. An alternative history piece set in a world where the Nazis won and serfdom has been reestablished in Russia under a new German aristocracy. “Nazis won the war!” has always been an oversaturated theme, especially when in retrospect we realize the Nazis won the peace and have been entrenched in our power structures this whole time. “Victory” is well-written and atmospheric, a solid enough story of its type. B-

—

“The Dinosaur Train” by James L. Cambias. I’ve only read two dinosaur stories published in the pages of F&SF, and both of them involved trains. (“I’d have two nickels,” etc.) This one is much better than Ian Watson’s “In the Upper Cretaceous with the Summerfire Brigade” (published in the August 1990 issue), but that’s an incredibly low bar. Essentially, “Dinosaur Train” steals the idea of a traveling dinosaur circus from Dinosaur Summer (no shame there, I plan to do the same someday). Cambias even replicates Greg Bear’s pairing of old-timey filmmakers and the lost world. It’s unabashed Dinosaur Summer fanfic, which would have made my 2008 self especially jealous. Cambias’ story hits a pleasing mix of family drama and dinosaur zookeeping — nothing revolutionary, but solid enough to put it in the upper echelons of dinosaur fiction (which is also a very low bar). B

—

And that’s it! I’m happy to report that “The Dinosaur Train” — the sole reason I read this issue — was worth reading. “Reader’s Guide” was also quite good.

2024 read #128: The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Summer 2024 issue.

The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Summer 2024 issue (146:3-4)

Edited by Sheree Renée Thomas

258 pages

Published 2024

Read from October 25 to October 29

Rating: 3.5 out of 5

Here we are, practically in November, but only now do I have my hands on a copy of the Summer 2024 issue of F&SF. I could’ve read it a couple months ago, but I like to collect the physical copies, and didn’t want to spend extra to read the digital version. No new issues have come out since then, though, so my streak of reading the current issue (begun March/April 2023) continues.

—

“What It Means to Drift” by Rajeev Prasad. Saraswathi volunteered to be a “merchant”: a human implanted with artificial remote organs to assist a Titan, a cyborg civil servant grafted around a human consciousness. Saraswathi’s job is to feel emotions, to sustain love and heartbreak for her Titan, Avni. But both Saraswathi and Avni are becoming unmoored, adrift in their respective roles. A solid sci-fi story.

“On My Way to Heaven” by Alberto Chimal (translated by Patrick Weill). This is a long novelette, one built around a topic (alien abduction) that has been considered passé in sci-fi publishing for decades. It also centers a trope that I generaly disdain: Did the speculative element “really” happen, or was it all in the mind of the character? Yet “Heaven” absorbed my attention from the first page, and kept it to the end. It’s written with assurance, pulling you into the complications of family, politics, protest, marginalization, mental illness, music, and UFOs with deceptive ease. Another all-time classic from this era of F&SF.

“Mister Yellow” by Christina Bauer.  Dr. Jordan invents a headset that permits her to interact with other dimensions overlaying her own. Mister Yellow is her contact in the sixth dimension. The government confines Dr. Jordan to maintain control over her invention, but various dimensions affect each other in ways she doesn’t expect.

“Water Baby” by Tonya R. Moore. A vivid and compelling story of rising waters, a disintegrating community, and a mystery from the sea.

“Metis in the Belly of the God” by Nina Kiriki Hoffman. Brief retelling from Greek mythology, as strange and excellent as you'd expect from Nina Kiriki Hoffman.

Next, a poem: “In Her Footsteps” by Suzanne J. Willis. It's all right, though its stated origin as background for a novel feels obvious; it doesn't feel complete in itself.

“She's a Rescue” by Marie Vibbert. The literature of kids/teens coming of age in single-family space freighters is small, but I’m always happy to see it grow. This one is a solid entry, expertly balancing its family drama with its blue collar spacer vibes.

“Snowdrop” by Raul Caner Cruz. A sweetly domestic retelling of “The Snow Child,” rich with a sense of place.

“Dog People” by Esther Friesner. Humorous contemporary fantasy mixing the undead with classical goddesses in upscale Manhattan. It felt like a throwback to the consciously cheesy humorous fantasy of the 20th century. Not really my kind of thing. 

“What You Leave Behind" by Ken Altabef. A magical realism-esque piece literalizing the grief and trauma of terrorism. Also not my kind of thing.

“Another Such Victory” by Albert Chu. Quite simply the best mecha pilot story I have ever read. It’s never been a subgenre that interested me, but this long novelette is stunning, immersive, vital, unremitting in its allegory against imperialism and systems of oppression. Another instant classic. I don’t subject contemporary short fiction to my arbitrary letter grades, but if I did, this one would be an A.

“Growth Rings of the Earth” by Xinwei Kong (originally published 2018). This almost-novella feels like the kind of grand, sprawling, consciously philosophical sci-fi you’d find in Asimov’s in the late 1990s, the kind of sci-fi that first fired my ambitions to become a literary SFF author instead of a mere pulp writer. In the moderately near future, most humans have abandoned their bodies to upload their consciousness to a digital “heaven.” Our narrator is the last human on Earth, raised by physical book enthusiasts who lived out their days in the Library of Congress. There’s a plot strand about the kind of artificial intelligence you used to find in a lot of sci-fi before, say, 2022, when planet-killing spellcheck software peddled by billionaires co-opted the term “AI.” True to the 1990s Asimov’s comparison, there’s also some iffy age-gap sex, which was unfortunate. I wish we could bring back the sprawling Big Idea sci-fi vibe of that era without its more questionable trappings. Still, aside from that, this is a worthwhile read.

After two longer stories, we’re treated to a couple poems. First: “I, Magician” by Julie Eliopoulos. I liked it.

Next: “City as Fairy Tale” by Richard Leis. Also solid.

“Jacob Street” by L. Marie Wood. GPS horror that saves itself from comparisons to a certain episode of The Office by unraveling into a delightfully feverish spiral. Pretty good.

“Red Ochre, Ivory Bone” by Deborah L. Davitt. Seeing that title on the table of contents, I didn’t expect a multi-species space opera piece. I think it’s a difficult vibe to capture in short form; at times, the story derailed to offer descriptions of the many species present at the station, which is a lot of information to throw at the reader. The plot itself draws from medical examiner procedural tropes. Yet Davitt pulls it all together into a satisfying story.

One last poem, one I’ve been looking forward to: “In a castle far from every prince” by Marisca Pichette. It is excellent, as always.

“The Glass Apple” by Ivy Grimes. A strange and beguiling original fairy tale. Quite good.

“Slickerthin” by Phoenix Alexander. An amazing endcap to this issue, delightfully visceral and goopy and queer, a take on Greek folklore like nothing else I’ve read. Excellent.

—

And that’s it for this issue! Definitely not my favorite of the Thomas era, but still solid.

F&SF has been criticized for sitting on stories for unprofessional lengths of time; they’ve been closed to submissions for well over a year now, as Thomas works through the stockpile of material the magazine had already accepted. Perhaps I’m reading into things, but at times, this issue felt a little bit like the result of that process. Not the dregs, per se. Many stories were good, some even exceptional. But overall, this didn’t rank up there with what Thomas has been releasing during her tenure. (Or maybe I’m just too depressed to appreciate anything, with the election looming so near.)

2024 read #124: Hexagon Speculative Fiction Magazine, Fall 2024 issue.

Hexagon Speculative Fiction Magazine, Fall 2024 issue (18)

Edited by JW Stebner

47 pages

Published 2024

Read October 25

Rating: 3.5 out of 5

We live in a golden age of speculative short fiction. Short form sci-fi and fantasy are the best they’ve ever been, full stop. Diversity, depth of character, quality prose, an unparalleled range of styles and subgenres—SFF is unmatched right now. Random token-pay webzines will consistently publish better stories than The Big 3 did forty years ago; the occasional story will surpass most things The Big 3 published twenty years ago. Yet there’s less monetary support than ever, at all levels of the field.

I’m trying to do a better job at keeping up with the market, including spending more time with those amazing indie magazines. Today, I’m returning to Hexagon to read the current issue, my second in a row from them.

—

“A Death Rattle’s Chime” by Adialyz Del Valle Berríos. When I say that fiction in token-pay markets today is superior to mainstream newsstand fiction from forty (or even twenty) years ago, I have stories like this in mind. It’s a bleakly atmospheric eco-fantasy set on an island that disappears a little bit more each full moon, where our narrator processes fish from a decaying sea. A haunting, exquisite story. Somehow this is the author’s first published story. An amazing start!

“A Thousand Steps Up Godwich Road” by Michael M. Jones. Urban legend piece with a twist ending. Nothing remarkable, but nothing to complain about.

“Gusher” by EC Dorgan. A pleasing petroleumpunk tale that could have come straight out of the 1990s, all about mall rats and “oil vamps” in a Saskatchewan boomtown, with the unexpected bonus of dinosaurs. One of the most creative takes on vampire lore I’ve ever read. Excellent (and I’m only slightly biased here because of the momentary dinosaurs).

Next comes a one-page comic: “Craftsman No. 1: ‘Already Cut and Fitted’” written by Jimmy Stamp, illustrated by Xavier Saxon. I felt indifferent about its reheated cosmic horror, aside from the role of the craftsman kit home, which I appreciated.

“The Gold Coast: At One with the Fun!” by Aggie Novak. A mutated amusement park needs to be fed, and Soph has the ill luck of shuttling an Aquaduck full of tourists to their imminent doom. Fascinating and enjoyable blur of genres. Quite good.

—

And that’s it for this issue! A solid read, well worth your time, especially “Chime,” “Gusher,” and “Gold Coast.”

2024 read #102: Worlds of IF, December 1964 issue.

Worlds of IF Science Fiction, December 1964 issue (14:7)

Edited by Frederik Pohl

130 pages

Published 1964

Read from August 30 to August 31

Rating: 1 out of 5

Back at it again with a PDF of an old magazine with some dinosaurs on the cover! What do the Sixties have in store? All male authors, all the time. Sigh. Let’s get this over with.

—

“When Time Was New” by Robert F. Young. This has the best opening line of any pre-1980 dinosaur story I’ve ever encountered: “The stegosaurus standing beneath the ginkgo tree didn’t surprise Carpenter, but the two kids sitting in the branches did.” Of course, it immediately squanders that good will by placing the stegosaur in the Upper Cretaceous. (There’s more time between Stegosaurus and the Upper Cretaceous than there is between the Upper Cretaceous and us, so technically the kids should be less surprising to Carpenter.)

The rest of the novella is in keeping with that pulpy, research-be-damned ethos. Carpenter, a time agent, drives a triceratank, with three horn-howitzers ready for defense. The kids are blue-eyed, pale-skinned Cretaceous Martians; somehow, their gender roles exactly conform to the expectations of early 1960s Americans. They got kidnapped, escaped, and are now pursued by the kidnappers in jet-propelled pteranodons. Fun as that last bit sounds, the story abounds with cringey Manly 1960s Sci-Fi Man bullshit: Martian society is an efficient utopia because they desentimentalize their kids’ brains! The girl child happily makes Carpenter a sandwich while her brother gets to hang out in the cockpit with him!

Which isn’t to say “Time” was entirely awful, at least not at first. More stories should have Cretaceous campouts with frankfurters over the fire. That said, there’s barely any dinosaur action here. Instead, the vast majority of the story is about Carpenter regretting that he made it to his 30s as a measly time traveling action hero in a dinosaur tank, instead of settling down and being a dad. (And not even a cool, 2020s-style dad who, like, participates in being a parent. We’re talking the 1960s idea of a dad.) That’s a flimsy scaffold on which to hang such a long, long, long story.

And then we get to the twist ending. Let’s just say Sixties gender norms should never be mixed with time travel. Perhaps D- before the twist, but all in all, an F

—

“The Coldest Place” by Larry Niven. The end of “Time” soured me on this whole issue, and seeing Larry Niven’s name did nothing to revive my enthusiasm. This forgettable “hard science” bauble exists only to set up the punchline that “the coldest place in the solar system” is the dark side of Mercury. Literally, that’s it. F+

—

“At the Top of the World” by J. T. McIntosh. If you ever wanted to read a prototype of Fallout, but wanted it dull and poorly written, we got you covered. A society of tunnel-dwellers, whose oral history tells them to dig upwards after two hundred years, finally reach the surface. Most of “World” is told in that faux news-magazine style that was so common in midcentury fiction. It goes on at numbing length, straining to draw some parallel between the tunnel teens and contemporary youth culture. It ends (predictably) with a “humanity never changes” punchline. F+?

—

“Pig in a Pokey” by R. A. Lafferty. To me, Lafferty is one of the all time overrated sci-fi authors. This “humorous” affair about a porcine alien who loves to collect trophy heads, and has an inability to understand humans’ hangups about death, doesn’t dispel that opinion. Somehow, though, it’s the least-awful story so far — which isn’t saying much. Maybe D-

—

“The Hounds of Hell” (conclusion) by Keith Laumer. Naturally, we close with the final installment of some serial or other. I’m noticing a pattern with serials: no matter what decade they were published in, they’re attain their length by throwing together a convoluted mishmash of every currently popular trope. This one is a stew of posthumanist body replacement, psionic powers (Project Ozma gets name-checked), secret societies dating back to Ben Franklin running geopolitics behind the scenes, aliens in disguise infiltrating governments. The “hounds” are demonic dog monsters pursuing our hero. Our hero fails to solve Earth’s problems with his metal-reinforced fists, and wakes up a disembodied consciousness piloting an alien war machine. It could almost be interesting, if 80% of the length and 100% of the 1960s pulp conventions were trimmed away. As it is, it’s still marginally more interesting than any other story in the magazine. Still, it’s so much longer than it needs to be, so I can’t imagine giving it more than D-

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And that’s it for this issue! That was rough. More like Worlds of F, am I right?