Copy Link
Add to Bookmark
Report
OtherRealms Issue 15 Part 03
Electronic OtherRealms #15
May, 1987
Part 3
Words of Wizdom
Reviews by
Chuq Von Rospach
Copyright 1987 by Chuq Von Rospach
Common publishing wisdom says that thick books don't sell, because they
intimidate the impulse reader. For a book to run 511 pages in
paperback, the publishers have to believe there is something going --
either the author has a name to rely on, or the book itself is
something that is so good it simply must be published, marketing wisdom aside.
When that 511 page book is by a first author, and when the publisher
puts one of the best Whelan covers I've ever seen on a book on it (a
wraparound cover, at that) and embosses the cover, and goes so far as
to use two difference covers on the book (actually, the wraparound
cover is flipped) you can only assume two things -- that the publisher
has lost all sense of reality (you don't push first novels, you don't
put Whelan on first novels, and you don't put advertising behind first
novels) or the publisher knows something we don't.
The book in question is In Conquest Born by C.S. Friedman. The
publisher is Elsie Wollheim at DAW books, and the book is wonderful.
This book tells the story of two civilizations -- the Braxi are a nasty
bunch, ruled by a small overlord of genetically superior (but almost
sterile) men. Women have no power. In fact, a woman may be waylaid, may
even be killed, at the whim of a man. Non purebreds serve at the whim
of the pureblood, and may even be put to death at their wish. They are
an aggressive, warlike race, breeding their sons to hate and and
hunger, to wish for the Universe and strive to grasp it.
Their opponent in a multi-millennia long interstellar war are the
Azean. The Azean's are warring pacifists, hoping to end the
interminable war in the hopes of peace. They are advanced geneticists,
bringing forward those with psychic talents for training and culling
those with less than perfect genes.
The story is told primarily around two people: the Braxin Zatar, an
ambitious man who wishes to reduce the ruling Braxana pureblood
leadership to a single person, himself; and Anzha, a psychically
superior woman who is refused citizenship by Azea because of her genes,
but who nevertheless fights her way to the leadership position in the
Azean forces.
The book covers a large period of time: from the birth of the two
opponents to their final battle and the resolution, a period of about
40 years. Trying to summarize the plot is impossible, because there are
really three plots in the book (one for each society, and one for the
conflict between them) as well as seven or eight major subplots. All of
them intertwine very carefully, without a seam. There isn't a story
here, but any number of them. While the Braxin are very nasty people
(at one level they make a good analogy to the problems with Apartheid)
their opponents aren't exactly wonderful, either, with their commitment
to genetic superiority -- and the associated genetic culling they
consider necessary. Azea even abuses their privileged, the telepaths,
by sending them for training at the Institute not so much to maximize
their skills, but to control and manipulate them.
The societies, then, are very complex and very real. The story that
weaves around them is just as complex and just as real. This is one of
those rare books that will appeal to both the Hard SF readers for its
science and technology and the readers who prefer people stories.
DAW is taking a chance on this book. They are pulling out the stops to
make sure you see this book. When you read it, you'll know why, and you
will want to read it. [*****]
Another first novel is Deborah Turner Harris' The Burning Stone (Tor
trade paperback, 307 pages, $7.95). This is labeled Book One of The
Mages of Garillon, and is, unfortunately, another book that suffers
from sequelitis -- the disease of good books weakened by the need to
tack another book on the end. Magic is a healing art, and Caradoc is a
talented young man studying to join the initiate. He is rejected,
however, because of an attitude problem, and during the raging drunk
that follows is recruited by a master- criminal and rebel mage to help
in an assassination plot.
The plot is to kill the eldest son (and heir) of the local ruler to put
the current queen's son on the throne. The rebel mage, of course, sees
profit in all of this, and instead of killing the boy outright he
abducts him and hides him where he can be useful later.
This book suffers from three main flaws. The author works very hard, at
times too hard, to describe the setting in the early chapters, and the
early part of the book falls prey to adjective abuse. Everything, it
seems, has multiple adjectives attached: the stream isn't lazy, but
lazy and meandering. This gets distracting after a while, but later
chapters are also written more sparingly. A worse problem, for me, is
that every character you meet has a Purpose. You know they'll be back.
The young stable boy, for instance, is really the missing prince with
magic induced amnesia, something I don't hesitate to tell you because
you'll figure it out for yourself quickly. These characters telegraph the
plot along, and there are very few surprises along the way because of it.
The third flaw is the ending. The end of the book is resolved in a very
weak way. While it leaves things open for a sequel, it does so at the
cost of an unsatisfying ending.
I can't really blame the author for this, because this stopping point
syndrome where there is no real ending point or climax, just a
convenient place to rest until next year when book 2 comes out, is a
growing problem with the genre -- everyone is writing 93 book series
these days and forgetting that, with a few notable exceptions, each
book really ought to stand on its own. Most don't, unfortunately. I'm
really looking forward to the end of this fad, because many of the
series I've read have enough material for a single book, but get padded
out to fit. The result: flabby, lazy books with weak endings and little
to really recommend them.
The Burning Stone isn't a bad book, but it could have been a much
better book. The extra cost of the trade paperback makes it an even
more questionable buy. [**+]
Jack Chalker's latest book, The Labrynth of Dreams (Tor, 320 pages,
$3.50) is another first book in a series, in this case it is G.O.D. Inc
#1. It is also a good example of how you ought to write a series book.
This book has a beginning, a middle, and an end. While it leaves itself
open to a sequel, this story is completed and there are no artificial
hooks hanging around trying to coerce the reader into buying the next book.
Which makes me want to read the next book that much more. This book is
barely Science Fiction -- one of the growing number of crossovers
between this genre and the spy/detective genre. In this book, two down
and out detectives are hired on to track down a bank executive who
skipped town. They find a very convoluted trail that leads them to
G.O.D. Inc., purveyor of fine goods through the midnight hours of
television, and a multi-dimensional labyrinth between parallel universes.
This is good writing, especially fun if you have a hidden appreciation
for detective fiction. It is written as a hardboiled novel, along the
lines of Sam Spade of Phillip Marlowe. There are a few really rotten
jokes and puns in the book, but in general this is quite a good novel. [***+]
Gene Wolfe has written another book that will make you sit back and
think your way through. Soldier of the Mist (Tor hardcover and Science
Fiction Book Club, 266 pages) is written as a translation of a recently
discovered scroll written by a soldier in Greece about 479 B.C. Latro,
his main character, has suffered a head wound that causes him to forget
everything that has occurred longer than about 12 hours ago, so in an
attempt to build himself a past he writes down his adventures. We
follow him through his days as he searches for the answer to the mists
that cloud him from himself and his home, and we watch as he sees the
society around him through virgin eyes each new day.
Wolfe has written another wonderful book here, a master of forcing his
readers into being active participants in the reading process. Like his
classic Book of the New Sun series, this work has a richness and a
lifelike feel to it that is rare in fiction today. As he did with Book
of the New Sun, Wolfe is exploring new territory, and redefining the
barriers around the categories by showing that you can write solid,
accessible fiction that is also highly literate. This book is a success
on many different levels, and while it is the first book of a series,
unlike many series, it is a cause for joy. [*****]
Arkady and Boris Strugatsky are the premier Science Fiction authors in
Russia, and scheduled to be among the Guests of Honor at Worldcon this
year. Publisher Richardson and Steirman has translated their latest
book, The Time Wanderers (213 pages, $16.95). It is an interesting
insight into the state of the art in Russia.
The book is written as a journal of entries in a report. I found it pretty
tough reading -- the quality of writing is on a par with the material
published in the 1950's in the U.S., and occasionally I got the feeling that
the translation was getting in the way of the prose, although I could never
quite figure out why. Still, it is good SF, in the traditions that Campbell
would have published in Analog, so if you like that kind of fiction, I can
recommend it to you. [***]
Terry Carr Dies
I'm very sad to have to announce the death of Terry Carr, long time
fan, editor, and writer, April 7, 1987. Probably best known for his
Best Science Fiction of the Year series of anthologies, he was also
the editor at Ace books that first published R.A. Lafferty, Joanna
Russ, Bob Shaw, and later William Gibson's Neuromancer.
Time and space don't allow me to deal with Terry adequately this month,
so I will write a full obituary next month when it can be done
properly. If you are interested in contributing to the Terry Carr
material, please contact me.
Terry Carr was a wonderful man and an important figure in Science
Fiction. He will be missed greatly on both counts. -- chuq
Back and Forth Across the Ghetto Walls
and Other Peregrinations
Reviews by James Brunet
ism780b!jimb
Copyright 1987 by James Brunet
From beyond the wall of the SF ghetto comes Margaret Atwood's The
Handmaid's Tale and its very appearance will topple, or at least
loosen, several stones from that wall. Already the book has garnered
the Los Angeles Times Best Fiction Award for 1986 -- an accolade
reserved to "serious" (i.e., mainstream) fiction -- and yet it also a
finalist on the Nebula ballot for best novel.
The Handmaid's Tale is set in a near-future America susceptible to
increasing fundamentalist influence. Against a backdrop of economic and
ecological crises, women have their rights suspended. A simple recoding
of computer programs suspends all bank and credit accounts marked "F"
in the sex field, leaving the accounts dormant until they can be
transferred to a husband or male next of kin. Paramilitary detachments
descend upon employers, forcing the discharge of female employees.
Finally, Congress is machine-gunned and a Scripture-based law imposed.
The result is the Republic of Gilead, a revolutionary society not
unlike an American version of contemporary Iran. Jews are allowed to
emigrate to Israel or to convert. Blacks -- descendants of Ham, or so
says Scripture -- are forcibly resettled from the inner cities to the
Dakota prairies. There is resistance, of course. Communities and
strongholds of non-conformists -- Baptists, Jehovah's Witnesses,
Catholics -- must be "salvaged." Those guilty of great sins -- priests
who spread false doctrine, doctors who committed abortions, etc. - -
are hunted down and executed; it does not matter that their activities
were legal under civil law at the time they were committed, for the
laws of God know no statute of limitations. Eyes of the Lord, the
secret police, are everywhere, as are their informants.
And women? Oh, yes. Women. Because ecological disasters have made
reproduction a fragile endeavor, women are prized for their ovaries and
their wombs. They are closely bound to their homes, either as wives or
servants. Reading is forbidden, for knowledge and thought are
dangerous. (At one point the viewpoint character savors the challenge
of trying to puzzle out the meaning of "Non illegitimi carborundum,"
which she has found scrawled in a concealed place.) The few stores
allowed to be open have picture-signs to designate their function, such
as milk and eggs, or meat.
In this society, children are seen as a blessing from God. But not all
wives of the elite, the most deserving, can reproduce. The solution is
the institution of the handmaid. Surplus women are made available. Any
woman party to a marriage where one partner had been previously married
is an adulteress. Such unions are dissolved, with the men being drafted
for the Army or sent to the New Colonies, such as Los Angeles, for
toxic waste clean-up operations that are invariably fatal within two to
three years. The women are given the option between the New Colonies
or, if they are still capable of reproduction, becoming handmaids. What
is a handmaid? In the words of Atwood, "She must lie on her back once a
month and pray that [the head of her adoptive household] makes her
pregnant." Once a month, in a ceremonial manner, she submits to the
head of the household. The wife is present at this time and contact
between the husband and the handmaid is forbidden at all other times.
In a long nutshell, this is the background of The Handmaid's Tale, a
background reminiscent of Heinlein's Revolt in 2100 as much as
anything. And yet in Atwood's book, it is background; the synopsis
above is pieced together from snippets dropped throughout the entire
book. The Handmaid's Tale is not an excursion tour into a morbidly
fascinating new world, nor is it a political or social tract. It is a
record of the daily activities and reminisences of Offred, who enters a
household as a handmaid. (Handmaids take their names from the head of
household, and thus their names would change if they were transferred,
e.g., Ofglen, Ofcharles, etc.) Plot as such is subdued in this book,
inasmuch as the accounting of a period from any individual's life does
not lend itself to conventional plot. The account is intensely
personal, a study in character, an account of daily life. In this The
Handmaid's Tale is on solid ground with the conventional aims of
literature in exploring the human condition.
Atwood delivers her material with a vivid prose so rich that it may
take some readers a while to build up a tolerance. Some accounts of
daily life are rendered so vividly, so intimately, that they are
painful to digest. The sheer power of the literary execution is such
that is seldom found in SF, yet by force of character Atwood does not
fail to provide an engrossing entertainment, if of a grim and
provocative bent.
This melding of stefnal icons and images with a coventional literary
sensibility for character and style produces a powerful book. I
recommend it highly. And I wonder at the reaction of Atwood, or members
of the so- called literary establishment, at SF claiming the book as
one of its own. For if The Handmaid's Tale has made a significant
breach in the walls of the ghetto, it also surely is letting part of
the ghetto escape beyond its walls.
If Margaret Atwood succeeds in breaching the ghetto wall from without,
Barry Longyear seems to essay a similar mission from within in his Sea
of Glass. For me, this book was easy to begin, difficult to continue,
and well worth finishing.
Like Atwood's book, Sea of Glass is set in a near future United States,
beginning in the year 2012 to be precise. The following is from the
opening section of the book, where six-year old Thomas Windom (Windom:
Wisdom:: Godot: God?) is watching a then-contemporary TV satire with
his parents:
With its left arm, the horned creature on the screen lifts the
struggling baby by its feet and grins at the viewers as the
deafening music quiets to an ominous background roar.
The creature's right hand points a clawed finger at the viewers.
"People of Earth." The clawed finger swings until it points at the
child. "Meet your enemy."
The baby's cries become hysterical, gasping screams. The creature
cradles the baby in its left arm. "Hush little baby, don't you
cry." The claws of the creature's right hand dangle tantilizingtly
over the child's pulsating belly.
"Aubry will love you 'til you die."
I gasp and hold my breath as the claws plunge into the child's
middle; a scream, silence, and the hand comes away dripping blood.
I see the hand very close. The fingers slowly open to reveal a
tiny, still beating heart.
Mommy holds her hand to her mouth and looks at Daddy. "Isn't that a
bit much?"
"I just hope that bastard Cummings is watching."
Daddy's voice is mean. Bitter.
The creature's grinning face again fills the screen. "Protein,
friends. Imagine, if you will, the inefficient utilization of
scarce resources your enemy employed to keep this insignificant
scrap of muscle twitching."
The dead baby fills the screen. Blank eyes stare at nothing.
The horned creature flings the tiny corpse to his left. In slow
motion the body tumbles in a grisly arc, coming to rest at last
upon a mountain of dead babies.
The heap of infant flesh quivers from the impact. ...
Tough stuff. As the parent of a seven-month old, it hit me pretty
damned hard. I forced myself to continue. The Secretary of Projections,
Aubry Cummings, is almost a government within the government of the
Compact, the union of western nations. Two inexorable numbers govern
all calculations: the Wardate and the Downlimit. The Wardate is the
Optimum War Probability Projection Date, a prediction of when the war
will have to happen, not if. Various events on the world stage affect
this date, one way or the other. Through most of Sea of Glass, the
Wardate hovers somewhere in August 2033. The Downlimit is the amount of
time remaining before the strain of poplulation and resources passes
the threshold beyond which the human race can't recover.
Ah, ha. Sea of Glass is a cautionary ecological tale. Check? Wrong-oh.
Thomas Windom, an illegal child, does reveal himself to the outside
world. He is dragged away from his parents, who are summarily executed
by slow electrocution as provided by statute, and sent to a
farm-cum-concentration camp in New York state. In short order, he is
marinated in the brutality of the environment and kills a camp guard.
Ah, so this is the story of of Thomas' survival. Well, partly. Thomas
does survive life in the camp, eventually borrowing books from the
camp's once- a-week bookmobile to teach himself all he can about Aubry
Cummings, the Department of Projections, and the political, economic,
and ecological crises that shape his world. He comes to understand the
grim necessities behind the system that is so abhorent to him. Then,
with a few other inmates, he escapes into the world at large and
assumes identies to shield himself from the Department of Projections
and its computer, MAC III. Oh, in the process of his escape, he cuts
off the penis of a particularly brutal guard and stuffs it in the
pocket of the bound, still-living guard.
After living the life of an underground fugitive for a while, Thomas'
identity is exposed. And in the course of fleeing, he suddenly stops
and realizes that every significant circumstance back to somewhere in
his days at the farm has been manipulated by MAC III. In short order,
Thomas Windom is recruited as a special agent of the Department of
Projections. He is trained, wired to MAC III, and sent out to adjust
circumstances in the world in order to make sure that the most optimal
events occur. For MAC III has an interesting view of the world; for
instead of taking on an Otherworld (eastern bloc) division directly,
conditions are arranged so that, by way of metaphor, Ivan kills
Vladimir, Igor kills Ivan, and so forth until the last despondent
survivor commits suicide.
Ah, finally the light becomes clear. What the story is is evident. It's
about being co-opted by the system and adapting to all the institutions
that you once hated. Closer, dear friends, but no cigar. One of Thomas
missions is to assasinate one of his closest friends from the farm, one
who escaped with the same group Thomas did. Thomas' faith in his new
calling fails him and he asks "Why?" For this, he is allowed to visit
the Shrine of Why, deep in the bowels of the MAC III computer.
Connected to the computer by a direct Link, he is allowed to see all
the convoluted trails of causality that lead to the assasination of his
friend, and just how much worse off the world will ultimately be if
this act is not accomplished, and accomplished by him, Thomas Windom.
Is anyone ready to venture that the story is about Faith and Being?
Ultimately, no. Come the Wardate, it is Thomas who ignores the
authority of the new anti-Projections President-General of the Compact
and sets off the War. Only in the infinite wisdom of MAC III, there is
no nuclear holocaust. Ivan kills Vladimir, Igor kill Ivan; meanwhile
Harry is killing Tom and Dick is killing Harry. (What? You thought all
the casualties would be on the other side?) A few little wars heat up,
ten or twelve revolutions kick off, floods and storms occur, and there
is an increase in the starvation rate, traffic accidents, murder,
disease, suicide, and carelessness. And at the end of it all, there
will be four and a half billion dead. And mankind is safely within the
limits of resources, with enough time for the newly discovered
interstellar propulsion system to give meaningful access to the stars.
Finally, at the end of the road, Sea of Glass is about manipulation. As
MAC III manipulates Thomas Windom, so Longyear manipulates the reader,
just as the reviewer has tried to manipulate the review-reader. The
book is not a pleasant experience. The reader's realization that he has
been manipulated is not much different, I suspect, from Thomas' moment
of epiphany concerning his relationship with MAC III. Yet the prose is
taut, the imagery is powerful, and the book continues to niggle at the
mind long after it has been put down. If there is a weakness, it is
that so much of the manipulation is achieved by sheer artifice (for
instance, forced sterilization or police-inspected contraceptive
implants would be a more rational method of dealing with the population
problem); yet that artifice, too, may be part of the message.
While Atwood is assaulting the ghetto wall from without and Longyear
deals with some weighty concerns safely from within, reading Gene
Wolfe's Soldier of the Mist could make one think "What ghetto?"
Based on events that occured in Greece in 479 B.C., Soldier of the Mist
is the tale of Latros, a Greek soldier who was one of many that fought
for the Persian invader Xerxes against an alliance of Greek city
states. In the course of a battle, Latros suffers a head wound that
causes him most peculiar problems with his memory: he can only remember
events of the current day. Everything else he must commit to a scroll,
which he must reread every day if he is to remember what has happened.
There is a compensation for this impairment, however. Latros can see
and converse with gods, goddesses, and other supernatural apparitions.
Latros is taken prisoner by the men of Rope (Sparta) and then begins a
goddess-inspired quest to recover his memory. His is a picaresque
adventure, as he acquires a slave, a sorceror, a black warrior, and a
woman as his companions. Seemingly, the end to his quest is around
every corner, so much so that it was only in the last ten pages that
this reader began to have the horrible feeling that was confirmed by
the words "(These are the last words of the first scroll.)" on the last
page. Anguish.
For Wolfe is writing a mystery, an adventure, a fable.... Soldier of
the Mist is not easily classified, yet it is a dizzying work to read.
The prose style of Soldier of the Mist is slightly more accessible than
Wolfe's Book of the New Sun quartet and Tor has had the grace to
include a glossary of names and terms at the back of the book. The
plot is episodic and revelatory in form. To say more is not easy. Wolfe
has written a brilliant book which may be his best yet. If you like
Wolfe, you have a treat in store for you. Wolfe's style and characters
make it easy to question how SF could possibly still be confined to any
sort of ghetto.
Avram Davidson was voted a Life Achievement award as part of the World
Fantasy Awards last November. A Hugo winner (for "Or All the Seas With
Oysters", 1958) and well-regarded novelist (The Phoenix in the Mirror,
et al.), Davidson has nonetheless failed to earn some of the acclaim
and notoriety, to say nothing of money, that has been garnered by
lesser writers.
Two of Davidson's out-of-print novels are delights to be enjoyed by the
diligent miners of the used-book shelves. Peregrine: Primus and its
sequel, Peregrine: Secundus, are romps through central Roman Empire and
vicinity in the company of Peregrine, bastard prince of Sapodilla,
which, as every schoolboy knows, was the last pagan kingdom in the
world to resist Christianity.
Peregrine's adventures take him through brothels, rebellions against
local caesars, involvement with sundry heresies, and magical
transformation into a falcon. Two episodes give a good idea of the
flavor of the writing. Peregrine loots the hoard of a dragon, a very
small dragon as it turns out. The loot contains three oboli and one
drachma, all of a very devaluated coinage (inscribed "Sennacherib
XXIII, Great King, King of Kings, King of Lower Upper Southeast Central
Assyria"), one very battered metal bracelet inscribed "Cailus loves
Mariamne" made of base metal, and a rotting leather case containing the
long-lost serpent crown of the Ephts.
Later, the boat on which Peregrine is passenger is attacked by a horde
of Huns, which "filled the scene as far as eye could see." However, in
the bend of the river, sunken rather deep between overhanging bluffs,
the eye can't see very far and the Hun horde consists of eleven men
(two riding postern) and three moldy yourts being drawn by an ox apiece.
In the second book, the adventures continue in the precincts of
Alfland, in far northern Europe, where Peregrine is transformed from
falcon to naked Bastard Prince in the middle of a royal dining table.
He then becomes the romantic target of a young princess, is aided by
the weefolk, and is used for ballast by a dragon. Among other things.
Davidson writes with an exhilarating exuberance rarely found anywhere.
There are few writers who display a greater love for language and its
rhythms, few writers who are more playful in their prose. Davidson's
characters are capable of uttering long, convoluted sentences that
charm and delight instead of, as with any lesser writer, being an
unintelligble mass of gibberish.
If you like broad wit coupled with high adventure in a wonderfully
spoofed and skewed version of history, search out these books.
Peregrine: Primus was published in 1971 (hardcover) and 1977
(paperpack); Peregrine: Secundus, appeared in 1981 (paperback) after
having parts anthologized in two magazine appearances.
Davidson recently noted that Peregrine: Secundus, seemed to have sunk
without a trace, without a single review. I hope that this small notice
can serve as partial redress for this oversight. Davidson is a master
of historical fantasy, fully on a par with Poul Anderson, and his books
ought not vanish without a ripple. I hope you find them and I hope you
like them.
OtherRealms
Reviewing the worlds of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror.
Editor & Publisher
Chuq Von Rospach
Associate Editor
Laurie Sefton
Contributing Editors
Dan'l Danehy-Oakes
Jim Brunet
OtherRealms #15
May, 1987
Copyright 1987 by Chuq Von Rospach.
All Rights Reserved.
One time rights have been acquired from the contributors.
All rights are hereby assigned to the contributors.
OtherRealms may be reproduced in its only for non-commercial purposes.
No article may be reprinted without the express permission of the author.
OtherRealms is published monthly, through July, the quarterly by:
Chuq Von Rospach
35111-F Newark Blvd.
Suite 255
Newark, CA. 94560
Usenet: chuq@sun.COM
Delphi: CHUQ
Review copies should be sent to this address for consideration.
Subscriptions
OtherRealms is available for the usual bribes & trades: a copy of your
zine, submissions, letters, comments, artwork or because I want you to
see it.
People who don't like to write can still get OtherRealms for money:
$2.50 for a single issue, or $8.50 for four issues. Folks in the
publishing industry can qualify for a free subscription. Just ask.
OtherRealms is available at Future Fantasy bookstore, Palo Alto,
California. Stores interested in OtherRealms should contact me.
Electronic OtherRealms
An electronic, text-only version of OtherRealms is available on a
number of different computer networks and bulletin board systems. On
the Arpanet, Bitnet, CSNet, and UUCP networks, send E-mail to
chuq@sun.COM to subscribe. On USENET, OtherRealms is distributed in the
group mod.mag.otherrealms.
It is also available on the Delphi timesharing service and a number of
Bulletin Board systems across the country.
Submissions
OtherRealms publishes articles about Science Fiction, Fantasy, and
Horror. The primary focus is reviews of books that otherwise might be
missed in the deluge of new titles published every year, but the
magazine is open to anything involving books.
Authors are welcome to submit articles for the Behind the Scenes
feature section, where you want to talk about the research and
background that went into your book.
I'm also interested in author interviews. Interview yourself, and
finally get to that question you've always wanted to be asked. Any
thing of interest to the reader of book-length fiction is welcome at
OtherRealms. We don't cover shorter lengths, media, or fannish news.
I NEED ART. Lots and lots of art. Especially small filler art for
those little white spaces and cover art. I am also desperate for a few
good pieces of cover art. The covers for my Westercon and Worldcon
issues are still not filled (as are almost all the other issues, for
that matter). Cartoons. Genre art. Anything! Help me make OtherRealms
more fun to read!
Book Ratings in OtherRealms
All books are rated with the following guidelines. Most books receive
[***]. Ratings may be modified a half step with a + or a -, so [***-]
is somewhat better than [**+]
[*****] One of the best books of the year
[****] A very good book -- above average
[***] A good book
[**] Flawed, but has its moments
[*] Not recommended
[] Avoid at all costs
nd Charles
Brown discussed some of the startup problems they had. So it was with
some glee that I put last month's issue (my first on the Laserwriter)
to bed ahead of schedule and with no pain whatsoever. I'd done a lot
of planning on it, and having worked with the technology for a while,
felt I had all the angles covered. When nobody was looking, I even
chortled a little bit for outsmarting my arch-nemesis, Lord Murphy.
Well, just to make sure everyone knows that the proud will do
themselves in,
