The Year’s Best Fantasy, eds. David G. Hartwell and Kathryn Cramer

year's best fantasyIt’s like fantasy tapas, or if you prefer, a buffet: fantasy short stories contain all the excitement and inspiration of a novel, in a way that requires less commitment. Instead of reading a five-course fantasy series of 900+ pages, you can hunker down for a 10- or 20-page adventure. And while you’re at it, eat at the best place in town: read Hartwell and Cramer’s Year’s Best Fantasy series.

There are anthologies like it, but the books I read were edited by Hartwell and Cramer, and every story in their anthology series is a gem. What I love in particular are the author bios at the start of each entry, which can drop you the names of certain magazines worth submitting to, a boon to readers who also happen to be writers hungering for a chance at publication.

A great way to discover new writers and read the shorts of those who you might already know. Though the anthology has gone completely online in recent years, I still possess three physical anthologies. They contain tales from such noted authors as Neil Gaiman, Michael Moorcock, Tad Williams, Jeffrey Ford, Gene Wolf, and Holly Black–but also many upcoming authors who have been published only rarely. You can buy them from Tor.com or on Amazon.

Hartwell and Cramer define fantasy broadly, to include such various approaches as supernatural fantasy, adventure fantasy, satirical, and humorous fantasy.  There is no pure science fiction, which I think is great, being a fantasy purist, but an occasional tale with a science fiction bent occasionally appears, if fantasy elements are present in the story. These anthologies are for people who believe that fantasy can be as good, and as necessary, as literary fiction. They provide a survey of the genre from every direction in which it is expanding.

Neil Gaiman
Neil Gaiman
Peter S. Beagle
Peter S. Beagle

Examples of what you might find in this stellar series (in Issue 8) include a library that comes to life in Holly Black’s “Paper Cuts Scissors.” Civic gods are challenged by a knight and his puppet companion in Garth Nix’s “Sir Hereward and Mister Fitz Go to War Again.” Mark Chadbourn takes us to a supernatural Elizabethan England in which a famous poet is threatened by fairies in “Who Slays the Gyant, Wounds the Beast.” And who could ever forget “Still Life with Boobs” by Anne Harris in Issue 6?

Other treasures in this series include a short story that eventually became Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book in Issue 8: “The Witch’s Headstone.” Though 7 years old, Issue 8’s stories are timeless and Gaiman entertains as always. Very slightly more recently, Issue 9 (2008) presented us with Naomi Novik’s first short fiction. She is otherwise known for her Temeraire series, in which dragons fight Napoleon during the Age of Sail. Legendary author of The Last Unicorn Peter S. Beagle has two stories in Issue 9 as well, including “The Rabbi’s Hobby,” which I found great.

Year’s Best Fantasy also includes  experimental fantasy. For example, in Issue 9, Catherynne M. Valente writes a story through a catalogue, chronicling a rivalry between two explorers in “A Buyer’s Guide to Maps of Antarctica.” Garth Nix also writes a story entirely in newspaper headlines in Issue 6’s “Read It in the Headlines!”

Another reason I love this series is that Canadian authors receive substantial representation. For  example, Nalo Hopkinson had “Soul Case” published in Issue 8 and Claude Lalumiere, a Montreal author, appeared with Issue 6’s story “Being Here,” and has been published in other more recent issues. For any Canadian fantasy fans out there, you know how perfect this is beautiful. Canadian fantasy is running strong, claim the editors of YBF, with many of the stories they selected appearing in the Tesseracts anthology series published by EDGE.

If anyone is looking for a March break read, get your tongs ready and pick the choicest cuts from this great buffet of literature. You won’t be disappointed; these are the best of the best, served from the very best chefs–err, authors–that fantasy has to offer. (Now this “story-buffet” metaphor is making me hungry!)

Issue 9 was printed in a limited run after Tor.com began to publish the series online. Therefore, you will have to get the most recent additions to the series online.

There has also been some editorial eye-skip in Issue 9, maybe because of the online move. This resulted in more typos. I suspect that the online format makes it easier to miss them. If this is an issue for you, get the earlier editions of the series: they are just as good! That being said, the online editions will hopefully not affect your reading experience too much.

tapas
Comparing literature to food makes me hungry and nostalgic for dinner time in Spain.

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Image Credits:

Tapas: http://pl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tapas

Gaiman: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neil_Gaiman

Beagle: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_S._Beagle

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Thomas Covenant, The Unbeliever: Lord Foul’s Bane by Stephen R. Donaldson

lord foul's baneBeware! Leper unclean! shout the crowds.

Don’t touch me! responds Thomas Covenant, the antihero of Stephen R. Donaldson’s memorable epic fantasy trilogy. In this exchange, which Convenant repeats in his mind like a mantra for his sanity, Donaldson summarizes the conflict of his protagonist. Despite being unlikeable, Covenant tends to garner your empathy. He’s a man whose marriage to his wife and his writing career crashes on the day he discovers he has been infected with a rare disease that makes him a cripple and a social outcast.

And that was before he was brought, against his will, to the Land.

Thomas Covenant, the Unbeliever: Lord Foul’s Bane is the first novel in Donaldson’s signature trilogy, and a book that made experiments in the epic fantasy genre. Published 1977, around the time of the epic fantasy surge that saw the rise of Terry Brooks and other Tolkienistas, Thomas Covenant broke a rule by turning a leprous antihero into a protagonist and implying that the fantasy world he travels through is only a dream.

What a phenomenal idea, as original today as it must have been forty years ago.  This is a book well worth rediscovering.

Thomas Covenant fights a losing battle for his health. He is missing three fingers and his wedding ring is the only sign he carries of a relatively happy past life. A social pariah in small-town America when we first see him, his great rebellion consists of a journey to personally pay his bill at the Bell Telephone Company. A woman has taken the liberty of paying his bills for him, because they just don’t want a leper walking through town. In an effort to reclaim his humanity and connection to the community, he makes his epic quest to town.

On the way, he gets knocked over by a police car.

When he awakes, he is in the Land, surrounded by darkness as Lord Foul, the incarnation of Despite, gives him a quest. He must deliver a message to the council of Lords that Drool Rockworm, a Cavewight has the Staff of Law. This, Foul promises, is cause for despair. All life in the land will be obliterated soon if Covenant does nothing. Still quite ignorant of his situation, hethen finds himself high upon Kevin’s Watch, a pinnacle in a mountain range where he first surveys the Land.

A Pre-Raphaelite Landscape
A Pre-Raphaelite Landscape

The Land is sublime in all its Pre-Raphaelite glory: rolling green hills, vast mountain ranges, mighty rivers. It exudes an aura of health, the vitality of all its living things. Rather like New Zealand, where the Lord of the Rings movies were filmed, it is a source of beauty and goodness.

Soon Covenant makes the acquaintance of the Stonedownor, a tribe of squarely-built, rock-solid humans who specialize in stone-lore. And his quest begins. Men, women, and giants are drawn to him, thinking that he is the incarnation of the hero Berek Halfhand–who lost half his hand from an axe during an epic battle against Lord Foul aeons ago. But Covenant cannot comprehend this lore, doubting even that the Land exists, preferring it as a dream: that his half-hand is the result of leprosy, not prophesy.

He must journey to Revelstone, the seat of the Lords, who are the most powerful magicians in the Land, although their strength is much diminished from the Lords of old. Protectors of the Land’s health, the Lords will do everything in their power to defeat Lord Foul at his game. But all the while, Thomas Covenant doubts.

His wedding ring has become a powerful source of wild magic, perhaps the most useful weapon with which to fight Drool, if he can master it. However, he has no wish to. Because to buy into the reality of that magic and the very existence of the Land would be to sacrifice his sanity.

As a leper, Covenant’s priority is survival. Every day, he tests his nerves by shaving with a straight razor and checks his extremities for signs that his disease is spreading. Meanwhile, “dis-ease” is spreading across the Land in the form of Drool’s bane. As wrongness spreads and reality itself thins, Covenant must at once resist the Land’s seductions while finding a way to get back home.

Thomas Covenant’s tale is existential, filled with the conflict between hope and despair, survival and death, madness and sanity. In a wonderful, if cheeky, move, Donaldson actually provides a reading guide to his own book in the world of the story. A wizard hobo in Covenant’s hometown gives him a slip of paper on the “fundamental question of ethics”:  is it noble to fight for a heroic, moral cause if the world we believe in is an illusion, or is it more courageous to rebel against that world, which we know to be a lie?

In one option, we buy into a lie, but can perform good deeds within that lie. The other option has us resist that lie, holding out in the hope for a more accurate reality, at the expense of neglecting the world. This is how we come to admire Covenant, even as it is the same reason we hate him.  If the Land is an illusion, it means he doesn’t have to be good. Yet though his rebellion against the Land seems cowardly, we still see his courage in his attempts to master his sanity.

Another less philosophical  but more academic reason to read this book is that it fully develops the four-part structure of the fantasy novel outlined by John Clute in the Encyclopedia of Fantasy. (I discuss this a little more in depth here.) This structure consists of wrongness, thinning, recognition, and healing. Wrongness is mentioned explicitly as part of the disease that afflicts the Land, while a strange phenomenon of thinning happens in the presence of some forms of evil magic. The well-being of the Land itself can be restored through healing. And, in the end, Thomas Covenant does have a severe recognition in which he recognizes that he is in a story crafted by a brilliant but cruel hand with an eye for paradox and irony.

Thomas Covenant, the Unbeliever will compel many readers to become seduced by the Land, even though it is Covenant’s mantra to resist it.

Stephen R. Donaldson, author of Thomas Covenant
Stephen R. Donaldson, author of Thomas Covenant

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Image Credits:

Stephen R. Donaldson: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stephen_R._Donaldson

Cover: http://sfbook.com/lord-fouls-bane.htm

landscape: http://2hpencil.com/tag/pre-raphaelite-brotherhood/

Whylah Falls by George Elliott Clarke

WhylahFor Black History Month, I thought I’d share a Canadian poet whose lush, cadenced verse is like Nova Scotian blues. I’m talking about Whylah Falls by George Elliott Clarke.

I read it studying Can lit with Professor Robert Lecker in my last semester at McGill and we had fascinating discussions in class.

Some background: Whylah Falls describes a story set in Africadia, which is Clarke’s name for black Nova Scotia. Africadians are descendents of freed Loyalist slaves who fled the American colonies during the Revolution in 1783 and wound up in Nova Scotia, where they set down roots. Although I recognized “Africadia,” which sounds like “Africville,” from the headlines, I was unaware of how deep the roots of this Nova Scotian African-Canadian community really went. Clarke makes it his duty to represent Africadians, who were an illiterate people, in his expertly crafted verse.

The conflicts–internal and external to the poet–which Clarke tackles are one of the many things that are interesting about Whylah Falls (at least from an academic standpoint). But if you took it off the shelf and read it, you might be confused about what genre it is.

Sure, it is partly poetry–but it also has several prose pieces. The table of contents is divided into Cantos like the epic poems of old, under headings like “The Adoration of Shelley” and “The Trial of Saul.” The front matter also contains a dramatis personae list of main characters, in the style of the Renaissance drama folio. This makes no mention of the blurred, grainy photographs he includes throughout the volume.

Basically, Clarke has written a classical epic about Africadia, combining the “white” tradition of the “great poets” with the more intuitive cadences of blues jazz.

Is he crazy for attempting such a mixture of genres? Before you answer, you must consider that Clarke is such a master poet that he is well capable of answering this ambitious challenge.

His rhythm and style–which for him are inseparable–form a syncopated song that follows the cadence of jazz progressions. Although I am no music know-it-all, someone in class mentioned that the scansion of his lines match certain jazz rhythms. This achieves an unforgettable effect in his love poetry, which flows with allusions to the most romantic book in the Bible, the Song of Solomon. (Which even I borrowed from, last Valentine’s day)

Whylah Falls follows a man returning to his home after being educated abroad. The opening stanza of his first poem sets the mood for the book:

“At eighteen, I thought the Sixhiboux wept.

Five years younger, you were lush, beautiful

Mystery; your limbs–scrolls of deep water.

Before your home, lost in roses, I swooned,

Drunken in the village of Whylah Falls,

And brought you apple blossoms you refused,

Wanting Hank Snow woodsmoke blues and dried smelts,

Wanting some milljerk’s dumb, unlettered love.”

The way Clarke breaks each line and the diverse, evocative vocabulary are testament to his mastery of language. As you might have guessed, his book is not only filled with love poetry dedicated to people, but to the place of Whylah Falls itself and the river that runs through it.

Whylah Fall‘s characters are also brilliantly inspiring, the salt of the earth, so to speak. Who could forget the following description of Cora in the kitchen?

Cooking is faith. Cora opens her antique  cookbook, a private bible, enumerating Imperial measures, English orders,–pinches, pecks, cups, teaspoons, of this or that–and intones, “I create not food but love. The table is community. Plates are round rooves; glasses, iced trees; cutlery, silver streams.”

This alchemy of cooking is only possible in Whylah Falls. Even if you do not think you are likely to pick up a book about an African-Canadian minority group in Nova Scotia, you can still see that the imagery in its vital power can awaken the soul.

The story of Whylah Falls eventually centers around the shooting death of Othello Clemence, whose murderer is acquitted on self-defense. The fake newspaper clippings Clarke includes are brilliant and funny, showing a more humorous face to our poet. But his poems about the murder’s effect on the community blend beauty with violence to produce an elegiac effect:

“His breath went emergency in his lungs,

His felled heart grasped impossibly at light;

A thrown bouquet, he dropped softly to earth.

Torn from sweet oxygen, O wilted fast.”

Ranging from the mournful to the humorous, the sassy to the extravagant, and the sensual to the religious, Whylah Falls has something for every reader this Black History Month. If you read it on Valentine’s Day, you have the added benefit of reading some of this luscious verse to your beloved. Just remember that “the language we swill with loneliness is liquor, is love, a turmoil in the bones.”

Excerpts are from: “The River Pilgrim: a letter,” “How to Live in a Garden,” “Eulogy,” and “I Love You/More than Words.”

P.S. Check out this stimulating interview about Africadian identity.

George Elliott Clarke, author of Whylah Falls
George Elliott Clarke, author of Whylah Falls

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Photo Credits:

Cover: http://www.buriedinprint.com/?p=3706

George Elliott Clarke: http://www.playwrightscanada.com/index.php/authors/a-d/george-elliott-clarke.html

Beyond this Dark House by Guy Gavriel Kay

beyondYou may know Guy Gavriel Kay as a historical fantasy novelist, author of River of Stars, a book that continues to be nominated for various awards. But did you know that he is also a poet?

Beyond this Dark House is that obscure volume of poetry you might have remembered seeing just before the title page of River of Stars. It should actually come of no surprise that Kay has tried his hand at poetry, given the intense lyricism and beautiful descriptions in his novel. Take the following line from Chapter 1 of River of Stars, for example, a few lines that perfectly set the tone for the whole novel:

The boy was alone in the bamboo grove on a morning swaddled with fog, a wan, weak hint of sun pushing between leaves: light trying to declare itself, not quite there.

Kay’s poems are a departure from the grand quasi-historical narratives that define his novels, but only a small one. In his introduction to the collection, Don Coles quotes a line of Kay’s verse where he claims “I have / a mild facility / that lets me turn such phrases.” Whether in prose or poetry, Coles writes that Kay has an ease with crafting words.

I would have to agree. His opening poem “Night Drive: Elegy” allows us a glimpse into Kay’s interior world as he writes about visiting the Winnipeg neighborhood where he grew up and remembering his dead father. I am unsure of the degree to which Kay tells us things that actually happened to him, but if this is Kay speaking about himself, readers of his novels will enjoy reading this intimate and nostalgic poetry.

The collection often turn towards Classical mythology, which should be unsurprising for readers familiar with Kay’s novels. “Being Orpheus” and “Psyche” in particular are well-crafted love lyrics, sensual and resonant. He also treats Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night in “Malvolio” and Biblical myth in “Cain: the Stones.”

Many hidden treasures lie in wait for truly dedicated fans of Kay who do not mind reading poetry. He toasts Tennyson in his short lyric “Shallott” and nods towards his relationship with J. R. R. Tolkien in “If I Should Fly Across the Sea Again,” to whom the poem is dedicated. Kay, who helped Christopher Tolkien edit The Silmarillion, has been close to the Tolkien family and here fantasizes about returning to an old tree in rural England and experiencing some old memories .

guinvevere
Guinevere.

A few poems deal with Arthurian legends, which is the closest link I can find to Kay’s novels; it can be read as a loose tie-in to The Fionavar Tapestry. In “Guinevere at Almesbury,” Kay invites us into the monastery where Lady Guinevere resides after the fall of Camelot while she lives out the rest of her days , remembering Lancelot and Arthur–the two men she loved. “Avalon” also treats of the theme of the love triangle, a lyric that is one of my favourites. It opens with the line of dialogue that in 7 words summarizes both the conflict and the intimacy in Guinevere’s relationship to Lancelot: “But we both knew this long ago.”

On a less sublime level, Kay is capable of adopting more colloquial, twenty-first century styles. For instance “Night Call” opens with a lover’s anxiety that she is being “too literal” on the phone. Yet it ends with this beautiful line: “We have so far to go into what there is of light.” Another poem “Power Failure” is a series of small stanzas with lines only two or three syllables long, lending you a sense of encroaching darkness as you read it. The theme of light and dark is constant through the book.

“Beyond this Dark House” is a long poem about two lovers in the Prairies who walk together at night as the world around them acquires touches of the strange and mythic. Two stanzas in particular ought to resonate with any reader of Kay. They are also a fine example of the sort of poetry you can expect.  Here they are:

“You’ve walked beside me,

never knowing,

for six years now.

We’ve been together

in so many places

as I traveled, under skies

with doubled moons.

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“Beyond this dark house

a train is running away

into the night plain.

We’ve all had

dreams break,

fantasies we shaped.”

Double moons: a reference to the night sky in Tigana perhaps? Whether or not you get the reference, these are a sweet two stanzas, and a true mark of a mature poet. There seems to be some desire for fantasy in these lines, for escape–an escape to a land not unlike the ones which Kay has written about in his novels. What is truly touching about this poem is that two moons are no cheap allusion to his novels, but a suggestion–very slight–that the second moon is the speaker’s beloved. At least that is my interpretation.

I could talk more about this poetry collection, but I will leave the rest for you to read. If you fell in love with River of Stars‘ lyricism as much as its plot and its characters, then you must take a chance with Kay’s poetry. It will reward you.

GGK

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Image Credits:

Kay: http://profunduslibrum.blogspot.ca/2012/10/guy-gavriel-kay-ysabel.html

Cover:http://fyreflybooks.wordpress.com/2009/02/28/guy-gavriel-kay-beyond-this-dark-house/

Guinevere: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guinevere