The Mammoth Book of SF Stories by Women

Edited by Alex Dally MacFarlane
2014, Running Press
Paperback, 512 pages, $17.50 CAD

Rating: ★★★☆☆

In her introduction to The Mammoth Book of SF Stories by Women, Alex Dally MacFarlane does a good job of laying down the purpose of the collection. She is not looking to change the sexism that festers within the writing industry, but is instead interested in building on a rich history of women writers in science fiction, demonstrating what female authors are able to do. Though if given the chance, I’m sure the authors in this anthology would see women given their rightful place as prestigious members of the industry. While things are rarely that easy, the stories collected here speak for themselves as to what women can accomplish when given the chance. I don’t think every story in this collection is worthwhile, but I also think that shouldn’t be taken as a slight against female authors, as I found many to be engaging reading experiences. I also would like to preface by saying I’m not generally a fan of short story collections. It takes me too long to read them, and I find myself cheated if a short story isn’t as good as I expected. I tried my best to not let this influence my opinions, but I may be harsher on some entries in this collection as a result.

To give each author the attention that is due to them, I will be reviewing each story on its own, and then conclude with my opinion on the anthology as a whole.

Girl Hours

by Sofia Samatar, 2011
Rating: ★★★★☆

Girl Hours is a short poem written in reverse chronological order about the life of Henrietta Swan Leavitt, a woman computer from the 1870s. Being based on true events and taking the form of a poem, it has little to do with science fiction, though it is still an interesting read. As with most poems, word choice is limited, putting much of the onus on the reader to establish themes and timing. I normally find this pretentious, but I enjoyed the format in this instance. Girl Hours is one of the few stories I have read multiple times out of pure enjoyment, as its structure allowed for reading front-to-back as well as back-to-front, letting the reader to experience the poem differently each time.

Excerpt from a Letter by a Social-realist Aswang

by Kristin Mandigma, 2007
Rating: ★★☆☆☆

Excerpt from a Letter by a Social-realist Aswang is an interesting take on socialist mindsets. The text itself is enjoyable in its tone, but fails to make a lasting impression on me. I would have liked to see more of the world than what was presented, as the piece consists only of its namesake: an excerpt from a letter by an aswang. While I find gaps in a narrative to generally be a good thing, it can be frustrating when that gap is too wide—as if the author is expecting the reader to fill in the majority of the worldbuilding for them. The strength of Excerpt from a Letter by a Social-realist Aswang is in its lighthearted tone, which Kristin Madigma uses to criticize socialist mindsets through the writings of the author-character. The aswang rambles about communist ideals and writes degrading comments about capitalism—like any good neo-communist. The fact that the author-character is an aswang adds onto the ridiculousness of the situation, as they include activities such as the consumption of capitalist children in their socialist portfolio. Excerpt from a Letter by a Social-realist Aswang is a fun little piece that would benefit from an expanded narrative, and I felt that it was ultimately forgettable in its details.

Somadeva: A Sky River Sutra

by Vandana Singh, 2010
Rating: ★★★☆☆

Indian culture has never been something I’ve personally found interesting. As Somadeva: A Sky River Sutra relies heavily on cultural artifacts and historical persons from India, I often felt lost in its many references. I think Vandana Singh did a good job of explaining the most relevant parts to her story, but the folklore is far too complex, and I do not have the desire to investigate it further. I thoroughly enjoyed the themes, as Singh builds stories within stories within stories, creating her own mini-compilation of folktales and adventures. Narration is well done, as is the imagery, which accurately describes how time-lost souls would search for meaning in a world where memory is fleeting at best. However, there was a bit too much going on, and it ends a bit abruptly for my taste. I would have preferred some kind of conclusion, even if it did not conclude with the protagonists’ journey. I am sure those interested in Indian culture will find this story much more compelling than I did, but the themes are strong enough to hold up the story on their own.

The Queen of Erewhon

by Lucy Sussex, 1999
Rating: ★★☆☆☆

I’ll be honest in that reading The Queen of Erewhon was like reading Shakespeare from the future—and not in a good way. If you’ve ever had to read Shakespeare in its raw, historically-correct format, you may have had some issues understanding some nuances inherit from the time period in which it was written. Something similar is the case with The Queen of Erewhon. Lucy Sussex keeps shifting between two different narratives: one that details the protagonist’s journey to uncover a story about two women falling in love, and the actual story of these two women falling in love. On its own this was confusing enough. There is no clear delineation between when one narrative starts and another one ends. I kept having to stop reading to reorient myself whenever this switch occurred. My confusion was aggravated further by Sussex’s rich, almost overpowering politics and worldbuilding. Every other passage contains extensive amount of exposition that dilutes the purpose of the story. I normally don’t enjoy unfiltered politics in fiction, and The Queen of Erewhon has some of the worst examples of this. And yet, despite my difficulties, I did enjoy the story’s themes and—once I had finally gotten used to the format—I even enjoyed the narrative itself. But the experience of reading The Queen of Erewhon was a hassle. I found myself often taking breaks throughout my reading, and it felt like I was putting more work into understanding the story than actually enjoying it.

​Tomorrow is Saint Valentine’s Day

​by Tori Truslow, 2010
Rating: ★★☆☆☆

_Tomorrow is Saint Valentine’s Day* is more of an interesting read than it is entertaining. Tori Truslow goes at great lengths to present the narrative in the format of a biography and to incorporate passages from Shakespeare at multiple levels in the prose. She succeeded in creating a realistic description of a fictional man and his adventures through the fae world. I could easily see this faux-excerpt as coming from a full volume detailing the life of Elijah Willemot Wynn. The world was a little difficult to grasp at first, but I found myself well immersed thanks to Truslow’s decision to write her short story in a non-fiction style. It made the story feel grounded and real. My only issue with Tomorrow is Saint Valentine’s Day was the inclusion of poetry and Shakespeare, which seemed out of place to me. It’s as if Truslow wanted to offset the dry, non-fiction aspects of the story with more whimsical passages. These passages—more than anything else—broke my immersion in the narrative. I don’t think they should have been omitted though, as these poetic passages are integral to the narrative she’s woven. I just wonder if it could have been handled better. Perhaps if the author of the biography had spent more time analysing the poems and references to Shakespeare, it would feel more grounded and less eccentric.

Spider the Artist

by Nnedi Okorafor, 2011
Rating: ★★★★★

Nnedi Okorafor tackles a lot of issues in Spider the Artist: domestic violence, the exploitation of Third World countries, environmentalism, and machine sentience. Normally, I would find so many topics packed into a short story overwhelming. But Okorafor managed to create a relatable and realistic protagonist in Eme, to the point I felt deeply connected to Eme as she wrestled with her identity in this broken world. If I have one criticism, it is how quickly the story resolves itself. It feels as though in one moment Eme is discovering who she is, and the next she is in the middle of a war. I don’t think the strength of Spider the Artist is the issues it tackles or the ideas it presents. Instead, it is strongest when we get to live life through Eme’s eyes. As such, I wish we could have spent more time with her. I would be interested in reading more from Okorafor, especially if she has longer works of fiction.

The Science of Herself

​by Karen Joy Fowler, 2013
Rating: ★☆☆☆☆

The Science of Herself is an interesting read—even leading me to research further into Mary Anning following my reading. However, the frequent name-drops and descriptions of pre-Victorian era England bored me. I am not a fan of historical fiction, so this just wasn’t for me. Also, while I think it’s important to highlight people like Mary Anning lest we forget what she and other women in history have done, I don’t think stuffing thirty persons into a short story is the best way to do so, especially if the reader is unfamiliar with the subject matter.

​​The Other Graces

by Alice Sola Kim, 2010
Rating: ★★★★☆

The best part of The Other Graces is its inclusion of wacky, weird, and wonderful science fiction shenanigans—specifically, in the form of a multidimensional, time-travelling network of singular consciousness which inhabits the minds of two versions of the protagonist for the purpose of ensuring the future of the younger protagonist, while simultaneously allowing the narrator to speak to the reader and the protagonist. And surprisingly, this multidimensional consciousness is rarely the focus of attention. There are some clues as to the ethical implications of using such a technology, and it is used at times as a metaphor for mental health issues, but these themes are glossed over in favour of plot. I feel that Alice Sola Kim handled all of this well, as it can be easy to be swept up in the majesty of one’s own conceptualization. Too often I see entire storylines devoted to explaining how the author’s futurology would function and how it would impact society. The Other Graces manages to introduce an otherworldly concept like multidimensional consciousness while focusing on character, anchoring the reader in what would otherwise be a strange experience.

I also appreciated the way Kim presented Grace and her life as a person of Asian descent living in poverty. In some instances, I felt she may have over-characterized how downtrodden Grace was in her attempt to reset expectations about lower-class Asian-Americans. I understand that the fetishization of the exotic and status prejudice are big issues for minority groups. Racists seem to think that people of different cultures are simultaneously privileged, yet inferior to them. However, I find this kind of negative language off-putting, as if unhealthy habits and subpar living conditions are a mark of pride for the character. There is no shame in what we can’t reasonably control, but doesn’t mean we can’t strive to be better. Grace certainly feels she can do better for herself. I just wish less time was spent on self-depreciation. I understand that others may be able to identify with her self-loathing, but it may also help to normalize negativity in like-minded readers.

Boojum

by Elizabeth Bear & Sarah Monette, 2008
Rating: ★★★★☆

Boojum is a combination of the familiar and the surreal, meant to dazzle and confuse, to entertain yet left wanting more. I don’t have a lot to say beyond the fact it’s a great example of what a short story should strive for. Elizabeth Bear and Sarah Monette weave an interesting, futuristic take on Lovecraftian and pirate lore—two genres of speculative fiction I have had a long-time love-hate relationship with. I’ve always enjoyed the aesthetics of Lovecraft, but could never get past how ridiculous and pompous it is. By the same token, I enjoy the aesthetic and romance of pirate stories, but I sometimes feel that authors rely too much on nautical know-how to carry the narrative rather than good characterization. My criticisms of these subgenres could also be applied to Boojum, though to a lesser extent. I think what saves Boojum to me is its excellent pacing and narrative structure, focusing on the way Black Alice interacts with the world, rather than having the story focus on the world itself. And so I can look past some of my issues to enjoy Boojum for what it is: a fun space-pirate story with minor horror elements.

The Eleven Holy Numbers of the Mechanical Soul

by Natalia Theodoridou, 2014
Rating: ★☆☆☆☆

The Eleven Holy Numbers of the Mechanical Soul skirts the edge between surreal and survival thriller, dipping its toes in both genres without committing to either. I found the references to holy numbers and the fluctuating perspectives more distracting than compelling. It felt as though the author was trying too hard to add a mystical element to the story, in an attempt to elevate the story beyond being just science fiction. It also never felt as though anything was at stake, with survival elements acting more as padding than anything compelling. Part of me wonders if this was all intentional, as if Natalia Theodoridou wants the reader to ask questions rather than just passively experiencing the story. Where exactly is Theo? Is he on a habitable planetoid? Are the machines sentient? Or are they just machinations of Theo’s engineering mind? Is he waiting for something? Will someone ever come? These questions are an undercurrent to the events in the story, and are what occupied my thoughts following my reading. However, there’s little substance to the story itself. In my opinion, Theodoridou excels at building a rich world around her characters, but I was not a fan of how she structured her narrative.

Mountain Ways

by Ursula K. Le Guin, 1996
Rating: ★★★★★

Unfortunately, I never had much exposure to Ursula K. Le Guin in my childhood, and it’s only recently that I’ve begun to hear how much she has contributed to literature. Her talent is obvious in Mountain Ways. After what I felt was a rocky start, I was fully immersed in her story. She places the focus on the characters, and the way they interact and change with the world, rather than on the world itself. Characters act like real people, with goals, flaws, worries, and emotions. The world feels real and makes sense within the rules set by Le Guin. My only criticisms lie in the story’s beginning and ending. While I understand the necessity of explaining the complex marriage practices of the culture in Mountain Ways, I’m always wary when an author feels the need to address the reader directly regarding their world’s lore. It should instead be understood naturally through the interactions between characters, as they navigate their world and come to understand it. Although, her warning regarding the complexity of the ki’O’s marriage practices is well-founded. I often found myself confused when it came to marriage terminology, especially once genders were falsified. As for the ending, the conflict felt forced and unresolved. It’s as if the narrative could not end without some kind of conflict—as though Le Guin did not feel confident enough in her characters being influenced by anything but spurned love or misplaced anxiety. I felt betrayed that Shahes became so emotional, stubborn, and unreasonable towards the end—especially after displaying such conviction, passion, and determination up until then. Her stubbornness seems like a natural extension of her character, but she quickly became shallow and unlikeable.

Perhaps this change in Shahes was what Le Guin was aiming for from the beginning. The change in narrative focus from Shahes to Enno/Alka is evidence of this. Beginning as a secondary character, Enno/Alka slowly turns into the protagonist, while simultaneously growing closer to the other members of their sedoretu and experiencing a rift with Shahes. I believe this change in focus is what kept me invested in the story, as I quickly latched onto Enno/Alka where previously I had difficulty feeling connected to Shahes near the beginning.

I also think Le Guin made the right choice in how she directly addresses sexuality and gender identity. In the world of O, the people inhabiting therein are bound together by marriage. Homosexuality seems accepted—even encouraged—and pre-marital sex is common practice. However, people are still expected to marry for the purpose of reproduction, with individuals expected to couple with a man and woman in a four-way relationship. As is the case with most stories worth being told, the main cast of characters seeks to subvert these established laws through deception. While the events in the story are certainly interesting and help to build drama, there’s also a clear contrast with the gender politics and discussions of sexuality of our modern world. Mountain Ways reminds us that no matter how open and accepting your society might be, there will always be people who push the limits of what’s acceptable in the name of free love. It also reminds us that deception in relationships is difficult on individuals, and what may seem like a good idea in theory, is much more difficult in practice. I think it’s important that Le Guin does not preach free love as infallible, and helps to make Enno/Alka likeable, as they walk the line between wanting to follow their heart and following their beliefs. They are not bound by conviction, but by morality and reason.

Despite my issues with Mountain Ways’ beginning and ending, Ursula K. Le Guin lives up to her reputation by immersing the reader in her world almost effortlessly, while offering us the chance to explore important topics like sexuality and gender identity through excellent worldbuilding. She demonstrates the power of science fiction: the power to convey a message and discuss issues through metaphor, without being muddied by the social politics of the modern world.

​​Tan-Tan and Dry Bone

by Nalo Hopkinson, 1999
Rating: ★★☆☆☆

​I’ll begin by saying that the dialect Nalo Hopkinson chose for Tan-Tan and Dry Bone wasn’t for me. It made it difficult for me to become immersed in the narrative from the beginning all the way to the end. I thought the dialogue—which used the same dialect—was excellent. It felt authentic, and I could listen to an entire play or film with characters speaking in this manner. However, I was quickly fatigued by the dialect’s use in the narrative, leading to me having to repeatedly re-read passages to make I understood what was going on. That being said, I did enjoy Tan-Tan and Dry Bone for what it was. Unfortunately, I didn’t get as much out of it as I think someone familiar with African culture would. To me, it was a simple folktale with the purpose of representing African culture, while simultaneously conveying a message of hope for women caught in abusive relationships.

​​The Four Generations of Chang E

by Zen Cho, 2011
Rating: ★☆☆☆☆

_The Four Generations of Chang E* attempts to tackle real world issues through metaphor and allegory—in this case, the issues of immigration, segregation, and personal identity. I think Zen Cho tackles these issues with a grace that points to a familiarity born from experience, or at least from close study of them. However, I found the story to be rather boring overall and the metaphors a bit on the nose. Characters also felt flat and one-dimensional—caricatures of actual people rather than real people onto themselves. The focus is placed on social issues, leaving the rest of the story feeling rushed, hollow, and unfinished. I can appreciate how Cho used science fiction for tackling these important issues, but I could not get immersed in the narrative itself.

​Stay Thy Flight

by Élisabeth Vonarburg, 1992
Rating: ★★☆☆☆

_Stay Thy Flight* has a very rough opening few paragraphs. The beginning third or so presents a very difficult barrier of entry, as the author uses punctuation and fragmented phrases to represent how time passes faster for the protagonist than for the reader, before said reader has even had the chance to understand what’s happening. The sequence also lasts longer and contains more intense descriptions than I think is necessary to convey the theme of how time is fleeting. In fact—in fear of what I may have to put myself through—I even read ahead to see if I was in for a long, difficult read under this format. If I had met this story outside this collection, I most likely would have stopped reading it after the first or second paragraph for this reason alone. Even though I love the themes that Élisabeth Vonarburg conveys, all I wanted was to finish and move on as quickly as possible. It’s a shame, since Stay Thy Flight is an excellent piece of fiction and could have stood on its own, without the need for such extravagant prose.

As an aside, I tried to find the French version of this story—titled …suspends ton vol—but unfortunately, I could not find it published stand-alone online. It is only available as part of French short story collections, which I am not ready to purchase or find in a bookstore for the sake of my curiosity. However, I would have liked to read Stay Thy Flight in its original format, to see if the opening felt more organic in Vonarburg’s native tongue.

Astrophilia

​by Carrie Vaughn, 2012
Rating: ★★★★★

Perhaps it’s a testament to the skill that Carrie Vaughn and Ursula K. Le Guin hold in writing fiction, but I feel I am quickly becoming a fan of the “lesbian farmer” trope. Astrophilia reminds me a lot of Le Guin’s entry in this collection, and Vaughn manages to capture my interest with her romance just as Le Guin was able to weave a story full of wonder, internal conflict, and change. If I am honest, homosexual relationships in rustic environments have always been of particular interest to me. I think what pulls me to this trope is the atmosphere, combined with the inherit rebelliousness that the characters must adopt to make their relationship work. It’s thrilling and endearing at the same time. Add on the expectation that people must raise children once they are of age in these kinds of settings, and the field is laid out for compelling storytelling.

The romance between Stella and Andi embodies the best of this trope, and Vaughn seems to have a knack for writing a compelling romance on top of it all. I was fully invested in both characters, and the final conflict had me on the edge of my seat. I was a little disappointed in how things were wrapped up though. It felt less like an authentic conversation between adults, and more of a sermon from the author to the reader on the moral of the story. I wasn’t convinced by Toma’s change of heart. It’s not that I think a more violent end would have been more appropriate, but I feel as though Stella could have convinced him without trying to appeal to a belief he had had instilled in him since his childhood. I’ve never known someone to change their mind that suddenly, especially when they have been repeatedly challenged before. However, the rest of the story was superb, and I must also mention that I appreciate that the main source of conflict is not the topic of homosexuality itself. Vaughn chose to subvert the expectation that stories with homosexuality must ultimately contain conflict surrounding the sexuality of its characters, often ending in violence. While stories depicting the difficulties homosexual people face every day is important, it’s also important to depict people existing outside their sexual identity.

Invisible Planets

by Hao Jingfang, 2013
Rating: ★☆☆☆☆

I think what I most disliked about Invisible Planets was its format, in that it is simply a collection of worldbuilding concepts. Invisible Planets goes so far as to separate each world into its own section, with some commentary between the narrator and a surrogate for the reader (as the narrator addresses “you” throughout the story, and “you” respond). I do not know what the intent Hao Jinfang had when writing Invisible Planets. The structure feels uninspiring and bland. The exchange between the narrator and “you” near the end of the story feels similarly uninspired, and mystically nonsensical. There was no narrative here, only a collection of ideas. While that can be fine on its own, to me it feels lazy and unfinished. It’s the equivalent of going up to a writer or director at a convention and telling them you have this great idea, but you haven’t done any actual writing. You only wrote down the idea, dusted your hands and said “Yup, that’s good.” before moving onto the next project. Each world Jingfang presents to us is interesting enough on its own to warrant in-depth exploration, but instead she chooses to present them as flat canvases with which she expects us to paint our own narrative. Invisible Planets feels like a step back from what makes science fiction literature unique—in that it can explore themes and stories untethered by the weight of the real world. What it is instead is a synopsis for a series of pulp fiction novels from the 1940s.

On the Leitmotif of the Trickster Constellation in Northern Hemispheric Star Charts, Post-Apocalypse

by Nicole Kornher-Stace, 2013
Rating: ★☆☆☆☆

From the outset, it was clear to me that On the Leitmotif of the Trickster Constellation in Northern Hemispheric Star Charts, Post-Apocalypse would be one of those stories that relied as much on flowery language as it did on weaving a compelling narrative. Combined with textbook-style prefaces, Nicole Kornher-Stace manages to craft the pinnacle of pretentiousness. It’s a shame because the story has a magnificent world and interesting characters behind all of its presentation. Kornher-Stace’s use of poetic prose and textbook-style elements confuses what ends up being a rather simple story. It’s an inspiring, deeply moving story. But I could not bring myself to care as I had to move through a veil of fog before I could enjoy it. There are times when unique formats can help to elevate a story, to enhance the message it is trying to convey. Most of the time—when an author attempts to deliver their story in a unique way—they are either experimenting or are crying for attention. I do not know which is the case for On the Leitmotif of the Trickster Constellation in Northern Hemispheric Star Charts, Post-Apocalypse. but either way, the format Korher-Stace chose detracts from the overall experience. If anything I think this story would work well as a quest in an RPG, wherein in the player would learn the fragmented history of the world through exploration, and Wasp’s character through gameplay. But it just fails in its current format to be a worthwhile piece of fiction.

Valentines

​by Shira Lipkin, 2009
Rating: ★★★★★

Shira Lipkin was able to convincingly sell what it’s like to live in the mind of a person trying to make sense of their world through the act of recording everything on paper. Acting almost like a computer, the protagonist has to constantly write down and then index things around her. I came out of Valentines thinking a lot about the human condition and how we think. It’s a simple story, but it conveys its message well. Lipkin has a good sense of detail, focusing on elements that put us in the mind of the protagonist, even if you don’t have experience with epilepsy or memory loss yourself.

​​Dancing in the Shadow of the Once

​by Rochita Loenen-Ruiz, 2013
Rating: ★★☆☆☆

I found Dancing in the Shadow of the Once boring, as it suffers from the issue of presenting a problem, waiting for the reader to solve it, and then having the characters enact the solution long after the reader has already decided what the solution should be. The problem in this case is whether Hala should stop being a cultural historian for the amusement of the colonist elite, and the solution is her no longer being in this position. As a reader, it becomes obvious in the latter half of the story that she will follow this path, all that remains is to know how she will get there. I found this tedious as the character walks methodically to the resolution, with no new developments along the way. Rochita Loenen-Ruiz also falls into a trap I often see accompanying this kind of storytelling problem: she withholds information, or only provides enough characterization to further the plot and then retroactively develops the character in the hopes of keeping things ambiguous or mysterious. I find this writing technique shows a lack of faith in the author’s own work, which didn’t help my already low opinion of the story. The only thing that kept me interested were the story’s themes of colonialism and imperialism, that were unfortunately not as prominent as I would have liked. I also enjoyed the discussions around the culture, as few as they were. Finally, one of the strongest moments in the story is the dance between Hala and Bayninan, as it becomes clear that Bayninan has romantic feelings for Hala. It’s a shame the rest of the story does not live up to the emotional impact of this moment.

Ej-Es

​by Nancy Kress, 2010
Rating: ★★★★★

There’s just something about living life through a character’s perspective for a short time, to see the world as they do, to hear their thoughts, feel their doubts and experience their pain. Nancy Kress succeeds at this in Ej-Es. I was captivated throughout my reading, feeling as though I knew Mia on an intimate level, even though I only spent a short time with her. She felt like a real person—a woman tired of protocol, far from where she first began but still holding onto what she values the most. She knows her place in the world and how to navigate it, and yet comes off as vulnerable all the same. Kress managed to craft a compelling character piece, while simultaneously commenting on missionary work and how it impacts indigenous people. Kress writes wonderfully, conveying a compelling story with realistic characters and immersive narration.

The Cartographer Wasps and the Anarchist Bees

​by E. Lily Yu, 2011
Rating: ★★★☆☆

The Cartographer Wasps and the Anarchist Bees surprised me, in that E. Lily Yu manages to weave a rather compelling fairy tale, seemingly creating it whole cloth from nothing—or at least, I have never heard of this specific folktale before. It has some of the familiar trappings of fairy tales: whimsical creatures, talking animals and a morally good ending. There’s also a good amount of commentary on imperialism and politics, without the topics being forced down the reader’s throat. The only thing I’m not too sure about is what part the anarchist bees have in the story. They don’t seem to have any impact on the story. In fact, everything is resolved without the bees doing anything at all to secure their freedom. The only explanation I have is the story must be based on real-life events of which I’m not familiar with, or its implied that while the anarchists did not survive, their ideologies will live on in this hive’s society to inform decisions in the future. Either way, I can’t shake the feeling that Yu is making reference either to either historical events or an existing fable. If this is an isolated work, free from influence, then there’s a lack of clarity and consistency in the story, with too much left up for the reader to interpret. In either case, The Cartographer Wasps and the Anarchist Bees is a great fable-like story that shows that simple, concise stories often work best to convey an author’s message.

The Death of Sugar Daddy

​by Toiya Kristen Finley, 2009
Rating: ★★★★☆

I was on edge for a good part of The Death of Sugar Daddy, mostly due to the way people in the story would refer to Sugar Daddy. I felt he would end up being a paedophile or some kind of undying being—both of which may still be the case, but I’m not convinced one way or the other. This rising sense of dread transformed into a feeling of heartfelt anticipation as more and more of the world spilled out, slowly building a picture of a world wherein memory is intrinsically tied to existence. Toiya Kristen Finley does an amazing job of building the world through her characters. The protagonist and supporting characters help to build the world without acting as walking exposition dumps, with defined personalities and lives outside the context of the plot. Finley proves to me once again that character-driven narratives are the best vehicles for worldbuilding, as they allow the reader to discover the world organically instead of academically.

I also liked that Finley was able to convey Black culture without over-the-top social commentary. There was still some underlying social commentary about the wealth disparity of Black people in the western world, but it was never anything significantly overt. I can normally appreciate social commentary in fiction, but the character-driven narrative of The Death of Sugar Daddy allows the characters to experience this wealth inequality instead of preaching to the reader. It’s refreshing to have something that makes you think about the issue from a human perspective instead of a political one.

Enyo-Enyo

by Kameron Hurley, 2013
Rating: ★☆☆☆☆

Some parts of Enyo-Enyo are genuinely interesting, and I think the underlying story is emotionally impactful, if not a little strange. However, any positive elements the story may have are overshadowed by its presentation—more specifically, the choice in vocabulary and the story’s narrative structure. From the first three or four paragraphs, it’s made clear to the reader that Enyo’s world is alien. This would normally be a good thing, but Kameron Hurley goes too far, and ended up alienating me with how “other” Enyo’s world is. And while I don’t have an issue with the non-linear timeline of events, it only helped to compound these issues here, making it even more difficult for me to follow what’s happening. Enyo-Enyo is a simple story told in a complicated manner—very rarely is this kind of storytelling effective, and often paints the author as pompous and shallow. It’s a shame, because I think I would have liked Enyo-Enyo if Hurley had written in a more straightforward manner.

Semiramis

​by Genevieve Valentine, 2011
Rating: ★★★☆☆

The easiest way for me to sum up Semiramis is to say that it instils a feeling that something is about to happen, or that some change is about to occur, but the reader is ultimately left at the precipice of anticipation, without anything ever being resolved. I didn’t like this at first. The protagonist-narrator would always seem on the cusp of making some kind of realization before moving onto the next bit of exposition or the next source of conflict. As a result, all the events muddle together—with no beginning, no end. But as I reflected on what Genevieve Valentine might be trying to do, I came to my own realization that a feeling of helplessness is exactly what she was trying to convey. Between the global climate crisis and the protagonist’s struggle with their duties, environment and relationships, I underwent a general feeling of unease as the events of the story unfolded. It’s almost depressing as you come to the conclusion that sometimes, things are just out of your control, and all you can do is little things to make your life worth living. The world is cruel, unforgiving and need not pay mind to every individual. Not all conflicts come to a satisfying end, and waiting for something to happen will only lead to more anxiety as time moves on without regard for each individual’s desires.

I am still unsure whether I truly enjoyed Semiramis. Despite the message she was trying to convey, I had a difficult time initially remembering the contents of the story within a day of writing this. Perhaps the effects of the story were stronger than the actual fiction, and that should point to the power of what she was trying to do.

Immersion

by Aliette de Bodard, 2012
Rating: ★☆☆☆☆

_Immersion* is something that’s outside my lived experience, but is easy enough to read that it doesn’t really matter. Sometimes, this can be a good thing. But when it comes to Immersion. I’m not sure if Aliette de Bodard utilized the medium correctly. I get the message of the story—colonialism is bad, and often the colonized are the ones who have to fight back, or risk being overwhelmed. Where Immersion fails is that the world and the story’s underlying message don’t mesh. De Bodard goes back and forth between describing a rich fictional world and taking time to preach their gospel to the reader, with obvious tonal breaks between the two. In fact, there is a surprising number of exposition dumps for a short story of this length, most of which I ended up speeding through. The information provided has little impact on the conflicts the protagonist is dealing with. De Bodard also utilizes a trope I dislike, namely the constant need to excuse bad dialogue by labelling it as “inevitable” or “obligatory”. I can’t help but feel that de Bodard’s writing is uninviting, and that it lacks the polish that’s needed to convey whatever message she wants to get across.

Down the Wall

by Greer Gilman, 2015
Rating: ★☆☆☆☆

There’s just something about the writing in stories like Down the Wall that instantly turned me off. It feels like Greer Gilman is intentionally making the writing obtuse in an effort to make some kind of statement, or to convey a sense of the world she’s trying to portray. It just helps to break my immersion, forcing me to think about what the author is trying to say rather than investing myself in the world, characters, and themes. I have to actively read and re-read passages, questioning if I truly understand what is going on. This kind of writing just makes me feel the author is pretentious, and unwilling or unable to let their story stand on its own. From what little I took from Down the Wall. I think it could have been a great story about children surviving in a run-down world, oppressed by adults and the system alike. But in reality, it is a confusing bowl of word soup bogged down by a lack of direction or purpose.

Sing

​by Karin Tidbeck, 2013
Rating: ★★★★☆

I instantly felt pulled in by Karin Tidbeck’s writing, fully immersed in the world she has created and the complex characters she introduces. Sing is a great example of what a short story should try to accomplish. Tidbeck gives us a slice, a mere glimpse of a person’s life as they go through their day-to-day life. You should be left wanting more, but also content with what you were given. I know that there are a lot of different kinds of stories out there—character-driven stories are not the only valid story type. But I’ve yet to find another story type that’s as engaging in this short story format. So many times I see movies and short stories trying to focus on worldbuilding, plot, or even style, only to end up being convoluted or vapid in the process. Perhaps I’m just bitter, but Sing shows that you can have a fun, thought-provoking and immersive short story without needing to rely on literary tricks. I have a hard time finding anything wrong with Tidbeck’s writing, and I’m excited to read more of her work in the future.

Good Boy

by Nisi Shawl, 2009
Rating: ★★★★★

I felt myself enjoying Good Boy both on the surface level as well as within its deeper meanings. Nisi Shawl manages to craft a fun ride as we follow the antics of the titular Good Boy, after a short introduction to the characters and the concept of spiritual possession. There was something almost satirical about the way a hard science fiction problem like colony-wide depression is resolved by dredging up the ghost of a 60s-70s Black club goer. Kressi’s serious, sombre attitude is a fun contrast to the personality of Ivorene’s spirits. It’s just an enjoyable experience overall—and yet—below all this absurdity, is a surprisingly thoughtful exploration of colonization, the perception of spirituality, mother-daughter relationships, Black identity, and even the interpretation of spiritual possession as algorithmic computer logic. Shawl is somehow able to pack a lot within such a short story. These are the kinds of stories that make short stories worth it for me, with compelling characters, fun situations and thoughtful themes that stick with me long after I’ve finished reading.

The Second Card of the Major Arcana

by Thoraiya Dyer, 2012
Rating: ★★★☆☆

The Second Card of the Major Arcana feels like the setup to a joke, expanded over the length of a whole story, and then dramatized so much that’s no longer a joke—while remaining just as entertaining. The premise is simple, but I enjoyed Thoraiya Dyer’s approach in their execution of said premise. There isn’t a lot to say about The Second Card of the Major Arcana. It’s a fun little story with a great punchline, with my only criticism being that the violence and the sphinx’s mannerisms came across a bit juvenile. It sometimes felt like I was reading the edgy fanfiction of a DeviantArt teenager, rather than the thoughtful, well-developed prose of an established author. I have a hard time seeing this choice in tone as an issue though, considering it only reinforces the playful nature of the story.

A Short Encyclopedia of Lunar Seas

by Ekaterina Sedia, 2008
Rating: ★★★☆☆

This is the second short story in this anthology that has to do with the moon—and more specifically mermaids on the moon—which makes me curious whether there’s some established folklore I’m not familiar with regarding the moon and fae-like beings. That aside, A Short Encyclopedia of Lunar Seas is exactly what it sets out to be: a series of isolated stories based around the “seas” of the lunar surface. Ekaterina Sedia manages to weave a charming and whimsical set of tales that I found myself simultaneously amazed and confused by. Normally, the latter would be a detriment to the overall experience, but I think the segmented nature of Sedia’s work allows this kind of exploration. She’s able to explore outlandish topics at a fast pace, moving from one to the other without the need to retain much from the previous snippets beyond her style of prose. A Short Encyclopedia of Lunar Seas is an interesting experience, though not a significantly fulfilling one. I didn’t find myself coming from this story having learned or felt anything specific. It felt more akin to a series of short fairy tales aimed at adults, complete with a surprising amount of descriptions of breasts, though nothing that I felt was overtly sexual.

Vector

by Benjanun Sriduangkaew, 2013
Rating: ★★★☆☆

_Vector* is a good example in my mind of how to write flowery prose for a science fiction or fantasy story without it feeling pretentious. I don’t think I’d be able to draw a distinct line between something that feels genuine and in service of the story, versus something that’s merely decorative and just a chance for the author to show their skills with a thesaurus. However, Benjanun Sriduangkaew manages to keep my attention throughout, and I never felt overwhelmed by her metaphors. Perhaps that is what makes for good flowery prose: a focus on metaphor in service of theme, rather than on superfluous wording that only serves to pad the text. Vector shows you can do the former effectively, reinforcing the themes instead of muddling them.

I think where Vector fails is that it wears its theme on its sleeve. Sriduangkaew manages to present the theme of the effects of religious-white colonialism in an interesting way, but I think she sacrificed characterization and any semblance of worldbuilding in the process. In other words, Vector opts to punch you in the face with its themes, with science fiction elements sprinkled on top for decoration. It feels more like a chance for the author to soapbox than an authentic storytelling experience.

Concerning the Unchecked Growth of Cities

by Angélica Gorodischer, 2003
Rating: ★★★★★

_Concerning the Unchecked Growth of Cities* is pure worldbuilding. After getting used to the narrative style, I can say I thoroughly enjoyed myself as Angélica Gorodischer basically spent the entire length of her story delivering exposition on a single city. I’ll be honest that I wasn’t on board at first, but I quickly became enraptured by the complex, weaving story told from the perspective of the narrator. The narrative tone is also fun and a bit cheeky, which helped to lighten the expository load. The narrator is no-nonsense, but sass and sarcasm drips from almost every passage. Paragraphs are long and go on for too long, adding to the idea that Concerning the Unchecked Growth of Cities is a story being told orally—or at the very least, informally—by an ageing storyteller. Gorodischer did a great job at not only weaving an interesting world, but managing to present in an entertaining way.

The Radiant Car Thy Sparrows Drew

by Catherynne M. Valente, 2009
Rating: ★☆☆☆☆

The Radiant Car Thy Sparrows Drew relies solely on its premise and its world design to carry it, instead of having any interesting characters or a solid plot at its base. I don’t think premise and world alone are enough to make a great story, though I may be biased in that I don’t find the world Catherynne M. Valente created to be that interesting. Maybe it’s the steampunk/futurepunk aesthetic that’s offputting to me, but I never really knew what the setting was in any given scene, or how the characters fit within the context of that setting. Every scene has a dream-like quality, untethered to any semblance of a consistent reality. Perhaps that’s what Valente was aiming for: a world detached from reality, with nothing to anchor its people down. If this was the intent, I don’t believe she succeeded, as I was mostly left confused instead of swept away in the whimsy.

I just feel like Valente may have been trying too hard in her attempts to convey a specific feeling to the reader. I would have much rather have lived this world through the eyes of specific characters, instead of through the narrator, who lays out the primary events of the story as if it were a documentary. It all feels a little pretentious to me. Nothing proves this more to me than the “twist”, wherein the narrator is actually the boy that Bysshe interacts with. The switch from a documentary to telling of the ramifications of Bysshe’s discoveries and disappearance is too sudden, with the resulting revelations feeling preachy and disconnected from the rest of the story. The only saving grace for The Radiant Car Thy Sparrows Drew could have been its world—specifically in regard to the callowhales—but it wasn’t enough to save it.

Conclusion

I enjoyed my experience with The Mammoth Book of SF Stories by Women, even though it took me quite a long time to finish it. While some of the stories didn’t feel worth my time, or didn’t fit my expectations coming into the book, I’ve come out of this collection with a list of authors I am eager to explore further, and I find myself once again appreciating female speculative fiction authors. I have always been a fan of female authors, as I find their works tend to be much more personable and focused on character. I consider this approach to writing incredibly compelling, as opposed to what I define as a “mansplaining” writing style—in which the author feels the need to explain everything to the reader from an objective perspective, including characters, settings, and the world as a whole. This isn’t something limited to male authors, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say it’s one of the reasons I tend to dislike books by male authors.

In concept and in execution, The Mammoth Book of SF Stories by Women is a worthwhile reading experience. It proves why it’s important to showcase female authors, while simultaneously being entertaining in its own right. It’s a shame that I personally don’t enjoy short story anthologies—a distaste that was compounded by my compulsion to review each story individually. It only takes one bad reading experience to put me off reading for days, if not weeks sometimes. I also need some time after finishing each story to think on it, so this format doesn’t lend itself well to individual reviews, at least not for me. Despite my issues with completing the book, I enjoyed my time with The Mammoth Book of SF Stories by Women, and will definitely be revisiting some of my favourite stories in the future.