A.C. Wise kindly profiles me in a current installment of her Women to Read series at SF Signal. She highlights my story “Geddarien,” as well as “A City on its Tentacles” from Lackington’s:
In the interest of full disclosure, “Geddarien,” my recommended starting point for Rose Lemberg’s work was reprinted in the architecture issue of Unlikely Story, which I co-edit. Personal connection aside, I would still recommend it is a starting place for Lemberg’s work. The story struck me and stuck with me from the first time I read it when it was originally published in Fantasy Magazine in 2009. The story is haunting, resonating long after its last word, which is appropriate for a story centered around music. The story deftly balances whimsy and magic, the idea of dancing houses, with the horrors of the Holocaust and the persecution and murder of Jews.
Strange Horizons posted a set of updated Poetry Guidelines, where I am listed as one of the editors’ favorite poets. It is an honor.
I made a set of arguments on Twitter about dialect and hegemony, which has been storified by Alex Dally MacFarlane and is available here. These tweets have been made in conjunction with Daniel J. Older’s reaction to a Strange Horizons review of Long Hidden; the full context, as well as the ensuing other arguments, have been summarized in a Strange Horizons entry “On Dialect.”
Bogi Takács is tweeting eir recommendations of diverse stories under the #diversestories tag. I love these recommendations.
Speaking of love: I love, love, love, love Alex Dally MacFarlane’s story “Women in Sandstone” in Beneath Ceaseless Skies.
“Your mouth is hanging open like a bell,” the South-East Wind said. “I wonder, if the wind blows between your teeth, will you clang or chime?”
The general tore her gaze from the temple’s walls. The tall wine-dark plume on her silver helmet bobbed and swayed in the North Wind | I blow through it and it is like the grass near a battlefield: heavy with the smells of burning and blood and bones | and then it tilted as she removed the helmet, revealing her hair—long and black with white running through it like embroidery, fastened in four thick braids—and the extent of her dark, scarred face. “I wish to honor your great temple,” she said.
| I blow through the bells, I blow through them all, all thousands upon thousands, I bring them all to song and it is loud and perfect |
The general barely flinched at the sound of the North Wind blowing across the temple’s bells, though she looked up again, wary. The South-East Wind smiled.
If I could hang a tiny “yes” under each one of these words, they would chime there like bells.
Finally, congratulations to Nebula Award winners and nominees. I am still to read many of the works in this slate, but my favorites included work by Ann Leckie, Sofia Samatar, and Ken Schneyer. Cheers!